#meanwhile the lighting in this shot was IMMACULATE

[im-no-jedi]

he was so scared, he literally was like 🥺

[star-sim]

hello kitty meets batman (real not clickbait!) ☆ jake sim

☆ youtuber! super down bad! bf! jake x youtuber! fem! reader ☆summary: jake sim was youtube's cut-throat, horror creator, known for his dark video style. meanwhile, you were the cutesy beauty vlogger, lighting up every algorithmically generated home page you touched. no one would have expected you two vastly different people to know each other, let alone be in a long-term relationship. ☆ genre: fluff, youtuber! au, secret dating! au, established relationship, suggestive, im sorry im never letting the ytber au go, cutesy!reader, jake is SO down bad its kinda painful #patheticmen ☆warning(s): no, just fluffy, also reader is really feminine and girly in this ☆ word count: 13.4k words ☆ wrote half of this in spanish class so im sorry if there are mistakes, first time writing established relationship in full, kinda nervy

Jake Sim was many things.

One of the most popular and well-respected content creators on Youtube was one of them.

As Jake's nimble fingers darted across his keyboard, his other hand rested firmly on his mouth, he thought that the blue light emitting from his computer screen should burn his eyes. Except, it didn't. Despite what most people thought, 90% of being Youtuber was just simply staring at a computer screen, rather than being in front of a camera lens. The man felt his nose prickle before he let out a soundless, but satisfying, yawn. He leaned back against his office chair, stretching his neck and arms before he rubbed his eyes.

There was a reason that he was an extremely respected creator on Youtube.

For one, the production quality of his videos were high. Down to the Closed Captions or his camera's grain, Jake's attention to detail was immaculate. Not to mention, the content itself was magnificent. 

Whenever people asked Jake what he did for work, it was hard for him to answer.

He'd said that he made horror content, but he'd only earned incredulous looks, like he was a madman. Even then, "horror" content wasn't the correct description.

In short, Jake liked to make videos about obscure things. Which just so happened to be a little spooky. Sketchy true crime cases, searches for lost media, strange Internet phenomena, government cover-ups— Name anything a little bit eerie and Jake probably already covered something of that sort on his channel. Given the nature of his content, Jake almost always maintained a serious tone, but when the opportunity came to offer his opinion, he liked to relay it in a straightforward way. 

Another reason why he was so regarded was because of his content style. He preferred using darker colors, having a crisp microphone that picked up every rasp of his deeper voice. When he had camera shots, Jake liked to be in a dimly lit room. Unfortunately, his room was dark, too. 

This all combined together to create a singular image for Jake: the cool, high-quality, but a little bit scary, guy that likes to make videos about scary topics.

Now cracking his knuckles, Jake sucked in a sharp breath. Although he could easily export his upcoming video now and upload it, garnering millions of views, he refused to. There was something missing from it; it needed a little umph, a little embellishment to really pull things together. If there was one thing about Jake, it was that he'd put quality over quantity any day.

Jake is torn out of his thoughts when his phone, long forgotten next to his mouse, lit up. Usually, when he worked long afternoons like this, he silenced his phones in order to maintain focus.

However, there was always one exception.

You.

pretty girl: hi babe, do you think you can help me take promo pictures later?

The moment that Jake saw your contact show up, he picked up his phone immediately. His fingers tapped his screen, quickly responding to you.

me: yeah i can do it rn if you want

pretty girl: if youre busy, it doesn't need to be today, it can be tomorrow or something

pretty girl: oh

pretty girl: are you sure?

Of course he was.

Jake was already shutting off his monitor, grabbing his keys and shoving his feet into his shoes at your first message.

me: yeah i'll come over right now

You were Jake Sim's girlfriend. But other than the people in your personal life, no one else knew that.

Not that either of you minded.

Like Jake, you were a Youtuber. Except, your community was the complete opposite from his.

Your niche was cute makeup and lifestyle. Your videos had cute, blushy sets, characterized by cute plushies in the background and pretty, pink decorations. When you weren't making makeup tutorials or "get ready with me's," you were giving your viewers small sneak-peeks into your life. Whether it be your rosy morning skincare, or your sunny afternoon cooking attempts, or your illuminated late night thoughts, your content was light-hearted, soft, and personable. 

And if you weren't doing any of those things, you were modeling.

You were a beauty influencer, so you had sponsors from different makeup companies and such. What was most distinguishable from your personal brand was that you were one of Sanrio's biggest ambassadors. If there was someone that was the living embodiment of Hello Kitty, it was you.

Your personability, and your ability to feel authentic to your viewers, was a key factor in your large viewerbase. And what contributed to that the most was the fact that you had no idea how to use a camera. One would think that a content creator would know how to use a camera, but you were somehow the exception.

Not a problem!

Because you had your boyfriend, Jake!

Who was basically the master of content creation and film, in your opinion.

"Jakey!" you pounced on your boyfriend the moment he appeared at your apartment doorway. You threw your arms around his neck, immediately peppering his neck and cheeks with kisses. You heard him let out a few chuckles, feeling the rumble of his strong chest as he did. 

"Geez, babe, let me take my shoes off first," Jake teased you, taking in your sweet strawberry perfume. You immediately peeled yourself off of him, your lips forming a cute frown. 

"Shut up," you murmured, punching him on the arm while you jutted your bottom lip out. The lip tint and gloss on them shined, which made Jake grin. And when you noticed that he was staring at your lips, you gave him a gentle shove before saying again, “Shut up, Jakey.”

There it was, his favorite thing about you.

You were so, very, really, undeniably, mean to him.

Okay, that sounded weird.

But it was the truth.

Your relationship could be summed up in a few words—

You were just the cutest, and could barely contain your feelings for Jake, so you'd get all cuddly and affectionate with him. He'd tease you about it, so you'd get all shy and flustered, and you would begin to be mean to him. You'd call him stupid or annoying, and you'd tell him to go away but make no effort to resist his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his chest. And then he would get to tease you more, until you were so embarrassed that you relented and let him kiss you.

How could he not resist teasing you?

You were always so pretty, with makeup or not, and it was easy to tease you since you got embarrassed so easily.

Even if he was holding his most expensive camera in his hands, he'd still let you pounce on him, if it meant that he got one extra kiss from you.

You led him to your bedroom. It had the same sweet, strawberry scent as you. Your room was pink, and along the walls were shelves, all filled with the many, many plushies that Jake bought you. Plopping onto your bed, Jake watched as you dug around your filming desk.

"Sooo," he started, "You're gonna do a promotional post on Instagram?"

You hummed. Sanrio recently launched a new line of lip tints, and they sent you their newest ones to review and promote. 

"I already made a review, and it's going to go up later," you said, digging through your drawers. "I want to make a promo post, too, y'know?"

You let out an 'a-ha!' as you found what you were looking for. It was a tube of lip-tint, the newest one from the collection. You then touched up your makeup a little more. 

Jake watched you in awe. The way you applied lip gloss and brushed setting powder (or was it blush? he didn't know anything about makeup) onto your cheeks was so mesmerizing, as you weren't already so captivating to him.

Finally, you stood up, straightening out your outfit. You puckered your lips, and when you noticed Jake staring at you, you gave him a little twirl.

"How do I look?" you asked. 

Jake, with his camera in hand, pointed the lens at you. He looked through the viewfinder.

"Beautiful." 

As always.

The shoot went smoothly. As you always did when Jake was your photographer, the two of you drove to the film studio, renting out a room for a good hour. Jake was a pro with the camera and you were an even bigger pro at modeling. Other than a few compositional edits or changes in exposure, you and Jake were done as soon as you started. The two of you decided that you’d go back to your place, cook dinner together, and maybe watch a movie.

Except that got delayed.

“Y-You’re so annoying, Jake,” you struggled out. You were in the back seat of your car, legs thrown over your boyfriend’s hips, his soft lips connected to your neck. Your fingers gently tugged on his hair, you yourself pressing soft pecks against his forehead and temples. It started because you gave Jake a kiss on the cheek as a ‘thank you,’ which spiraled into a makeout session in your car.

“What,” he breathed against your skin, dark eyes flickering up to yours. “You said you’d do anything to express your thanks for me.”

Jake kissed your neck again, before trailing up your throat to your jaw. Your fingers raked through his soft hair, pushing his dark locks out of his face so that you could see his face clearly. Jake reached up, took your hand out of his hair, and instead held your palm against his cheek, nuzzling into your warm hand. The way your eyes widened into saucers, lips parting, in response made the man’s lips curve upward.

“W-Well I thought you’d ask me to hug you… or something,” you said sheepishly, your voice soft as your boyfriend’s actions flustered you.

Jake grinned to himself internally before pulling away from you altogether. 

“Then do you want to stop?” Your eyes widened a fraction. “Then, let’s go hom—“

“No!” you cut him off, your hands squeezing his shoulders. “Let’s not!”

You stared at him, brows furrowed, for a few moments, before you noticed the growing grin on your boyfriend’s face. That look you knew too well, the one that said that he was going to tease the everlasting fuck out of you.

Jake pulled you in by the waist, close enough so that your chests touched, noses almost brushing against each other. He could feel the heat radiating off your face, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“You sure you don’t wanna stop?” His voice was teasing, but you knew better. The earnest look in his eyes, you stared into yours, was filled with sincerity. He gave your waist a squeeze, almost as if to ask, “Do you actually want this?”

“Yes, Jakey,” you breathed against his lips, matter-of-factly. “I don’t wanna stop.”

The corner of his lips begin to lift.

“So you better kiss me,” you quipped, gripping his shoulders.

“Thought you’d never ask,” he rasped back, before attacking your lips.

(Later, when you were done, you two went home and went about your plan for the night. Except, you had to yell at Jake to go wash his face, because the sight of your lipstick at the corner of his lips was too much for you to take.)

"Hi, everyone!" you greeted the camera, folding your hands in your lap. With your thick, pink, knit sweater's sleeves falling over your wrists, you shot the lens a pretty smile. It was another normal day on the job of making content.

"As you guys know, VidCon is coming up soon." You pulled your makeup pouch toward your chest, leaning against the edge of your filming desk. "So, let's pack with me!"

Vidcon was an event for people to meet all of their favorite Youtubers. This year, you were invited to be one of the featured creators, given your popularity. As you filmed your "Pack with Me!" vlog, surrounded by ring lights aided by your windows cracked open, you recalled the email you had sent earlier, squeezing your eyes shut.

You see, Jake and you were both invited to VidCon. Since no one else, not even Youtube the corporation or your fellow Youtubers, knew that you guys were dating, Jake and you were given vastly different things. Youtube booked an entire hotel complex for all of its creators, and unfortunately, your room was located 10 floors below Jake's room. And worse, your booths and events were so far apart from each other that you probably wouldn't even see your boyfriend even if he decided to traverse the Convention. 

That's what you got for being vastly different content creators.

This year would be the first year that you and Jake got invited to VidCon, and you two wanted to share this experience with each other as much as possible.

Which is why you just shot Youtube one of the most embarrassing emails of your life.

"Hi, Youtube. The hotel complex you booked has a bar, and it is much closer to the top than the bottom. I really want to visit that bar. Can I request a room change so that my room is maybe on the 15th or 16th floors?" except add more formalities and much more discreet language, and that was the email you sent to your employers. You knew that it wouldn't be hard, and that the Youtube PR manager wouldn't reject your request. After all, you were the Sanrio beauty girl. Regardless, you'd gotten a response about an hour ago, and your request was approved, luckily. 

As you continued talking to your camera, folding your clothes neatly while chatting to your viewers about updates in your life, you thought about what you and Jake should do at VidCon. It was in the LA area, but you definitely wanted to visit other places in Southern California. 

It was no surprise that you and Jake had been more than touchy and close to each other. You were dating. Still, butterflies formed in your stomach as you thought about what you would do with him. Your face heated up at the thought of you and him spending time together in the hotel's rooftop hot-tub. The idea of him sneaking in your room at night, warming you up and pepperinging your cheeks with kisses, made your heart rate speed up, and you could only relish in the thought of exploring LA, Irvine, or wherever Jake wanted to take you with him.

You were a grown woman with a job and responsibilities, but the mere thought of your boyfriend being within the same vicinity as you made you nervous.

Just as you finished folding your clothes, you heard your front door crack open.

"Babe?" you hear Jake's voice call out your name. You turn off your camera to greet him, swearing to forget all of the thoughts you just had. Except, the moment that you locked eyes with him, all determination to not be teased left your body. Your lips wobbled, trying to bite back that stupid, bashful, and lovesick smile that made its way onto your face when you thought about Jake, but your eyes gave it all away. Instead of throwing yourself at him like you usually did, you only reached for the hem of his black T-shirt, playing with it sheepishly. 

You mumbled a small, "Hi."

You could feel Jake staring at you, and you could hear the way his lips curve into a smug, shit-eating grin.

"Shut up," you told him, your eyebrows crashing together.

"Baby, I didn't even say anything," Jake said, his hands finding their place on your lower back.

You felt shy and exposed before him. "Well, I know you're going to say something."

Jake grasped your chin, gently making you look at him. You tried to avoid his eyes, but it was impossible to avoid those dreamy, caramel eyes. Then, he took your face with both his hands, leaning in.

Was he going to kiss you? Oh my god, he was! Quick! What do you do? You felt like you were going to melt.

Instinctively, your hands tightened on the hem of his shirt, the black fabric scrunching in your fists. You closed your eyes, your lips softly puckering. You could feel him coming closer and closer, until his breath fanned your cheek.

As if he hadn't kissed you a million times before, your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your chest. 

Jake ghosted his lips over yours, inching just close enough that he could brush his lip against yours. 

And then, he pulled away from you. He took off his shoes, placed down his keys, and made his way into your bedroom, leaving you there standing alone.

Heat spread across your face and neck and ears as you realized your boyfriend had just teased you once again. You hid your face in your palms, letting out a small whine of embarrassment, before recollecting yourself and joining your boyfriend.

"Woah, what's going on here, babe?" Jake asked, standing at your bedroom doorway. 

"Oh." There was clothes and film equipment sprawled across your floor and bed. "I was filming a video."

You saw Jake's expression twitch, before he took your hands in his.

"My bad, was I interrupting something?" He was sincere in how his face showed a small drop of guilt for disrupting your filming. How could someone be such a tease one moment yet be so genuine the next?

"No, it's okay, Jakey," you said. "I mean, I need to finish my video, but I don't mind if you're around."

And that's how you found yourself trying not to burst out laughing as you filmed your video. Jake kept making funny faces at you, that goofy grin growing on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

"Jake, stop making faces!" you laughed, throwing a shirt at him.

He dodged it, throwing his head back into one of the plushies that he bought you. "I'm not doing anything!"

You threw another shirt at him, this time hitting him square in the face. Instead of admitting defeat, Jake only grabbed your shirt, pulling the fabric to his nose and taking a long, dramatic, sniff. 

"You smell sooooo good, babe," he said, ignoring your contorted expression, "I think I'm gonna keep this. You won't mind, right?"

"Ugh, Jaaaaakee!"

You plopped on top of him in bed. You felt his chest rumble as chuckles left his lips, rolling your eyes at him. You gave his chest a smack, a pout forming on your lips.

"You're so annoying," you mumbled as his hands slithered up to your hips. He gave your ass a pat, gesturing you to adjust your position. You did, sitting up so that you straddled your boyfriend's hips.

"And you're so pretty," he said, squeezing your hipbone.

"Let go of me," you poked him in the chest, but made no attempt to get off of him. 

"No."

"I need to finish my video," you pouted, still not moving to get off of him. 

"I don't care." Jake instead sat up on his elbows, his hands sliding down to your lower back, his face getting suspiciously close to your boobs. "Just lay with me."

Your fingers ran through his dark locks, before giving them a tug towards your chest. Jake laid his cheek against your boobs like they were pillows, arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his hot breath against your skin and neck. The next thing you knew, he was pressing sticky kisses against your chest and neck, soft gasps escaping your lips.

"Sorry, babe," he muttered against the shell of your ear, "I just can't resist you."

You let out a soft "ahhh!" when he bit down on your skin, his teeth brushing against the nape of your neck. Jake briefly pulled away, a smirk making its way onto his face as he admired the red-purple mark on your neck. 

"You're just too addicting."

Long story short, your video was still finished and uploaded. As Jake edited his video, he let yours play in the background, your bright voice illuminating his dark room. Somehow, your voice was the only thing that made him focus. 

However, when he heard a familiar laugh— his laugh— in your video, Jake stopped in his tracks.

His mind flashed back to what happened the other day in your apartment, when he interrupted you during your filming.

"I don't know if I turned off my camera, Jake," you had purred as Jake's tongue dipped into your collarbone. At that point, both you and him were shirtless, hair disheveled and pupils blown out with desire. Jake remembered the electricity that ran through him as those words left your lips.

"Am I supposed to care?" he had muttered, trailing kisses down your chest. "If they hear us, that's not my problem."

It was almost like you, who edited your video, added that clip to tease him. 

Immediately, his cheeks began turning the brightest shade of red possible. If you were here, he would have only coughed and looked away shyly, but since he was alone, his embarrassment spread across his face like a wildfire. Jake almost never showed it when he was flustered, at least when he was around you. 

He hid his face in his palms, sucking in a sharp breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, warmth prickling his skin. You were going to be the death of him. He let out a small, lovesick giggle, one that his friends would flame him for. He couldn't help it, not if it was you. 

When he read the comments, still flustered out of his mind, he felt a twinge of disappointment when no one seemed to notice him. 

For some reason, Jake couldn’t help but want people to know that you were his. He knew that you and him kept your relationship private to preserve it, but he still wanted to show you off.

Except, one comment caught his eye.

“Wait, does [Name] have a boyfriend? Who laughed at 6:34?” it read. Jake’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. The warmth that spread across his chest as his lips pulled upwards. He almost wanted to jump on his bed and roll around while giggling like a schoolgirl, but he contained himself.

At the corner of his eye, Jake spotted a certain plushie. 

As you were a partner of Sanrio, for a time there was a Limited Edition [Name] plushie, clad in pink with a cute, ruffle-lace bow to top it all off. Of course he bought one the moment it launched. Jake preferred his room to be completely dark and black, but he liked to keep that plushie on his bed, and although he’d never admit it, he hugged it when he slept if you weren’t with him.

Would it be wrong of him to tease you back? After all, Jake still had to film the brand deal for his new video. 

Would it hurt to position the plushie just enough so that it was in frame? 

So that maybe someone would see it.

Vidcon came crashing on you and Jake like a meteor, and before the two of you knew it, you were in the venue, wringing your fingers as the event commenced.

Sometimes, it was difficult for you to comprehend the level of your popularity. Sure, the numbers that Youtube loved to display for you told you that you had millions watching you, but mere numerical figures were simply not enough for you to wrap your mind around.

Your schedule that day was simple: you were going to have a booth that you'd tend to for an hour or two, where your fans could take pictures with you and take a few freebies with them. Then, you'd go to your main event, which was in a smaller venue.

At your booth, where you sat currently, your personal table was set up in a very special way: your table was pink, and covered in a lacy, white tablecloth. Even the wall behind you was specifically painted pink and decorated with various Sanrio-esque decorations. You had stickers that you'd give out, as well as a Limited Edition Vidcon Sanrio plushie of you that people could buy. The pink polaroid decorated with Hello Kitty stickers hung around your neck with a pink lanyard. You genuinely looked like Sanrio and Hello Kitty vomited all over you, but you didn't mind. And plus, that didn't matter, because you were cute either way.

You were hit with pure surprise as multiple groups of fans came your way. The amount of people that came to you, rambling nervously about how much they loved you, how much they looked up to you, how much you inspired them and made their days better, made you feel light-headed. And very warm inside.

Jake was the one that did the talking for you (thank goodness!), but for some reason, you pushed through your usual shyness, instead wanting for people to come up to you and talk.

Your face lit up as one of your fans, a girl that looked around your age, maybe only a few years younger than you, approached you. You could tell by the Sanrio sticker of you on her phone case that she was most definitely here for you.

"Oh my gosh, hi [Name]!" She gazed at you with wide, glimmering eyes. 

Your initial reaction was surprise, but then you broke out into a smile. You cocked your head, fingers gripping the hem of your dress, both nervous and excited. "Hi, there."

You fan took one look at your face, and squealed. The way that she giggled, bouncing on her feet as she fangirled over you made warmth spread across your cheeks, getting shy and looking down briefly.

"I'm sorry, [Name]!" Your fan couldn't stop giggling, which you thought was very cute. It was now that you noticed the camera in your hand. "I just really love your content, and I'm just so excited to meet you in real life!"

You blinked at her a few times, before you smile only widened. 

"Don't worry about it!" you said, taking her free hand in yours. Your shyness melted away as your fan squealed again. "It really means a lot to me that you came out here to personally see me."

Your eyes flickered over to her camera, squeezing her hand and motioning to it with your other. "Can I...?"

She nodded enthusiastically, so you took her camera. Turn on the 'photo' setting, you posed for the camera, taking multiple pictures of yourself for her. You hoped that that would make up for your shyness. The two of you hugged, and you took many polaroids for her.

Almost immediately, after she left, you were tagged in a Twitter thread. It was that fan, reporting her experience with you.

"She was so much prettier in real life, I thought I was in heaven," her tweets detailed, "And [Name] was so sweet! It felt like I was meeting the real life Hello Kitty."

She posted the pictures you took on her camera, and then the videos. You couldn't help but grin like an idiot, especially at the comments (and the rapidly-accumulating likes and retweets).

"The way [Name] gets so shy is so cute!"

"I don't really watch beauty content but I love [Name] so much."

"She's like an actual Disney Princess."

You loved your fans, you really did. You were grateful for them, and you thought they were very cute. 

You were excited to see how Vidcon would treat you.

Jake was fighting.

He was fighting demons, wars, the little voices in his head.

Did you have to look so pretty today?

Jake's own event was an entire venue away from yours. He had a few events, so after his first one, he took a small break, where he looked through his notifications. 

Of course, the first thing he looked at was your texts. They were from a while ago, during his show when he didn't have his phone on him, so he responded to them now. He smiled at your cute texts, expressing how excited and happy you were. His heart jumped out of his chest when he saw the selfie you sent him: there you were, in all your cutesy Sanrio glory, smiling so prettily for him. Jake had to clasp his face to hide the stupid, love-struck grin that bled onto his face. 

"Oi, what're you giggling about?" Jake was interrupted by Jay, another one of his fellow horror Youtubers.

Jake immediately wiped his expression clean. "Nothing."

When he glanced back at his phone, that dumb grin began to form again.

Jay groaned. "This is so weird. It's like watching Batman smile."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jake scoffed.

"I'm sayin' that you're basically Youtube's Batman," Jay scrunched his nose, "And it's weird seein' you all... smiley and stuff."

"I literally smiled earlier!"

"Not in the way that you did just now. I have a bad feeling about it."

"Shut up!"

Jake really tried his best to swallow back his pure admiration for you as he opened his phone screen again, but he failed miserably.

He wished he could see you right now. He loved to see his fans, he loved to talk to them about their shared interest: all things horror and obscure.

But Jake missed you right now.

His heart plummeted to his stomach, however, when he logged onto Twitter, and saw the worst hashtag he could ever think of: #[Name]isSoCute.

He agreed with it. No, he embraced that sentiment with every molecule in his being.

Just... he wished that he could see you right now. When he checked the tag and saw all the cute pictures that people took of you and the sweet experiences they had with you, he frowned— That should be him!

However, Jake actually saw the worst thing to ever materialize when he saw the top video under the tag.

It was a shaky video, starting off with a teenage boy walking up to you. In the background, he could hear your pretty voice in the background, exchanging small greetings and words with the poster. Jake was almost lost in his sheer love for you when his eyes narrowed. The boy in the video let out a little chuckle, before dropping a cheesy pick-up line on you.

"[Name], if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber." What made it worse was that you only giggled, leading the boy to drop a few other dumb pick-up lines. The camera panned up to you, showing you all smiley and bashful. Then, you and the boy hugged, before taking a few polaroids together.

Jake almost snapped his phone in half.

He understood better than anyone that you were a content creator just like him. It was part of the job to interact with fans, and given your character, of course you were sweet to them. He could tell that you were perfectly comfortable in the video, and that the kid probably was just joking around with his favorite Youtuber.

But did that stop Jake from mentally lambasting every single aspect of the video? Absolutely not.

Shaky camera, probably filmed on a phone, Jake's hands balled into fists, Fucked up aperture, exposure to low, bad mic.

Was he being a little immature? Yes, and Jake knew that. 

Though, Jake would admit that he agreed with a lot of comments and retweets under that post, hearting many of them in agreement.

"[Name] is such a cutie!" one read.

Absolutely.

"I love her so much," another read.

Me too, Jake thought.

"I want her so bad."

Just as Jake's finger hovered over the 'heart' button, he let out a small hmph. Did it annoy him that other people wanted you? Yes. But did he disagree with the comment? Nope. He pressed the "like" button.

He wanted to see you so bad. As Jake was queued up on stage, ready for his second event, he hoped that he could see you soon.

And his wish came true a few hours later.

It was now past noon, and Vidcon was in its (unofficial) intermission period, where a lot of the creators were now taking breaks. As Jake traversed the convention, he texted you trying to find a spot where the two of you could meet.

He passed the many booths and venues of his fellow Youtubers. The layout was unique in the way that Youtubers of similar genres were placed in similar areas. So when he started seeing Youtubers with bright makeup and problematic pasts, Jake knew that he was near you.

And lo and behold, soon he found you. Under the fluorescent light, you still glowed. There was some kind of halo around you as you turned over your shoulder, your face instantly brightening up as you spotted your boyfriend. You had a few fans that you were talking to at the moment, so you tended to them first, while Jake made his way over to you.

You and Jake agreed that you wouldn't make your relationship too obvious at Vidcon, but all of that was left forgotten the moment that Jake saw you. 

However, as you ran up to him, people couldn't help but stop and stare.

Why wouldn't they? You were the living embodiment of Sanrio, that one Hello Kitty girl, whereas Jake was that one guy that made scary content and was often shrouded in darkness, dubbed as Youtube's personal Batman. Absolutely no one would have expected to see the two of you interacting with one another, let alone be within the same vicinity.

"Hi, Jakey," you smiled up at him, and Jake thought that he could die right there. With the amount of people staring, Jake had to restrain himself from throwing his arms around you and hugging you.

"Hey, baby," he grinned. 

Before either of you could do anything, you and Jake were interrupted by a shrill squeal. You whipped your heads around to see a young girl and her older brother, who still looked relatively young. They explained nervously that the girl liked your content, while the brother liked Jake's content. They were expecting to scour in order for each of them to meet either of you, but were surprised to see you and Jake in one place.

You and Jake took a few pictures with them, both individually. Though, the two of them requested a picture with both you and Jake in the same frame, which you happily did.

When they left, you and Jake shared a look, before going off together.

Vidcon Day 1: Over.

Jake returned to his hotel room, too tired to do anything other than wash up and order room service. 

As Jake laid in his half-hard hotel mattress, he scrolled through his phone. He was tagged in a lot of pictures and tweets, and he found himself grinning at a lot of the sweet words his fans left. Although he was tired, he could definitely do this a few more times, feeling invigorated by his fans.

As he scrolled, the trending Twitter hashtag caught his eye.

#HelloKittyMeetsBatman.

Interesting name, he thought as he clicked on it.

Jake's heart skipped a beat as he saw what came up.

Apparently, people were extremely surprised to see you and Jake so close to each other. 

There were so many pictures of you and him taken together from afar just from that one instance earlier, from multiple different angles and distances. Jake would admit, the way he was dressed in all black while you were dressed in cute pinks and whites was almost laughable.

What truly caught his attention were the captions of all these pictures.

"Craziest crossover of 2024."

"I'm crying they legitimately look like Hello Kitty and Batman."

"Jake Sim and [Name] interacting was not on my Vidcon 2024 bingo card."

"This is like seeing two worlds collide, absolutely wild but I'm pleasantly surprised."

For the most part, it seemed like everyone just thought that you and Jake were friends, but it was still a little funny how taken aback the entire internet was.

Then, he saw the picture of you, him, and those two kids together. 

"They look like a family," was one of the most popular retweets under that post. 

Family.

That word rang through Jake's head, before he buried his face in one of the pillows, giggling to himself. He felt a little ridiculous getting so excited over such a small comment, but he couldn't help it. He felt so giddy inside at the thought of having a family with you, and felt even giddier knowing that people could see it, too.

Suddenly, his phone rang. Jake wasn't going to answer it, too caught up in his flustered-ness, but when he realized that it was you, he quickly cleared his throat, instinctively straightening out his hair (because what if he accidentally turns on his camera?-- he needed to look good for you!).

"Baby," he greeted suavely, as if he wasn't just giggling like a schoolgirl seconds ago.

Maybe it was the fact that it was already getting late, or the fact that Jake barely saw you today, or the fact that you were just so goddamn perfect, but your voice sounded so attractive in that moment.

"Jakeyyy," you whined. "Come over."

His chest was already throbbing but Jake played it cool.

He chuckled. "What for?"

"I miss you," he could hear the pout in your voice. "And I want your attention."

It was rare for you to be so direct with him, and while Jake wanted to melt on the spot, he wanted to tease you a bit longer.

"What's wrong with just being on the phone with me?" Jake's lips pulled into a smirk. "You can just talk to me like this."

