#mocking... the noises/sounds.... which is a WHOLE ass experience both when it happens to me or when it happens to someone else

[waterfallofspace]

Anyone else not able to say 'bless you', either because it feels too personal, embarrassing, slightly erotic or a mixture of all of the above-

Buuuuuut also whenever an event interrupts the conversation, you feel so much more awkward not saying anything/commenting on it at all, and so you wish you could just... say that phrase, or have some other thing that makes sense to say to just- shrug it off???

[nessaxc]

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Romance Me || Gojo Satoru

You break up with Gojo because he isn't giving you what you need in the relationship. And when you get a rebound, Gojo isn't too happy about that.

~ Words: 3.7k

~ NSFW 18+

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You broke up with Gojo months ago simply because you weren't getting what you needed from the relationship. It was lacking heavily in the romance department, like was it so much to ask for him to be romantic once in a while? Maybe a candle lit dinner? For him to send you flowers and chocolates? Though, you shouldn't have been surprised, this was Satoru Gojo we were talking about, romance wasn't in his vocabulary.

At first your relationship with him was fun and exciting, and the sex was amazing and he was so adventurous in the bedroom, there was literally nothing he wasn't willing to try, which was one of the many things you adored about him. You just felt like the relationship wasn't going anywhere, and sure fighting curses in the city was exhilarating and having sex in his car was thrilling but you wanted more than just being destructive with one another. Maybe a relationship with Gojo was doomed to fail from the start, but you still hoped that maybe he would have a change of heart and start treating you the way you deserved to be treated.

He didn't take the breakup very well, you knew he wouldn't, and he was quick to flip the situation around and act like he was the one that broke it off when that clearly wasn't what happened. When you explained why you were choosing to break up with him, he didn't understand, he believed because you were a Jujutsu Sorcerer, a word like romance wasn't in your vocabulary either, but there was a lot more to you than being a fellow sorcerer.

Because you wanted to show Gojo what he was missing, you found yourself a rebound and started flaunting him off to the rest of the Jujutsu Sorcerers, making sure to hold hands with him and kiss one another while Gojo was in the same room, just to provoke him. The sorcerer welcomed your new boyfriend with open arms, allowing you to invite him over whenever you wanted as long as he followed orders of course, which got under Gojo’s skin even more, because not only did he have to hear you talk about him all day, but he had to see you two together being all lovey-dovey with one another. Gojo knew that you couldn't care less about this new rebound of yours, that you were just keeping him around merely to make him jealous, and he found that he loathed seeing another man touch you and be in the same proximity as you. You were supposed to be his, and only his, and the thought of someone else in your bed made him feel sick, it made Gojo want to tear this guy limb from limb, and he would do just that after he got you back.

One night after you and your new boyfriend were spending some heated alone time together (and you two were sure to make a ton of noise so Gojo could hear everything) you went downstairs with him to open the door for him and to exchange sappy goodbyes before he left the building. You closed the door with a loud bang before you made your way back upstairs to your room. When you returned to your room, you saw Gojo sitting comfortably on your bed, sitting cross legged, humming away a tune as he waited for you to come back.

"Satoru, what are you doing here?" you asked with narrowed eyes, annoyance evident in your tone. "You know me and my boyfriend just had sex on that bed, right?" you added with a snort.

"So you replace me for that piece of shit?" he rasped, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

"I guess so, he's so much more romantic and sweet, and he knows exactly how to make me happy," you said as you dreamily sighed, taking a seat on a chair across the bed as you looked at him.

"Tell me you didn't let him come inside you," he replied gruffly, his tone threatening and dripping with venom as the mental image crossed his mind.

"You have no business knowing that, so I don't need to answer any of your invasive questions," you told him before you added with a wide smile, "but what I can tell you is that he has a bigger dick than you, and he's way better in bed than you, he's got more experience," you lied, shrugging your shoulders, relishing in the fact how overwrought he was with jealousy.

He merely laughed at your response, knowing that you weren't being honest with him or yourself, "Oh Y/N, don't lie to me and yourself, I bet he can't even make you come," he said with a forced smile stretched across his face in attempt to hide some of his anger. "C'mon, we both know you're just using him because you're not with me anymore, it's so obvious it's pathetic, and there's no way in hell that shithead can really make you happy."

"Oh of course he does, like I said he has a ton of experience and he knows exactly how I like it," you lied again with a smug smile stuck on your face. "Someone sounds jealous," you taunted in a sing-song tone.

"Oh yeah? Sure he does," he spat as he sneered, and in one quick motion he removed himself from his position on the bed and you stood up from the chair as well when he stepped towards you, standing face to face with you. "What makes you think I'm jealous anyway? I don't give a shit if he fucked you," he continued in a harsh tone, each word laced with acrimony.

"Really now? Sure sounds like it," you mocked with a curl of your lip, "I didn't think you were the jealous type."