"Noooo," you said. "I want— I want you."

Jake tried his best to not crumble then and there, but it was too hard.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Okay then, baby. I'll come over right now."

He didn't miss the cute little "yay!" you let out before you hung up.

You were going to be the death of him.

"Eep! Jake, what are you doing here—?!”

You’re cut off when you realized that you were, in fact, backstage of one of your events. Today was the second day of Vidcon, and you had just finished up your first event. As you went backstage, carrying the little bags of gifts that your fans got you, you didn’t expect your own boyfriend to be waiting back there for you.

“Hey there, Princess,” he said cheekily, sprawled across the backstage couch. "Miss me?"

He opened his arms up, and you instinctively crawled into them, sitting on his lap and sliding your arms around his neck. 

As you did, you eyed him up and down.

Clad in black as always, he wore a black button-up, paired with black slacks, a black belt, and a loose, black tie. That's right: today, Jake was going to have a panel with a whole bunch of other horror creators, ones that transcended the internet— authors, authors that Jake spent his whole life reading and looking up to, which explained why he was dressed significantly more proper today than yesterday.

The way his shirt fit his chest and hugged his shoulders made it hard for you to not stare, and the way that it wasn't buttoned at the top, revealing his honey-tan collarbones, mixed with the scent of his rich cologne, made you feel dizzy.

"Ay, are you checkin' me out?"

On any other day, you'd be embarrassed, maybe even pushing him away, but today, you only nodded your head, humming mindlessly in agreement.

Jake blinked at you, before he pulled you in by the waist so that you were flushed against his chest completely.

"Kiss me," you mumbled, pushing his dark bangs away from his face.

Jake chuckled, rubbing your cheek with his knuckles. "What's with you these days? Getting so bold."

You only leaned into his touch. Maybe it was sometime in the LA air, or maybe it was the vigor that your fans gave you earlier, but all you could do was look at your boyfriend with glossy, wide eyes innocently, watching the way that his resolve trembled.

"Shit," Jake cursed under his breath. "Hold on��"

He grabbed your hips, then tilted your chin so that he could have a better angle. Your lips crashed into one another. Not in the way that a meteor would crash into Earth's delicate atmosphere, but in the way that gentle sea waves crashed onto themselves, dark folds of blue creasing over each other, only to brush up against the foamy seashore, none the wiser. 

Jake liked the taste of your lip gloss; it tasted sweet, but not nearly as sweet as you, hungrily squeezing your hips in his hands. He swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, earning a squeal from you, who tugged on his hair. 

When you pulled away from each other, you were breathless, chests heaving not for air, but for each other. You stared at each other for a few moments, losing time in each other's eyes, when your eyes trailed down.

God, the button-up and tie were going to drive you crazy.

Without thought, your fingers twirled around his tie, slinking up his chest before you yanked him harshly, jerking Jake toward you abruptly. 

In a moment of pure, unadulterated boldness, you attacked his neck, laying sticky kisses all across his skin. One hand laced itself in Jake's hair, keeping a firm hold of his tilted head, while your other hand crept around the buttons of his shirt. 

Each soft sigh that Jake let out made you only press more kisses on him. When he let out one particularly loud whine, his arm jerking up to grab at the couch's armrest, you knew that you found the sensitive spot on his neck. You pressed another kiss on that spot, this time sinking your teeth into his skin. The hickey was dark and purple, and when you ran your tongue over it, Jake's hands shot to your hips again.

"Shit, [Name], wait a sec—"

Skillfully, your fingers began to slowly unbutton Jake's shirt, just enough that you could see more of his chest. 

Your head was feeling fuzzy now, drunk off your desire for him. The way he threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp of air he took in, curses falling from his lips, sent electricity coursing through your body.

When you unbuttoned the last button, you noticed the way Jake's eyes were squeezed shut, his other arm resting over them, hands balled into fists as his desperation for you increased.

"Jakey," you said. Jake was going to go mad, the way your voice was so soft and innocent as it said his name, all the while you were kissing and touching him in ways that made him go light-headed. He squeezed his eyes shut, another whimper escaping his lips. If he looked you in the eye right now, he was sure that he'd burst. "I want you to look at me."

He couldn't refuse you. Immediately, he opened his eyes, the arm strewn over his face dropping back to its position on your hips.

If he didn't die by combustion, Jake was certain that he'd die now— Your pupils were blown out, eyes lidded and staring at him like he was your prey to be slaughtered. He'd seen you wrought with desire so many times before, but the way you gazed at him like he was a piece of meat, like you were going to absolutely ruin him, made him feel weak.

"Watch me, Jakey," your voice sounded so sweet, but your actions said otherwise. You abruptly got up from your seat on his lap, Jake frowning at the loss of your touch. You dug through your purse thrown across the room, returning with a tube of lipstick.

You plopped back onto Jake's lap, making sure that he was watching as you applied it to your pretty, swollen lips. 

Then, you discarded it, throwing your lipstick to the side as you snatched his tie again. You brought the black fabric to your lips, staring your boyfriend down as you pressed kisses on his tie. You kissed it a few times, making sure that the color of your lipstick, as well as the shape of your lips, was well-imprinted on it.

Then, you yanked his shirt's collar toward you, pressing a harsh kiss on the fabric, making sure that the shape of your lips was once again imprinted on the fabric.

You looked back up at his face, unable to hide your smugness as his entire expression was painted with red.

"You're so hot—" Jake attempted to force out of his throat, but you only cut him off with a rough kiss to his lips. Without a word, you covered his face, from his forehead to his jaw, with kisses.

You pulled back to admire your work, before you pulled away from him.

"I have to be on stage in a few minutes," you said quietly, your back turned to him as you straightened out your skirt. Dumbfounded, Jake could only stare at you, but when you turned over your shoulder, flashing him a bright, but terribly cheeky, grin, Jake's heart fell out of chest. "I can't be late, right?"

With that, you left your boyfriend, all hot and bothered, on the couch, running off to prepare for your next event.

Almost immediately, Jake melted. He threw an arm over his eyes as he leaned back, letting out a groan.

Was this how you felt when he teased you?

Was he now sexually frustrated? Absolutely. But now he wanted you even more.

After mulling over it for a few minutes, Jake began to go back to his venue. But, as he passed the backstage vanity, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Some of it was obvious to him already: disheveled hair, messed up shirt. But what made Jake want to evaporate was the sight of his entire face and neck covered in lipstick marks. The corner of his lip had a big lipstick smudge, the hickey that you gave him earlier was so dark now, and he couldn't even dare to forget your lip imprints on his shirt and tie.

You little tease.

Jake's last straw was.... right now.

After the backstage fiasco, he didn't get to see you all day. That night, you had a PR event to attend with your fellow beauty creators, so he didn't get to see you at night either.

Which was why Jake was practically glowing with a dark and negative storm cloud as he pranced around the third day of Vidcon. It didn't help that he saw so many pictures of you and fans all across platforms. Poor guy almost lost it when one of your fans' vlogs blew up, the most replayed part being when you let out the most angelic and sweet laughs he'd ever heard in his life.

That should be him!

Meanwhile, Jake sat in the convention room at a panel. Lined up along the table were other horror creators, from authors to Youtubers to filmmakers, similar to yesterday. The way that this specific event operated was simple: fans got to ask anyone on the panel questions and they'd answer, which the entire room got to hear, and later there would be one-on-ones along the panel.

Jake was pulled out of his thoughts when one of the fans said that they had a question for him.

"Jake, your videos take a long time to make, how do you balance work and your personal life?"

Good question. He had a simple principle when it came to how to balance everything. Jake thought about it for a moment, before reaching for his microphone.

"I don't have any outright method," he began. Jake's mind flashed with your image: all the cute messages you'd send him throughout the day, all the times where after hours of rotting in front of his computer screen he could always count on your loving embrace to give him life, all times that he'd tune into your Spotify playlist so that he could be listening to what you were listening. It was easy to balance work and life, if it was you. "But I always put my life before the screen."

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

The room was quiet, intently listening to what Jake had to say. After all, he was renowned all across the Internet.

"To be clear, I understand the privilege of getting to work in a profession like mine," Jake continued. "I don't expect everyone to be able to follow my advice exactly, but the more I live, the more I realize that what happens before my very eyes will endlessly matter so much more than what happens in my own little Youtube bubble."

Jake's mouth jumped to you faster than his mind could stop him.

"My beautiful girlfriend is everything to me," he unconsciously began to grin stupidly to himself, "I'd put her above work any day if I had to."

The moment that those words left his lips, the room erupted with gasps and whispers.

"Wait, you have a girlfriend?!" one of Jake's Youtuber friends asked, leading the room to laugh.

Oh.

Shit.

Jake's eyes visibly widened. He clutched his microphone, bringing it up to his mouth, but no words came out.

There was no way in hell that he'd outright deny you, not even in a million years.

"I.... Well..." Jake stammered, trying his best to generate any words at all. He sucked in a sharp breath, a bashful expression making its way onto his face. "That's..."

The room filled with more laughter, alongside the teasing grins and pats on the back that Jake got from his colleagues.

"Oh, so that's what you were giggling about yesterday, lover boy..." Jay, also on the panel, quipped, his brows raised so high on his forehead that it could have touched his hairline.

"Sh-Shut up, Jay!"

Jake's chest felt fizzy. In a weird way.

A part of him felt on-edge. You and him always wanted to keep your relationship secret, for the sake of preserving it. He'd seen what the Internet did to relationships: it tore them apart. It wasn't like he name-dropped you, but he felt so... exposed, so vulnerable.

But at the same time, Jake felt his chest also swell with pride. That's right. He had a girlfriend (a hot girlfriend at that), a girlfriend that he was nefariously down bad for. He hoped everyone knew that, that he was taken and that if there was anyone that he'd spend the rest of his life with, it would be you.

Jake huffed. "Yeah, I have a girlfriend. What about it?"

No one questioned him further. Probably out of fear.

You were in the middle of trying your best to get through a conversation with some beauty guru that you knew one thing about: their personal makeup line launch failed horribly and they gave everyone hairy lipsticks. It was difficult, to say the least.

Exchanging your final regards, you quickly rushed back to your booth.

The first thing you saw when you checked your phone was a viral video, in which Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend. Your heart plummeted to your stomach when you initially read the caption, but when you watched the video, you had a difficult time processing your feelings.

Did you hate that Jake admitted that he had a girlfriend? … No, you didn’t. You didn’t at all. At a certain point, seeing the way that your boyfriend smiled so earnestly made your heart jump out of your chest. The way he was so giddy and smiley (of course, only you could tell that that was how he was feeling— to everyone else it probably looked like he was brooding) made your neck and cheeks warm up.

But, the way that the room erupted with voices and laughter, combined with the quirked brows of everyone on the panel, made you quiver.

You weren’t prepared for it, for how vulnerable you felt as a chorus of “ooh’s” filled the room.

Frankly, there were too many things that you had to focus on at the moment. You'd rather enjoy Vidcon now, and address it later, when things settle down. 

Pushing it to the back of your mind, you tucked your phone away, greeting another wave of fans. Though, not without taking an extra second to "heart" the post, adding it to your favorites folder, and rewatching the video one more time, feeling warmth and giddiness filling your chest.

As the cool night air kissed your cheeks, you fought the shy smile that seeped onto your face. It was late now, late enough that you could see all the city lights gleaming, lighting up the dark sky with blotches of all different colors.

There was a Vidcon party for creators, to celebrate the end of the event. Everyone was going. Although it was meant for any creator, there was a very exclusive VIP section; only those of high prestige could get in. Both you and Jake were invited, but upon realizing that nearly the entire hotel complex would be empty due to the popularity of the party, the two of you ditched it.

You'd been wanting to go to the rooftop hottub for a while now, but you never went because you wanted to go with Jake, and it was always too crowded for the two of you to go there comfortably. But now that everyone was gone, it was the perfect time.

Your boyfriend was already waiting for you up there, towel thrown over his shoulder with a shirt and swim trunks. His face lit up the moment he saw yours emerging from the elevator doors, rushing over to you to take your hands.

He paused for a moment. His dark eyes peered at yours, licking his lips before sucking in a sharp breath. Jake gave your forehead a peck, before saying a small "C'mon" and pulling you over to the hottub.

Jake took your towel for you, folding it next to his and perching it on a sunchair.

"They're gonna get off fireworks soon— Oh, damn," he cut himself off as you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing a bikini top. Your face scrunched up, squirming under his gaze. It's not like Jake has never seen you like this (in fact, he'd seen you in much more compromising positions), and it wasn't like he never complimented you, but as the hottub bubbled, the rosy scent of the water filling the air, you felt shy.

Jake slinked toward you, taking his own shirt off. 

"Hey there, Gorgeous," he said, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts that had yet to be taken off. Your heart pounded in your chest, fighting the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and groan in embarrassment. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. Jake chuckled softly, before clutching your chin gently, making you look up at him.

"Don't get shy on me now, babe," Jake grinned when your lips pressed into an unconscious pout. He squished your cheek, relishing in the look of confusion painted across your face. Then, his hands fell to your hips, pulling them toward his. "You look so beautiful."

Jake's fingers hooked onto the hem of your shorts, meeting your eyes for permission before pulling them down himself, revealing your bikini bottoms.

Jake's eyes glazed over your figure, taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Jaaakee," you whined, squeezing his hands.

"Sorry," Jake's eyes flickered up to your face. "I can't help it. You're just so hot, baby."

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub.

You rolled your eyes, biting back shyness, before you pulled him toward the hottub. 

The two of you got into the tub, sinking into the warm water, you felt your limbs relax. 

Vidcon was very fun, some of the most fun you've had in a while. But, it was very tiring, having to be around so many people at a time. And plus, it was hard not seeing your boyfriend whenever you wanted.

You pulled your knees to your chest. You could hear the loud techno music a few blocks away, probably coming from the club nearby. The bright night lights of LA was something that you could only imagine sleeping under.

Other than the sound of the city bustles, the hot tub’s jet system, and the occasional ripple of water, the night was silent.

“How was your day?” Jake broke the calm silence. The way the blueish water reflected off his skin made you dizzy.

“Good,” You cursed your voice for being so small. You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t know why you felt so nervous. It was your boyfriend, for goodness’s sake!

Jake loved it when you were shy, but sometimes he was genuinely worried about you. Part of why he loved you was the game that was trying to figure out what was going on in that pretty head of yours.

He reached out for you, clutching your knee. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Your stomach churned. For a second, you thought about that video of him admitting that he had a girlfriend. It made your skin crawl, but when your boyfriend squeezed your knee, it all stopped.

"Nothing," you said simply.

There's a few pulses of silence, before Jake clicked his tongue.

"H-Hey—!"

Jake got up from the water, wrapping his hands around your waist, and hoisted you up so that your legs were thrown on either side of the body, before sitting back down so that you were perched right on top of his lap.

Your chest, nearly bare, pressed against his own bare chest in a way that made your heart race. The warmth of his skin as it contacted yours was an addicting feeling, enhanced only by the warm water surrounding you. Either it was the steam from the tub, or the heat collecting between the two of your bodies, that rose to your cheeks.

You rested your hands on his chest, your fingertips barely reaching his broad shoulders, while Jake’s hands stayed in their spot around your waist.

"C'mon," you could feel Jake's warm, strong chest rumble beneath you. "Tell me what's wrong."

Under the sky, his eyes gleamed, like two gems. For the flirt that he was, Jake was too genuine and pure of a person. The sincere worry in his eyes made you feel warm, even warmer than you felt right now. And sometimes that was enough for you.

You leaned into him, your hands coming up to cup his face. You rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks, to which he let his eyelids fall shut, relishing in the comfort that was your presence. Every time your thumb pressed against his lips, he kissed them, unable to hide the smile growing on his lips when you giggled softly.

At the corner of your eye, you spotted the purple hickey you left on him the other day. That combined with his wet hair, the water droplets temptingly running down his chest, and the fact that you were right on top of him made you feel light-headed.

Your hands left his face, and Jake opened his mouth to whine about it, but was shut up when your fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss.

It was a soft, innocent kiss, the type you gave when you just wanted to be close to him. Jake hummed against your lips, squeezing your thighs. You pulled away first, but Jake gently guided the back of your head back to his, pecking your lips.

"I just missed you," you said. You kissed his cheek. "I really missed you."

"It's only been a day," Jake teased you, but he knew better than anyone that he had absolutely no right to say that to you: he was practically dying each moment he couldn't see you.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. You held onto his strong shoulders, eyes glued to his lips. You were feeling needy, needy in the way that you simply wanted to be close to Jake. You were already close to him, but you wanted to be even closer. Your heart thirsted for it.

Then, you heard a rustle, whipping your head around toward the sound.

"Nuh-uh," Jake whispered in your ear, gently holding your face and guiding it to look at him. "I want you to look at me."

It wasn't until a few seconds later that you understood why Jake's tone sounded so teasing: he was referencing you and him the other day backstage. 

"Stoppp," you whined, pushing your face into his neck. "You're so annoying."

Jake laughed, his chest rumbling. He stopped to admire the way you were all pressed up against him. He could feel every curve of your body, and he could feel the way your cheeks puffed with air, your lips forming a pout. He poked your cheek.

"You're so cute, baby."

"I know."

"What's with you getting so bold?"

"You're annoying me."

"Awww, you love me so—"

Fireworks fired off in the distance, painting the gray-blue sky with bright colors. 

You stayed in your position, only your eyes moving upward to admire the show. However, Jake stayed staring straight at you, practically ignoring the fiery flowers forming in the sky. He gazed into your eyes, watching the reflection in them.

"It's so pretty," you murmur.

"Yeah," Jake felt like he was falling into your eyes, "So pretty."

Just as another round of fireworks shot up into the sky, Jake grabbed your face, crashing his lips onto yours. Your lips fit into each other well, like puzzle pieces, in a way that was so satisfying, almost like you were made for kissing Jake. But for all of the desire and roughness that the kiss was filled with, it was a soft one. 

Jake swiped his tongue over your bottom lip, making you squeal and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His hands kneaded your body, roaming all over you with no intention of leaving a single part of your skin untouched. Likewise, you gripped his biceps, digging your nails into his skin to keep yourself grounded.

"Fuck—" Jake mumbled against your lips, only to get cut off by your lips attacking his— "Wait—"

Jake tasted sweet, like candy. He tasted like home, like love, like everything was going to be okay no matter what. How could you pull away now? 

"B-Baby, wait—"

"Stop talking, Jakey," you pulled away briefly, only to bite his lip, pulling on the pink flesh with your teeth. You let your tongue roam his mouth, feeling the warmth as your own hands began to wander his toned chest. 

"Just kiss me," you breathed.

You kept Jake like this for a few more minutes, trapping him in the heaven that was your lips. But when your bikini top began to untie at the back, something that Jake noticed immediately, he ripped away from you.

Something in his eyes had changed.

Quietly, he tied your bikini top back for you, ignoring your confused (and very breathless) gaze.

"If you keep doing what you do to me," he began into your ear, "I don't know if I'll be able to control myself."

With that, Jake threw you over his shoulder as he hoisted himself up to his feet. He grabbed everything that you brought to the rooftop, throwing your towel over you and ignoring you fussing.

"W-Where are we goin—?!"

"Back to my room."

You were in for a night.

You and Jake were going to stay in LA for a little while longer after Vidcon, so you extended your stay in the same hotel rooms.

After last night, Jake and you fell asleep in his bed. 

It was going to be the best, Jake thought. Neither of you had anywhere to be, anyone to put on a show for. The two of you could sleep in for as long as you'd like. It didn't really matter to him, as long as he could wake up with you in his arms, he'd be all right.

Which is why Jake's heart dropped to his stomach when he woke up to you already dressed, pacing around the room nervously.

"Baby?" Jake was alarmed, even as he rubbed his sleepy eyes. "Baby, what happened?"

You whipped your head over to him, your expression pinch and painted with anxiety. 

"Check your phone," you muttered as you chewed your lip.

Jake did as you said. The moment he opened up his phone, his screen was filled with text messages from everyone: his colleagues, his friends, heck even his own mother. He was tagged in about a thousand posts all across his social media accounts, and his Youtube home page was plastered with his face. But not only his face. Your face too.

What caught his eye was an article from a major Internet news source that made its round across every platform.

Its headline?

Jake Sim and [Name] [Last Name] are reported to be dating.

The worst part was the cover page.

It was a photo of you and Jake, together in the hottub last night, with your arms thrown around his neck with your lips connected. When he read more into it, the photo evidence got more and more specific. Close-up pictures of Jake's neck to reveal a hickey and lipstick mark on his shirt, your smudged lipstick, a screenshot of the Sanrio plush in one of his videos, even that clip of his laugh in the background of one of your videos. Of course, the most crucial one was that clip of Jake admitting that he had a girlfriend.

This was what he wanted, wasn't it? For everyone to know about you, to be able to show you off.

Objectively, this was bound to happen.

But as Jake watched you pace around, your hands shaking as you looked like you were about to cry, he didn't feel the pride that he thought he would feel if everyone knew. He didn't feel happy, he didn't feel excited that he got to show you off. All he felt was a mix of guilt and anger.

And before he could reach out to hold your hand and pull you close, you quietly said that you were going to go on a walk, and left the hotel room.

The quiet that filled the hotel room was piercing. Jake stilled in his spot, still groggy and disheveled.

Had he always been like this?

He swore that at the beginning of your relationship, he took every measure to keep it private. Because you asked him to. Because he respected you.

Why did he throw it all away? 

He agreed to keep things private. 

But now he put you in an uncomfortable position and an even more vulnerable position than you'd ever been in before. 

Was he a bad boyfriend? Were you going to break up with him? Would your relationship with him ever be the same? That made Jake's heart palpitate. He couldn't lose you. No, he'd die. But then again, he fucked up, he knew that.

Jake ran a hand through his hair. This was an asshole move.

But he couldn't help feeling his fingers twitch for his phone when it ding'd.

The first thing he saw when he opened up Twitter were tweets at him.

And they were surprisingly... supportive?

"Emo boyfriend, cute girlfriend, the best combo!"

"Sending love to both of you. Hope you're doing well. We support you."

"I'm very pleasantly surprised."

"This is literally like Hello Kitty and Batman meeting this is crazy"

But as he scrolled deeper, he found more obscure comments.

"Feel so bad for [Name]. Her boyfriend is a freak."

"He doesn't deserve her."

And the nail in the coffin:

"No wonder they kept it a secret. I'd hide it too if someone like that was my boyfriend."

Why did you keep your relationship with him secret? Jake knew the answer to that: you just wanted to keep your personal life private.

But as Jake plunged himself deeper and deeper into the hole that was the media, he could only imagine alternative answers, and one stuck out.

Were you ashamed of him? 

Of course you would be.

You were beautiful in every capacity and just the most perfect person in the world. And Jake was just himself. You were always cute, and sometimes, Jake felt like he couldn't keep up with you. You were far out of his league. His content was considered "niche" and "obscure," of course people, maybe even you, considered him a freak.

He was a bastard, and you were a princess. He didn't blame you for being embarrassed about him.

That's why you were so anxious and against your relationship being exposed, right?

No, no, no!

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Jake thought, his hands balling into fists. You wouldn't. He knew you better than anyone, and he knew that you would never be embarrassed about him. You weren't like that, and he was a fool for even thinking of you in that way. He was being insecure and stupid.

But even so, as Jake let all the guilt, shame, anger, and anxiety settle in while he thought of an apology to you, he couldn't help but feel his insecurity seeping in.

You knew that you were overreacting. You shouldn't have left Jake in there all alone, you should have sat down and talked to him about it.

But there was something scary about having everybody's eyes on you at once, scorning you. You were a Youtuber, of course you knew what it felt like to be watched, but to have the entire internet so hellbent about your personal life made you jump into your own skin.

You just took a walk along the early city streets, you reflected upon yourself.

Why did you keep your relationship with Jake secret? 

Part of it was privacy. You didn't want the internet to interfere with your personal life, of course. 

But it wasn't like you wanted to hide your love for your boyfriend forever. It wasn't like you wanted to stow him away somewhere no one could find him. You were both adults, and you had to start living at some point.

You'd be lying if you said that you never thought about making a cute video with him, if you said you never wanted to post a cheesy anniversary picture on Instagram with a long caption just for him, if you said you never wanted the world to know that Jake Sim was yours.

You remembered the first time you and Jake talked about keeping it private. He was unsure, but because he cared so much about you, he agreed. Had you ever stopped to think about how he felt? You may have wanted to keep your relationship quiet, but did he? To a degree, there was something selfish about you, both now and in the past. You wanted to preserve yourself and your feelings, but you never even considered how Jake felt.

You were afraid, you felt vulnerable and too exposed to the world. But you cared far more about Jake than those fleeting emotions. Desire outweighed fear, you had to see him now.

But as you marched back to your hotel, your mind racing as you came up with paragraphs of words that you'd spill to Jake, you began to notice your worst nightmare.

A group of men, each with massive cameras that had even bigger microphones. 

They called themselves the paparazzi, but they were really only middle-aged men that made money off of being invasive towards people half their age.

Maybe you should have worn a hat, or something, as you were in a camera-infested area that was even more infested with celebrities and influencers. As they approached you, you quickened your steps, trying to get as far as you could from them. You tried your best not to make eye-contact, but alas, they got to you before you could escape.

"[Name]?" one of them called out your name, practically running to you.

Oh my god, you thought, ignoring them as you sped up. Please not right now.

"[Name], are you dating Jake Sim?" The sound of your boyfriend's name out of their mouths made your stomach churn. You kept walking, but you could feel them pointing their massive cameras at you, taking any measure to make a buck off of you.

You had a few choices.

You could make a run for it. Though, you had about six men double your age who would probably chase you down.

You could also give in to them, and give very vague answers. That would require a lot of patience, and simply, you wanted to go kiss your boyfriend, not talk to these so-called paparazzis.

Your last option was the one that seemed the most appealing, but could stir the pot of the media even more and it would give the tabloids what they wanted: you could tell them off and shut them down completely. The only issue was that you were the cutesy, sweet, Sanrio Hello Kitty girl. You've talked about adult topics before, but for you to be hostile and mean to another person? That was completely unheard of to anyone on the Internet. It would also be very reactive, and the media could twist that into something more.

But you wanted to get out of there.

You wanted to go see Jake. If you had to throw a few curse words at people if it meant that you could go home to Jake, then you'd use every curse under the sun.

"[Name], everyone is saying that your relationship with Jake Sim is real and not a publicity stunt. Any comment on that-?"

You were getting irritated.

You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder.

"Will you fuck off?" Your gaze hardened on the group of men shoving cameras in your faces. You didn't even bother looking into the lens. "It's 10 in the morning, I don't have time for this."

"We didn't mean to offend you, [Name], we just wanted to know your relationship with Jake Si—"

You huffed to yourself, rolling your eyes. They loved acting polite only to violate your privacy. 

"Cut the bullshit, okay?" you narrowed your eyes. You were only a few meters from the hotel entrance, and they were still stalking you with their massive cameras. How shameless. 

Your anger was bubbling up inside you. It was rising, rising so much that you could feel it attempting to spill out of your mouth.

"You want to make a quick buck off of me so bad?" You stepped through the hotel doorway.

If the media was so curious about your life, and if they wanted to go so far as to try to disrupt your relationship, you wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

Everyone loved seeing what you were doing, everyone loved to watch you. It was your job to put on a show, to give people what they wanted. If you wanted to live, then you'd have to accept that.

You were an influencer, a micro-celebrity. You could make tides move if you wanted to. Why be so fearful of the eyes of so many?

But more than anything, you were a performer. And if that's what they wanted from you, that's what they'll get.

"Fine," you huffed. "I'll give you a story: me and Jake have been together for six years. In fact, we met each other in high school when he was my Physics lab partner. Go investigate that, won't you?"

With that, you slammed the hotel entrance door in their faces.

Jake swore he heard the trumpets of heaven when the hotel room door cracked open, revealing you.

He'd been waiting in front of it for a while now, and he jerked up immediately as he saw your face. He jumped right to his feet, ready to spill every word he thought of on you. You deserved an explanation.

But all you did was raise your hand, silencing him instantly. Instead, you took off your shoes, took his arm, and pulled him with you to the bed. You motioned for him to lay down, and did so yourself.

Jake stared at you like you were insane. Were you not going to yell at him? Why weren't you hitting him or telling him that you wanted to break up with him? Should he be on his knees begging you to stay at this point? But he complied (because of course he did, it was you).

You laid on his chest in silence, pressing your cheek up against him. 

That made his mind wander.

Maybe you were trying to ease him into a hard conversation. Maybe you were going to forget this until later.

He didn't want that. No, you deserved to hear what he had to say. If you were going to leave him, Jake wanted to say everything that he wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Jake blurted. The silence was deafening, before you took a deep breath, turning over onto your stomach so that your chin laid on his chest.

"What for?"

The gentle look in your eye as you looked at him made Jake choke up himself. He had to hold back or he'd start sobbing.

"For going against your wishes a-and..." Jake searched through his mind for all the words he practiced, but nothing came to mind. Not with you looking at him like you still loved him. "And for telling people about our relationship. I—I shouldn't have done that and I'm sorry for disrespecting the promise w-we made.... And... And—"

Jake sucked in a loud, sharp breath. His eyes were getting watery. He took your hands in his, squeezing them. 

"And I know that you're ash—ashamed of me, and I know that y-you won't— you won't want to be with me anymore, but—"

"Wait what?" you interrupted him, squeezing hands back. "I'm not ashamed of you, Jakey."

Jake stared at you.

Jakey.

"I'm not breaking up with you either. What makes you think that?"

The gate that was holding back Jake's emotions broke.

Jake let the tears that he tried so hard to hold back roll down his face. He let out a sob before he clamped a hand over his mouth.

You didn't hate him? You still wanted to be with him?

You instantly threw your leg over his hips, straddling him as you pulled his head to your chest. He melted into your touch, his wet face hiding in the crook of your neck. You pet his hair, pressing kisses to the crown of his head.

"Baby," you whispered into his ear gently. "Why are you crying?"

Jake's crying only got louder, and you couldn't help but giggle. He was a total softie. The way his hold around you tightened told you enough.

Jake sniffled through his words, cutting himself off every now and then with a hiccup and more sobs. "Th-Thought you were gonna l-leave me."

Your fingers stopped in his hair. "Leave you? Why would I?"

Jake pushed his face back into your shoulder, shaking his head.

You let him cry like that for a little while longer, whispering sweet reassurances in his ear as you patted his back. 

And when he was ready, the two of you talked it out, because that's what people did when they loved each other. You exchanged apologies, explained to each other your thought processes, and created an agreement: start anew, and you both didn’t mind that your relationship was now public, and if either of you disagreed, you had to voice it immediately. You ended it with a kiss.

You clicked the camera on, checking in the viewfinder that you were in-frame. You were back at home, the pink Hello Kitty decorations in your room, as well as the scent of strawberries, surrounding you. 

“Hi, everyone!” you smiled brightly, clasping your hands together. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you all. How are you?”

You chatted about a few updates since Vidcon, telling about your wonderful experience there and how you were so happy to meet all your fans.

“Now, onto the video!”

You peered to the side, where you spotted Jake sitting at the edge of your bed, waiting intently for your cue.

“Oh, Jakey!” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Come out now!”

With that, Jake popped into frame, dorkily saying a quick hi before plopping down onto the chair beside you.

“Today, I will be doing my boyfriend’s makeup!” you chirped happily. “Are you ready, boyfriend?”

The two of you shared a grin.

“Of course, girlfriend.”

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (3/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of smut, mentions of underage drinking 

Part Summary: Sam and Y/N are on The Late Late Show to promote The Seasons of Life. 

Masterlist

Before the interview, Nicole practices questions with me so I don’t get blindsided. Meanwhile, Sam and his manager, Steven, practice talking about our upcoming photo shoot for Vanity Fair. Steven is much more laid back than Nicole. Sam is free to do whatever he pleases. The country sees him as an average twenty-something. If he ever messed up he would be forgiven. Nicole emphasizes to me whenever she can that I have no room for error. I must be a saint as “America’s Sweetheart.”

There’s a knock at the door to our dressing room and Steven opens it. A man with a check board and a headset instructs, “Ms. Voss, Mr. Merka you’ll be on in five. If you could follow me.”

“We’ll be right off camera if you need us!” Nicole informs me and Steven agrees with a hum.

“Have fun guys!” he adds.

Sam holds the door for me and the two of us follow the man down the hall into backstage. Sam takes my hand as a precaution, just in case the chaos might separate us. Through double doors, we enter backstage and we’re stopped behind where we’re meant to enter. Loud music begins to echo from the stage and I recognize the song as one of Machine Gun Kelly’s. He’s all the rage now, one of those rockstars that girls fifteen and up obsess over. I don’t have much space left in my mind to obsess with everything going on. As we wait, I bop and sway my head back and forth to the beat absentmindedly.

The man says over his shoulder, “he’s great huh!”

I frowned confused, “wait, is he performing live?”

The man raises an eyebrow as if the answer is obvious. “Yeah, his interview was a few minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t cross paths when you got here.” He’s then pulled away by a lady dressed in all black. “I’ll right back! Stay right here!”

I scoff under my breath, the dude treated me like a dingus.

“Well, he was friendly” Sam mutters sarcastically under his breath.

“Right! Geez, he’s what? Only around four years older than you? At least he looked it. My bad for not knowing I’m apparently in the same building as a god!”

Sam snickers but covers his mouth since we’re not allowed to be loud. The song ends and the crowd goes wild on the other side.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Machine Gun Kelly!” The applause goes on and on with James attempting to speak over it into the camera. “After the break, we’ll have the breakout stars from the hottest show of the decade The Seasons of Life, Y/N Voss, and Sam Merka! So don’t go anywhere!”

The audience gets loud at the sound of our names and a shot of adrenaline rushes through me. People rush around backstage to get the music equipment off the set. Sam and I move up against the wall so people can get through. The crew is yelling to make the switch quick. Propping myself up against the wall, I watch the chaos happening. Sam leans against the wall and faces me. I don’t mind the tight quarters though. He acts like a wall, blocking me from the craziness.

“It never gets like this on set,” Sam says, scanning the stage.

“That’s because we don’t film live,” I remind him with a chuckle.

My arms cross over my chest and Sam props his elbow on my shoulder. If this was a photoshoot, this would be a great shot of us. We’re being ourselves, depending on each other as per usual. We’re comfortable with one another. To kill time, I glance around as people move about backstage. My eyes meet a lengthy, bleach blonde, tattoo-covered musician walking off stage. He instantly goes for the guitar case against the far wall in the corner. As if he could feel me looking, his attention snaps away from his guitar and toward me. His focused features gently fall as he stares at me from across the busyness of the show. A chill shoots up my spine and spreads across my face. Instantly, I'm drawn in and can't find the means to look away.

Sam steals my attention when he straightens up in my side view. “We’re on,” he informs me.

I immediately bring to focus and adjust my floral pencil skirt to appear put together.

The man from before leads us up to where he left us last. “Okay, here’s the deal. James will announce your names. There will be cheers, you will walk out together and sit on the couch. The order in which you sit doesn’t matter.” He pauses to press on his headset, “sure, alright, one minute.”

I shift my head to the side and yet again I see them, the same pair of eyes that made me freeze. I quickly snap my attention forward as though I’ve been caught red-handed. He’s not what I had expected. I’ve heard of Machine Gun Kelly, who hasn’t? I’ve seen pictures here and there. I’ve heard a song or two. Never in a million did I ever imagine we would meet eyes and he would make me stop breathing for a second. It was nothing short of groundbreaking. It’s dangerous and immaculate at the same time.

Soon, the noise of the audience dies down to signal the end of the commercial break. Sam and I are told to walk out so we cross through the corridor. Sam leads and reaches his hand back for me to take. I do so mindlessly since it’s what we always do. We wave to the audience and James stands up to greet us. He hugs Sam and they exchange a few words. I keep on waving to the audience and point towards a girl who has a shirt with the show’s title on it. Sam moves over so James and I can say hello.

“Hi, James! How are you?” I greet as we embrace.

“Excellent, how are you, Sweetheart?” He charms.

“Great! Excited to be here!” I gush as I shuffle to the side to settle on the couch beside Sam.

“Thirty seconds!” A man, whom I assume is the producer, announced loudly.

I sit down next to Sam on the light blue velvet couch. He sits back and crosses his arm over the back of the couch behind me then slides it down to rest over my shoulders. I lean into his side, crossing my legs toward him. 

“Five seconds!” James sits down in his black desk chair next to Sam and looks into the camera. He’s given the signal and he lights up. “I’m joined here by the two biggest young stars of the decade, Y/N Voss and Sam Merka!” The audience applauds loudly and I wave to all of them. James turns to us with a bright grin. “First off, how are you two?”

“We’re great, couldn’t be better!” Sam answers with a charming smile. He takes my hand and I rest them on my lap instinctively.

At the start of the series, our management and the show’s team encouraged us to be mildly affectionate in public situations to promote interest in our tv counterparts. Since then, it’s come so naturally to us because as friends we genuinely feel better when we have physical contact when on display. We’re security blankets for one another.

James continues, “you two play the power couple, Hollyn and Elliot, on the hit show The Seasons of Life, better known simply as Seasons. It’s all anyone is talking about lately! Has all the publicity changed your lives at all?”

Nervously, I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear before I speak. “I can’t speak for Sam, but at least for me, I answer with a confident “yes!” The Seasons of Life has changed every aspect of my life. When we first started filming the first season, I was still living in South Carolina. I went to a normal high school and had to travel back and forth between here and there. Back then, no one really knew of me. I was your average teenage girl trying to have the best of both worlds.”

James nods, seemingly fascinated by my response.

Sam smiles in agreement, switching his sight between James and myself. “My story is basically the same except I was in college studying law.”

“That’s right!” James perks up, “There’s a decent age gap between the two of you!”

We glance at each other and nod, both of us grinning.

“Does that make the more romantic scenes between Hollyn and Elliot harder?” James inquires.

“No, not at all” I answer, squeezing Sam’s hand.

“Y/N has always acted with such maturity and grace that she makes it unbelievable easy onset. The eight years feel nearly nonexistent.”

“We haven’t had too many extremely romantic scenes,” I add jokingly, looking fondly at Sam.

He meets my gaze and hums in agreement. “Have to build up that suspense!”

James laughs at Sam’s remark and goes on with his questions. “Last year, during the season finale, Twitter blew up because your characters finally got together! And had that bow-chicka-wow-wow scene,” James wiggles his eyebrows. The audience cheers in excitement. Everyone was over the moon about the scene. “Y/N, what was going through your mind during that scene?”

“Sam, Jonathan, and the rest of the Seasons family never fail to make me feel so secure onset. For that scene, in particular, Jonathan made sure it was just the three of us on set so that space felt relaxed. It was my first time ever filming a sex scene of that magnitude and I was so lucky to have this fella right here to help me,” I gush as I place my hand on Sam’s knee with a pat.

“That’s lovely,” James feeds into the sappiness that the audience eats up. “Was there ever talk of getting a double for you?”

“I told our director, the producers, everyone that only I can do the scene. It didn’t feel right to me to have someone else play Hollyn. Especially for a scene that would have such an impact on the characters involved. The fans had been begging for Elliot and Hollyn to finally get together and I couldn’t pass up being a part of the moment when they finally did. It wouldn’t have been fair to the fans if it wasn’t me playing the role.”

The audience approves of my response with their loud reaction which eases my nerves immensely.

“Absolutely incredible,” James compliments. “I can’t imagine the scene being done without you two. I mean, you two have such chemistry! What were your reactions to watching the infamous final scene? Did you watch it together?!”

Sam and I side-eye one another then burst out laughing because I can recall my exact words. I’m sure he can too.

“This is a question for Y/N,” he points out between laughter.

I hit the back of my hand on his stomach, “why me?!”

“You said!” He chuckles, so he does remember my words.

I get the giggles as James pushes me to answer. I settle down and catch my breath. “Well, I had a watch party at my house with the cast, and right after the scene happened and the show cuts to the dramatic final credits, I yelled “yay! Hollyn finally got laid!”

James hides his face with his cards as he laughs. Laughs of all kinds spread throughout the audience and I can feel my face getting warm. James’s laugh is contagious and I can’t stop.

“You all know how uptight Hollyn could be! Maybe she’ll be a little more laid back!” I add with a shrug and James bursts out laughing.

“You two are absolutely hilarious,” he wipes his watery eyes. “And adorable! Please tell me you’re dating in real life!”

Sam hiss between his teeth and glances at me. “I’m sorry, we’re not…” he answers hesitantly.

“What!” James’s jaw drops, “but you two are so cute together! I mean, you’ve been holding hands the entire time!”

We shake our heads and Sam explains for us both. “Y/N and I are super close. We can see how people would assume we’re dating but in all honesty, we’re just really good friends. Considering, for example, to have done the final scene from last season we kinda have to be. We met when she was just a teenager and I was in graduate school. We’ve seen each other grow. We’ve been around the world together and since our characters are paired together, so are we. Meaning, we’re constantly together and I’m thankful we are because I’m so lucky to have such an amazing partner in all of this.”

“Aw, isn’t he the sweetest!” I pout playfully and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Ugh, can we change the whole “only friends” thing?” James begs. “I ship it!”

The audience agrees and then he moves on to talk about the next season. We say all that can be shared at the time being and we share some pictures from filming yesterday as a teaser for the season.

“Y/N, is that you crying here?” James questions.

The photo on the scene behind us shows the part where I cry because Elliot just told Hollyn she’ll only ever be a rich girl from Los Angeles.

“Yeah, the first episode is filled with drama! Elliot and Hollyn already have a rocky time.”

“No! You’re joking!” He whines, disappointed.

We flip through more photos and answer a few more questions. James says into the camera that when we get back we’ll be playing a game. The game is Who is Most Likely To? Between me and Sam who is more likely to…

After the commercial break, James looks toward the camera with the utmost enthusiasm. “And we are back with Y/N and Sam! I have given each of them a paddle! One side says Y/N and the other reads Sam! Now, the game is Who is Most Likely To? So, between the two of you, who is more likely to “fill in the blank?” We all set?”

“We’re good!” Sam and I say at the same time as if we practiced.

“Alrighty, question number one...” James reads his cards. “Who is most likely to sleep until noon?”

I instantly flip my paddle to myself without a second thought. Sam is such an early bird. The type to get a five-mile jog in by ten. I lean forward and Sam said me as well.

“I’m not gonna deny it. If I could I would stay in bed all day,” I giggle without shame.

“You have stayed in bed all day,” Sam teases and I playfully nudge him in the arm. The whole set finds it humorous.

“Who is most likely to get a tattoo?” James reads with a raised brow.

The audience “ooh’s” in anticipation. I flip my paddle to Sam’s side, never in a million years would I get a tattoo.

“Y/N, you flipped your paddle super fast. Why is that?” James inquires.

“Mhm, nope! There will be no ink on this skin!” I wave my head frantically. “Sam can do whatever he wants with his body but it’s a no for me.”

“We’ve actually talked about tattoos before and I plan on getting one here soon,” Sam describes.

James asks him about what he plans on getting and that conversation goes on a minute or two. Sam explains where he plans on placing the tattoo and when he’ll get it done.

James reads over the card and smirks, “who is most likely to date another celebrity?”

Sam, no doubt. I feel no urge to date, thank you very much.

“Oh! Looks like we got ourselves a mix-up! Sam said Y/N and Y/N said, Sam!” James laughs toward the audience.

“Me?!” I gasp, earning amusement from the audience.

Sam turns his body to face me, “why not?”

“You know, if you two dated this could work itself out,” James points out to get a reaction from the crowd.

“I’m not really looking to date at the moment,” I explain, and James is surprised. I explain further, “the show is important to me and this summer I just want to fun. Plus, my schedule is quite hectic and I would feel bad for dragging someone else into it all.”

He completely understands and asks the final question. “Who is most likely to get married first?”

I flip my board to Sam again. James starts to laugh and I comprehend that it’s the same case as last time. I check Sam’s and I’m right, he said to me.

“Why do you keep putting me?” I fuss playfully.

“Because it’s true! You’re such a little liar to say me!” Sam teases.

“You’re older!” I reason.

“Oh please,” Sam rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch.

“I’ll have to agree with Sam on this one,” James adds and I look to him betrayed.

“Y/N, you’re America’s Sweetheart! Every young guy’s dream girl!”

I hide my face in my hands and shake my head with a giggle.

“Doesn’t mean I’ll be the first to get married! I have no interest in anyone right now!” James and Sam beam as I finish.

“Ah, ah see! You said “right now,” James points at me.

These two are teaming up on me now.

“Thank you so much you two for coming in! It’s been a lot of fun!” James thanks.

“Of course, it was a blast!” I charm.

He stands and so do we. He hugs Sam then me, “you two make me laugh like no others.”

James looks into the camera and wraps up the end of the show. “Thank you, Julia Roberts, Adam Levine, Sam Merka, Y/N Voss, and Machine Gun Kelly for joining me today! Have an excellent night everyone! Until next time!”

The band starts their music. Sam and I dance to the beat and James join in. The produces yells that the show has cut to a commercial.

To hear my name and Machine Gun Kelly’s name mere seconds apart is something I never thought I’d hear.

“Thanks again for coming!” James repeats once the show is over.

“We had fun! Thanks for having us!” Sam compliments.

The duo shares a brief “bro hug” and James embraces me one last time.

Then, Sam and I head backstage to our dressing room. Nicole and Steven should already be back there since I didn’t see them on the set.

“That went well!” Sam mentions while we walk down the hall.

I hum, “totally not getting married first though.”

“Whatever, you’re lying to yourself,” he laughs as he opens the door to the dressing for me.

Nicole and Steven are waiting for us and instantly begin talking about the Vanity Fair shoot tomorrow. It’s never-ending.

____________________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @canyoubuymetoast  @bri-3530 @asil1652 @andstilltryingtofindmyself @nadia2021 @olafsidehoe @mgkobsessed @fairywriting101 @ferrell-cat @naylanae-0308 @tonystarkswife10 @alexsa56 @brocksbabyyy @stormrider505 @magnificenthumancopangel @sarcasticfangirlus @lilramencup95beech @missyviolet123 @skeleton-gxrl @glitterybearllamaflap @margaritaville20 @amoresixx

[dudeandduchess]

How about Little Mermaid AU! with Kyo? Basically, he’s Ariel and his s/o is Prince Eric in this case, and she’s the princess of the kingdom. A SFW scenario with them would be cute! It doesn’t have to be the whole movie at all, but maybe just the part where Kyo sees her for the first time and then saves her. After seeing her, the only thing he really wants is to be with her. Thank you! I’ll always enjoy your writing!

I loved this idea so much, bby! I’m sure it’s obvious if everyone just looks at my blog. So thank you for making this request. It’ll be followed soon with another one bc a friend of mine (Biz) added in a req for a continuation and I’m all for it.😂🍉🍉🍉 

***

Chances: Merman!Kyōjurō x Princess!F!S/O (Mermaid AU, SFW Scenario)

Warning: Depictions of drowning Word Count: 1989 (I usually don’t add a word count for reqs, but this one is special bc 1989 was when the Little Mermaid movie came out.)

The party was already in full swing around (Y/n); wine, champagne, and sake flowing on board the ship as everyone celebrated the high of the youngest prince’s seventh birthday. People laughed and danced, twirling around in circles while the band played the most elegant of waltzes.

People milled about her, sending her graciously flaky smiles and sinking down into low bows when they came across her. She was getting so tired of it; having to return their gestures, having to fake a smile each and every time, and always having to make idle conversation— when all she wanted was to be alone.

More so because of the fact that she was incredibly drunk, and didn’t want to end up embarrassing her entire family. Even though she was a princess, she had no excuses of acting like a deranged lunatic on her brother’s birthday.

She had no excuses to act like a deranged lunatic. Ever.

So, she found it better to hide, rather than to try and tame the need inside her that screamed at her to let loose and have fun. And that was how she found herself making her way over to the quarterdeck of the ship— silently hoping that she would find her much needed solace there.

Thankfully, she did find it empty of any uncouth men and women who couldn’t find it in themselves to get a room for their… proclivities.

It wasn’t that she looked down on them, she just didn’t particularly like it when they cut into her alone time. Especially when they did it within the castle walls, or anywhere else that was her family’s property.

Unfortunately, there weren’t any chairs that had been set up there, so she had to make do with standing against the banister and clinging tightly to it— if only to help keep her balance. Because it was either she chanced sitting down on one of the barrels that dotted the area, and risked ruining her dress, or she braved the last few hours standing up and keeping her dress as immaculate as she could.

She chose the latter; even throwing her head back and savoring the salty sea air that cooled her warm cheeks. But the craned position was making the bun—that her hair was in— droop down and tug at her scalp, so (Y/n) reached up and quickly pulled the hair pin that held all of it in place.

In her tipsy daze, she looked down at the bejeweled pin in her hand and scoffed— making a face at the glittering object, before tossing it off the side of the ship.

Her eyes followed the silver object, watching with inept fascination as the light glinted off of the jewels and the shiny body altogether. However, when her gaze landed on the spot where it was supposed to land— she immediately stifled a scream when she saw a mane of fiery hair poking out from the water.

“M-man overboard!” She whispered at first, not believing her eyes at all— especially when the person looked right up at her, his matching fiery eyes widening in surprise before he grabbed the hair pin in the air and dove back down beneath the dark depths of the sea.

(Y/n) could only shake her head and close her eyes, trying to make sense of what she had seen— but not finding any logical explanation as to why a man would be in the middle of the sea, at night even.

Only a crazy person would venture out when it was that cold and dark, especially with the foreboding feeling of a thunderstorm rolling in.

Meanwhile, Kyōjurō’s heart was racing frantically as he clutched the glittering object that his princess had thrown overboard. He had been following her with his eyes all night long, watching how she smiled and interacted with all of the people around her— acting so gracious and humble, even as everyone called her by her title.

Even though she smiled, however, the merman could still see the tinge of sadness that were evident in her eyes— making her look so forlorn and lonely, despite all of the smiles and kind words that she doled out to everyone.

To say that he had been completely enamored by her would have been the understatement of the century. And, with the way that his heart was beating inside his chest when their eyes connected, he could even say that it was love at first sight.

He clutched the ornament closer to his chest, biting down on his bottom lip as he swam under the gargantuan boat— well away from her sight, but still close enough for him to see her the moment he resurfaced.

Maybe he was being crazy for completely disobeying his father’s orders, but he would be damned if he didn’t admit that he wanted to see her again. Hell, he wanted to go up to her and talk to her— to ask her what her name was, and what it was like to have been freely able to bask in the sun.

He wanted to ask her so many things, that he knew that an entire lifetime with her wouldn’t have been enough to get all of his answers. Because that was just it: an entire lifetime wouldn’t have been enough for him, if it meant that he could spend it with her.

All of a sudden, loud thunder-like claps sounded above Kyōjurō; well out of the water, and higher up than the boat. It had him jumping in surprise before immediately resurfacing, just to find out if his princess was safe.

His eyes instantly sought her out from where he broke the surface of the water, lightly being rocked by the waves as he managed to see her profile being illuminated by the overhead lamps.

She looked even more breathtaking than when he’d first seen her, especially with her hair loose like it was at that very moment.

He felt his heart lurch once more, making him lift his right hand up and cup it the spot where his chest was throbbing in the most pleasant way possible— pressing the item she’d dropped against his skin and stifling a smile as different colors illuminated the night sky above them.

No matter how beautiful the fireworks were, however, they were still nothing compared to the young woman’s beauty; and the young merman found himself always looking back at her, even though he kept forcing himself to look up and enjoy the rare show of lights in the sky.

However, it was when a big explosion at the front of the ship happened that he grew panicked; hearing the frantic shouts of humans as he saw orange flames quickly lick up the tall masts that held up the sails of the boat.

His eyes immediately shot over to where his beloved was, wanting to cry out to her— to tell her to jump and that he would catch her— but he was too tongue-tied to even say anything. So, he had no choice but to follow her movements along the side of the boat, dodging people left and right as she called out a garbled name.

She sounded so fearful and panicked that it had him frowning but, no matter how much he wanted to help her, he also couldn’t risk being seen by anyone else.

He had already been breaking so many rules by just being there in the first place, and if he were to be the reason why humans found out about his people, then he would never be able to forgive himself.

So, with one last worried glance at her, he forced himself to dive back down— before the first of the humans jumped off the ship and saw him there.

Everything inside him told him to stay and wait for her, but the more responsible part of him was screaming at him to go deeper and avoid being seen at all costs.

All he could do was tighten his grip on the pin in his hands, staying as deep as he could while watching so many humans jump off of the ship— seeing their legs kicking beneath the surface of the water, and waiting in tense silence for even a sliver of that dress she wore.

If he was not mistaken, it was called a kimono— as he’d heard the term be thrown around when he’d spied on another, much smaller ship.

The merman circled around the ship many times, waiting anxiously as more and more people jumped overboard as the ship went up in flames. And he felt his chest tighten up when he saw the familiar kimono that he’d been waiting for.

Only, no matter how hard the person tried to kick themselves to the surface, they still got dragged down to the bottom of the sea.

Kyōjurō then swam up to get closer to the young woman, quickly noting that she had opened her mouth and had lost all of the air she’d taken in before falling in the water. Her hands flailed aimlessly on either side of her, helplessly trying to make herself rise up to the surface while she tried to keep kicking her legs.

Only, no matter how hard she tried, she still kept sinking. And it didn’t even take a second for the young merman to make up his mind. Just as (Y/n) was losing consciousness, he pulled her to his chest, swimming as quickly as he could to an area that wasn’t dotted with other humans— and breaking the surface of the water.

He should have been overjoyed to have her in his arms, but all he could feel as cold, deep-seated fear as he tried to shake her awake— even going as far as to tap her right cheek lightly; to no avail.

Her head only lolled to one side, while her eyes remained closed.

Trying to shake her awake once more, he found himself near-desperate as he shook her harder. “Wake up, wake up, princess.”

Still, no matter how heartfelt his pleas, she wouldn’t open her eyes. It wouldn’t have been a cause of much panic if she had just been unconscious, but the blue tinge that was slowly starting to discolor her initially pink lips had him near tears.

He knew he had to get her out of the water as quickly as possible, so that was how he found himself fighting against the waves as he struggled to bring her to land— as he couldn’t dive back underwater with her in his arms.

It took the better part of an hour but, thankfully, he’d reached an empty beach where he let the waves wash them over to the shore— struggling to pull her up to a much drier area with just one arm holding her, as he used his other arm, as well as his tail, to drag himself up the sand.

He was so tired from swimming against the waves that he could only let himself fall back against the dry ground, while he pulled his beloved princess closer to his chest— if only to warm her up from the chill of the night.

Before he could stop himself, however, he was already leaning up and pressing a kiss to the top of her wet hear— smiling as he felt his lips tingle at the very brief contact. And softly, he sighed as he wrapped his other arm around her.

He closed his eyes then, smiling sadly as he whispered, “I would give everything to stay right beside you, princess.”

Kyōjurō sighed under his breath, sounding much more tired than he really let on, as he lifted a hand up and toyed with the ends of (Y/n)’s hair. “If only I could promise you that, I would. You would never have to feel sad or lonely again.”

And softly, he added, “If only I could be part of your world.”

[anbudrky2021]

The 𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔢 Sound of 𝒯𝒽𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 │ 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕆𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕟

No major Smut warning. Please click here for series description and TWs. 💕

Ch 3: who made you cry

“Hey, Y/N...can we talk?” Thor stuck his head inside my doorway. I strutted up to him and tried to wrap my arms around his neck but he gently pulled me away.

My stomach churned.

“Please?” He asked in a low tone, stepping inside and shutting the door.

“Um. Yeah. I’m assuming this isn’t one of those times where you’re going to toss me on the bed and call me a naughty girl...” I sat down on the edge of the bed and bit at my nails.

“Stop.” He sat next to me and took my hands in his. “Y/N. We can’t do this anymore... not if...”

“Then leave.” I tore my hands from his. “Go. But if you leave, that’s it. I’m not going to let you come back.” I stood and pointed at the door.

“You don’t get it...” Thor slowly rolled his back down to the bed and laid for a moment. “I want to be with you. That’s the problem.”

I folded my arms. “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

“The problem is I want to be with you but you don’t want a relationship.” He sighed with his eyes closed. “You keep stringing me along. I can’t keep feeling this way. I love spending time with you. The sex is incredible. Your mind...it’s intoxicating.” He sat back up. “Dare I say, YOU are a woman worth fighting for. But you’re selfish. And miserable and cruel.”

He stood now. Cruel? My heart broke in half. I could see the angst on his face. I tried to reach out but he shoved past me. “You’re better than this, Y/N. Figure it out before you hurt someone else.”

I shot up in bed, sweating and breathing hard. I hate that memory. Almost as much as mom...her death...I shuttered.

“Uuuggghhhhh” I groaned and laid back down, covering my face with my pillow. A few moments passed and there was a light knock at the door.

“Come in!” I yelled through the pillow.

I heard the door open. Close. Smaller feet walking. Wanda or Nat I assumed. The bed dipped slightly where they sat. I peeked from under the pillow. Wanda. Coffee.

She silently handed it to me. I took it and sat up.

“Nightmare again?” She asked, shooing me over so she could crawl in. I nodded.

She laid her head on my shoulder. “Y/N. You’ve gotta figure out what’s going on. It’s affecting you. But also your pow-“

“THANKS MOM!” I semi-yelled. My eyes rolled.

She glared at me. “We need you...”

“I know. Wanda, I know. It’s hard. I don’t know what’s wrong either. It’s not fair..” I shook my head. “It’s like. Half of the time my brain is fuzzy and the other half it’s almost like...I’m Bruce. I’m not in control.”

She looked concerned. “Sweetheart...I think it’s time we go to Wakanda. I don’t know what else we can do here..” she held my hand.

“No.” I looked away from her.

“He’s different now. He won’t hurt you...” she winced at the memory I was having.

“I know. He’s a good man. But I can’t...” my skin crawled. “It’s scary, Wanda.”

She took the now empty cup from my hands and got out of the bed. “Just...think about it ok?” She fiddled with the mug in her hands. “And umm...maybe getting away will help you figure out your Peter stuff.”

“Oh! I did!” I smiled.

“And?” She asked with anticipation. But before I could answer, Nat burst in the door.

“Is she ready to go?!” Nat looked excited.

“To go where?...” surely not Wakanda already.