"That's cause I'm not, your little boy toy just fucking vexes me," he snarled as he took another step towards you, so close now that his hot breath was fanning over your mouth, sending a tingle down your spine as your gaze remained unwavering upon his. You could see every twitch of his features, he was sick with envy, that much was clear. His hands were at his sides, clenching and unclenching in frustration as you continued to look at him with that self-satisfied smile.

"Tell me then, why does he vex you?" you asked, playing dumb, tilting your head to the side as you waited for his answer. You expected him to start cursing you out but instead he grabbed a fistful of your hair until you were both looking each other directly in the eye, barely a distance between you two. He crashed his lips into yours, devouring you in the ruthless kiss you had come to know so well. When you felt his tongue retract to plunge further, you bit down hard on his lower lip. You heard him intake a sharp breath, a low, guttural growl vibrating deep as you crushed your lips upon his, without a care if you hurt him or not, teeth knocking and noses bumping from the rush of the kiss. His hands groped around your hips, his fingers digging hard under your skirt and into your pantyhose, tearing the fabric as he lifted you by your ass, slamming you back against the wall, forcing your legs apart and hooking them around his waist.

"I fucking hate it when people touch what's mine," he breathed heavily against your mouth, "you're mine, Y/N, you don't belong to anyone else," his tone was raspy and threatening as he growled possessively.

"Now that sounded romantic," you hummed, and he smirked against your lips as he continued to press his pair insistently upon yours.

Your nails started to scratch and dig into his back, leaving streaks of pale, pink lines, making him groan into your mouth. You bit his lower lip hard and held him close to you as you ground against him feverishly. He panted hard against your mouth before turning his attention to your neck, biting and sucking hard, making you yelp out from the stinging sensations that spread across your whole body. It wasn't long until you got your revenge and started to bite and pull on his jaw, lips and chin, continuing the assault on his neck and shoulder.

You could feel his member hardening as he pinned you with his body. He was suffocating you, and every time you attempted to come up for air, he denied you. You were tasting blood, and you couldn't tell if it was his or your own.

Finally managing to grab a fistful of his hair, you pulled him back as you both gasped for air. Fresh blood was smeared across his mouth, it was blended with your lip-gloss like a stain. It was rough and perfect, just the way you liked it. He knew exactly how to suck you right back in. You both remained this way for what might have been mere minutes, but it felt like an eternity. His bright blue eyes were burning and intense, a wry grin playing in between each breath.

His tongue languidly licked the blood from his lower lip before he leaned in just beneath your jaw, biting hard into the sensitive skin of your neck, his teeth piercing it. You emitted a loud moan, bucking and grinding down into his hips as you felt him sucking and pulling you tighter to him, crushing your breasts against him. You were convinced he was trying to tear your flesh from your bone, until he finally released his seal with a loud pop.

"If I have to keep branding you until you remember who you belong to," he started, his voice gravelly against the bruise already forming and blending into your neck as you felt his hand drawing down your thigh, tearing the skirt off along the way. "I will."

"That's more like it," you purred. You were both tearing off the other's clothes in a frenzy, tossing aside the articles of clothing across the room in your haste. When you were both completely bare, he hoisted you up by your ass, and you clung to him before he dropped you down on the bed. He was quick to crawl atop you, and he pushed your legs aside with a hand, seeking out the scorching heat between your thighs.

Your breath hitched as his thumb dipped between your dripping folds, parting you as he spread the wetness gathered there, your hips jutting out impatiently against his touch for more contact, "so wet for me, and only for me, you're not allowed to be like this for anyone else," he cursed hoarsely, his voice raw with his need for you. His fingers danced against your sex, palm pressing into your engorged clit, earning him a mewl of pleasure.

You threw your head back against the bed, your body arching into his touch to give him better access to the place you needed him most. You released a sharp intake of breath when he sunk two of his long fingers into your tight wet heat, his palm brushing against your clit as his lips dropped to your heaving bosom while his fingers worked over you at a maddening pace, turning you into a whimpering wanton mess beneath him.

You were putty in his hands, your body molding itself to his talented fingers with a drawn out moan. Gojo groaned at the feeling of your slick walls wrapping so deliciously against his digits, and his hard member was throbbing as he thought about how all he wanted was to take you the way he used to. You rocked your hips against his probing fingers, your eyes squeezing shut with pleasure, body begging him to pick up his pace within you. He was quick to comply, his fingers meeting your thrusts before curving them inside of you, making you cry out as you called his name in unadulterated praise.

His fingers surged into you as he rolled his wrist repeatedly against your clit, bringing his forehead to your own, his nose brushing upon your own, lips inches from yours as he groaned, "Come for me, baby, I want you to come for me, just like you used to."

He sucked your swollen lip into his mouth, leading with his chin as he listened to your strangled plea for mercy, making him chuckle in amusement.

"Come on, come for me, Y/N," he drawled out, scissoring his fingers inside of you as you moaned shamelessly, your toes curling in anticipation for the release you so desperately craved. "Come for me," he repeated, his gaze flitting to your closed lids as he watched you fall apart from his ministrations. With one more rapid and harsh thrust of his skilled fingers, you moaned his name out as you came, completely soaking them with your juices.