“It’s a surprise! But get up! Put something athletic and comfy on! 10 minutes.” She turned and left with Wanda behind her.

I sighed into the quiet room. I got dressed and ready as requested and met up with Wanda, Nat and Steve.

“Steve?” I asked, walking up the jet stairs.

“Yeah?” He said, placing his hand on the small of my back to help me up.

“We’re going to Wakanda. Aren’t we?”

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at me with concern.

“I might need you...” I whispered. I was so frustrated and embarrassed. “I haven’t seen him since...” I took a deep breath.

“I know. It’s been a long time. Don’t worry, y/n. I’ve got you.” Steve rubbed my shoulder and then gestured toward the inside of the jet.

“Buck! I want you to meet someone!” Steve shouted toward a broad man with long hair. And blue-very blue eyes.

We walked toward him, and I began to feel my head spin. “Shit” I whispered to myself.

Steve looked at me, confusion on his face. “Hey, hey. You ok??” He asked.

‘Buck’ picked up his pace and jogged to meet up with us after noticing us stop.

“I’m Bucky. You are?” He extended his hand to me. I vomited immediately. On him. And then passed out.

I don’t know the exact details but I do remember waking up with two pairs of concerned eyes staring at me in a what seemed to be a medical office.

“Hey there. You ok?” Steve asked, holding my hand. Bucky left the room, I assumed to get someone.

“Yeah that’s never happened before...” I felt my forehead. That was a lie. It happened when I met Steve, too. Just not so quickly or powerfully.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he laughed. He kissed my hand and let it go. “I know it happened when you met me. I was hoping that wouldn’t happen to you this time.” He sighed.

Bucky returned with a slim young woman. Shuri was her name.

“Nasty fall, nah?” She smirked. She pointed at my arm. It was bandaged. “You’d think with two super soldiers from the 40s, ONE of them would have caught you??” She had a judgey look on her face while glancing at them both. I laughed.

“True. So much for being gentlemen...” I giggled.

“Well. Your labs look good. Whatever it is about these beefcakes, it gets your wiring all messed up. But it seems like once gosh acclimate you’re ok.” She sat in a chair. “Must be the dashing looks.”

Steve and Bucky both blushed. “So she’ll be alright?” Asked Steve.

“Oh yeah. Definitely. Just don’t break her. She’s important.” Shuri winked at me.

“I’m not that important.” I snorted.

“Y/N don’t short change yourself. You have impeccable assassin skills and your brain does that thing...” Steve twinkled his fingers referring to my telekinesis and telepathy. I rolled my eyes.

“That means she can read my mind?” Bucky asked, blushing harder.

“No. She can’t actually.” Steve said.

“But I can make you think things. And I can speak to you without using my mouth.” I projected into Bucky’s thoughts.

“Uh...” his eyes widened. “I don’t like that...”

Steve laughed. “Don’t worry. She doesn’t do it to us. Usually.” He shot a warning look.

“Only when I’m drunk.” I laughed. Steve didn’t. “Steve!! I said sorry!!!” He smirked but tried to keep it hidden.

“One time I got drunk and projected something inappropriate...I was directing it at Thor but I was seeing like three Thors and Steve was in the way...” I blushed at the memory. And that was before Thor and I got together.

Bucky laughed out loud. His nose crinkled a bit and he did a slight belly laugh. “Aw. I bet Steve was confused!”

Shuri was laughing along as she unhooked me from the lab equipment. “And maybe a little interested” she winked at Steve.

“No. Y/N is a teammate. There’s no time for that.” Steve said matter-of-factly.

“There’s always time for that.” Bucky’s demeanor changed. He seemed more confident and cocky.

“Oh, down boy!” Shuri mimed an owner shooing their dog. “Behave!”

I hopped off the bed and joined the boys. Next to them I felt incredibly tiny. “Alright. Let’s start planning this mission!”

As we approached Wakanda my heart started pounding. I took a few deep breaths. “Wanda...” I whispered. “I think. I might have a panic attack...” I couldn’t breathe and my vision was turning more into tunnel vision. She helped me breathe. Steve got me water and Nat talked calmly about some distracting things. By the time we landed I felt a bit better. Enough to stand and at least get out of the jet.

“I love this place!!!” Wanda squealed as she looked around. “I’m so excited!!” This was Wanda’s first time. Nat stood beside Steve and smirked at the excitable girl.

I walked over to Natasha and took a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m back. This blows.”

Nat frowned. “Y/N I know this is hard for you. But we’ve gotta figure out what to do to help you.” She took my hand and led the four of us toward the palace.

We arrived in time to meet up with King T’Challa as he was leaving for a meeting. “I will meet with you this evening, my esteemed guests. In the meanwhile, please enjoy the palace and my city.”

We showed him our thankfulness and continued on our way.

“My favorites!!!” Shuri could be heard from down the hallway. We all turned to see her “well. And the new one.” She pointed to Wanda.

Wanda scowled for a moment but I lightly punched her, reminding her to be polite.

“It’s Wanda.” She said through her teeth.

“Wanda! Nice to meet you. Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out rude a moment ago!!” Shuri could tell she had frustrated Wanda.

“Oh...it’s ok.” Wanda looked embarrassed as well. I hugged Shuri and she took us to our rooms.

“You will be here,” she said pointing to a gold and vibrainum filled room. The bedding was colorful and fluffed. The bathroom was immaculate. I threw myself on the bed as she shuffled the rest off.

It must have been an hour or so before I was jolted awake by my head pounding and a familiar scent.

“Hey...” I heard his voice come from beside my bed.

“No” I said harshly and pointed to the door.

“Please. I just want to tal-“

“NO!!!” I screamed and threw the closest item I could find at him.

“Y/N. Stop! Please just-“

“BUCKY GO! I WILL CALL STEVE!!!” I grabbed my phone from my bag id tossed on the bed earlier.

“I just want to apologize...” Bucky tried to touch my hand but I punched him right in the center of his face.

“Fuck!” He yelled. “Fuck! That hurt!” He was able to maneuver it back into place and he wiped the blood from his nostrils. “Can we talk now!?” He looked exhausted.

“Fine. But I have Steve on speed dial and he will throw you through the wall if I ask him to...” I sat down in the nearest chair.

“I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry about us. You. Your mom. The...uh...the other thing too...” he trailed off. Neither of us wanted to talk about it.

“Ok.” I pointed at the door. “You said sorry. Now go.”

He took a deep breath and then sighed slowly. “I know you were with Thor. And now Peter?” He sat down in the opposite chair.

“That’s not your business.”

“So everything happened here. You went home. You fucked Thor. Got bored. Now Peter?” He almost chuckled. “Y/N, what’s going on with you? You’re not...you’re not being yourself.”

“Myself?? I’m sorry after...everything. And my mom. And YOU. That I’m not the same. Sorry I had to fuck a few people to get over it.” I rolled my eyes and then curled up into the chair more. “You don’t care anyway. You just want to hear how I’m losing my mind and how terribly I’m doing.”

He reached across carefully and placed his hand on my propped up knee. “No. I care. I call Steve every day.”

I furrowed my brows. “Why?”

“Missions. Shoot the shit. You...” he looked into my eyes and then to the floor. He took his hand off my knee and leaned into his chair. He adjusted his position, spreading his legs more comfortably. “I ask about you almost every time. Just to make sure you’re ok... when Steve told me about” he gestured at his head “I talked to Shuri. She said she’d do what she could.” He ran his fingers through his now short hair.

“You cut it.” I motioned to his hair.

“After you left I changed a lot about myself.” He stiffened his posture. “I um...I’m clean. Wiped. The triggers. They’re gone.” He looked into my eyes again.

“What?” I whispered, unable to believe it. “How?”

“They do incredible work here. I’m indebted...” his eyes brimmed with tears. “Please forgive me. I spend every day feeling shame and regret and pain. I’m so sorry. Y/N. It wasn’t me. It was but it wasn’t. You know that...” he began to sob.

I reached out and combed my fingers through the hair in front of me. His head was in his hands now. “Bucky. I know. I know it wasn’t you. I know. I know... but YOUR body was the one who-I mean, it’s still your face I see. It hurts me. My heart wrenches for you. And me. I can’t imagine how it feels for you but please see it from my perspective. It wasn’t YOU at your core. But it was your body and face and voice and...your eyes...” I started to sob now, too. “Bucky I loved you.”

He looked at me more now. “I did, too...” he lunged forward, cupping my face in his hand and metal hand. I stood up to meet him. His lips assaulted mine in a way I haven’t felt since we last made love. His hands dropped down and caressed my arms, shoulders. My hips and waist. He pushed us to the nearest surface, the writers table. He easily picked me up and sat me on it. As he went to kiss me again, I stopped him.

“Wait. No. This isn’t right. I’m seeing Peter. He doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve this. What am I doing?!” I pushed Bucky away from me and left my room with him in my wake. I couldn’t see through my tears when I rounded the corner, I ran straight into Thor.

“Who made you cry?”

[remlos]

remlo on valentine’s day

inbetween remi preparing for the safe house opening and how arlo is with plans, is anyone really surprised remlo would be super crazy about this holiday

remi plans out the perfect valentine’s a month in advance

arlo: this has to be. the most immaculate day. ever

he buys remi roses and bc remi is a little demon that knows exactly how to get under arlo’s skin she brings him a box of white chocolate candy

if uno was a true school shounen manga, they’d probably have fanclubs that give them stacks of gifts

remi goes to her first period desk and there’s mountains of chocolates and letters and enough flowers to make a florist pass away

she thanks the people who gave her things and they all end up fainting on the spot

arlo is the same too but the difference between them is that while remi takes the candy arlo sweeps them off of his desk because he would only accept gifts on this day from his future wife as a formal declaration of dedication

“this isn’t from remi.... what is this... poison”

there would be a dozen classmates hiding behind the classroom door watching his every move wondering “will he accept the gifts this year”

they collectively sigh in disappointment when he dumps them all into the back of the room

during lunch remi whips out the heart-shaped straws for the milkshake they’re going to share in the cafeteria for their cute couple photo (yes they are literally THAT highschool couple 🤢)

after school... cupcake bakery classes??

remlo together are way too chaotic, the teacher would get so sick of them because of how they aren’t concentrating (the flirting 🙄)

arlo “accidentally” gets batter on remi’s nose so he can lean down to lick it off and the teacher is like “YOU’LL GET SALMONELLA”

when the cupcakes are in the oven she can’t wait to get rid of them

remi: oh can we go out while they’re baking

the teacher, swinging open the front door: PLEASE

while they decorate remi secretly nabs the toppings leaving arlo wondering why they're already out

she’s having the time of her life making little frosting smiley faces and hearts meanwhile arlo is sweating over how to ration the frosting under the time crunch they’re under

remi is fine with the cupcakes being a little messy as long as they’re still cute and taste good but arlo loses it

“YOU PUT WAY TOO MUCH ICING. IT’S TOTALLY GOING TO TOPPLE OVER ITSELF ON THE RIDE HOME”

in his head ofc. because today is supposed to go perfect and he will not mess it up

remi frosts a super sloppy cupcake and arlo is like. thats so ugly what the hell is it supposed to be and she’s like “🤬 🤬 US”

as revenge for the batter, while they’re cleaning up remi flicks some water on him while they’re both at the sink

the cupcakes do not survive the ride home they are inhaled immediately

2 dessert lovers + cupcakes = 0 cupcakes left over

they go out to windowshop and burn through every single one of them on the way

arlo plans on keeping at least half of the dozen they made but remi offers him one and then two and then by the time he realies he’s been blindly accepting them there’s nothing left to gram

they reserve a seat at some tiny niche restaurant with a view of the town

as soon as they get to their seating remi’s already looking over the rail to watch the sunset

remi: i’m SOOOOOO FULL!! i have literally NO idea how we’re going to get through dinner [inhales the penne alla vodka]

her stomach = tarturus

they try to reenact the lady and tramp spaghetti scene to no avail

the noodle keeps breaking off and sauce hits them both in the face, arlo gets a heart attack in fear of it getting on his cashmere

towards the end of their dinner, remi would be like “thanks for today 🥰” nd arlo just smiles fondly and kisses her forehead

they catch an uber and remi is out like a light the second they step inside of the car

if the next day they have school arlo tries to get remi to finish her work that night instead of the morning of but between the food and remi dozing off over her books he gives up and scoops her up and into bed

+ bonus headcanons:

remi's photo album is FILLED

arlo’s ig is literally just one pic of wellston from the rooftop captioned “order” and another pic of him, remi, and rei

meanwhile remi uploads their cutest pics with captions like “with asslo AGAIN”

everyone wishes they were them so bad

“everyone @ arlo nd tell him my cupcake’s cuter” and sera is the only one gutsy enough to comment that

arlo just makes the -____- face when he opens up the notif

in the midst of all the ultra 1920x1080 hd aesthetic shots are all their ugly candids, posted onto the close friends story (isen is screenshotting)

arlo always gets really good standstill shots of the scenery and remi when she’s not paying attention

never shows them to her so whenever she’s scrolling through his phone she’s like “WTF THIS WOULD’VE MADE SUCH A GOOD COVER PHOTO”

he’s like “okay so why don’t you just post it now” and she’s like “😡😡 it’s too late u wouldnt understand”

whenever remi’s choosing photos and goes to arlo for a second opinion he always picks out the ones she doesn’t like

she’s like “wtf why that one it’s so blurry” but it’s the pic where she’s smiling the brightest or something

arlo doesn’t explain himself ever so that combined with his ig posts makes her believe he’s just a boomer (not incorrect) when his personal favorite photos of her are the ones where she’s completely in the moment

[uncommoncold]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Summary: After a fire destroys college student Kang Yeosang's apartment, he's forced to find another place to live. Through a mix up, he is forced to share a house with another college student Park Seonghwa.

Word Count: 4k

Content Warning: Soulmate AU, Drunkenness, Fluff, Forced to Share a House

Kang Yeosang stood on the curb in his stocking feet watching the firefighters putting out the fire in his apartment. When he had been awakened at 4am by the fire alarm and his roommate yelling, he grabbed his bag with his laptop, his phone, and a pair of pants. He was wishing now that he had grabbed his shoes. At least he had socks on, that was something he supposed.

Half of the first floor was entirely gutted, that was where the fire had started. He watched as the window of his living room was broken outward.

He knew he should be counting his blessings that he was at least still alive and had insurance but he still had the more pressing concern of where exactly he was going to live. He had hoped that the fire might not have been that bad and that after some clean up, he might be able to move back in but as he watched, it became increasingly apparent that would not be the case.

Yang Jaeho, his roommate nudged him. “Did you manage to save anything?”

Kang Yeosang held out his backpack and his phone. “You?”

Jaeho looked down at his slipper clad feet, “I panicked and just ran out after yelling for you. Your parents don’t live in Seoul do they?”

Yeosang shook his head. He hadn’t even thought of that, he was going to have to find a place to stay for the night. He had his parent’s emergency credit card so he could stay at a hotel. “I think I’ll have to spend the night at a hotel.”

“Can I come with you? I don’t want to have to wake up my parents. It’s not like there’s anything they can do at this hour anyway.”

They both turned and looked back toward the still flaming structure that had been their home.

***

Yeosang checked the address on his phone again. It was an older, small but neat home, a bit further away from the university than he would have liked but the bus stopped right in front and the subway wasn’t far either. It was a good deal nicer than he would have normally been able to afford, even with a roommate and now he was going to be living here by himself. The idea of not having a roommate was sheer bliss, maybe the fire had been a blessing in disguise. He didn’t actually know the owner, Mr. Cho was a workmate of his mother’s and he had a few properties around the city. This was the only one that wasn’t occupied and he was able to get it with no down payment and for only 300k won a month. He certainly couldn’t do any better and he could do a lot worse.

Mr. Cho had said the place was old and might need some work. From where he was standing, it looked immaculate. There was no telling what it looked like inside though. The moving truck with his things and bed, was to arrive around lunch time.

Might as well take a look and see what he had to deal with. He unlocked the door on an extremely tidy, clean, and well kept home. It was already furnished as well, his mother hadn’t mentioned that. Beyond the entry hall was a living room and dining area. There was a long leather couch facing a large screen television and a coffee table. There was a table set up for dining. The kitchen was a small galley, utilitarian.

Before he could even get to taking off his shoes, he heard movement and a sound of shock. “Who are you?”

Yeosang turned to see a tall, slender young man with a towel swathed around his narrow hips walking out of a bathroom accompanied by a wall of steam. For a long moment they just stared at each other. Did he have the wrong house? He looked down at the address on his phone again and then leaned back out of the door checking the number. No, that was the right address and he had unlocked the door. “I-”

Now that he looked a bit more closely, it wasn’t just furnished, there were books on the shelves. The flowers on the dinner table were fresh and not plastic. The towel that hung in front of the sink in the kitchen looked as though it had been recently used. Someone obviously lived there. He looked back to the nearly naked man who had just come out of the bathroom. “Mr. Cho said that I could live here. He said no one lived here.”

The young man’s eyebrows shot up, “Clearly that’s not true. I live here and I’ve lived here for the last couple of years.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Well now what?

“I’m so sorry.” Yeosang half bowed and backed out of the front door only to lower himself to the stoop and drop his head into his hands. Had Mr. Cho given him the wrong address? He called his mother to ask, she said she would get back to him after she spoke to the man. In the meanwhile, what was he going to do? His things would be there in a little less than two hours and he didn’t exactly have any place else for his things to go. He ran both of his hands through his hair.

A light touch to his shoulder jolted him from his misery and he whipped around to see the man who he had intruded on standing in the doorway looking at him sympathetically, “You don’t have anywhere else to go do you? I’m sorry, I heard part of your conversation.”

He really wanted to make excuses, he was feeling particularly pathetic at the moment. It was a feeling he detested but in truth, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Maybe the guy might let him leave his things there while he looked for somewhere else to live. “No, I don’t.”

“Come on in, have some tea at least.” The young man headed back into the house. He had replaced his towel with a pair of jeans and a loose button up shirt with the collar open. His hair was still damp.

Yeosang stood up and dusted his hands against his legs before following. “I’m Kang Yeosang.”

The young man turned and smiled and offered his hand, “Park Seonghwa. How do you know Mr. Cho?”

“He’s a co-worker of my mother.” Yeosang took a seat on the couch that Park Seonghwa directed him to as he headed into the kitchen.

“Uncle Woosik can be a little forgetful, it’s possible he forgot I was living here.” Seonghwa mused as he turned the kettle on and pulled two cups from the cupboard.

“He’s your uncle?”

“My father’s best friend, I’ve known him my whole life. Did you give up your old place to move here?” Seonghwa leaned a hip against the counter as he spoke.

“There was a fire, it was either move here or move back home until I found a place.”

Seonghwa winced at the reply. He then chewed on his bottom lip as he mulled something over. “I don’t have a lot of room but there are two bedrooms here and if you want…” he paused before he continued, looking thoughtfully at Yeosang. “You can stay here until you find something else.”

“Really?!” Yeosang jumped up in excitement? “I mean you really don’t have to do that.”

Seonghwa laughed, “You don’t have to pretend, you can accept. Do you have more things?”

Yeosang looked down at the backpack that Seonghwa had gestured to, “Oh yes. I didn’t realize you were living here and I arranged for my furniture to be brought here. It should be here soon.” He flashed an apologetic smile.

“Then I guess I should show you around.” Seonghwa pushed off of the counter and guided Yeosang through the house, showing him the bedroom that would be his as well as a tiny space Seonghwa turned into an office that was far too small to be a bedroom. The bathroom was surprisingly large and there was a washing machine and dryer as well as a full tub and a shower. The best part was a porch which looked over a tiny backyard. This place really would have been perfect, except for the fact that someone else lived there.

While his fortune at his birth had been… strange, his actual life was supposed to be pretty good. It was only his soul mark that was supposed to cause him strife. That was easy though, stay away from his soul mark. As much as they could signify the person who you should be with, they could show you who to stay well away from. He was starting to wonder if he had just been born under a bad sign, his apartment building burned down and now he finds the perfect place to live but with someone else living in it. He was still, essentially homeless.

“I should at least pay you rent. I’m not sure how long it will take me to find a new place. With the school year already in session, I can’t even get into one of the dorms.” Yeosang said as he looked around the room that would be his bedroom. There were a couple of boxes that belonged to Seonghwa, he helped him move them up to the attic.

Seonghwa contemplated him quietly for a moment before he finally nodded, “Alright, then you can stay here until you find something else and you can pay me the rent you were going to pay Uncle.”

And just like that, Yeosang found a place to live and Seonghwa gained a new roommate.

Park Seonghwa, it turned out, was extremely neat and downright fastidious. He presented Yeosang with a list of chores to be done, how frequently and on which days they needed to be done was written out in an easy to read chart. Yeosang wasn’t overly messy but he was surprised to see how diligent his new roommate was. Seonghwa was also a student, two years ahead. He was set to graduate and already had a job lined up after graduation.

For his part, Seonghwa was surprised to find that Yeosang was an ideal roommate. While he would have preferred living alone, he found he enjoyed the younger man’s company. He was quiet and a bit shy at first but when he opened up to him, he found him to be intelligent, quirky, and funny. He also found himself wanting to take care of him. What was more, he just liked being with him. It was just nice to come home from class and have Yeosang there to greet him. Maybe he had spent too long living alone and just missed having people around.

“How did your test go?” Yeosang poked his head in from the back door as Seonghwa walked in.

Seonghwa sighed heavily, looking weary.

“Not good?”

A bright smile suddenly took over and Seonghwa winked, “I aced it.”

“Good I got some soju to celebrate!” Yeosang clambered to his feet and headed toward the kitchen.

“What if I had failed?” Seonghwa took off his shoes and stepped into his slippers.

“Then it would have been to commiserate with you. I ordered chicken for dinner and everything. If you want to take a shower, it should be here by the time you get out.”

Seonghwa just stopped and watched Yeosang bustling around the kitchen and setting up the coffee table for their dinner and drinking. When the younger man had walked into his life, he had neither wanted nor needed him but the more time he spent with him, the more he was growing to appreciate him. It had been almost three months and he hadn’t been able to find another place. In truth, he didn’t know if he was even looking but he kind of hoped he wasn’t. “Yeosang?”

Yeosang looked up from the bag of alcohol and snacks he was looking through, “Hm?”

“Do you… I mean I know how hard it is to find a good place for a low price and I think - Would you like to stay here?”

A slow smile crept over Yeosang’s lips, “You mean it?”

“I kind of like having you around. I’d … miss you if you left.” Seonghwa looked down, suddenly embarrassed and hurried off toward the bathroom. “I’m going to go take my shower now.”

Yeosang stared at the closed bathroom door as he set the bag down on the coffee table. He had to admit, he had developed a fondness for his roommate. He was sometimes stubborn and neat to a fault but he was a genuinely kind person and infinitely easy to tease. He always took the teasing with good humor and was just as inclined to laugh at himself. Seonghwa also seemed to like to baby him and he had to admit, he rather liked that too. If he wanted him to stay, then he would be more than happy to do so. He also had to echo the sentiment that if he left, he too would miss Seonghwa - perhaps more than he would like to admit.

***

Seonghwa blinked and forced himself to focus on the table in front of him. He hadn’t had that much to drink but he was already feeling it. “I don’t know … I like the idea of destiny.”  

“What if you don’t like what it is you’re destined for?” Yeosang opened the second box of chicken and pulled out a leg, gesturing with it while he spoke. “I mean the fortune teller who told my parents about my future said that I would know grief and suffering at the hands of my soul mark.”

“Grief and suffering?” Seonghwa frowned slightly at that. Everyone had a soulmate and most people bore a mark that matched someone else. You still might go your whole life and never meet the person who matched you and not everyone had a mark that was complete. He hadn’t heard of anyone who had a bad life with their soulmate. “Did you ever see another fortune teller?”

Yeosang shook his head and reached hurriedly to stabilize his drink as his elbow knocked it. “I just decided I’m going to use my mark in a different way. I’ll just know who to stay away from. What did your fortune teller say?”

“She said that I would have a prosperous life but that I would have some problems with my health and that I would live my life close to my soul mark. She said that it might not be who I suspect but that I would live a long and happy life with them.” He knew he probably put a bit too much stock in such things but he was happy to know that there was someone out there, his other half - the person he had walked multiple lifetimes with.

A frown creased Yeosang’s brow and he sighed. A bitterness far sharper than the soju sat on the back of his tongue and he swallowed against it. “So does that mean I was an asshole in my last life and now I’m destined to suffer for it?”

Seonghwa laid his hand on Yeosang’s on the table. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to know that you were destined for suffering. Despite his own feelings on the subject, he knew he probably watched too many dramas and life rarely turned out the way that it did on the small screen. “I will help you chase away this person who is just going to cause you grief!”

There was an earnest note in Seonghwa's voice and Yeosang looked up to meet his gentle gaze. The depth and intensity of that gaze caught him and held him. For the first time in his life, his heart skipped a beat. He startled at the strange feeling and looked away, looking instead to the chicken leg in his hand. He couldn’t even remember having picked it up. Too much soju. He put down the chicken leg and struggled to pull himself to his feet, to go get a bottle of water. As he rose, his toe caught on the hem of his pajama pants and he pitched forward. He threw out his arms to catch himself but instead of the floor, he found himself cushioned instead against Seonghwa with the other man’s arms holding him firm.

Time stopped.

He could smell the scent of Seonghwa’s shampoo, the clean scent of his skin, the soju. The warmth of his body and the strength of the arms holding him, permeated his slightly hazy senses. The only thing in the world that he was aware of in that moment, the only thing that mattered was Seonghwa. Yeosang found his eyes drifting down toward Seonghwa’s lips. So close…

Seonghwa cleared his throat and asked, “Are you alright?”

The web that had been woven snapped and Yeosang realized that he was definitely imposing and he pulled himself free from the sheltering embrace. He felt a pang of loss as the other man’s warmth left him.

Too much soju, way too much soju.

“I’m fine. I guess I had a little too much… I’m going to get some water. You want some?” Yeosang asked.

Seonghwa nodded, “Yes, thank you.”

Yeosang managed to get to his feet this time without incident. He looked back over at Seonghwa who was still seated on the floor with his back against the couch. What was wrong with him? He didn’t normally drink a lot but even when he did, he usually handled his liquor better than this. He fished a bottle of water out of the fridge and downed half of it in one drink. He grabbed a second one and just held it as he stared at Seonghwa’s back. After a minute more, he shook his head and walked back over with the bottles of water. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Seonghwa opened his bottle and took a long drink.

Yeosang watched Seonghwa’s Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he drank. He tore his eyes away to the table. Trying to distract himself, he asked. “So where’s your soul mark.”

“It’s … uh…” He was clearly struggling. “My hip bones, both sides. How about you?” That wasn’t actually the full extent but he couldn’t quite bring himself to tell Yeosang that his mark radiated from the base of his cock over his hip bones.

All of the sudden, an image popped into Yeosang’s head unbidden. He shook his head again to try and free himself from it. “Small of my back.” He turned and lifted up the back of his shirt to show the mark.

It was strangely beautiful, the silvery filigree marking his skin. It reminded Seonghwa of his own but in a wholly different location and size. He half reached out to touch it before letting his hand drop back to his lap. “It’s beautiful.”

“You think so?” He lowered his shirt and turned back to face him, “I’ve always just been happy it wasn’t very dark so it doesn’t really show up much. I guess that’s the one good thing about it.”

They stayed up and chatted a bit longer before cleaning up and heading to their rooms. Yeosang, for his part, simply attributed the strangeness of the evening to the alcohol. Seonghwa, was far less sure. It was with a head full of swirling thoughts and a heart full of chaos he closed his eyes.

***

Thunder cracked and tore through the atmosphere.

Yeosang sat straight up in bed. That had been so close, it sounded almost like it was coming from the room itself. It had been raining when they went to bed but the storm had gotten worse. The room lit up and then there was another crack of thunder followed by a creaking sound and then a tremendous crash as a massive part of the ceiling collapsed onto the bottom of his bed and the floor. Yeosang managed to yank his feet back in time and when the door to his room was thrown open, Seonghwa ran to him putting an arm around his shoulder and coaxing him from the room. “Are you alright?”

Yeosang nodded and cast a somewhat panicked glance back at the room. If he hadn’t woken up from the thunder or if his senses had been slightly more dulled by sleep, he could have been seriously injured or even killed. First the fire and now this, was the universe trying to tell him something?

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa was looking him over for any injuries Yeosang might not have noticed. Again Yeosang nodded. It looked like he was alright if extremely shaken and rightly so. He sat him down on the couch and got him a cup of tea. He pressed the cup into his shaking hands.

“I’ll call uncle in the morning to have him get the ceiling fixed. Until then…” He was tempted to tell him that he could share his bed but that might not be comfortable for either of them. Not given the strangeness of the night they spent drinking. Seonghwa got up from the couch and came back with Yeosang’s pillow, some fresh sheets, blanket and made up the couch.

Seonghwa was the very picture of calmness and that calmness soothed him. He drank his tea and by the time he was done with it, the couch had been made into a bed for him. He was tucked in and Seonghwa perched on the edge of the sofa and ran one of his long elegant hands over his hair. God he just wanted to sink into him and let his calming presence overtake him. “Do you think you can sleep?”

“Could you…” stay a little longer? It was on the tip of his tongue to ask but instead he just nodded. He was acting like a child. He was fine, he wasn’t hurt and he had just had a bit of a scare.

Still, Seonghwa smiled that sweet smile of his and began to sing to him. Yeosang didn’t know the song and he didn’t know the words but he listened, riveted by the beauty of his voice. He found his eyes closing and the tension flowing out of him a little bit more with every note that caressed his ear.

Seonghwa, despite his apparent calm, had been anything but. He had been sure the house was falling down around their ears and he hadn’t been too far off. He sat with Yeosang, singing to him until he fell asleep again. He said he was alright but the look in his eyes said that he was quite the opposite. He probably would have been just as shaken if the ceiling had almost fallen on him. After Yeosang was asleep, he watched him for a little while. He had been terrified but not for himself, no. He was frightened for Yeosang. He had been so worried what he would find when he got to his room. He breathed a sigh of relief and reached to brush a lock of hair from his smooth brow. He was a beautiful man. He almost wished he wasn’t but that wouldn’t change who he was inside and how much he enjoyed him and how he was starting to feel about him. Seonghwa ran his hands through his hair and clasped his hands at the back of his neck. He had a problem.

Other stories can be found on my Master List.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Field of Poppies Part 12

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 12: With time passing so fast, Tommy and Amelia realize a few things that had slipped their minds. 

            “Baa-baa black sheep, have you any wool?”

            Tommy heard Amelia singing as he trudged upstairs after a long day’s work. After, he heard Max giggling and baaing like a sheep.

            “Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. How many is three, Max? One…two…three!”

            “Three!” Max echoed.

            No matter how difficult the day was for Tommy, he couldn’t help but smile when he heard his little boy talking so sweetly with his mother. It was like magic sometimes. No one said having a family was easy, but seeing Max and Amelia smile always put Tommy in a good mood.

            He nudged the door open to the nursery and Max leaped off Amelia’s lap to greet him. “Daddy!”

            “Hello, hello.” Tommy picked him up and kissed his cheek. “There’s my boy.”  

            Amelia smiled and stood up to give him a quick kiss. “Hungry?”

            “No, I ate. Thanks, love.” He set Max down. “What did you two get up to today, then, aye?”

            “Martha came over with Abigail. Did you see your cousin, Max? Did you see Abby?”

            The little boy beamed. “Daddy, Abby s’a baby.” The two-and-a-half-year-old tugged on his father’s pant leg.    

            “I know. She’s very little. Seems like yesterday you were that little.” He remarked, watching as Max wandered away from him and to a toy train left on the rug.

            “Martha was a little worried.” Amelia kept her tone light as she didn’t want Max to pick up on her concern. “She said John came home last night a bit not well.”

            Tommy’s eyes flicked to Max who didn’t seem to be paying attention. But that was the catch. He had made the mistake of assuming the little boy either wasn’t listening or couldn’t understand him. Because after talking to Arthur in Max’s presence, that same night, the toddler turned to his mother and as clear as day said, ‘fuck’.  

            And despite warnings and telling offs, Max enjoyed the shocked attention he got when he used the word, so during a visit to Polly’s he yelled it out.

            Luckily, they’d managed to somewhat curb the behavior, but they all went out knowing they were running the risk of having a toddler cursing up a storm.

            “Well, he knows what he did,” Tommy replied.

            “I don’t know what he did.” Amelia widened her eyes at him, unable to raise her voice.

            “It isn’t important.”

            “Thomas…”

            “It’s late, Mel. Time for bed, Max.” Tommy passed by her to scoop him up. “Say night to mumma.”

            “Night, night, mummy!” Max blew her a kiss, one of his new tricks.

            “Good night, my love.”

 ~~~~~~~~~

            Tommy’s attempt to distract Amelia only worked until Max was fast asleep and they were both in bed.

            As he draped an arm around her waist, she brought up the subject again. “You know what Martha asked me today?”

            “What did she ask you?”

            “If John should write up a will. A fucking will, Tommy. He came home and she saw so much blood, she thought he was half-dead.”

            “He was fine, Mel, it was a cut. He wasn’t complaining about it at all. He knows that when you pick fights with people bigger than you, you get hurt.”

            “So where were his brothers, aye? She shrugged his arm off and sat up to face him.

            Tommy wearily ran a hand over his face. “So. Arthur and I are supposed to be babysitting him? Mel, you were the one who suggested he help us at the shop. It’s not our fault he’s got a fucking idea in his thick skull that he’s some fucking big shot now.”

            “Then teach him!” She snapped, knowing the exact volume she could raise her voice before she risked waking up Max. “Tommy, I can live with this, I can tolerate it. I may be afraid but I trust you. But when you act like it’s not a big deal that your brother was cut.”

            “It wasn’t a big deal, Mel.”

            “He’s sixteen, Tommy!”

            “And he’s gotten in plenty of fucking fights before. He’ll learn by getting pushed down. That’s how we all learned.” He said firmly. “You tell Martha that he’s not going to bloody die. She doesn’t need to be so fucking dramatic. Now can we just…” He huffed out a frustrated sigh. He didn’t think his brother’s wife to worry Amelia so much. “I’m fucking exhausted, Mel.”

            Though unsatisfied with Tommy’s answer, he did look tired. She sighed. “Fine.” She mumbled and laid back down. “Fine…”    

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            “House full of kids.” Polly sighed as Finn came screaming down the stairs with Max hot on his heels. Meanwhile, little Abigail was tottering around the kitchen going back and forth between the women who were having lunch together.

            “It’s good fortune, Pol.” Martha, heavily pregnant again, had her feet up on a chair to ease the swelling.

            “I think we’ve had enough good fortune for now, so perhaps we hold off on baby number three for a little while, aye?”

            Martha and Amelia laughed as the woman sat down with an eye roll.

            “Or at least let her have the next child.” Polly waved a hand to Amelia. “Trade off every other.”

            “Hm, you’d have to consult Tommy about that one.” Amelia shook her head. “I’m lucky if I even get a kiss goodnight. I only ever see him in the morning, he works so late. The only way we’re having a child is through immaculate conception.”

            Martha snickered but Polly looked uneasy. “Have you ever asked him to work less?”

            “Pol, honestly, how do you think that would go down?”

            “Work should never come first.” Polly insisted. “He’s put off your wedding this long, the least he can do is be there for dinner every night.”

            “We both agreed to hold off on the wedding. Max is still too young, and we’re both so busy.” Amelia butted in. “There will be plenty of time for things.”

            “I’ll watch Max tonight,” Polly said, not seeming to care for her litany of excuses. “You and Tommy have a nice evening to yourself.

            Amelia opened her mouth to protest but Max passed by and appeared delighted in the idea. “Mummy, I stay here with Auntie Pol!?” He exclaimed.

            She sighed, it seemed she had been bested. “Yeah, love. You get to have a little sleepover with Finn and Abby, won’t that be fun?” She had a little sliver of hope that he would balk at the idea of spending the night away from her and Tommy.

            But that didn’t seem to be the case. The toddler jumped up and down excitedly. “Fun!”

            “Very fun.” Polly looked a little smug.

 ~~~~~~~~~

            “Mel?” The apartment was strangely quiet when Tommy came in that night. He’d left work earlier than before, not knowing that Arthur was set up by Polly to get his brother out of the shop as early as he could.

            “I’m in the kitchen!” She called back.

            He found it so strange that Max hadn’t come bounding in to launch himself at Tommy. “Where’s Max?” He asked as he came into the kitchen.

            “He’s staying the night with Polly. She and Martha offered to watch him.” She answered, turning around with a hesitant smile.

            “Oh…any reason why?”

            “Just to give us a night off, I suspect.” Neither of them had realized they hadn’t been away from Max for a full night in his entire life. Three years of caring for him all day every day just seemed natural. Now the flat seemed so quiet and a bit empty without the rambunctious toddler running around until he wore himself out.

            “That was nice of her.” Tommy nodded and went to take off his coat and cap. Now that it was just the two of them, they had the space to consider their relationship of a few years. Neither could deny that the majority of their relationship was centered around Max. It had to be, the little boy took up so much time and energy. They weren’t complaining, they devoted themselves to Max because they loved him.

            But they were young and in love. It just took some finesse to have an intimate relationship in such small quarters. At least they weren’t in Six Watery where they first tried to have sex. Max was about eight months old and Amelia had gotten John to watch over the baby while she ‘took a nap’. But their little tryst was interrupted by Ada who wanted some money to go to the candy store with her friends.

            Still even just the three of them in their flat, they were worried Max would get nosy. And neither of them wanted to explain what mummy and daddy were up to in bed in the middle of the night.

            “Are you hungry?” Amelia asked.

            “Let’s go out.” He said spontaneously.

            “Are you sure?” Eating out had always been a luxury while growing up in Small Heath. Amelia started to get used to going out to restaurants and pubs when she lived in London, but upon returning to Birmingham she retreated back to her comfort of home cooking.

            “Why not? Night to ourselves.” He smiled. “It’ll be fun.” She could see the boyish glint of excitement in his eyes. The prospect of being able to live as young adults for the night without any responsibility seemed enticing. Being the man of the house was nice and all, but everyone needed a little break.

            “Okay.” Amelia smiled. “I’ll just get ready then. I’ll only be a mo’.” She promised before heading upstairs with a spring in her step.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

            Dinner and a couple of drinks felt like a wild night out on the town for the two parents. They enjoyed themselves very much, talking and laughing with one another like they were teenagers again.

            “Pol was telling Martha she and John should slow down on having kids.” Amelia giggled. “It was funny.”

            “Poor woman’s a saint for putting up with us for so long.” Tommy chuckled and finished his beer. “I’m surprised she hasn’t skipped town yet.”

            “Well, she loves you all so much. Why would she?”

            He shrugged. “Seems like what some people do.”

            She frowned. “What do you mean?”

            Shaking his head, he tried to brush off the conversation. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

            “Tom…” She reached over to touch his hand resting on the table.

            He met her eyes for a brief moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Just haven’t heard from me dad. S’been years, Mel. Max is growing, John’s already got a second child on the way.”

            Amelia laced her fingers with his. “Exactly, you’ve all created such a wonderful family and you don’t need your father to solidify that. He doesn’t deserve to be a part of it. Not after what he’s done. I know why you’re sad. I think about my parents every day and wonder if…if maybe they met Max, if they met you, they might change their mind. But I can’t hold out hope for that. I can only focus on the good things that I know for certain. That we have a wonderful little boy and that I have you. That’s enough for me.”

            Tommy lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

            “For what?” She smiled softly.

            “For just…for understanding me when other people don’t.”

“Oh, Tom, I’ll always be here for you.” She murmured affectionately.

            “I know.” He squeezed her hand gently.

            “It was funny, Pol was wondering if we had any plans to have a baby any time soon.” She admitted sheepishly.

            It might’ve crossed Tommy’s mind a couple of times. But he considered Max as his own that he didn’t really consider the fact that he and Amelia hadn’t conceived a child together. “Well, I guess it’s something to think about.” He agreed.

            “Would you want another child?” She asked.

            “Think it would be nice for Max to have a brother or sister.” He supposed. “But I can now see Polly’s reason for having him stay the night.” He tossed some money on the table for the bill and stood up. Reaching a hand out to Amelia he gave her a wink. “Ready to enjoy our night alone?”