He smirked proudly, slipping his fingers from your quivering walls which instantly made you whimper in protest. He lifted his hand to his mouth, sucking his drenched fingers between his lips to taste your sweet essence. Your body heaved against the mattress, watching intently as he tasted you, licking your lips as you heard his moan of approval, his pupils blown wide with lust.

"Mmm, it's just like I remembered it," he purred.

He released his fingers after he was sure he got every last drop, there was a wicked gleam in his eye before he lowered his lips to your nipple, taking it greedily within his hot mouth. He tortured the flesh with his tongue and mouth, alternating between nipping and sucking as his hand worked at the other, pinching and twisting. He smirked against your bud as you moaned encouragingly, spurring him on. He released you, his hand and mouth switching places, sucking upon one and thumbing the other, making you emit moan after moan.

"Only I get to touch you now, no other fucker touches what's mine, you hear me?" he rasped, growling deep from his throat, the vibrations shooting straight to your core as he once again wrapped his mouth around your nipple, sinking his teeth into it and making your whole body tremble with the harsh treatment.

You rocked your hips desperately against him which made him let out a strangled sound around your nipple. "Satoru," you whispered breathlessly, your head thrashing about against the sheets, his mouth and fingers completely relentless. "Please fuck me, already, stop wasting time, fuck I need you."

"That's the spirit baby," he cooed before he asked in a taunting tone, "and where do you need me exactly?"

His eyes were dark and hooded as he looked upon your flushed face, red coloring your cheeks, his warm breath hitting your tender, wet flesh, making you whimper and keen. "You miss me, don't you? You miss me filling you up, fucking you senseless into this mattress like I used to, huh? Tell me Y/N, you need to tell me," he demanded as he bumped his hips against yours, teasing you mercilessly.

"Yes, yes I miss you, I miss us, I just want to feel you inside me again," you admitted through a ragged breath. His lips curled into a smug, amused smirk, his eyes shining with dark intent. You couldn't wait any longer, you just wanted to feel him inside of you again like before.

"Of course you miss me, I knew that shithead was doing a shit job pleasing you," he taunted, "now get on your hands and knees for me," he ordered huskily.

You were quick to comply, positioning yourself on your hands and knees before him, his mouth watering at the sight. He dipped his head down beside yours, his lips pressing against your ear as he whispered, "That's a good girl, fuck, I missed seeing you like this," he told you, moving to take his position behind you. His length was digging deliciously against the curve of your backside, and you curved your spine, wiggling your ass impatiently in his direction, bracing yourself on your forearms and elbows.

"Just like that, you're fucking beautiful," he purred, expressing his approval, his voice dripping with sin. He worked his hand over his rigid shaft in a few jerky movements with his fist, swiping the head of his member against your dripping sex.

"Satoru, oh fuck," you whimpered as your fingers clawed at the sheets beneath you, grabbing and pulling at them in your desperation. He bit back a groan as he felt your wetness come in contact with his head. His hand wrapped around your hip with a bruising grip as he finally thrust into you, sheathing himself into your wet heat with a grunt.

You gasped loudly, eyes shutting instantly and your walls closing in on him the second he slipped inside of you. You buried your head into the sheets as he stretched your inner walls in a way the man you were with never could. "Fuck," he groaned as he started rocking his hips against yours, slamming into you with a brutal, relentless force that had you bucking back up into him.

He gripped your hips tighter as he withdrew, then slowly plunged his member back in, pumping himself in and out at a frantic pace as you writhed and squirmed underneath him.

"So beautiful, who has the bigger dick? That little shithead, or me? And don't lie this time," he taunted through a drawl.

"Satoru! Yours is the biggest," you replied in a moan, mouth open wide as another cry emitted from your lips after a particularly harsh thrust, his way of expressing how much those words pleased him. "You make me feel so good, I can't get enough of your big cock," you whined as you matched the rhythm he set, though you were having trouble keeping up with him, and your hips were stuttering against his as you continued to squeeze his member greedily between your silken walls.

"That's right, and you're mine, all mine, no one's going to take you from me," he whispered as he rammed himself into your quivering, soaked entrance, the slapping of skin ringing in both of your ears. He sighed in relief when he pulled out only to surge right back in, his nails digging harshly into your hips as he yanked them closer, making sure that your whole body would be sore and aching tomorrow and that you wouldn't ever forget how he made you feel.

You moaned into the mattress as he continued to fill you, pounding you into the bed and his balls clapping against your flushed cheeks as you writhed about, fisting the sheets in your hands as tight as you possibly could. You were trembling with each heavy, rapid thrust, and you felt like you were going to combust from the heat that spread across your whole taut body. You breathed heavily as your head tilted to press your cheek against the bed, "Oh, I can't-"

Your words were swallowed by a soft cry, and you felt your walls clamp around his length, your climax threatening to burst within you.