            “Of course, Mr. Shelby.”

~~~~~~~~~~

            They hardly made it through the door. It seemed the intimacy they’d been neglecting for so long was no rearing its head, a force to be reckoned with.

            At the foot of the stairs, they threw off their coats. Tommy kissed her so hard she stumbled back a bit before grabbing onto his shirt.

            Halfway up the stairs, Amelia stopped a step above him, to kiss him again.

            At the top of the stairs, she began to undo the buttons of Tommy’s shirt. She giggled softly when he began to undo the buttons of her dress, but cursed when his fingers kept slipping.

            So, in love, he was so in love with her.

            He captured her lips again and she pulled him into the bedroom.

            As Tommy understood, love was something that was hard to find. But he figured that once he found it, it was his to keep and foster. And he knew that was what he would spend the rest of his waking days doing. Loving the woman who was unraveling in his arms as she moaned softly.

            Nothing could keep them apart.  

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[fitmydaydream]

Lazy Mornings

Prompt: Just some morning fluff about you fancying Shawn while he's asleep.

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: Hey fellas! This has been sitting in my drafts since forever so I finally decided to post it. A little nervous about this one but I really hope you guys like it!

You always admired the mornings because you've always been an early hours kind of person. Seeing the sky fill with light filled you with new hope to start the day afresh. Lazy mornings were something which were never on your list but being with Shawn made you feel like you had to prioritize them over the early ones. And why wouldn't you? You would kill to have those few extra minutes of closeness with Shawn which you've always craved for being more frequent because he was on tour for almost seven months of the year. His tour has finally ended and he'd come back home. The way his face beamed of joy when he saw you at the airport and engulfed your body in an almost suffocating embrace the other night was something you couldn't get off your mind.

The alarm clock hits the time and the sound fills up the quiet room amongst the light snores from your man, which were the only audible thing in the room and you loved waking upto that. 

Groaning, you shut the alarm off. Mentally cursing yourself over forgetting it to turn off the last night because when Shawn's home, you prefer not to get woken up by anything else other than Shawn's immaculate morning kisses, one of the little things about him towards which you've developed your love for. Shawn wasn't among one of the cheesiest boyfriends you would categorize him into. He wouldn't bring breakfast for you to bed because he said it would be a total displeasure spending his time cooking rather than investing that time with you in bed, smothering you with kisses and holding you close. But he was one of those kinds who would rather have a takeaway and drive you to the beach in the early hours of the morning because watching sunsets with a picnic basket were too mainstream. That was who your Shawn was. Being the sweet spice in your life.

But today you'd decided against waking him up because he needed rest after finally coming back home after a long stretch of work. 

Pulling the covers off from you, you walk towards the window to pull the blinds off, hissing at the sudden cold hitting your bare legs. Sunlight flooded in once you tucked the blinds away and climbed back to your shuffled bed. A thin ray of sunlight hitting your boyfriend's face as you rested the weight of your body on one arm to take in the beautiful sight. You were so invested in him that it didn't even came into your realisation the moment your free hand was gently tracing his eyebrow. The sunlight spilling on his face, painting his face in a new shade of golden. The lashes forming a shadow beneath, adding to their lushness. The pad of your thumb now moving across the bridge of his nose all the way through the eyelids. Your index finger tracing the depth of his cheekbones bringing a frown upon your face as the sudden increase in their deepness. Meanwhile, a tiny cold wave of air brushed past your arm, making you retreat your hands from Shawn's face and covering your body with the sheets.

The sudden loss of contact might have been noticed by Shawn in his subconscious sleep because the moment you pulled your hand away from him to tug up the blanket of yourself, his hand found his way to yours and putting it back to it's place. A smile plastered on your face as you thought of him having his presence of mind while you were adoring his morning beauty.

"Oh did I just wake someone up?" you asked him in a cooing voice followed by light giggles.

"You might have disturbed my beauty sleep love" Shawn stated in his raspy morning voice.

"Well then I guess I'll have to keep my hands to myself. I sure as hell don't want my boy to sacrifice something which could be a compromise to his beauty right?" you joked in a light tone, dramatically pulling your hands away from him and trying to get out of the bed.

Shawn was quick to respond. To your surprise he wasn't as lost in his sleep as you thought he would be seeing his past sleep schedule. His arms were quick to wrap around your waist and withdraw you back to where you were before. His fingers danced around your tickle spots, as he started to place himself above you. 

"Shawn! S-Stop. I am n-not escaping any-ymore!" you muttered in between your laughs, holding onto his arms in an attempt to stop him. 

"How can I trust you my lady? Huh?" His hands now on both of your sides as he hovered above you.

Your arms found its way behind his bare back, holding onto him, pulling him down in an effort to close the distance as much as possible. Shawn dipped his head, placing his lips at the corner of your lips while a smile played at his. He started placing chaste kissed along your jaw, your hands tugging at his messy curls. 

"Just what I missed" you hummed against his skin. You'd missed his gentle touch, how he would play around with his lips all over your face, kissing each and every spot. 

His lips now connecting to yours, moving in a rhythm. Your hands travelled to the nape of his neck, blandly scratching the area which earned a moan from him. His teeth drew at your bottom lips, mildly pulling at them.

"God Y/N baby I missed you so much. I can't wait to do this all day for a while now." He finished as he pecked your lips.

"I didn't know I can be that irresistible sometimes which is a good thing" you beamed at him. 

"I wasn't finished yet. So I was saying I can't wait to do this all day just so you can play with my hair and put me back to sleep because you messed up my sleep this very morning. No offence meant." he mumbled nestling his head into the crook of your neck. 

"All offence taken." You stated acting like you were hurt, placing a hand over your chest.

"I think I can take care of that." He said as he raised his arm to take something from the side table. You couldn't figure out what it was until it was in his hands. 

Shawn was holding a Polaroid camera in his hands. He sat up and focused on you. You were completely startled at to what he was doing. As an instinct, you had your arms cover up your face.

"Shawn Peter Raul Mendes you better put that camera down. I look like a utter mess and I'm not to be messed with" you warned him jokingly, because you knew when he took your pictures at random moments. According to some plausible theory of his that he feeded in your mind, these pictures made him feel better at anxious times as he was reminded of everything that he shared with you. The closeness he craved to have, the love and the intimacy which he had with you to look forward to at the end of the day, got him through the tougher days. The nights he would come to you, being quieter than usual due to a stressful day at the studio, you would gently lay down with him without putting up any question. His head on your stomach and your hands in his hair, gently scraping his scalp making him doz off to sleep.

"Baby please. You know how much I love taking photos of you." Shawn begged you with his one eye popping from beside the camera and even though you could see his mouth, you were sure it'd turn into a pout. Five seconds and that face was all what took him to convince you.

You removed your hands from your face giggling at his innocence and at yourself over how stupidly you were head over heels in love with him. This was the type of connection and intimacy you've longed since long. 

After snapping a few shots, Shawn pulled you onto his lap, hands on your lower back while placing a sweet and lingering kiss onto your forehead.

"Look at you being all smiley today" he whispered against your skin.

"Yes because I was thinking of you the whole time" you replied, a visible grin spreading across your lips.

Feedback is forever appreciated. Let me know if you guys enjoyed this one! Thank you for reading <3 MASTERLIST 💕

[dorizardthewizard]

The Revival of Akillian: Chapter 2

Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 3

2. MEETINGS

Just like Maya, Rocket has invested in a cave at the foot of a large Cedryan, whose gnarled roots mingle with stalactites and walls of ice. But this tree is well and truly dead, and Rocket has not built his cave to exercise a talent for fortune-telling. Rocket is not clairvoyant, but he is passionate about Galactik Football.

Secretly.

In secret, because his father Norata no longer wants to hear about Galactik Football; it is out of the question for his son to indulge in it. But since it’s forbidden, that makes it exciting! And Galactik Football is a sport - the most compelling spectacle there is. In his cave, Rocket hung banners and posters of his favorite teams and players: the great Warren of course, captain of the Lightnings and top scorer in the whole Galaxy, THE star of GF; the terrible Kernor, goalkeeper of the Rykers, who defends against goals like a knight in a castle; the beautiful Lun-Zaera, attacker of the Wambas, that every GF player dreams of having in his team - even in his bed [T/N: UUHHHH maybe this sounds more normal in French??] ; and especially Aarch, his uncle, to whom Rocket devotes true worship. Being the nephew of the one who almost made the Akillian team win the Cup fills Rocket with pride, a pride he unfortunately does not share with his father. According to Norata, Aarch is dead and buried- or exiled to the Shadows, which is the same. This "betrayal", Norata has never forgiven. Never.

For his part, Rocket is not content to just revere Aarch! He collects the figurines of GF stars and sneakily watches matches on the family holo-TV. Always in secret, he trains. Saving money on tips and delivering the flowers grown by his father, he managed to buy himself a ball. In the ice walls of his cave, he has carved a dozen targets at different heights and positions of increasing difficulty - which he strives to hit with well-adjusted shots. However, it has become too easy, he does it flawless almost every time... he will have to find something else. The ideal would of course be to join a team, or simply to go and kick the ball around with a bunch of friends on the Windy Plateaus... but how to keep it secret, with constant and scrupulous paternal supervision? Rocket doesn't even have any buddies, at least none who are a fan of Galactik Football like him - his dad makes sure of that.

So he lets off steam with his other passion: speed. Norata consents to this. For his fifteenth birthday, he gave him a jet snowmobile, with which Rocket frees himself from his frustrations in crazy races in the mountains or on the plateau. In addition, combining the useful with the pleasant, the snow jet is used to deliver the bouquets and floral arrangements that Norata creates with love and competence in his heated greenhouses.

This is what he is supposed to be doing now, as he successfully shoots yet another flawless shot by aiming straight at the hole in the ice next to marker 10. In the meantime, the magnificent floral basket of the family Matto is freezing on the snow jet! He'd better go deliver it before the flowers are all shrivelled...

He throws a glance mixed with devotion and pride at the life-size poster of his idol, which sits in the middle of the stalactites.

- Yeah, you're right, Aarch. I have to go deliver these damn flowers, or dad will skin me alive…

Rocket carefully hides his ball in a crevice (his father is unlikely to find his lair, but you never know), zips up his gray coat, puts on his gloves, gets on his snow jet and takes the crate down the snowy slopes.

***

Meanwhile, in his vast wooden lodge with the windows misted up by the abundant plants which adorn it, Norata engages in color tests on some rather brownish Lepidodendrons. In greenhouses, his crops get everything they need - controlled heating, daytime lighting, soil with scientifically calculated pH, computer-controlled irrigation, etc. The absence of the beneficent rays of Vega is sorely felt: his flowers often have dull hues, pissy yellows or browns that are not very spicy. So, he invented a chemical composition of which a few drops are enough to immediately restore their brilliant colors. But the effect does not last, which is why he sells with his bouquets a nutrient solution incorporating this composition. Cheating? Not at all: a plus, an exclusive service from the Norata company, which enchants its customers and earns it abundant orders.

Today he is trying it on a cardinal violet that he had a hard time developing. A few drops in a pipette, carefully poured into the center of the calyx... The product diffuses into the veins of the leaves, which soon take on a pretty violet hue. He must now see if the dosage is correct, if this solution will not roast the plant, if the color will hold up to watering...

Norata hears the door to his lab open but does not look up, due to experience: it is undoubtedly Rocket, back from his delivery...

- Finally, you're back! You took a long time!

- You are right... indeed, fifteen years is a very long time.

The voice is not that of Rocket: more serious, older. Norata sits up abruptly, but refrains from turning around.

- Aarch - he whispers - I don't believe it... Aarch looks around the lab in admiration.

- I see you haven't lost your skill, Norata. Flowers have always been your passion, as far as I can remember.

Norata decides to face his brother anyway. As much as Aarch, a footballer with a long career, remained massive and muscular, Norata, handicapped by his artificial leg, was melted, thinner, his features hollowed out by suffering and loneliness. Only his flowers sometimes manage to cast a shadow of a smile on his thin lips, downturned bitterly.

- What can I do for you, sir? - he utters in a cold tone.

- Sir ?! - notes Aarch offended - I haven’t changed that much! Don't tell me you don't recognize your brother?

Norata swivels his chair, and stares at Aarch angrily.

- You must be mistaken, sir. I had a brother once, it's true. But he disappeared when everyone needed him most... especially me. Since that day, for me, he's as dead as this leg.

He stretches out the artificial leg - made by Technoid - which replaces the one he lost in the Catastrophe, frozen and broken in the rubble of the Arena Stadium, fifteen years ago.

- I'm sincerely sorry for your leg, but that’s not my fault. If I had stayed, it wouldn't have returned to you.

- If my brother had stayed, I would have overcome this ordeal. (Norata swivels his chair again, leans back over his purple Lepidodendrons). Now, if you will kindly leave me... I have a lot of work to do.

Aarch is searching for a relevant line that would break the ice between the two brothers, when he is distracted by the lab door sliding again. Rocket bursts in, dishevelled and covered in frost, face reddened by wind and cold.

- It's okay, dad. I delivered the order to the Matto family, they are ... (A glance at Aarch) Hello, sir... They are really delighted. Mrs Matto found your flower arrangement beautiful, she...

Rocket pauses again, staring more attentively at this stranger standing at the door of the lab. His hazel eyes widen in surprise.

- Hey, but... you wouldn't be…

- Goodbye, Norata! - calls Aarch, returning to the exit.

- But...

Rocket glances at his father, leaning stubbornly over his flowers, then follows Aarch out.

- Rocket! - scolds Norata. - Come back here immediately!

His son doesn't listen to him: by the time the old man gets up and follows him, with his droid leg...

- Hey, sir! Wait! You’re Aarch, right? You are my uncle, aren't you?

- Yes - Aarch admits with a smile. - And you, you must be my nephew Rocket, right?

- Yes, sir... that's right. - replies Rocket, blushing.

- You look a lot like your father when he was your age.

Rocket blushes even more, intimidated to finally meet his uncle in the flesh. Indeed, he has the same elongated face as Norata, the same chin (a distinguishing feature of the family) that he tries to hide under the three patches of hair that serve as his goatee. Abundant brown hair adorned with some dreadlocks gives a little volume to his narrow head.

- I'd rather be like you, sir. Uh... I have posters of you.

- ROCKET!  - roars Norata from the lab.

- Goodbye, Rocket. Maybe we'll see each other again.

- I... I hope so, sir. (He wants to shake his hand, but he doesn't dare). Goodbye… Aarch. - he whispers behind the back of his idol, who is already walking away.

***

- I don’t get it. I’m sure I left them here!

Kneeling under his anti-grav hammock, Micro-Ice is rummaging through the indescribable mess that constitutes his room, in the attic of the family house. Sitting on a pouffe (from which he had to get rid of a stack of GF-Mag, the magazine on Galactik Football), D'jok observes the scene with a mocking air.

- Sure it's weird, seriously, how is it possible to find tickets in such a tidy room?

- D’jok, I swear, it's not funny - sighs Micro-Ice, sweeping away a pile of schoolbooks with the back of his hand. - If I don’t find them quick, I’m a dead man!

- You should have thought about that before doing business with these thugs. (D'jok opens a can of SuperForm, the amino sports drink, chugs it and continues). What an idea, too, to give them photocopies! Did you think Ballow wouldn't notice?

Micro-Ice gets up and bumps into his hammock, which sways gently on its anti-gravity lifters. It pisses him off.

- I didn’t expect it to rain. If you’re just gonna lecture me, then there’s no point in you being here!

D'jok shrugs his shoulders, gets up and goes to the sloping window overlooking the hill. He leans over, intrigued: outside, in the immaculate snow, very clear footprints have emerged. Right under the window.

- Hey, Micro-Ice, come see!

The boy joins him, and also sees the footprints.

- Apparently, you're not the only one going through the windows, D'jok remarks. They’re Techno-Sizor 128’s... the same brand as mine. But let me reassure you right away, I wasn't the one who stole the tickets from you - he says, showing the ordinary sneakers on his feet.

- O.K., if it's not you, that means everything is fine! You're still my best friend. Seriously, D'jok, I really have to find them, otherwise...

- Yeah, I know, you're a dead man. But don't worry, we'll nab him, your ticket thief.

***

“It’s Akillian’s big comeback on the interplanetary football scene since that famous match, remembered by all, which was interrupted by the Great Catastrophe. And the least we can say is that things have started badly: 3-0 for the Rykers after only ten minutes of play, the outcome is sealed! ... "

On the ground of Unadar Stadium, the Red Tigers are having a rough time. They barely manage to get possession of the ball and attempt a pass, when the wing player is jostled by an aggressive Ryker attacker. She projects her Metal Scream - the Flux of Unadar, which manifests in sizzling electric shocks -, leaps with the ball to an incredible height and, with a powerful shot, sends it straight at a Red Tigers defender, who proves unable to stop such a missile. He receives the ball in the stomach, is propelled with it into the goal, where he completes his glide by collapsing against the goalkeeper in a tangle of arms and legs.

“And the fourth!! the TTV announcer exclaims. “4-0! The word "crushing" seems to be perfectly suited to the situation, and even Artegor Nexus will not contradict me. The former Akillian defender certainly did not know what he was getting into when he agreed to coach the Red Tigers... "

In the suspended pod reserved for the technical staff, in front of his control screen, Artegor tears at his hair.

- Aaarrrh! - he fumed. - What a bunch of incompetents!

On the field, the players have resumed their position. The ball springs from the central spot, rises... and falls right into the feet of the Red Tiger striker, who finally sees the opportunity to take action. But his rival Ryker unleashes a nasty Metal Scream that paralyzes the poor player on the spot, crackling with static electricity all over. She has no trouble retrieving the ball and the Rykers set off again for the Akillian goal.

Adium grabs the remote and turns off the holo-TV.

- I'll spare you the rest. - she says to Aarch, who had come to visit her in her large and bright office on the first floor of the high-tech Federation building. - We lost 10-0. And yet, I have the impression that the Rykers eased off at the end of the game so as not to humiliate us even more... (Aarch nods sympathetically) As you can see, Akillian's Breath is totally gone. Gone are the days when we could hope to compete with the best teams in the Galaxy…

Adium - a young and pretty brunette, who makes herself look stern with her hair bun and strict-looking outfit - sighs, then continues:

- Anyway, personally I have no reason to complain: I have a good position, a high title - president of the Akillian Federation - and I earn a good living. But football has become a sport for snobs on our cold planet...

- I see that. - replies Aarch.

- And you, to what do we owe the pleasure of having you return here?

- I came to create a team.

- What, here? On Akillian? (Adium stands up and walks around her desk.) You know, Aarch... people don't take you coming back very well. Not me, of course, but there’s been a lot of talk since you've been here. You have to understand them, too: you left like a thief…

- I do understand them! Besides, I came back to redeem myself in their eyes. And mine...

- Galactik Football has no future on Akillian. Open your eyes! You’re wasting your time!

- Well, that's good. - replies Aarch. - I have time to waste at the moment.

With that, he leaves Adium's office and the Federation building, as luxurious as it is useless. To believe that the League or the sponsors of the GF - Technoid in the first place - have money to throw out the window...

Standing behind the large window, Adium watches Aarch, who is standing on the porch of the building. He seems to be contemplating the desert of snow and ice that the Windy Plateaus have become, as if he were searching in these desolate expanses for a sign of Akillian's rebirth... She could almost pity him.

A call from Artegor Nexus brings her back to her office. On the screen, the coach of the Red Tigers displays a haughty expression behind his everlasting UV glasses. Adium summarizes her conversation with Aarch.

- And you gave him your authorization?! - he yells as if scolding her, as if he holds any power over her.

She is irritated by his superior tone.

- He never asked me, imagine that!

- Fortunately, I wasn't counting on you to get rid of him. - Artegor emphasizes, with a condescending little smile.

- And may I know who you’re relying on, exactly?

But the screen turns white: Artegor cut without answering.

[bipabrena]

Regret (AO3 Eruri fic)

After the Battle of Shiganshina, Levi is desperate and can't come to terms with his exceedingly strong feelings towards Erwin, and he drinks himself stupid. He tries seducing him, and things don't quite go as planned.

X

Erwin walked past Levi’s door, but stopped in his heel when noticing the light was still on.

 He’s still up?

Erwin knocked on the door, unsure of whether he should. Perhaps Levi was asleep, but left the light on.

“Who is it?” he heard from the other side of the door, instead of the usual “name and business.” Erwin furrowed his brows. There was something distinct about Levi’s voice.

“It’s Erwin,” was his response.

He heard the sudden scraping of a chair, and slight ruffling. “Come in,” he responded.

Erwin opened the door gently. He peeked his head, and saw Levi sitting at his immaculately organised desk. There was an open bottle of whisky, and an empty shot glass in Levi’s hand.

“Levi,” Erwin muttered, brows rising in surprise “What are you doing drinking at this hour?”

There was something oddly endearing about the way Levi looked right now. His cravat was slightly undone, and his hands now cupped the small shot glass.

He paused and looked up, trying to find an answer.

“I don’t know.”

Vague but honest answer.

“I see,” Erwin closed the door behind him. “Is it okay if I join you?”

Levi’s tired eyes bore into Erwin’s. He then looked down at the way his hands cupped the small glass.

“Why not,” he shrugged.

Erwin sat across him. Something was off.

He grabbed the bottle of whisky, and his pinky accidentally brushed against Levi’s hand. This made Levi perk up and look at his hand.

His heart accelerated slightly.

Erwin was about to pour himself a shot, but looked around Levi’s desk to find no other glass.

“Ah,” Levi slid his own to Erwin. “I don’t have another one. Sorry.”

Erwin smiled at him.

He did so with frequency. He smiled at Levi when he saw snow for the first time, he smiled at Levi when he first drank high-quality tea—he smiled at Levi whenever he exceeded expectations.

But it just felt different to Levi. Not just his smile, Erwin in general just made him feel something weird, something that made him nervous and worried at the same time. A feeling in the pit of his stomach, which expanded to his chest and throat if he thought about it too much.

He observed Erwin as he drank the shot and squeezed his eyes shut, observed him as he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb—the way he smiled at him when he noticed him staring. That stupid fucking smile again.

He suddenly felt the reflexive need to put his hand on his chest. As though it hurt.

“Levi?” Erwin leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”

He gripped his cravat tighter. He didn’t notice himself breathing faster.

His heart felt out of control, he was lost in a trance, and moments later his reverie was interrupted when he looked up and met Erwin’s concerned face, a hand holding his cheek.

“What?”

“You’re burning up,” Erwin said.

He was about to let go off his cheek to place the back of his hand on Levi’s forehead, but the moment the skin contact ceased, Levi held Erwin’s hand and put it back on his cheek.

Where it belonged, he thought.

He closed his eyes and sighed, pressing Erwin’s hand tighter against him.

Erwin could only stare in confusion. He tried to get his hand back, but Levi immediately strengthened his grip.

He grabbed Levi’s wrist with his other hand and put it down. “I think that’s enough for you.”

He stood up and put away the alcohol, while Levi’s eyes never stopped following him. He couldn’t stop thinking about Erwin holding him again.

“Are you leaving?” he asked.

“Yes,” he responded. “Well, no. I’m going to put you to bed first. I’m not sure what’s going on, Levi, but I’m worried.”

“You’re worried about me?” Levi perked up, leaning forward.

“Yes,” Erwin stopped to look at him, holding a sweatshirt and pants. “You’re not being yourself lately. I want you to take the day off tomorrow, and, before you reproach, that’s an order.”

“But—“

“I said that’s an order,” Erwin said sternly, approaching him. He handed him the fresh clothes. “Take a shower and put these on. I’ll go brew some tea for you meanwhile, alright?”

The tingly feeling in Levi’s stomach started to make him nauseous.

“I also want you to visit Dr. Adler tomorrow. Right now it’s probably the alcohol, but I just want to make sure you’re not ill.”

“No, I…”

No, he wasn’t ill. Well, yes. In theory, he should be ill.

Racing heart. High temperature. Tingly stomach. Nausea.

But it was a different kind of ill, one Levi wasn’t familiar with. One that worried him immensely, but he also liked a little.

“Just go,” Erwin commanded. He handed him the clothes again. “Now freshen up.”

Levi looked up at him.

God, he was so…

He was just so…

He grabbed the clothes.

“I’ll be back. I won’t take too long.”

Erwin held the door handle, waiting for Levi to reply.

“Okay,” Levi mumbled.

Erwin smiled at him then shut the door.

Levi stared at the door for a full minute. He then looked at the clothes on his lap, and brought them to his face. He smelled them gently.

He had only held them for a moment, but Levi just wanted to know if they smelled like him.

They didn’t, of course.

He placed the folded clothes on his bed and headed to the bathroom. He unbuckled the straps, undressing slowly. He put a hand over his chest again, grunting.

God, he didn’t understand what was happening to him. He felt so distraught, but he didn’t understand why. He had never felt like this before.

He knew Erwin was the one making him feel this way, but he didn’t know why.

He looked down at his naked body and slowly ran his hand up from his iliac region to his pectorals. For a moment he wondered whether he was attractive, and if Erwin had ever imagined how Levi looked in this vulnerable state.

The possibility that yes, he might have, sent shivers down his spine.

He took a quick shower, hoping that perhaps when he went back to his room, slightly wet and with nothing but a towel wrapped around him, Erwin would be there.

Maybe he would feel something. Something he didn’t feel for anyone else.

He decided to stay in the bathroom for a little longer, to wait for Erwin; for him to knock and ask if he was okay.

And less than five minutes later, his expectancy came to life.

“Levi?” he heard two knocks.

“Yes, I’m done,” he said. He ruffled his hair, slicking it back.

He opened the door. As expected, there was Erwin, holding a tray. It had a cup of tea and a glass of water.

Levi was wet—his muscular and taut abdomen, every indent of his muscles glistened and his hair stuck to his face despite having slicked it back moments prior. He strengthened his grip on the towel, just to highlight his arm muscles a little.

Deep down, he felt pathetic for what he was doing.

Erwin simply looked down at him. He placed the cup and glass on the night-stand, then looked back at Levi. “Goodnight,” he smiled. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Levi’s lips parted, and he leaned forward in slight desperation as he saw Erwin’s back turned to him.

 T-that’s it?

“Wait,” he called to Erwin, taking two steps forward. Erwin looked back.

“What’s wrong, Levi?”

Levi just stared at him, heart still racing. Erwin looked down at his stomach, noticing how it quickly rose. He was merely concerned, but Levi felt victorious at the feat, taking it the wrong way—thinking his plan had worked.

“Don’t go,” Levi took another step forward.

Erwin instinctively leaned back.

The shorter man just looked at him in expectation, awaiting a response, awaiting a signal, something.

“Okay,” Erwin said after a moment. “I’ll be at the desk while you get dressed.”

Levi grit his teeth in desperation. “That’s not a problem, I can get dressed quickly. So, you don’t have to leave.”

At this point, Erwin was just crept out. He couldn’t stop asking himself what Levi was playing at. This wasn’t his Captain.

“Levi…” his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in slight… suspicion? What was it, really? “Is there something you wish to discuss?”

Levi took another step, now very little distance between their bodies. Erwin could almost feel the heat radiating off him.

Unsettledness? Yes, that’s exactly it.

“You don’t have to talk like that,” Levi’s expression softened fondly, much to Erwin’s horror. Since when was Levi capable of looking like that? “Is it okay if,” “Wish to,” “May I,” Levi perked up to break distance between their faces. Damn his height, he thought. “You don’t have to be so formal around me.”

Erwin opened his mouth to take a big inhale, then held his breath, looking down at Levi.

Then, the Commander broke. He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously.

Levi took it as a good sign, and grinned at him hopefully.

“I-I guess I am too formal,” he smiled nervously at Levi. “We have known each other for a long time, after all.”

Levi didn’t respond, he just fondly smiled at him.

“Regardless, I don’t want to invade your privacy. I’ll be right outside your room while you dress.”

Levi wanted to hold his arm the moment he spun to leave. Why didn’t he stay? He just said he didn’t mind Erwin staying.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance when the door to the room shut. As he got dressed, Erwin sat on the desk, pulling his shirt back and forth to fan his neck. He had no idea what was going on. Levi wasn’t being himself lately, he had been strange, but tonight trumped his previous behaviours.

But Erwin felt terrible for feeling so unsettled around his Captain, someone dear and of trust to him who had served him so well. He figured he had drunk too much, and that perhaps the weight he constantly carried on his shoulders got to him this particular night.

Levi, too, was human. Erwin knew it. Where everyone saw the scary, ruthless looking Captain, Erwin knew better. He knew that, despite the appearances, the sass and snarkiness, Levi valued each and every subordinate, he valued life more than anyone—Levi was kinder than anyone.

The tiny man he picked up from the underground, the one that trumped Mike back then as humanity’s strongest soldier, who had lived in filth and violence—was kinder than anyone he had ever met.

Where everyone saw Humanity’s Strongest, Erwin saw Levi Ackerman, the man.

His invaluable Captain and dear friend.

But this didn’t make him immune from the unsettledness he was putting Erwin through right now, even if he felt guilty for feeling this way.

The door opened. Levi peeked his head, embarrassed. “I… I’m done.”

“O-okay,” Erwin replied. He went back to the pristine room, awkwardly holding his hands behind his back.

And his mouth hung when he saw, for the first time in his life, the great Levi Ackerman furiously blushing. It was as though steam was emanating from his cheeks.

“My God, Levi,” Erwin bolted to him. “You’re burning up!” he rose his voice. He sat him on the bed, alarmingly concerned. “Just what is going on with you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Levi closed his eyes, sighing. His lips curved down as he then looked away in further embarrassment at having Erwin so close to him. “I don’t think I’ve been well lately.”

Erwin’s brows furrowed in guilt. He felt unsettled, slightly mortified at worst, by Levi’s behaviour tonight, but now he just felt like utter shit. Levi was simply ill. He didn’t feel well lately, and he hadn’t asked about it. Perhaps he truly was sad as well, and needed someone to confide in. Erwin had had Mike, still had Hange—but he never thought Levi, despite being close to them and him, had never confided to anyone about his feelings.

Perhaps Levi wanted to open up to him, and he misinterpreted that.

What do I do? He bit his inner lip. What do I tell him?

“It’s okay,” he cupped Levi’s neck with his left hand. He grabbed the glass of water with the other and put it to Levi’s lips. As he drank, Levi looked at him with half-lidded eyes.

“If there’s anything you need to talk about, you do know you can confide in me, right?” Erwin looked at him with determined eyes.

Levi then smiled softly.

“But for now, it’s best if you go to sleep. Rest, okay?” He held the back of Levi’s head as he gently pushed his chest back. “Tomorrow you’ll see Dr. Adler and then we can talk about whatever you want.”

Levi nodded as he closed his eyes.

After some time, not knowing exactly how long, but enough for him to think Levi fell asleep, he softly muttered “Good night,” and stood up to leave, but felt a tug at his sleeve.

He looked down at a half-lidded Levi, who pushed down his sleeve, almost imploringly. “Don’t…” he begged.

Erwin sat back down, as Levi sat up. “What is it?”

“I…” Levi paused, heart racing. “I…”

He whimpered in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” his brows furrowed worriedly, the concern for Levi’s well-being growing immensely.

He sat expectantly, looking at Levi, who he then noticed was breaking the distance between their faces. Levi held on to his arm, weakly, but in a strange way, also imploringly, like begging Erwin to please not move.

Erwin’s mouth hung and his eyes widened massively in shock as he realised what was going on.

He felt the softest kiss being placed on his lips, and the grip on his shirt grew tighter and more desperate, as Levi leaned forward and tried to deepen it.

Erwin was too shocked to move.

Levi’s head then dropped to Erwin’s chest, his forehead resting on it. He felt Levi’s hand run down to his forearm, clutching the fabric of his sleeve, pulling it towards him, as though asking Erwin for a hug.

A broken groan escaped Erwin. It was all he could muster.

He could feel his heart thumping on his ears.

“You’ve had too much to drink,” he attempted to jest, trying to pull away from Levi.

“No, no,” Levi looked at him, eyes almost closed. He tugged the collar of Erwin’s shirt. “No, that’s not it.”

He was about to lean in again and Erwin could only think one thing.

 Oh, fuck.

Not knowing what the fuck to do, he held Levi’s shoulder and pushed him back. “L-Levi, it’s the alcohol sp—“

“No, it’s not, no… I…” He looked up at Erwin, tugging him closer to him. “Erwin, I…”

Erwin desperately tried to pull back, but shit, Levi was strong.

“It’s not, I…” Levi leaned in and tried to kiss Erwin again. “Erwin, I…”

Holy fuck, Erwin’s mind raced.

“Ah…” Erwin whimpered. “Ah!” this time loudly, in panic.

Levi didn’t care, as he sleepily kissed Erwin’s neck. He continued his silent affections, his hands continued wandering Erwin, and his nose nuzzled his neck as Levi's lips softly meandered across Erwin's neck.

Erwin called his name, he tried to pull back, but Levi didn't stop.

“Levi!” Erwin shouted, which jolted Levi awake from fright.

“Huh?” He muttered, now almost fully awake.

He then realised how much he had fucked up when he looked at Erwin’s mortified expression, and how tightly he was holding his wrists.

Read the rest here.

[eeveevie]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (3/18)

Chapter 3: People Who Do Things

The Valentine Agency duo visit the Memory Den where Madelyn engages with a mysterious stranger in exchange for information about the Railroad. An old friend helps Nick discover alarming evidence that could crack the case against Eddie Winter wide open. Later, Madelyn returns to Boston Common to ‘follow the Freedom Trail’ and bumps into a familiar face.

“I admire people who do things.” - Bruno Anthony as played by Robert Walker (Strangers on a Train, 1951)

x - x

Art for this chapter by @its-sixxers​ :D 

[read on Ao3] ~ [chapter masterpost]

January 15th, 1958

“You can’t trust everyone.”

Madelyn spoke the words aloud, gauging Nick’s response. They were on their way uptown, trying to drudge up any leads they could on Montrano’s assassination. The last few days hadn’t managed to secure any valuable information, even from their most trusted of sources. Even their newest recruit, MacCready, had nothing to offer. The streets were quiet—gripped by fear—just the way Eddie Winter wanted it. Now they were switching tactics and stepping directly into enemy territory by visiting the very institutions run by the Winter crime family. It was a dangerous game, but somebody had to play it.

“Is that what that note says?” Nick asked in response, flicking his gaze to her as he drove. Madelyn was alarmed for all of a few moments—he was a detective, after all—it was his job to figure things out. “You’ve been worrying over that piece of paper for weeks now.”

She looked over the words and the well-worn creases where she had folded and unfolded it, even though the words had been seared into her mind the first time she read them. “I received it on New Year’s Eve, at Faneuil Hall. I don’t know who it’s from. I—I meant to tell you about it.”

He looked amused, which she took as a good sign. “No skin off my nose. Looks like you were following its advice,” he teased. “Pretty enigmatic, if you ask me.”

Madelyn was in full agreement. “Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being followed?”

“Comes with the territory,” he replied before realizing her genuine unease. “Hey doll, if you’re really that concerned, we can—”

“No, no,” she shook her head, snapping herself away from the lingering fear. “I’m sure I’m overreacting. We’ve had some run-ins lately that have me spooked, is all.” She tried to lighten the mood. “You never take me anywhere nice.”  

Nick’s brows stayed furrowed, hands gripped tightly around the steering wheel, her joke soaring right over his battered fedora. “Don’t remind me. Jenny is still cross that I took you to a crime scene.”

Despite the tension, or maybe because of it, Madelyn laughed. “Well, we didn’t know it was one before we got there. She should be more upset about the blood on your socks.”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t.”

At first, when they reached their destination, Madelyn wondered what they were doing at the Olympia Theatre. As far as she knew, it was a reputable establishment, with no known ties to the mobster families in Boston. She stared up at the marquee through the window as Nick rounded the car to her side, opening the door and offering his arm. She took it graciously, still fixated on the theatre signs until he nodded towards a side street with a single, burning red bulb as a guiding light. Luckily, he was just about the only man she trusted to lead her down a darkened alleyway, daring to laugh at the absurdity of it all. At the end of the cobblestone path there was a red painted door with a golden placard that read—The Memory Den.

“You’ve been here before?” she assumed in a playful tone.

Nick looked noticeably uncomfortable, reaching up with his free hand to adjust his tie. “Uh, Jenny brought me here once. We were younger, and Winter didn’t own the joint. It’s not your typical dance hall.”

Madelyn didn’t know what to expect, but when they finally entered she was overwhelmed, all her senses overloaded at once. The music was loud and infectious, crowds of couples dancing close—very close—to the up tempo sounds of the live band. There were sparkling, strung up lights that dangled from the ceiling making her feel like she had stars in her eyes—and what was that glorious smell?

“Blueberry pie,” Nick commented, reading her mind as he took her coat, handing off their belongings to the coat-check boy with a generous tip. “But that’s not what we’re here for,” he quickly reminded. She blinked hard, snapping herself free of the club’s distractions so she could focus on his instructions. “Let’s split up. You work the crowd, see if you can find anybody that knows what’s been happening on the street. I’m going to see if I can find Irma.”

“Irma?” she questioned, with an arched eyebrow. “Looks like I’ll miss out on that sweet-talking that you do.”

He shook his head with a soft, albeit nervous chuckle. Was the illustrious Nick Valentine blushing? “Don’t tell Jenny.”

They separated, Nick disappearing into the crowd as he made his way towards a back rooms, looking for the management who ran the Den. Meanwhile, Madelyn slowly surveyed the room, keeping a mental note of anyone that looked questionable as she gravitated towards the bar. The dancing, however, proved to be mildly distracting, bordering on erotic with the way some couples pressed up against one another. A glimpse of her past—dancing with Nate in a similar fashion when they were young and foolish lovebirds flashed through her mind while her ears burned hot. A tingle crossed over her skin and she practically swallowed the entire first glass of whiskey whole before ordering another.

Madelyn decided cooler heads would prevail and braced herself, letting out a calming exhale as she glanced around the club once more. As far as she could tell, there were no obvious signs that Winter’s men were present. If they were, it was likely they were holed up in the back where Nick had wandered off to. It was her every intention then, to charm the bartender into divulging information when she noticed a man sitting at the end of the bar—somebody who looked suspiciously familiar. Yet, she couldn’t place the man with the dark glasses and black, quaffed hair, or the immaculately tailored suit he wore. He wasn’t a mobster but didn’t look like a regular patron either. Still, she had the overwhelming feeling she had seen him before, racking her memory to figure out when and where.

The stranger didn’t seem to notice her staring but if he did, didn’t seem to care, continuing to nurse his bourbon in that little corner of the bar. And then, he flashed the tiniest of smirks, tilting his glass in her direction. Suddenly a shiver ran up her spine and the anxiety she had been carrying since Faneuil Hall blossomed in full force. She gripped her whiskey tight, shooting back the rest of the contents with only one thought—she needed to find Nick, and get out the hell out of there. Without another moment to lose she moved away from the bar, blending into the crowd of dancing bodies as she made for the back rooms. When she glanced over her shoulder, the man from the bar was not far behind.

Rather than fear, Madelyn felt a rush of annoyance and decided to act. In one swift motion, she whipped around, pinning the much taller man to the nearest wall. One arm pressed across his chest, her other hovering near his throat where she held the end of the hairpin she had yanked free from her curls. With a flick of her thumb, the small blade clicked free, now shimmering in the darkness—a wonderful little present from Nick.

She pushed her stalker a little harder against the wall, boxing him in. “Why are you following me?”

The man’s eyebrows shot up over his darkened shades as he choked out a startled laugh, hands raised in defense. “Maybe I just need to use the can!”

He pointed with both index fingers to the doors just beyond her field of vision, but she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily. She pressed again, harder against his chest. “Who are you?”

“A priest.”

Madelyn was incensed. “Bullshit.”

“A sailor’s mouth? Adorable,” he commented whimsically, almost as if he wasn’t being held at knifepoint in a dim club hallway. Then again, Madelyn wondered how easy it would be for the man to quickly turn the tables, considering their size difference. The thought had her easing the sharp end of the hairpin a little closer to his skin. He let out a meep. “You sure know how to charm a man.”

“Who are you really?” she asked again.

He wiggled his fingers where his hands were still poised mid-air. “Somebody with secrets to share.”

Well now, that was awfully convenient. Madelyn narrowed her eyes, still skeptical even as she relaxed, leaning away from him. The stranger sighed in relief as she lowered her arms, tucking her hair back into place with the deadly flower pin and stepped away. She looked him over as he straightened his tie, letting out a little cough as he cleared his throat.

Finally she asked, “What kind of secrets?”

“Ah, information isn’t free, my friend,” he replied. When she didn’t say anything, too frustrated by his sudden appearance, he continued with an amused expression. This time, he gestured towards the main room where the live music had grown louder and faster. “I’ll give you everything that you want to know for a dance.”

“No!” she instantly rejected.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Madelyn hesitated over the man’s proposal in her mind and the mere second thought had her heart racing. What was she thinking? She couldn’t say yes. But wasn’t this all part of the job—the dangerous game her and Nick had agreed to? They weren’t going to corner Eddie Winter if they didn’t take risks, and right now, all she had to do was participate in one dance—not jump off a bridge. An entirely new set of nerves overtook her with the way the man was grinning at her, as if he could sense her inner turmoil. It was all made more difficult by the fact she couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, her own reflection shining back.

“Fine.”

He chuckled, beckoning her to follow. “Come on snake, let’s rattle.”

Madelyn ignored the jolt that shot through her when he gripped her hands, pulling her into the crowd of dancers as the music intensified. She hadn’t allowed herself to be manhandled since Nate’s death. There had been no intimacy, no flirtatious touching and certainly no dirty-dancing in an uptown speakeasy. Being escorted like a lady by Nick around town while they investigated cases certainly didn’t count. But now, she blamed it on being touch-starved and reeled in her focus. If she was going to do this, she might as well do it properly.

As the two fell into the rhythm of the music, she committed to every placement of her feet, every twist of her hip, every movement of her hands as they slid across the man’s shoulders and arms, the two of them gliding through the crowd as the music blared. He snaked an arm around her waist, palm flat along her lower back while he held her other hand in the air near their heads.

He was still wearing the same, fascinated smile. “Well Charmer, what do you want to know?”

“Do you work for Eddie Winter?” she asked bluntly, ignoring the pet name. Even if she had her assumptions, she still needed to ask.

The man guffawed, spinning her in time with the beat. “If I did, would I tell you?”

“Fair enough.”

“Who do you work for?” he asked, the two splitting apart for a brief moment to circle around one another.

Madelyn didn’t lift her gaze from his face, and she could only assume he was staring right back. She decided to be honest, hoping to catch more flies with honey, so to speak. “Valentine Detective Agency.”

Not the whole truth, but what the nameless man didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He pulled her back, hands like fire as they glided along her waist to keep her close to him as they moved. She steeled herself, resisting the urge to pinch the nerve in his shoulder and have him writhing like a baby on the floor—Piper had taught her that trick.

“Going after the big dog, hey?” he questioned, not bothering to wait for her response. “Not surprising you’ve run into some dead-ends with all those disappearances. Now with the floaters showing up in the Harbor? Phew. Can’t catch a break, am I right?”

Madelyn wanted to know how he knew about her and Nick’s string of bad luck. She supposed if he knew about the agency, it was easy to hear about the rumors of their constant failures as well, set on by the Boston Police Department. She wanted to know a lot of things, but as the man mentioned the disappearances, she decided to change her approach.

“What do you know about the Railroad?”

The man flashed a low, alluring grin. “That old myth? Everybody knows they’re just a ghost story.”

She wasn’t convinced, especially by the way he seemed completely charmed by the very mention. “I’m not so sure,” she disputed. “What’s this I hear about ‘following the Freedom Trail’?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“From a very reliable source,” Madelyn answered, almost defiantly. “Somebody I trust.”

“Here’s some advice, Charmer.” He spun her away at arm’s length before twirling her back just as fast, this time so her spine was flush against his chest. The stranger’s breath was hot against her ear as he let out a soft chuckle. “You can’t trust everyone.”  

Madelyn’s brain didn’t catch up fast enough. By the time she registered the words, he was gone, disappeared into the sea of people. She spun around on her heels in an effort to catch one last glimpse, to shout a response, but there was no sight of the mysterious man. Unnerved, she found refuge away from the crowd, holding a hand to her chest as she steadied her breathing. It wasn’t just coincidence—he had to be the one who sent her the note on New Year’s Eve. More questions raced through her mind, sending her spiraling. Just how long had he been following her? And for what purpose? Was she in danger?

“Hey doll,” Nick found her near the lobby, his expression shifting into one of worry when he sensed her bewilderment. With him was a voluptuous and beautiful, icy-blonde haired woman, dressed in a red-sequenced dress with a slit that rested high up her leg. Madelyn could only assume it was Irma. “You alright?”

She shook her head and then nodded, before shaking her head again. “I’m not sure.”

Irma let out a hearty chuckle. “Looks like you met Deacon, sugar.”

“De—who now?” Nick questioned, clearly confused. “Madelyn?”

She decided this was neither the time nor the place to have the discussion with Nick. At least now, she had a name—something else to go on. Instead of responding as expected, she glanced between Nick and his lady-friend. “Did you get what you need?”

“Sure, sure,” he responded, taking her subtle hint. He tipped his head towards Irma with an appreciative smile. “Thank you, for all the assistance.”

“Don’t mention it, Mr. Valentine,” she purred. “Just don’t let your big, softy-self get hurt, all right? And please say hello to Jenny for me.”

Outside, Nick didn’t immediately press for details, taking the time to look over her demeanor to gauge her emotions. Surprisingly, Madelyn had mellowed out, attempting to rationalize her encounter and determine the next best step. Only then did he dare to flash a sideways smirk. “Make a new friend?”

“Find us a new lead?” she deflected, humorously.

Nick laughed, escorting her to his parked Cadillac. “What do you say to more of ‘walking into treacherous lands’?”

Madelyn flashed Nick a teasing grin. “Lead the way, Mr. Valentine.” 

January 16th, 1958

Precinct 8 was the closest police department to Valentine Detective Agency, and it just so happened to be the only precinct in Boston with a somewhat friendly face. Marty Bullfinch—he and Nick used to work together, the closest thing Nick had to a partner before Madelyn came to the agency, and before Marty began hitting the bottle a little too hard. Their last case had them hunting down some golden grasshopper—more of a legend than anything tangible. By the end, the two had gone their separate ways, disgruntled and untrusting of what the other had to offer. It seemed that fate saw fit to bring the two back together at least one more time.

“What is this, some kind of joke?”

Marty’s disposition was alarmingly harsh when he saw the two enter the bullpen, standing up from his desk to sneer at Nick. He looked worse for wear, black hair greying at the sides and thin at the top. He looked haggard, dark lines under blue eyes indicative of a man who hardly slept and drank far too much. Madelyn stepped away as he quickly circled around to where they had been approaching but were now considering high tailing it out of there. Before either of them could take another step, Marty had snatched Nick’s hand in a firm shake, yanking him forward into a tight hug.

He laughed. “Ah Nicky, you old bucket of bolts. It’s good to see ya!”

Madelyn struggled to understand if it was a term of endearment or some in-joke between old friends. Either way, Nick appeared relieved by Marty’s true reaction to their presence. When they separated, the police detective eyed Madelyn with a surprised arch of his brows.

“You replace me with a dame?”

She took no offense, smiling as she extended her hand politely. Marty held it far too delicately, as most men did, sure they were going to break her if touched too roughly. “Miss Madelyn Hardy. Attorney on loan from the D. A’s office.”

“A little more than just a dame, Marty,” Nick said, amused.  

“Right,” he nodded, grin a little more nervous as he adjusted his blue patterned tie. “What are you doing here? You know these guys that I work with all hate you, right?”

Nick didn’t waste any time, removing a tattered note from his coat. “Leave this behind at the Memory Den?”

Madelyn resisted the urge to laugh at the way Marty practically leapt to snatch it out of his hands, carefully confirming the paper’s contents before crumpling it up and tucking it into his jacket. Nick had shown her the letter the evening before, or what remained of it—a torn sheet of what read like instructions, signed by Eddie Winter himself. The only problem? A clear evidence marker that showed it should belong in Boston police custody. Irma had informed Nick that Mr. Bullfinch had been at the club, asking too many questions, but ultimately couldn’t resist the lure of a good drink and got careless.

“God damnit Nicky! Are you tryin’ to get me fired?” he snapped in a sharp whisper. “Worse yet, killed?”

“I’m trying to get you to tell me what’s going on,” Nick replied. “Why does Boston P.D. have evidence of organized crime perpetrated by Winter that they haven’t done anything about?”

Marty’s face scrunched up, clearly discomforted with the entire conversation. “Couldn’t you have come here asking for a drink?” he muttered, shifting his eyes around the room. Madelyn noticed that a few detectives and uniformed officers had begun to look their way. “Follow me.”

“Valentine, you aren’t going to get anything from coming here,” he announced, clearly putting on a show as he led them down a hallway out of sight. When the coast was clear, he ushered them into a cramped storage room with a single, low hanging light.

Nick had the foresight to wedge himself between Marty and herself, glaring at the other man. “This better be worth it.”

“Listen, I don’t know who to trust anymore. All the evidence that we collect from low-level busts, from these hits and murders? They keep disappearing. Changing hands. Sent to different precincts for ‘further analysis’,” Marty rambled, pupils blown wide. He was either paranoid or had seen a pattern so startling it could only be true. “When I ask, they say they are trying to match up handwriting samples, that it will take some time. I say, fuck ‘em!”

Madelyn leaned away, startled by his tenacity. “That sounds like a cover-up. A conspiracy to let Winter get away with his crimes!”

“Nothing concrete. I can’t tell who’s on the payroll,” Marty continued, voice atremble. “If somebody ain’t, they’re too chicken-shit to ask the tough questions. But we’re still sent to keep up appearances. Clean up the scenes, make sure to the people, we’re trying to make Boston a better place.”

Nick remained quiet, jaw locked in silent ferocity. Madelyn knew he wanted nothing more than to see Eddie Winter off the streets—by any means necessary. His eyes darkened, narrowing as he focused in on Marty’s jacket. “So there’s more of these self-incriminating notes, you say?”

The other man was just as good as picking up on Nick’s intentions, shaking his head and hands wildly. “Oh no, Nicky. Don’t get it in your head that you’ll be able to get any of these away from police custody. Got em’ locked up real tight across the city. You think you can walk in here because you know me but what are you gonna do in Quincy? Waltz in there and just…” Marty waggled his fingers for dramatic effect. “Five finger discount the joint?”

Madelyn’s chest tightened at the serious expression Nick wore, his intentions clear as day. “Nick…” she warned. “I—we can’t.”

“Yeah Nicky, listen to the lawyer broad,” Marty said in a panicked tone. “Is going after Winter really worth the trouble?”

“Right now there’s smoke burning all over Boston, clouding her in a thick sea of ash. And where there’s smoke, there’s sure to be fire,” Nick described, more determined than ever. “Do you really want to be here when the house burns down?”  

His former partner swallowed hard. “God damnit—no,” he finally relented, rustling through his jacket pocket to return the scrap of evidence. “I’ve told you everything I know but—if I find out more, you’ll be the first to know.”

Nick nodded, finding the agreement acceptable. “Good. We’ll do our best to keep you safe, Marty.”

As Madelyn and Nick made their way from the hallway closet, down from the bullpen and into the precinct lobby, they heard Marty Bullfinch call out to them again in his ragged voice. “For shit’s sake! Next time, bring be a bottle of whiskey—or else!” 

January 17th, 1958

Boston Common.

Madelyn once promised herself she would never return to the lakeside park or the surrounding neighborhood where her husband had been murdered. She didn’t need to walk the snow-covered streets to relive those moments—every agonizing second still etched into her mind each night when she closed her eyes. It hadn’t gotten easier, even a year later, even with the distractions that life had tried to provide her. She wondered if it ever was going to be any easier, or if she was meant to carry around that pain and guilt forever. Her chest tightened, body going numb as she stared down at the very spot, envisioning the stain of blood and the last flicker of life she saw in Nate’s dark green eyes. Quickly, before she succumbed to her grief, she reminded herself that the past was not the reason she was there.

That morning, Nick had finally confronted her about what had occurred in the Memory Den and she came clean about her suspicions that she was being followed. Madelyn couldn’t determine for how long, but between New Year’s Eve and that evening uptown, it wasn’t a fluke. He raised the same concerns that she did, wondering if there was an underlying danger, but after analyzing the circumstances a little more rationally, it didn’t appear so. The two agreed that if anything, somebody or something was trying to convey a message. While Nick worked in the shadows, tracking down Winter’s evidence files, they decided Madelyn would follow-up on the mysterious stranger. What she didn’t tell her partner, however, was where she was going that Friday evening.

The Common park stood empty, frozen still in the dead of night. Madelyn stood in the chill of the icy winter wind, watching as the hands on her watch signaled midnight. She used her shoe to scrape the snow away from the bronze placard on the ground—The Freedom Trail. Boston. Hundreds of tourists flocked to the site every day, but tonight, she was the sole visitor, searching for a clue. Curiously, there was a small smudge of red paint on the corner, something that looked like an arrow. She slowly moved to the nearby fountain that had been frozen over since Christmas, a low light emanating around the cobblestone. A second sign read—At Journey’s End Follow Freedom’s Lantern—more red paint covering some of the letters.

She was so engrossed with the thoughts of where the red brick pathway led—the graveyard next or was it the statehouse—that she barely registered the quiet footsteps and shadow approaching before it was too late.

“Dame like you shouldn’t be out this late.”

Madelyn swiveled to face the familiar taunting voice, briefly alarmed to find the man from the Memory Den leaning against a nearby light fixture, hands leisurely tucked away in his pockets. He was dressed in the same well-tailored suit from before, albeit with a winter coat to combat the chill in the air, and those damn sunglasses.

“You might be the next disappearance that private dick of yours ends up investigating,” he continued with a smirk.

She knew that it would be a battle of wits with his kind, shaking away any trace of anxiousness from her stance and expression. It would take all the field experience she had—or perhaps just pure instinct to handle the likes of him. At least now she knew his name. “Is this you threatening to snatch me away, Mr. Deacon?”

His lips flattened into a straight line before he let out a hearty chuckle. “How formal! Mr. Deacon, she says,” he shook his head and approached. When he noticed her apprehension, he kept his distance. “Just Deacon, Charmer.”

Madelyn found it peculiar but said nothing. Instead, she focused on the non-use of her name. Her need for pleasantries outweighed the minefield of red flags her mind set up. “Please, call me—”

“Charmer,” he interrupted, repeating the nickname with a grin. “Were you going to say Miss Hardy? Yeah, we don’t really do that.”

Of course he knew her name—Madelyn had to wonder what else he knew, and how much of an advantage this Deacon fellow had over her. When it came to information, she didn’t like it when she was left out of the loop. Rather than expressing her frustration, she peered at him curiously. “We?”

Deacon nodded, removing his hands from his pockets to gesture towards himself. “Me, and my many personalities,” he said with such certainty, she couldn’t quite tell if he was joking. He then tilted his head, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. “Follow me.”

Madelyn hesitated, knowing full well she had no reason to trust the man. A similar feeling to one she felt in the Memory Den washed over her and she stepped forward—be it bravery or impulse, she needed answers—and as Deacon mentioned before, he was willing to provide them. A voice in her mind reminded her that the knowledge she sought wouldn’t come so easily. Information wasn’t free. Still, she wouldn’t have come to the Common that evening if she weren’t looking for something, and she wasn’t about to return to the agency empty handed.

Instead of walking the Freedom Trail proper, Deacon led Madelyn up the streets into the North End neighborhood on the banks of the Boston Harbor. He was quiet, keeping a careful watch on their surroundings—at least that’s what she assumed he was doing, still questioning the purpose or usefulness of wearing such darkened shades at nighttime. Eventually, they came upon the Old North Church, the centuries old building damaged by a nearby property fire a few years prior. She stared up at the impossibly tall steeple and noticed that on the railing there sat a small, burning lantern.

“Freedom’s lantern,” she spoke.

Deacon was impressed. “Now you’re getting it.”

He withdrew a key from his pocket, using it to unlock the rusted chain that would otherwise bar entry to the church. Madelyn took the time to read over the faded plaque set into the red bricks—one if by land, two if by sea—the building was more than a historical site, it was holy ground, offering many heroes of the American Revolution their final resting place. Fitting that it would also be a safe haven for some secret organization. As she followed Deacon inside, she moved her hand over her chest to form a cross—half out of respect at the destruction she saw, half out of the embarrassment she felt for not stepping foot inside a church since Nate’s funeral.

“Ah, et spirtus sancti hmm?” Deacon questioned, his lighthearted tone bordering on offense. She shot him a silent frown, urging him to lead on. It was surprising that after two years, the interior had yet to be refurbished, many of the pews still showing signs of the fire that had swept through. A portion of the upper floor had collapsed, partially blocking the doorway that led to the basement and catacombs, but it didn’t deter Deacon. He waved a hand, motioning for her to move ahead of him. “Ladies first.”

Madelyn shook her head. “Priests first.”

“Oh, I’m going to like you.”

Deacon crouched to avoid knocking his head against the low beam, obliging her request to walk ahead of her down the darkened, narrow stairway. She braced herself along the wall as she followed, watching his every move, suddenly very aware they were surrounded by the dead. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, an irrational thought came to her, telling her this was all an elaborate ruse and she was about to be butchered and encased away in a tomb, never to be seen again. The sheer thought sparked a shiver to run up her spine and she inhaled a sharp gasp.

He glanced back at her, eyebrow raised. “Need me to hold your hand?”

Madelyn was sure she’d ever met somebody so insufferable. Despite herself, she forced back a smile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than showing me a collection of dead bodies, Mr. Deacon,” she said the name intentionally, earning a rise out of him. “Been there, done that.”

“I know,” he answered, walking the two a few more paces towards a larger bronze plate, a replica of the ones that lined the city’s Freedom Trail. Wires connected the plaque to a mechanism beyond the brick wall and the further she scrutinized the space, the more she realized there was a room beyond. Deacon flashed another grin as he maneuvered the seal until it clicked a release. “I give you, the Railroad.”

Beyond the false wall was darkness but before she could move forward, Deacon caught her elbow, saving her from falling off the ledge. She was about to say her thanks when the room was flooded with light, Madelyn raising her arm up to shield her eyes. She squinted through the blinding spotlights to the other side of the gutted tomb to see three figures—two women and a man who looked suspiciously like her neighbor, Robby. Before she could speak, the woman in the center called out.

“Deacon, where’ve you been?”

He added his hand to Madelyn’s in a futile attempt to help block out the brightness. “Jesus, Dez—I said no intimidation tactics!”  

With a snap of her fingers, the lights dimmed to a more reasonable setting, allowing Madelyn to readjust her sight. She pinched the bridge of her nose, wincing as the dark spots slowly faded away. Only then did she realize Deacon had yet to release his grip of her arm—she decided to say nothing about the infraction, for now. What she needed was answers—now.

“Will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?” she asked, emphatically.

The woman across the way nodded, signaling Deacon to escort Madelyn across the way to where they could have a more civilized conversation. The others loitered nearby, listening on. Even there, Deacon held onto her and she wondered if he was doing so to keep her put, or to offer her some semblance of familiar comfort in a strange place. Either way, she didn’t bat his hand away, focusing on the red-headed woman as she spoke.

“I’m Desdemona, and I’m the leader of the Railroad.”

She said it plainly, as if it was of no consequence. But there it was—the truth. The Railroad wasn’t some fairytale, made up by Bostonians to scare each other in the night. They were real and apparently operating out from the ruins of the Old North Church. One question nagged at Madelyn’s mind—were they friend, or foe?

Desdemona continued before she could ask. “We went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting with you.”

Madelyn shifted her gaze to Deacon, to her neighbor Robby, to the silver-haired woman standing guard, and back to Desdemona. “Why? You clearly know where I work, and where I live. A simple hello didn’t suffice?”

“I assure you, you have nothing to fear. In a world full of suspicion, treachery, and hunters—our organization must play our cards close to the chest. In our line of work, we have made many powerful enemies—you never know who you can trust.”

Deacon’s fingers tightened along her arm and she thought about the note—his note and words. Madelyn was only beginning to understand. “What exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard rumors,” Desdemona replied, resentfully. “That the Railroad are the perpetrators behind the many disappearances in the city.”

Madelyn nodded, knowing full well she and Nick had added that very theory to their case notes. It was one of the many reasons she had decided to follow the lead downtown in the first place. Desdemona sighed, shaking her head as she pulled a lose cigarette from her jacket pocket.

“There is some truth to the matter,” she continued, the smolder of her smoke casing an eerie glow on her face. “We seek to help people leave the city of their own volition. Battered women unable to divorce their husbands, unlucky bastards who can’t repay their debts to the loan sharks, or sometimes, just a person who wants to get away and begin again.”

“It’s all kosher,” Deacon quipped, as if sensing Madelyn’s tension. “New identities in new towns—and we have an agent within the Boston P.D. who clears the files for us.”

Madelyn was still skeptical of their intentions. “Are you saying you had nothing to do with the last twelve disappearances?”

“That, or the murders,” Desdemona shook her head. “We’ve ceased all activity to switch focus on gathering intel. Haven’t harbored anyone in months. Our main focus now—rather it was—is on dismantling the web of lies being fed to this city. The disappearances, the murders—we might be the only people stupid enough to fight back.”

Madelyn’s heart warmed at the idea, thinking of herself and Nick before focusing on the bigger picture. “Was?”

“We aren’t hiding out in an underground tomb for kicks,” Deacon remarked. “Two months ago—do you remember reading about that gas leak in Lexington that left a bunch of people dead?”

Desdemona hushed him with a wave of her hand, choosing to fill in the remaining details herself. “The media covered up the deaths, as expected. But it was no accident. We were targeted.”

“Who would do such a thing?” Madelyn asked.

“Likely the same people who are out to see that Eddie Winter does not spend another night in prison. The same people who are responsible for making so many Boston citizens disappear in the night, and perhaps the same people who have given you and your detective a string of bad luck.”

Desdemona’s claims were powerful, if true. She motioned to the very man at Madelyn’s side. “What remained of us were lucky to survive, thanks to Deacon. Now that our resources are limited, we have not had as many chances to help those in need or track essential people down.”

“Except for you,” Deacon mused, leaning close to her ear. At that, she finally wiggled herself from his grasp, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

“Why me, exactly?” she questioned. “Despite your limitations, your theory isn’t any different than the agency’s. I’m not sure how we can be of any help.”

“We won’t lie to you,” Desdemona voiced, eyes sharpening as Deacon made a small disagreeing sound. “Your name had come up in our intel too many times for it to be coincidental. So we sent out a few agents to ensure you weren’t a threat. Signaled Deacon to make contact and, well, now you’re here.”

Madelyn wasn’t pleased. “I still don’t appreciate being stalked.”

Deacon shook his head. “Don’t call it stalking. I’d call it…social distancing. Except, well, without the social part.”

“Where is this intel coming from? Winter’s men?” Madelyn asked. If so, she needed to follow-up with Nick, immediately. However, the uncertainty in Desdemona’s expression gave her pause. “Do you not know?”

“We were still in the process of decoding what we had when we were forced to find a new safe house,” the other woman explained. “Many of our resources were left behind.”

“That’s where you come in,” Deacon chimed in.

“Excuse me?”

Desdemona sighed, flicking her cigarette to the ground and extinguishing it with the sole of her leather boot. “Consider this your formal invitation to join our organization.”

Madelyn was caught off guard. She knew immediately what the dangers of joining a fringe, underground society would bring—the unknown frightened her and thrilled her all the same. Yet, she was also aware of how Desdemona and her fractured group were likely the last people left in Boston willing to take a stand against the darkness that threatened to envelop it whole. If she offered a lending hand, it could make all the difference.

“Okay,” she finally agreed with a nod. “I’ll join.”

“Now we need to know what to call you. Secrecy keeps us alive, and code names are a part of that,” Desdemona explained before Madelyn could interject—why couldn’t she just use her own name? “What’s yours?”

She ignored Deacon’s overjoyed expression as he leaned closer. “She’s already got one, don’t you, Charmer?”

Desdemona looked between them curiously, waiting for Madelyn’s approval. With a sigh, she nodded, agreeing to the moniker. At least it was fitting. The expression on the other woman’s face told her she thought so too.

“Welcome to the Railroad,” Desdemona offered a fleeting smile. “Agent Charmer.”  

[oscararcane]

Pranks

I wrote this month ago, but never posted it. Today is as good as any to do so, I suppose. So have this indulgent lil’ Maegar Varn/General fic.

Writing diplomatic letters, reading treasury reports, sitting during long hearings in the throne room of his rustic fort… It had been a long and not-so-enjoyable day for Maegar Varn. But that was baroning for you, in the eloquent words of his Treasurer. Therefore taking a relaxing bath was quite welcome in this automnal evening. Not to mention how relieving it was to soak in hot water after a cold day. The season was getting cooler every day and the cold winds tended to squeeze through the wooden plank of his makeshift castle, making every room uncomfortably chilly.

The baron closed his eyes and sighed with content when he heard a tell-tale jingling. His body tensed up and his eyelids shot open.

- Sahira?

Maegar looked intently towards the screen that separated the bathtub from the rest of his bedroom, looking for a familiar shadow. Nothing. Yet he could have sworn it was the sound of the Tiefling’s jewellery he just recognized. Despite her agility, the General was not entirely discreet. Part of it was by design. She was an adept of the “hiding in plain sight” technique. The other part was, of course, because of the ridiculous amount of necklaces, earrings and bracelets she covered herself with. Most people did not pay too much attention to it, but that light tinkling that accompanied Sahira’s every movements had become a familiar signature to Maegar’s ears. A comforting sound that reminded him a very good friend was here with him.

But lately the persisting noise had become a little unnerving.

The Varnling Host commander stood up and grabbed a towel, tying it around his waist. Stepping out of the bath, he walked around the screen in a couple long strides. His eyes darted around, looking for the Tiefling. She was not here. His eyes lingered on the clear, undisturbed sheets of his bed. His clothes were not here either.

- Oh for the love of…

Maegar pushed out a long exasperated sigh and opened the door of the bedroom, walking out in nothing but the immaculate piece of cloth hanging from his waist. He had reached the middle of the main hall when the heavy double doors cracked open, letting Cephal and the cool evening air slide in. When he saw the preoccupied expression on the wizard’s face, Maegar considered turning around and getting some dirty clothes to put on. Part of him wanted to avoid an argument. The other part was always up for a good fight.

Cephal lifted his eyes from some paperwork and stared at Maegar. Annoyance immediatly made his nostrils flare.

- And why, pray tell, are you naked? - I’m wearing a towel, Maegar answered just to contradict him.

Cephal glared.

- Sahira stole my clothes, the Baron yielded.

An all too familiar anger lit up in the wizard’s eyes. But for once it was not directed at Maegar.

- Another one of her pranks? Cephal snapped. This is getting out of hands! - This is nothing new, she always liked joking around to cheer up the crew.

It was a bit of a lie, Maegar was aware of that. Sahira did always like pulling pranks. It sure did cheer up the Varnling Host many times. But she never did them so often as of late and she used to choose a variety of victims. Now Maegar was systematically the butt of the joke. Something was going on and the Baron could not figure out what. This did not escape his perceptive Regent who narrowed his eyes at him.

- Always eager to defend her, aren’t you?

Maegar felt his face flushing despite the cold. He did not let it rattle his confidence and grinned.

- Aren’t we all?

The baron could have sworn the shadow of a smile stretched the wizard’s thin lips.

- Nevertheless, this is getting disruptive. You need to talk some sense into her, Cephal concluded.

He walked past Maegar, the conversation over as far as he was concerned.

The Varnling Host commander took a sharp breath in and walked out the door into the cold fall evening. Nearly naked.

A shiver ran down Maegar’s spine as he walked to the nearest guard. The young man - a new recruit - stared at him, his eyes wide open in shock.

- You! The Baron called out. Have you seen the general?

The guard did his best to not peer at Maegar’s ludicrous get-up.

- Yes, y-your Grace! She ran towards the tavern I think. There was a bundle of… something in her arms and she was huh… cackling? - Cackling, huh? Thank you, boy.

Maegar patted the young man on the shoulder and started to walk briskly towards the small town. As he was stepping in the freezing water of the river, crossing the shallows to reach the other bank, he considered his stupidity. He should really have put something on. But at this point turning back to the fort felt just as stupid. At least Sahira would get a good laugh out of this.

The Baron made his way through town, his wet bare feet amassing mud, ignoring the confused whispers and stares of his subjects. The key was to keep appearing confident, pretending that walking half naked on the streets was perfectly normal. Maegar was sure he was not convincing anyone, but at least his dignity was mostly intact.

Finally he stopped in front of the tavern. A burst of laughter drew his attention upwards. Sahira was standing on the roof of the building, doubling over in a fit of hilarity. Maegar put his fists on his waist in an authoritarian pose, but could not help but smile.

- You didn’t even put any boots on! The Tiefling managed to say in-between two giggles.

Now a couple snickers could be heard among the crowd, even though they did their best to not look like they were making fun of their Baron.

- I would very much appreciate if you gave my clothes back, General, Maegar declared loudly to cover the sound of Sahira’s laughter.

After a couple more chuckles, the Tiefling regained a bit of control. She looked down at the pile of dark cloth she was holding in her arms.

- Why don’t you, huh… come and get them, your Grace?

Maegar could not see the twinkle in her eyes from where he stood but he could imagine it from her mischevious tone. The Baron did not waste a second protesting and rubbing his hands, looked for the best spot to climb the tavern’s walls. His eyes stopped on a stack of barrels. Taking a running start, he climbed the structure and in a few light jumps, he reached the roof of the tavern. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sahira getting ready to flee and jump on the next building. A pretty risky move, but Maegar knew she could do it. Running as fast as he could with a towel barely holding onto his waist, he caught up to her and grabbed her waist before she could jump. Taken by surprise, Sahira dropped Maegar’s clothes which floated in the wind before reaching the muddy ground.

- Oh no, your clothes, she said, not sounding sorry in the least.

Maegar sighed as he released the giggling Tiefling.

- I guess you’ll have to stay half-naked for a while now, she added turning a cheerful glance towards him.

As the setting sun hit her strange yellow eyes, her slit-shaped pupils narrowed. An uncomfortable vision for most people at first, but one Maegar was used to. He grinned back at her.

- If I’m freezing to death, it’ll be on you. - Don’t worry, your Grace, I’ll make sure it won’t happen, Sahira replied while winking at him.

There it was. The flirting. It did not happen constantly, but it kept coming back. The Tiefling did not flirt exclusively with him and it probably did not mean anything. Just a bit of fun. But each time, Maegar felt something twisting in his gut.