"That's it, I want you to come for me again, come on," he urged, picking his pace up to push you over the edge. He drove himself into you over and over again, his thrusts sloppy and hips stuttering, knowing that his own release wasn't far behind. He was hitting that sweet spot with every single deep plunge, and it had you yelping out his name breathlessly as you trailed your quivering hand down until you found the spot right above where you two were joined to stimulate your engorged clit.

"That's it, touch yourself for me, baby, oh, just like that," he encouraged through a groan.

You rolled your clit around feverishly with shaking fingers as you sought release, pressing into it relentlessly and never ceasing in your movements, flicking and rubbing until you couldn't take it anymore.

With one final harsh thrust, you came with a shout, his name pouring out of your lips as your walls clenched all around his member. You bucked your hips wildly against him, and your release sparked his. He shot his thick seed up within you, filling you up with his warmth, just like he used to, his head falling against your backside as he rode out the intense waves of pleasure, drawing it out until you fell boneless against the mattress, your arms giving out on you.

He allowed himself to remain sheathed inside of you until he softened, pulling out very slowly, making you hiss between gritted teeth at the sensation. He was quick to roll you around so that you were on your back now as he joined your side, both of you panting heavily and sucking in air desperately after the intensity of your orgasms. You two laid there on the disheveled sheets, silence thick in the air, chests heaving, bodies slick with sweat as you stared up at the ceiling.

All of a sudden, Gojo whipped out a dark red rose, twirling the stem between his fingers before he handed it to you with a smile on his lips.

"Thought you would like it," he told you, his voice hoarse. You smiled as you took it, a warm and fuzzy feeling swelling in your chest at the romantic gesture. Perhaps there was more to Gojo than you originally thought. You took a whiff of its aroma before you turned to him and gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, I will give it some water," you replied with a chortle before you placed it on your bedside table.

"You're mine. And I'm yours. Understand?" he told you breathlessly. He reached his hand out to grab yours, entwining his fingers through it as he held it up to his mouth, placing a quick peck on it before he pulled away.

You sighed dreamily as you nuzzled your head underneath the crook of his neck, curling up into his body before you replied, soft laughs spilling through small pants, "You so love me, it's official."

He merely laughed in response as he held you close to the warmth of his body, snuggling up to you as you hummed appreciatively. He didn't need to say it for you to know it.

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[spencers-renaissance]

The Colour of Waiting is Purple

Summary: Spencer's just trying to get home as quickly as possible when a bad decision to take a shortcut down a back alley leaves him broken and bleeding into the night. // Hotch thinks it's a new case when his phone rings at 3 in the morning. It isn't.

Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, physical assault, major character injury, hospitals, dad hotch, hurt spencer, angst with a happy ending, eventual fluff

TW: graphic descriptions of violence // physical assault (no rape/non-con)

Pairing: Gen, Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Disclaimer: I'm sure there are some medical inaccuracies here, everything I know comes from google, whump tumblr blogs, and my embarrassing obsession with medical dramas. I also have no knowledge of the US medical system aside from what I know from the aforementioned sources so excuse any issues there.

Spencer doesn’t think anything of it when he leaves work at his usual time, the clock pushing midnight and the offices deserted. He packs his few personal belongings up and turns off his lamp before nodding to the janitor, the only other person to be seen, and taking the elevator down to the ground floor where there’s a little more sign of human life at least. 

As soon as he steps out into the crisp winter air, he feels the exhaustion of working close to 18 hours straight on far too little sleep hit him. They haven’t even been working a case, he just gets so caught up in his reports and consults that he doesn’t notice the hours whizzing by until he looks up and the bullpen is deserted, dark except for his desk lamp. 

Inevitably when spending the day at the office dealing with banalities, he finds something that captures his interest. It tends to send him on a trawl through the internet — or, occasionally, to another part of the building — looking it up in every journal he buys a subscription to until that itch is scratched.

The others always gently touch his shoulder or call out to him as they leave, which he tends to hear about 50% of the time, and Hotch especially tries to make him leave at a more sensible time, but he can’t help the way his brain works. Once it latches onto something it’s not letting go until it’s satisfied.

His feet carry him to the Metro station while his brain absently thinks over his most recent fixation, and soon enough he’s at his stop and back in DC. The streets are slightly more lively in the city, and the noise and light snap him back to reality enough to remind him of his bone-deep fatigue. He usually walks down the main streets to get to his apartment building, occasionally catching a bus if he’s earlier than usual or a cab if he’s later, but tonight he’s just longing for a quick microwave meal, a shower, and his bed. So, he dips down an alleyway and takes the shortcut home. 

It’s stupid. 

He knows pretty much every statistic there is to know about his city, and at the forefront of his brain are those concerning crime. DC has one of the highest crime rates in America, and a person’s chances of being a victim is 1 in 18, and although it’s slightly lower in Adams Morgan which is one of the safest, violent crimes are still 36% higher than the national average. This is decidedly increased when you take stupid risks like walking through the backstreets in the dead of night when you’re on your own.