The slight pause before his answer was long enough to be noticed but short enough to seem meaningless. Or so he hoped.

- Then let’s go find a nice fireplace to sit nearby, shall we?

Once again he pretended to be oblivious. He knew the game, he knew how to flirt back and joke around. Sahira probably had seen him do it before, with other women. It was unlikely he was fooling her, but if it affected her, she did not show it.

- And for the love of Shelyn, stop calling me your Grace, Maegar added as they climbed down the tavern’s walls. - Yes, sir! Sahira chuckled.

Under the astonished stares of the tavern’s clientele, the Baron retightened his towel around his waist and took a sit at the table nearest to the fireplace. Meanwhile the general grabbed a chair. Not to sit on it, oh no. It was not her style. Instead she stepped on it, settling herself nonchalantly on the table, one foot resting on the seat of the chair while the other sat upon its back. It was well-known among the Varnling Host as “Sahira’s chair problem”. She always found creative ways to never sit properly on one. Planting her hands behind her, she leaned backwards and looked down at Maegar from her elevated vantage point. The Tiefling smiled warmly.

- Better?

Looking up at her, Maegar grinned back at her.

- A lot. Drinks? - You pay. I’m broke. - You keep saying that, but it’s been almost two years since you bought that potion.

Sahira shrugged, looking away.

- I don’t have a reason to save money anymore, so I spend it as soon as I get it.

Maegar smiled softly.

- No settling down for our dashing bard?

He knew he was treading on a dangerous path, so he took care to do it as gently as possible. Sahira darted her eyes towards him for a second. It was enough for him to see her discomfort.

- We’ve already settled down, remember? I have food, I have this room up there. I don’t need anything else.

The baron looked down at his hands. He was not sure what he expected, really. Sahira was an adventurer at heart. Building a home, taking roots, living an ordinary life was not for her. Still, she stayed when Maegar acquired Varnhold and accepted the charge of General. If the Varnling Host commander kept bringing the subject up, it was because he feared Sahira would just get up and leave someday, bored with all this settling down. Deep down, he had a feeling the recent increase in pranks might be related to this problem.

- Nothing money can buy anyway. - What?

Maegar lifted his head suddenly, surprised. Sahira was looking at him again, a soft smile on her lips, something like melancholy shining in her eyes. The expression faded quickly, replaced by her usual mischevious grin.

- Deep in thought, are we? What has the handsome Baron so distracted?

The flirting again. This time Maegar had to clear his throat to prevent his voice from sounding a bit too hoarse, flushing slightly.

- Sahira, we need to talk.

The Tiefling winced.

- I don’t like the sound of that...

Instinctively, the Baron gently grabbed her wrist, as if afraid she would run away. She just might, he thought. It would not have been the first time.

- Listen… You know I love your pranks. But don’t you think you’ve gone a little overboard lately? Not to mention you could pick a few other targets. Cephal might be in need of one...

Sahira scoffed.

- These need to be fun for me too, you know. And Cephal is anything but fun to prank. What are you complaining about? Without me, you would be buried in paperwork all day and never see the sun.

Maegar sighed. Leaning back, his hand slid from her wrist to rest on the top of her hand. Getting the bard to talk was a challenge. She always prefered roundabout ways of communication.

- I have a lot to worry about, Sahira. Running a barony is not going to be fun every day. If on top of that I have to worry about the next thing you’re going to pull on me… This is getting stressful.

Even from the light touch of her hand he could tell her whole body tensed up.

- Maegar… I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to hurt you. I’ll stop the pranks, I promise.

She started leaning forward. She was ready to bolt. Maegar squeezed her hand to stop her.

- I just want to know what’s going on. Why are you doing this?

Sahira slowly settled back into her initial position, looking straight in front of her. Her mouth kept opening and closing. Maegar tried to help.

- Are you… bored? - Gods no!

Ah. Well so much for that intuition.

- Recruiting and training guards, organizing patrols, new problems every day… The Tiefling continued. I have plenty to do. It’s just that… You’ve been busy too.

Sahira glanced carefully at him. He tried to look as encouraging as possible.

- When I try to find you, you’re either receiving people in the throne room or writing letters or reading reports… I never get to just chat with you anymore. When we travelled with the company, we were always together. We didn’t even need to talk that much because we could see each other all day long. Going from that to having a hard time crossing path… I guess I’ve been missing you. The pranks were a way to get you to interact with me, I suppose.

Maegar slowly blinked at her. It was not what he expected and he felt like a fool. Taking a moment to absorb the information, he started mechanically brushing Sahira’s knuckles with his thumb. Stopping as soon as he realized it, he looked up at her.

- I’m sorry… I didn’t realize. But I should have. We can fix this. What do you say we set up a weekly evening just to hang out? No baroning, just enjoying each other’s company.

The Tiefling smiled down at him.

- I’d like that.

[birdsongsofpersia]

Sacred Insomnia for the timeless,

                 [They died because in the black substance of someone else’s night all the streets looked the same …] - Anne Carson in Men in the Off Hours                        Time enters, announces its arrival, then disappears to drink in the wardrobe, day after day. I spend months contemplating its arrival and departure, the bleeding in of the days. Coronavirus penetrates every vessel. It’s why I venture here, some nights. They call me in, round back into the shack. They are temporary sloths of all sizes after work, unable to rise to their feet after a long day. Their hands are crude oil black, crusted with their toils. “Come...join us...have a glass o’ poison with us”, they croon out, drinking home-brewed schnapps. They were already merry as beasts as if feasting within the centre of the earth. There are eight or nine of them, or perhaps four. They work as shoe shiners that spread out throughout the city during the day anticipating the move and insecurities of those in transit. This is a land full of important meetings. Everyone has to have immaculate shoes. It was 3am and I had been walking bare foot, feeling rusty. I was sleepless and longing for stormy dreams, the sanctuary. Without it death comes like a thousand mad symphonies. Do I need the rest, or the dreams that take me to wisdom? I long for the return to great knowledge. I have not dreamt for weeks now. I lose it all murmuring poetry at street-lights. In certain states of mind each lamp post contains a floating line beside it. I try to touch it but my hand passes straight through. They have come to show me something that cannot be touched. They have come to show me how to observe, to wait, to greet them with presence. Meanwhile, restless, I build a cathedral of memories. Of childhood. I watch the blossom fall through the cold spring nights. I peel away my mind. I hear the same words, over and over again. As if it is a funeral for the state of creation. All leaves me. I walk the streets and hear soft footsteps behind me. Something tells me they are of the tigers I once had nightmares of for months as a kid. I turn, though, and of course they are not there. Some of the ancients would sit me down in a desert to tell me : they are tracking you to see that you remain on the right path. And which path is this? They disappear off into the sands, laughing to themselves. “We never sleep”, admits one man, darker with shoe polish than the others. “There’s no time to give time away. This is the secret of the success of this little country. You watch the clock. You avoid eye contact. And you get to go where you are going. But we...enjoy the art of watch burning here. Ever done it?” I gaze at him. My mind doesn’t quite work in these times. Nothing adds up. Sleep can take it all away. He extends a grubby hand, mumbling about cleanliness in the world of chaos, and presents himself as Serj, and hands me a watch with a shot of Schnapps. I loathe the drink and switch it for a cup of cacao from my thermos. The watch is a Rolex, evidently worth more than I’ve ever spent in my life. There are those who spend more on a cup of coffee than I spend on food in a year. Who worry only of how to accumulate more. It is soon time for my annual burning of wealth  ceremony. Serj grins. The sleight of hand to take off a wristwatch without the other noticing until they were already halfway across the city. I don’t understand. With how everyone lives in time, how can they be away from it for so long? “We have truckloads of identical replicas...we replace them and their owners know nothing about it until weeks later and then who knows how it happened..” Another stretches her hand towards me. Wagna is her name. She had been strumming a banjo in the corner of the room, eyes like broken glass shining under the moon. “I used to ask people I met : tell me true words. Now I think it’s a little intrusive, and puts people on the spot. You are invited if you wish to share. But today I will show you the truest manifestation I can muster from within me.” She stands up. Stretches high up to the ceiling and begins to hum a song. I watch her, mesmerised. The more I watch her, the more her arms appear to become branches and her feet a tree trunk. “Damnit Wagna”, another says, a small cannonball of a man, “don’t leave your leaves all over the ground again when you do that.” She remains like this for a long time, only the winds outside communicating. She sits, as if falling, hit by lightning, then sits back up and casually begins to strum the banjo. They begin to toss watches into a large still drum. “All this wealth...” Serj laments, “and for what and to which ends?” A tiny woman, no larger than a baby kangaroo hobbles up with a match. She is clearly in great pain with whatever is afflicting her, but smiles broadly, filling her faces, wrinkles spreading like a sun across swamp water. She tosses it in, and the watches begin to hiss, going up in flames. There is the sound of motors dying, civilisation cracking, trembling, falling to a halt. A unseen voice from the darkness : “my truth is that once I dreamt I was a bird, like so many do. But I felt extinction stalking me, stalking...us. And ever since then, I haven’t slept. The terror of truth, and knowing what they know. I feel like I’m going mad, now...my unwillingness to face the end times.” I swallow deep down into my guts. I feel shaky. My body could perhaps give it all in right now. But I stand. I haven’t danced for a long while. Months and years. The cannonball-like man takes out a drum and begins to play along to the banjo. I begin to move to the sounds, urging myself to go into trance, to forget the body, the eyes, and pass into the lands of the groundless. I doubt it all. In the doubt, I throw my body more recklessly. I become a multiple car crash upon a cliff toppling into a vast canyon. Bodies who have lost their songs. Eyes without glimmer. Naked skin that does not reach out. One must live the inner live so absolutely that a path is cleared towards the future days. Return to this frenzy. I am lashing out at the future, at days of paying rent, getting by, becoming forsaken, a beggar, a speck with nothing but hunger. Sacred hunger. Tears leaving me as if trapped by a dam broken by thousands of fish taking back their river, the space where they have always lived and died.  I could sacrifice myself to return. Some hours go by. They had continued drinking, telling stories. But I had to go deep. Then dawn chirps. I collapse to the ground. The tree bends down to kiss me on the forehead, then leaves with the others to earn their daily bread. Just Serj remains. Only now, sitting up, do I see his long white beard that I swear wasn’t there before. I look down, and I too have one, long and straggly like a goat’s, down to my knees. I have become old again. And I will return to youth. The mind and spirit can transform anything. “This...” he murmurs, “is why we don’t sleep. Welcome to the lands of sacred insomnia. We remember why we’re here in these times...and no clock will replace this...” I open the door. Dawn has appeared like a threat, like a mango into my begging bowl, like an unstoppable herd of charging elephants. Days of order, days of workers running to meetings with their chests thundering, days of forgotten dreams. I step outside, and daylight does the rest, Photo - Stanley Kubrick, Story, began in early February, finished in late April, day before the turning of years. Some things must have a completion...

[little-ki]

50 Day Challenge: Uchiha Madara (Sleepless)

Read the Full Challenge on AO3

Prompt: Use this in a scene: All I heard was “I swear it will be funny…” and then we were in jail. 

Song Inspiration: Sleepless – J.zen

Warning: This is... a little bit steamier than my usual pieces.  I blame Madara... The female character here is between ages of 26-28. 

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Madara walked into the police station and was greeted by the few policemen on the night shift with awe and respect, until they realized who he came for. While they remained polite, Madara could see the strain in their haunted eyes. Once they escorted him to the area with the cells, he understood why.

Even from the entrance he could hear Naruto’s horrible singing. Normally, his nephew or Sakura would’ve shut him up by now, but he wasn’t here for them.

As he got closer to the cell his ears pricked at the sound of hysterical giggles that sounded very familiar. He quickened his pace and when he reached his destination, he gripped the bars rigidly at the sight in front of him.

His nephew was completely flushed and lying on one of the beds with an arm covering his face, muttering about something he couldn’t care less about. Sakura was holding Naruto in a half-nelson on the floor, which explained why the singing had stopped. But his gaze was solely focused on his little bunny, sitting on a different bed giggling her head off. He’d never seen her like this. She turned her head and fuck, the way her entire face lit up at the sight of him was adorable.

“Madara~” She reached out both of her arms, expecting him to pick her up. Both of his eyebrows shot up in surprise, but once the cell door was opened, he indulged and pulled her into a hug. As she snuggled sweetly into his chest, he looked her over for any injuries (if he found anything out of place, his nephew and friends would pay). Aside from some smudged lipstick she seemed fine.

He sat down in a chair provided for him and kept his bunny in his lap, letting her play with the lapels of his trench coat, and turned towards the trio of troublemakers. “Well?”

Naruto pushed Sakura in front of him, trying to shrink his bulky form behind her, while his nephew feigned sleep facing the cell wall, his twitching giving him away. Madara kept his gaze even, waiting for them to surrender.

Eventually, Sakura was the one to break the silence, after elbowing Naruto in the face for constantly pushing her. “Er, it’s like this Uncle. It was for a good cause, really.”

Madara was an intimidating man. As the leader of the Uchiha clan and their prominence in the nation’s security, combined with his own personal achievements on the field and in the business world; very few dared to cross him. With his immaculate suit, wild hair, and cold eyes, it’s no wonder that men and women alike were willing to give anything to be with him. But to see him sitting in a jail cell, with their bubbly best friend in his lap, burrowing her head in his neck, would cause his allies and enemies alike to foam at the mouth. Was this really the same man that ruled with an iron fist (and rumored to have a hand in the underworld)?

“A Lawyer, a surgeon, and an activist; and yet you bunch couldn’t stay out of trouble?” Sakura didn’t know how to retort, her fury at the boys continued bubbling up inside.

Hikari yawned and stretched her arms in the air, “Madara, I’m tired. Can we go home yet?”

Madara stood up at once, effortlessly holding her in a princess carry, and walked out of the cell without a second glance. Sakura shook herself out of her stupor and called out, “W-wait Uncle! What about us?”

The policeman that escorted him to the cell piped in, “He paid for your bail, but we were instructed to keep you overnight, “as punishment”, he emphasized the air quotes with his hands.

Sakura turned towards the boys and cracked her knuckles threateningly, “You idiots! This is all your fault! When he finds out what happened, don’t expect me to come save your sorry asses!”

Naruto paled and began begging Sakura with teary eyes not to leave him alone to face that monster, and while Sasuke never moved from his position facing the wall, his form shook as he cried silent tears.

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

Meanwhile, Madara was trying to deal with a very clingy and touchy bunny. She had been good until they got into the car, where she started playing with the buttons on his shirt. When he tried to stop her, she looked up with big watery eyes that asked why he didn’t love her.

He leaned down to press soft kisses against her mouth in apologies (and assurances), and she responded enthusiastically, her tongue running along the seam of his mouth and nipping his bottom lip lightly. Madara took the chance to dive into an intense kiss, releasing the pent-up frustration he’d accumulated when she had been toying with his jacket and shirt in the cell. She brought her arms around his neck, trying to pull him even closer as her tongue happily entangled with his. When he finally pulled away, she whined, trying to chase his mouth. He continued pressed chaste kisses all over her face, struggling to calm down; he would never let anyone else be privy to his bunny.

He pressed his face into her hair, taking deep breaths; when he finally looked down again, she was pouting. Pressing a sweet kiss to her temple in apology he asked, “What happened bunny? Didn’t we have plans to meet tonight?”

Her eyes widened in shock before she moved her legs to straddle his body, and complained cloyingly sweet, “I was waiting for you at home, when they came and kidnapped me,” she pouted and tilted her head down, “We were sitting in the car and all I heard was “I swear it’ll be funny”, then I don’t remember much. I’m sorry, Madara.” He internally combusted, literally feeling himself burst into flames, realizing that his earlier thought had been accurate. His sweet bunny was drunk.

The alcohol had been very faint in her kiss (she probably only had a sip), but evidently his bunny had a very low tolerance. It seemed she was a clingy and affectionate drunk. Thinking back to how Sasuke and Naruto had tried to hide from him in the cell… Well, he didn’t like where this was going.

He was pulled out of his thoughts (he’d been crafting very vivid images of the indescribable pain they would undergo), as he felt alternating light kisses and nips, slowly climbing his neck towards his face. “Madara~ Don’t be mad~ I’m sorry~” Fuck.

He squeezed her thighs, “Hm, you’ve been a bad girl, bunny.”

She blinked her eyes innocently, leaning in to pander to him, “It’s not my fault though. They made me,” she pouted again, making her swollen lips even more prominent. Madara tried to burn the image into his brain (wondering if he could convince her to let him take a picture), to see her looking up at him through her lashes with teary eyes, flushed cheeks, and just-kissed lips; fuck, was the drive home always this long?

He moved one arm around her waist, pinning her to completely lay against his chest and used his other hand to lift her chin up, “I don’t know, bunny. You caused a lot of trouble today.” Stroking her cheek with the same hand, he continued, “I was in a meeting when the station called (actually he’d pushed that off on Izuna, wanting to be home early, only to find that his bunny wasn’t waiting at home like she promised).”

His finger slid down her neck and his thumb stroked her pulse point, “The bail was expensive… and, traffic was terrible.” The car stopped. He leaned in and lightly blew on her ear, and she whimpered.

His eyes darkened until they were almost pitch black and murmured, “And bad girls need to be punished, bunny.”

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

The next day, Sakura was allowed out of the cell, but the policeman stopped Naruto and Sasuke from leaving. “Hey! What’s going on!” Naruto cried as he shook the bars.

The detective looked up and snorted, “Miss Haruno is clear to leave, but you two should get comfortable. You’ll be here for a while.” He left the area with Sakura, who sneered at the boys before following him out.

Sasuke smacked his head against the bars and growled, “This is all your fault, dobe!”

“Me?!” Naruto protested, “You were the one who brought the booze!”

“You were the one who gave it to her!” The two started fighting and rolling on the ground, throwing punches. The guard on duty ignored the duo, continuing to watch the news discuss the break last night at Sea World.

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

At the same time, Madara had propped himself up on one arm, enjoying the view. He took in her form, filling in the parts covered by the blanket with his memories. Last night had been amazing. His bunny would never stop surprising him.

He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, having trouble pulling back at the soft sigh she let out, snuggling closer to his warmth. He secured her to his frame, pressing another kiss on one of the darker marks on her back.

He’d never asked why his bunny didn’t drink, but now he might see if he could convince her otherwise in the future. Only with him, of course.

They said that alcohol revealed one’s truest desires, and he liked it very much. But he would obliterate anyone else if they ever saw this side of her.

As for the two idiots that thought they could hide from him, he would deal with them later. Right now, he wanted to thoroughly explore this side of his bunny.

[stusbunker]

Lay Me Down

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam and Dean Winchester, unnamed female character/ reader, Castiel, briefly Jack

A/N: Show level violence and gore. Lots of gunshots, attempted suicide(bad guy). Angst. Character death. I decided to try this for @supernatural-jackles #Weekly Writing Challenge. Prompts will be in bold. I have about fifty other things I should be writing and of course this came out instead. Case is rushed, but action demanded it. xoxo Stu

Word Count: ~3388

Song Inspired: All the Pretty Girls by Kaleo

“What?” Sam recoiled at her smug display.

“She totally wanted to take a bite of you, man,” she warned, leaning back to watch the cop retreat behind her desk.

Dean sneaked up on them at just the right moment. “What are we looking at?”

“The cop making goo-goo eyes at your brother.”

“Not the time, Sammy. We have a team ganking those poor saps, so we need our A game.”

Sam stammered, “I wasn’t-”

“Later, Romeo.” She pulled him out of the precinct by linking their arms, patting on his large hand as to comfort him of his loss. The Impala waited for them at the curb outside and in less than ten minutes they found their next stop, the only store in town that carried ammo. Whoever they were hunting seemed to like their magic with a side of gunshot wounds, that’s why no one else had put two and two together. Until Sam got the autopsy reports emailed to him, anonymously.

C.O.D. may have been G.S.W. to the chest, but whatever potions they had added to the bullets left the people purple husks of themselves. Five victims over twelve months in a town with little other major crime. The public were passed high alert and into panic mode. The locals practically threw a party for the fake Federal Agents that morning, and not just the chipper traffic cop. Everyone wanted answers.

^*^

After narrowing down the suspect pool, Dean called Cas in. He didn’t want anyone to be left without back up and with what seemed to be two witches at work, neither were to be underestimated.

“What I don’t get is why shoot them, then poison them,” Dean groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Tell me about it, is it just to confuse the M.E.?”

“Not a very innocuous way to destroy evidence,” Sam added, closing the folder in his lap.

“That can’t be it. Whatever magic this is, it isn’t a poison. Because that would be cleaner than shooting someone. The potion must be for something else,” Dean continued.

“It’s a soul siphoning serum,” Castiel had been squinting at the photographs from the morgue.

“Say that five times fast,” Dean said under his breath, she couldn’t help but laugh as he goaded her.

“So whoever is doing this is sucking out the victims’ souls?” Sam cleared his throat, giving his brother and their friend a teacher’s scowl.

“It’s like a conduit, instead of the soul being released by the witch or more likely warlock, the serum allows the power of the deceased’s soul to be absorbed by the spell’s caster,” Castiel grabbed a pen and started writing down some runes.

Meanwhile she got Sam’s attention, “how much do you guys know about warlocks?”

“Uh, some, I think Cuthbert Sinclair probably was the closest we’ve dealt with,” Sam frowned as his focus turned back to his laptop.

“Not that douche, so what, we’ve got people’s souls in jars or is it an instant recharge button. Boom, the bastards get some more pep in their step?” Dean waited for Cas to finish his scribbling.

“It’s a lot more than pep, Dean. If we are going in, we need to set up a trap. As warlocks tap into demonic energy, these should dampen their powers, but at least one of them will still have elevated abilities.”

“Still got those witch killing bullets, boys?” She sat up straight, determination masking the fear in her eyes.

“Never leave the Bunker without them,” Sam smirked.

“Sam and I will work on, enhancing, the ammunition for a warlock,” Cas suggested. “You two work out exactly who they are and how we can draw them out.”

^*^

“You know teasing Sam about girls is about the fastest way to get him to retreat, right?” Dean asked her once they were comfortably down the road.

“Dean, stop, okay? It’s not like that, with either of you,” she looked him dead in the eye as he cocked his head and considered her rebuttal.

“You jumped on that pretty fast,” licking his lips like the smooth bastard he was. “But I was talking in general, you know. Girls and Sam are a touchy subject.”

“After Eileen?”

“Um, yeah, but there were others and each one ended wrong. But don’t tell him I told you that.”

“Won’t, plus it’s not like you have a list of epic romances that ended mutually. None of us do, that’s not hunter style, not really,” she called him out and summed it up, like she always did. Speaking hard truths and kicking ass. Ignoring and denying herself, because there were more important things. Dean nodded, squinting into the afternoon sunshine. She wondered if he owned a pair of sunglasses or if he just liked straining his eyes. Dumb ass.

Dean pulled into the circular drive of the looming old house, though it was immaculately cared for, it still wore its years at the seams. She led the charge to the ornate front door, hoping the well-respected Mason wasn’t an unholy murderer all the same. Dean scowled as the door remained unanswered, though two vehicles were visible in the car port. As they peeked in different windows, their suspicions were verified when a rumble erupted from inside the house.

They drew their weapons and as Dean squared himself to kick in the door, it burst open. A golden blast of light sent him and the door on top of him back ten feet. Dean rolled, hunching against the cruel landing on the front lawn.

“Freeze, Federal Agents,” she tried to keep charade, at least for the neighbors who may be home during the day.

“Sorry, honey, but you’re coming with me,” the man’s unnaturally breathy voice answered. And before she could reply or Dean could focus enough to aim, they disappeared.

“Fuck!” Dean roared.

^*^

Cas and Sam took a cab and met Dean outside the house as the locals swarmed the premises after being called in for a disturbance. Dean was talking to the lead detective about what happened, who insisted he get checked out after losing consciousness.

“Dean, we can’t do a thorough search with all of these people aggravating the contents of the house,” Cas worried.

“Yeah, well, better than letting them search it alone and end up a toad or worse,” Dean snipped, giving Cas his sad half smile.

“We’ll get her back, Dean.”

“Oh, you bet your ass we will.” He wouldn’t look his brother in the eye.

Two hours passed where nothing exploded or remotely magically was found on any level of the house. Dean’s agitation grew by the minute.

“Okay, I, uh, we all need something to do. So let’s get back to the motel and regroup, find the partner, maybe, or –”

“Sounds like a plan, food on the way?”

It was the damn coroner the whole time. Which they only discovered after reviewing the autopsy reports that Sam had been sent versus the official ones, which were lousy with muted details and outright omissions. They waited for night fall and made their way back to the morgue.

^*^

It was a trap, she was bait and she was pissed. Mouth breather one and clammy hands doctor were slowly trying to take over the town. Power hungry loners together at last. Luckily, she knew the guys would be prepared for anything, but it didn’t make the worry stop churning in her gut. Instead of focusing on the negative, she used her time to figure out what made each man tick.

Obviously, Mister pillar-of-the-community was the dominant personality while the M.E. was the minion. She tried not to let her biases determine who had just sucked down a soul, but it seemed like her kidnapper wasn’t the type to share such power. He certainly wasn’t the type to stick around and babysit her. He left her in the back office with his sidekick going on an hour and a half. Before she could properly sweet talk the pasty coroner, her rescue team arrived.

They sent in Castiel, in scrubs, she caught his reflection in the window from the hallway, which she figured was because he hadn’t been on the case during initial interviews. But it was a small town and any new face caused justifiable distrust. While Cas waited for whatever paperwork or samples he had been sent to claim, she worked on freeing herself.

*^*

With the second can of spray paint emptied along the surrounding corridor, Sam signaled Dean to move on. Everything seemed to move in cornered urgency once the lights went out. When the emergency spots came on at the exits, Dean spotted him approaching, tendrils of magic crawling from his eyes, a deep amber pendant pulsing at his throat as he threw everything he had at the hunters. Both men were pinned to the wall, backs rattling the blinds on the opposite side of the windows where Cas was trying to buy them time.

“What was that?!”

“I’m not sure, perhaps you should check?” Cas tried, he really did, but he still wasn’t very convincing. The coroner froze for two beats as he waited for Castiel to move, panic won out and he dove back into the office to ensure their bait was still on the hook. The door slammed in Cas’s face, handle burning hot with warding. Cas’s grace blazed through him as he tried to break the enchantment stopping him. The sound of choking forced him to turn around and see what the Winchesters were facing in the hall.

^*^

She stumbled out the back, trying to breach the heavy emergency door as quietly as possible. The cement steps continued out into the base of a massive retaining wall and another set of stairs. She threw herself forward hoping to find the Impala and any of its weapons to circle back. She heard the door burst open behind her as she reached the final stair, but she didn’t look back. She ran with everything she had to reach the corner of the building and the hope of suitable cover but the shot that echoed in the cool night air was faster.

^*^

Castiel stared at the warlock pinning Sam and Dean in place in confusion, the warding should be dampening his abilities. Castiel reached out with his grace and broke the man’s concentration, pulling him out of his trance.

“He’s channeling powers, besides the souls,” Castiel spoke through the strain.

“Somebody is a quick study, now, uh, what are we, hmmm?” The man’s eyes sparkled as he measured Castiel. “Devon! Devon let’s get this one first. He’s going to be just, divine.”

“He doesn’t have a soul you can suck on, Sparky,” Dean barked, clamping a firm hand on the distracted warlock’s shoulder, as soon as he made contact Dean flew back once more.

“Yes, I know that, Dude, but his Grace is extractable as well, isn’t it?”

“Where is she?” Sam changed the subject, standing beside Castiel. “You’d knew we’d come for her, what did you do with her?”

“Devon has your little pet, quite the talons on that one,” he hummed before gasping, finally a waiver in his resolve. Which is all it took for Dean to try for the amulet at his throat once more. Sam flanked him, grabbing his left hand and locking it into iron shackles. In a split second a shot rang out and the three men fell in a huddle as Cas’s hold broke. Dean wrenched the thick cables of cord from his neck, the magic radiating from the cursed stone. Sam worked to secure the other wrist.

“I think… I think I’ve been shot,” Cas groaned as he slummed against the far wall, along the office door frame.

“Cas?!” Dean was there in four strides, panic filled him as he checked the wound, the bullet still inside him. “Sam!”

Sam kicked away from the nullified warlock. “On it,” he replied as he chased down the infamous sidekick Devon, gun drawn and menacing.

^*^

The cement hit every part of her, a mass of uncontrollable weight fell hard against the wet stone. She should have been uncomfortable, but the magic of the bullet seemed to muffle the pain into a bubble of heat centered just above her bottom ribs. The spell spread quickly, like spilled water on a tabletop, spreading until it had no more volume to spare. She willed herself to roll, to push on, but the magic dulled every resistance. The sky was hard to make out against the fluorescent security lights, but she convinced herself there were stars beyond the false beacons. That there was something worth wishing on.

^*^

“Come on Cas, heal damnit!” Dean growled.

“I am, Dean.” Cas sighed in exasperation, digging the bullet from his vessel before continuing to flood the body with healing light. “The magic was strong, but it wasn’t meant for angels. It will just be a bit longer. Go find Sam and the partner.”

“We still gotta–”

“I’ll find her, in a sec.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean patted his shoulder before checking his gun. As Dean strode passed the prone man, he contemplated putting a bullet straight between the guys’ eyes, but let the urge pass as he raced after his brother.

Cas stood slowly, eyes burning the now terrified man across the hall. He spotted the pendant on the floor where Dean had dropped it and just before he crushed it beneath his heel, Castiel muttered a chilling, “good riddance.”

^*^

There were only a few rooms left where Devon could have gone, but Sam took his time, clearing each office and storage room with the diligence that was ingrained in his very being. He felt Dean behind him, but spun all the same, as the brothers locked eyes they moved to the last room. The chill in the air greeting them as they stepped to either side of the Autopsy Room. The wall of refrigerated beds their only option.

“This guy is whacked,” Dean muttered, starting at the top row and working down.

“Ya think?”

“Uh, Cas is getting her, by the way, but we should get back quick, he’s still weak,” Dean froze in front of the final door, counting down with his fingers.

3-2-1

Sam’s finger was itching on the trigger before they realized it wasn’t Devon, but another victim. A lab tech that Sam recognized from another case, he couldn’t remember her name, but she must have sent him the original reports. Their hearts sank as they left her there on the metal tray. Dean sealed the door once more and they backtracked.

^*^

Cas staggered through the office, finding her restraints empty. He followed her only possible course, quickly ending up outside. The smell of blood and the slowing of a heartbeat pulled the healing angel to the edge of the building.

“Oh no,” Cas fell to his knees, hand sliding down her face to her pulse. “Where?”

“He got me in the back, can you believe it?” She groaned as Castiel carefully slid her on to her side.

“You’re going to be fine.”

“When are we ever fine, Cas?”

^*^

Devon was back in the first hallway, devastated tears pooling down his face as he paced, the damaged necklace clutched in his fist with his gun in the other.

“What happened,” Sam whispered.

“I don’t know, Cas must have snuffed him,” Dean shrugged and aimed. “Devon, come on man, it’s over.”

“You! You did this!” Devon pointed his gun at Dean’s face, his arm visibly trembling with grief.

“No, man, look, I left him where he was, I swear,” Dean held up his hands, belting his weapon with a single glance at Sam, whose was still at the ready.

They were at a standstill, when suddenly Devon countered, “I will make this right.”

“Devon don’t do anything stupid,” Sam barked.

“Loyalty isn’t stupid, even you dude-bros have to know that,” Devon-the-coroner spat.

“What are you talking about?” Dean took a step forward, only to throw his hands back up when Devon squared his shoulders and straightened his gun arm.

“My soul will give him enough power to heal himself,” Devon sniffed and turned the barrel to his temple.

“He’s gone, man. Don’t do this, your life isn’t worth this,” Dean begged.

“Good luck, Matthew,” Devon closed his eyes against the shouts of the hunters, but before he could pull the trigger, Sam did.

Dean spun, incredulous at his brother’s move. “I couldn’t risk it working, Dean,” Sam swallowed, not pleased with making the tough choice.

^*^

She could feel the cool touch of his Grace as he tried to heal her. It was a simple comfort beneath her now unbearable reality. They had her back, even when she couldn’t get back to help them. She watched Cas’s brow furrow as he worked, eyes closed. He always had kind eyes, even when he was furious. It would be a good last face to see. Something more tangible to make her wishes on.

“I just need you to do this one thing for me,” she struggled against the blood filling her lung. “I need you to burn my journal. They, they don’t need to find that. It would only make it, worse.” She swallowed, “D’you hear me?”

Cas leaned forward, struggling to knit her wounds closed, but the more he tried, the harder the magic seeped into her system and pushed back. “You can burn it yourself,” his deep voice clipped.

“Cas? It’s okay, just let me go ‘ith my Reaper. My books have all been swapped out now,” she said simply, with little worry in her voice. But the telltale tears mirrored themselves in the angel’s ancient eyes. He nodded his understanding and watched her go where he was no longer welcome. Though the serum chased her soul, the effects fizzled out as Sam left no spell-caster standing for it to return to. Her soul was safe.

^*^

Dean reached them first, sliding down to their level to lend a hand. The moments of frantically patting at her body only echoed the quiet stillness that was Castiel. Dean’s large palm found her cheek, his eyes burned as he looked into the open lifeless eyes of his friend. He called to her, begged her, berated Cas, but nothing could undo what was done. He rocked her into his lap, holding her to his chest as the weight of her body seemed to increase with every passing agony.

She still smelled the same, sure there was blood and dark magic swirling from her too, but that was just any other hunt. This was just another hunt. He didn’t realize he had lost his grip until Sam pulled him to standing. It took Sam five tries before Dean heard him. Sam gestured to Cas, who held her body in his arms, as they walked back to the Impala. Dean sat in the back with them as only Sam could drive at that point.

Sam didn’t sleep, driving all night only to find Jack to help with the pyre. Cas dragged Dean away so he could wrap the body without him falling apart again. When Dean fell asleep it was with gunsmoke and rust in his nose. He couldn’t dream and found no rest. Sam searched for her, naturally, she was wrapped and waiting on her bed, her hands crossed over her chest beneath the mock-ghost white sheet. It wasn’t how they usually did it, but he didn’t say anything. In truth, Sam was grateful he wouldn’t have to dwell on what the magic had done to her.

His exhales were ragged as he spoke to her, little things about how she always stole his shampoo or sang worse than Dean. Words of gratitude and affirmation that she wouldn’t have accepted were she alive. After more tears and pauses than he would have liked, Sam gave his farewell. Trusting Billie’s minions had taken her to paradise; she deserved the best a hunter could get. Hell, she deserved better.

When he kissed her forehead, Dean’s voice stilled him. “We ready?”

“Never ready for this one,” Sam croaked, but nodded to his brother all the same. He took her shoulders while Dean hooked her knees beneath his elbow. Castiel and Jack followed them out into the woods where they laid her down on the bed of brush and logs in silence.

^*^

@madlu45 @dontshootmespence @mrswhozeewhatsis @mogaruke @because-imma-lady-assface

@seenashwrite How’d I do on the no Y/N part?