Sadly, this does not occur to Spencer before he’s deep in the back streets of the city, being slammed ruthlessly against a wall by two men he didn’t see coming. 

He’s winded immediately, and before his brain can catch up with what’s happening, a knife is being held dangerously close to his neck. All his self-defence training, all the moves Derek had spent hours teaching him when he’d first joined the BAU fly out the window and he can only breathe heavily with what he knows must be a terrified expression on his face.

“Well, well, well,” the man holding the knife leers, his arid breath hitting Spencer’s face, “look what we have here.”

The other man doesn’t speak. He’s stood slightly further back, arms crossed as he stares Spencer down. Although he’s physically the lesser threat right now, something about him has ice pooling in Spencer’s stomach.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, you fucking pansy,” he continues, pushing Spencer further into the wall, pain blossoming across his body, “you’re gonna let us look through your gay ass purse, and we’re gonna take whatever we want from it. And then, you’re gonna let Paulie here do whatever he wants to you. He’s had a real bad day, and a pathetic little queer like you is just the punching bag he needs, you hear me?”

It’s all Spencer can do to nod his head frantically. He wants to open his mouth, to negotiate, to talk them down, but this is nothing like when he’s faced with the FBI’s most wanted. He’s in control there, he’s on his turf, his playing field, it’s  his game and he knows every rule, every bylaw, every exception. 

Right now, he’s completely at these men’s mercy.

“Paulie, take his bag.” The man doesn’t take his eyes off Spencer’s face, scanning his expression and body language for any sign he’s about to bolt, for any reason to put his knife to work. 

He tries to calm himself down a little, enough to catch his breath at least. He’s taken countless beatings throughout his life, he knows how to survive, just… please, don’t let it be anything more. It’s all Spencer dares to hope for.

The other man steps forward and snatches his messenger bag, unceremoniously dumping the contents of his bag on the pavement. Spencer’s just grateful that he doesn’t have anything in there that hints towards his career. He knows this type: they’re intimidating but they’re easily scared. Right now, he’s a weak twenty-something on his way home, he’s not a threat to them, but who knows what they’d do to him if they realised he’s a fed?

They take his wallet and his phone before they rummage through his pockets to find some spare cash. His badge is tucked in an inner pocket in his blazer and his Quantico ID is still hanging around his neck, hidden under his scarf, blazer, and thin overcoat; he’s so glad he never took it off. 

An icy tear drips down his face as he stands there, pressed against the wall, awaiting his fate. All he wants right now is to be back at home. No, that’s not right. All he wants right now is  Hotch. As soon as the thought of his father-figure crosses his mind, the tears start flowing faster, desperate to feel safe again, knowing Hotch is the only person to really let him feel that way.

The man holding the knife has turned to watch Paulie sift through his bag and rummage through his pockets, but as soon as his steely grey eyes return to Spencer’s face, his face splits into a shit-eating grin. “Aw, are you crying?” he mocks, starting to laugh. “Are the big bad men making you feel scared? You gonna run home to Mommy?”

He knows that it’s exactly what the man wants, but he can’t stop the tears from devolving into full-blown sobs at his words. The whole terrifying experience, the implications, the realisations of what might be coming for him in the next few minutes start to catch up to him and he’s violently shaking as he cries uncontrollably. 

“You’re pathetic,” the man spits, releasing his grip on him slightly, letting Spencer’s shaky legs collapse under him and send him crashing towards the ground. “He’s all yours, Paulie. I’m gonna enjoy this.”

His position is quickly taken over by Paulie as the other man leans against a dumpster close by to watch the show, and Spencer looks up at the intimidating man with fear blazing in his eyes as he hangs in purgatory, knowing the hell that’s about to rain down on him. 

Paulie doesn’t take long to get started and he doesn’t hold back, his sturdy, black boots kicking him relentlessly in the stomach and his thighs before moving up to his chest, slamming the toe of his boots into each individual rib. Spencer can hear the other man laughing maniacally over the sound of his own bones breaking, over his own choked pleas for mercy, but it’s like Paulie doesn’t hear either of them. His face is blank as he gives Spencer the beating of his life, and it only makes him more terrifying. 

He quickly gets bored of kicking Spencer and bends down to yank him up by his scarf, only to land a hard, brutal punch on his jaw, then his cheek, then his nose before dropping him down again, this time so his back is vulnerable, at the mercy of Paulie’s cruel feet.

The torture continues for a few more minutes, and Spencer doesn’t know how no-one hears his desperate cries, but they’re left alone in the alley as he coughs up blood and feels his bones break under the tread of Paulie’s boots. He’s deprived of air as his chest is stood on, as his windpipe is crushed, but finally,  finally it’s over.

“I’m bored,” Paulie grunts, giving Spencer one last brutal kick to the base of his back before walking over to the other man. They both saunter off down the alleyway, not casting a single look back at Spencer lying curled up on the ground, surrounded by his own blood. 

Soon, the men have left, and he’s alone with only his ragged, painful breaths for company. He can hear the hoots of a bachelor party just a street over, but no-one’s coming to save him. No-one else is stupid enough to venture down the backstreets of DC. Not with crime rates like those of their city. Not in the small hours of the morning. Not alone.

He doesn’t even have his phone to call for help. 

⭐️

Hotch expects it to be work when he picks up the phone at 3am. By the time he’s sat up in bed and sliding the bar on his phone to answer it, he’s already half in work-mode, ready to call Jessica and drive Jack over before racing into work to beat the others on the team. He can already taste his first coffee of the day. 

“Hello, is this Aaron Hotchner?” 

It isn’t work.

“Uh, yes,” he says hesitantly, shifting upright a little further, sleep-addled mind trying to guess who the caller could possibly be, “speaking.”

“Hi, my name is Mary Kutner, I’m calling from George Washington University Hospital. I have you down as Spencer Reid’s emergency contact, is that correct?”

Hotch’s heart plummets, and he leaps out of bed immediately, ready to get dressed as the shock wakes him up. “That’s correct. What’s happened?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge much information over the phone, sir, but we’ll need you to come to the hospital urgently.” 

He isn’t usually an emotional person, but he can feel tears springing to his eyes already. Spencer is a surrogate son to him, and knowing he’s hurt without knowing what he can actually do about it is an atrocious feeling.  Please don’t let me watch another member of my family die, is all he can think as he tries to gain enough composure to reply to the nurse on the other end of the line.

“Can you tell me his condition?” he asks, somehow managing to get the words past the lump in his throat. 

“He’s currently in theatre, sir,” Mary replies as gently as one can in such a professional tone. “If you come down to the hospital and report to the ER a doctor will be able to tell you more. I’ll need you to bring identification with you, please.”

“Okay,” he breathes, trying to keep as calm as possible, “okay. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be right there.”

He throws the phone on the bed as he finishes throwing his clothes on. He packs two bags: one for him (mostly filled with things Spencer might need) and one for Jack, pulls on his coat and shoes before creeping into his son’s room and lifting him out of bed gently, carrying him down to the car. 

Jack is a heavy sleeper — he frequently wakes up the next morning tucked in his room at Jessica’s, sometimes in the car on the way — and he’s endlessly thankful for that now. Explaining why he’s dashing out of the flat with a panicked look on his face to a seven-year-old is a conversation he’s glad to avoid.

He rings Jessica on the way who, used to his early morning calls waking her up, has no problem with looking after Jack.

Somehow, he manages to make it to the hospital only forty-five minutes later, and he didn’t even have to park illegally. Thank God the hospital is at least a little quieter in the dead of night.

“Hi, I’m Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid’s emergency contact,” he explains shakily to the woman at the front desk, laying down his FBI identification bag down as ID. He could use his driving licence, sure, but… if knowing they’re FBI agents will make any difference to Spencer’s care then he doesn’t give a damn if this could be construed in some way as abuse of his position. He’d rather lose his job than lose his son.

“Oh, hi Agent Hotchner,” the woman says with a tone of recognition, glancing at his ID before typing something into her computer, “I’m Mary Kutner, I spoke to you on the phone. Dr Reid is still in surgery but I’ll go and find a doctor who can explain the situation to you.”

He nods absently, face stern and pinched as furious anxiety toils inside him. He feels like the last forty-five minutes have been a daze, and now the bright lights and noisy machines and bustling action of the Emergency Department at a major trauma centre are slowly snapping him out of it, the implications of ‘urgent’ and ‘surgery’ and it being the middle of the damn night finally catching up to him. 

Some number of minutes pass by — he’s too anxious and caught in his head to keep track of the linear passage of time right now — before he’s approached by a young doctor, wearing a mask carefully constructed of confident professionalism and reassuring compassion. 

“Agent Hotchner?” She’s clarifying uselessly, she knows it’s him. He knows she probably has to confirm for some stupid HIPAA rule, but he just wants to know what happened goddamnit. 

“Yes,” he replies shortly, “what’s happened to Spencer?”

He doesn’t miss her almost perfectly concealed wince, and he feels his stomach sink further. “He was involved in an assault on his way home from work. A passer-by found him in a back road not far from the hospital and called for an ambulance. Luckily we got him into surgery quickly. Upon admission’s initial assessment, he had a ruptured spleen, a collapsed lung, a double kidney contusion, and he suffered a pelvic fracture along with multiple broken ribs, a fractured jaw and cheekbone, and several severe breaks in his left forearm, wrist, and hand.”

Hotch stares at the doctor in disbelief as she lists Spencer’s injuries: he feels like he’s going into shock. How could anyone want to hurt the sweetest person he’s ever met? How could anyone be so brutal? He’s worked with serial killers for nearly two decades and still, nothing could prepare him for this. He sits down in the seat behind him as the world spins, his brain trying to piece everything together. 

“Are you alright, sir?” the doctor asks, sitting down in the seat next to him. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“What?” He turns to look at her before her words sink in and he realises what she asked. “Oh. No, I’m fine… I— is he going to be okay?” As soon as the first tear spills down his cheek, he can’t stop them from falling one after another, dripping down his face in his most public display of emotion since Haley died.

“He’s going to need a lot of care,” she reasons, “he’ll need to stay in hospital for at least a week depending on the outcome of the surgery, but we have every reason to believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

“What’s— what’s the surgery for?” He feels like he’s having an out of body experience.

“They’ll address the internal bleeding first by either fixing or removing the spleen and making sure we didn’t miss anything else on the scans. The surgeon will also assess the damage to Spencer’s kidneys and make sure they aren’t contributing to the internal bleeding. They’ll address the pelvic fractures and the collapsed lung as well. You need to understand that Spencer may need further surgery and he’ll definitely need very close monitoring over the coming weeks and months.”

“What about his broken bones?” Hotch asks. “How bad is it?”

She sighs. “They’re bad,” she admits. “The pelvic fractures are likely going to have a big impact on his mobility, and he won’t have the use of his left arm for a long time. We’re looking at a long recovery, Agent Hotchner. But we have every reason to believe that he  will eventually recover.”

She pats him comfortingly on the hand before getting up. “Someone will fetch you as soon as he’s out of surgery.” 

It’s not until she’s halfway across the waiting room that he realises she never even told him her name. 

 It’s close to 8am by the time a surgeon walks over to him, still dressed in scrubs. There’s a smudge of blood on his shirt and Hotch winces at the knowledge that it’s Spencer’s. 

“How is he?” he asks, leaping up. He doesn't want any screwing around. He just wants to know if Spencer’s going to be okay. 

“He’s stable. The surgery went well. Unfortunately, we had to conduct a full splenectomy to stop his internal bleed which does put him at risk for serious infections, but otherwise, it’s good news. His kidneys will need support but should heal in a timely manner, and we were able to set the rib that punctured his lung and reinflate it, although we’re going to keep him on oxygen to be safe. His pelvis was severely fractured but we managed to reposition the displaced bone fragments and inserted a screw and metal plate to hold them together.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hotch sighs with relief. The worst, immediate threats have been dealt with, and it settles a small part of the anxiety he’s feeling. 

“He’s in room 338 if you’d like to go and see him. He should be waking up shortly.”

⭐️

Wasting no time, he races up to Spencer’s floor where a nurse lets him onto the ward and leads him down to 338. He pushes the door open apprehensively, swallowing his emotion at the sight of the man he considers a son lying in a hospital bed. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s been rushed to the hospital, but it’s never been like this. It’s always after a case: Spencer knows the risks of the job, they all do, and he puts himself deliberately in harm's way for the sake of others.

This time, though… this time he was just walking home from work. This time he had no say in the matter.

His left arm is in a cast and his face is bruised and swollen, chestnut hair matted and tangled. Opening the bag he packed, he pulls out a comb and gently teases out the tangles until he can comb through the curls completely unobstructed. There are undoubtedly more knots at the back of his head, but those can wait until he’s woken up at least. It just makes him feel like he’s doing something. 

It’s only when he sits down in the chair by his bed that he realises it’s Thursday morning now; he’s supposed to be at work today, they both are. No-one except Jessica knows what’s happened. 

The first thing, he supposes, is to ring Strauss. 

Once that’s out of the way and she knows that neither he nor Spencer will be in today and he’ll inform her of the latest updates as soon as possible, he messages Rossi. He’s the only one who will be able to remain objective enough to inform everyone, and he’s enough of a dad to the team to help manage everyone’s emotional responses. 

Just as he hits send on the message, his head snaps up at Spencer’s quiet whimpering as he comes around.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” he says as soothingly as possible, “it’s okay, I’m here. You’re in the hospital. Are you in pain?”

Spencer blinks his eyes open blearily, wearing such a pained and vulnerable expression that it goes right to Hotch’s gut. He nods in response to his question, his good hand reaching to hold Hotch’s. 

“Okay, there’s a PCA pump right here, I’ll turn it up a little. Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, tears springing to his eyes. Now he’s not in as much physical pain, Hotch knows this is pure emotion, and he thinks that’s somehow worse. Spencer’s been through a horrifying physical ordeal, but the emotional recovery is going to be just as gruelling and last years. If there’s one word he’d use to describe Spencer, though, it’s resilient. 

He shushes him gently, bringing a hand to his hair and caressing it lightly. “I’m here,” he repeats. “You’re safe. I won’t leave you, okay?”

Spencer nods and relaxes into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he calms down a little. 

“You rest now,” he murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Everything’s going to be okay.”

They’ll deal with the fall-out later. They’ll deal with the team coming to visit, with the paperwork for his sick leave and the frustration of government bureaucracy. They’ll manage their way through processing the trauma of what happened to him, the physical, mental, and occupational implications of the assault. They’ll stay glued at the hip while Spencer’s interviewed by the police, while doctors explain to him just how serious his injuries are. 

Right now, though, Spencer will sleep and Hotch will sit by his bedside watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to every steady beep on the heart rate monitor, searing the living breathing proof that Spencer is alive into his mind. Spencer will sleep and Hotch will cry silently over the cruelty of the world, he’ll grieve for the man he said good-bye to 12 hours earlier, knowing he’ll never quite be the same again. 

Spencer will sleep and Hotch will be there, holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up again.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith

[imagines-forthe-soul]

For your small imagines can I have Dabi, Twice, and Fatgum nsfw(as dirty as you'd like)/sfw headcannons for a female shy/quiet s/o who's black, has thick locs, introverted, nerdy, and studying to be doctor. lol aka shamless self insert please and thank you dear😉😚

You said both a small imagine and headcanons and it kind of confused me so I just went with headcanons, so I hope that’s okay!! Also, I can’t tell you how fun it was writing for a black reader. Most of the time when I write, I usually try to make the reader fit everyone or let you guys decide if she looks like you or an OC of yours, but it was really fun writing for a certain type or race of reader. I really want to do more things like this!!

_______________________________

Todoroki Touya (Dabi):

He likes your quiet and introverted nature, finding a sort of comfort in it. He doesn’t really like talking all that much himself, so having someone who is somewhat similar to that is good with him. He’s comfortable with you being silent most of the time and will only ever talk if he has something important to say like: “What should we get for lunch?” or something.

Makes fun of you endlessly for being so nerdy and studious. He likes to pick on you when you are doing your studies, stealing your textbook from you and waving it over your head, pushing your arm so you mess up your notes, or even slapping your books out of your hand. He acts like a typical high school bully but it’s all in good fun… at least for him.

Since you’re on the shier side, he likes to shamelessly flirt and fondle you whenever and wherever he wants. It doesn’t matter if you are at home or in front of your family or friends, Dabi is going to be saying some raunchy things to you or grope you without batting an eye. When he met your parents, his arm was around your shoulder with his hand resting on your tit, giving it a good squeeze as he just stared your father down and walked into the house with you in tow without waiting to be invited in. He’s disrespectful like that.

You’re going to get your hair played with and pulled on a lot. Like I said before, Touya is a complete bully and likes teasing you endlessly. When the mood strikes him, he is going to just plop a hand on your head, messing around with the different sized locs in your hair, rolling them between his fingers, braiding a few, and putting them against his lip and pretending its a mustache. You don’t really pay much mind to it at first since it starts off so goofy and playful, but eventually you’ll feel him tug on your hair really hard and hitting you with your own hair if you try to stop him. He’s a real cunt.

Bubaigawara Jin (Twice):

Like Dabi, JIn likes to tease you for being such a studious person, but it’s all playful instead of mocking. He’ll call you things like Einstein, Brainiac, Smartass, just to be funny but he won’t ever disturb you or purposely mess up your notes. Even though he’s a villain, he isn’t going to mess up your chances of becoming something as big as a doctor for his own gain (unlike a certain charred jerkface)

He’s in love with your skin and your hair. More often than not, he will be admiring the color of your skin and how it glows in the sun or how smooth it is. He hasn’t seen many people with your skin color let alone date one, so he is going to take as much time as he sees fit to admire your skin and give you compliments on it. As for your hair, he can’t keep his hands out of it. He plays with it each and every chance he gets. Though be careful because he does tend to rip out the knots without really asking if he should or not. He just sees them and goes to getting rid of it for you which usually ends up hurting you.

He doesn’t mind your quiet nature in the least. Honestly, there would be nothing Jin loves more than a quite and calm partner. He has lots of troubles both in his life and in his mind and would love (as well as need) someone who could just be there for him, to be his peace away from all the craziness he has to deal with both inside and away from the field of villainy. He enjoys being able to come home to see you quietly studying and then cuddling up to you and just staying silent as you read over your notes and press a soft kiss to his temple every now and again.

Toyomitsu Taishirou (Fatgum):

He is obsessed with your hair. There is nothing he loves more than playing with each one, giving them names, helping you pick out hairstyles, and taking care of your hair. He thinks it’s a great bonding experience and helps him appreciate you and your hair so much more. However, above all else, he loves helping you take them out when you plan on redoing them. Seeing your hair in its unkempt and wild state is something he loves because he knows you are usually nervous about letting him see it this way. He loves that you trust him with this part of yourself and that you’ve allowed him to help you.

Thinks that your studying to become a doctor is beyond cool. He knows that not everyone wants to be or has the quirk to be a hero, but he loves that you are still doing something to give back to the community by studying and working hard to become someone that can still save lives without being an actual hero by profession. He admires that a lot about you and tries to help you in every way he can.

Can I just say that this babe absolutely loves your skin color as well as your culture and background. In his younger years, he never got much of a chance to date outside his race, especially not one that is so similar yet so different from his, so this is a really fun and educational experience for him. Now, don’t get me wrong, he isn’t dating you just to see what it’s like to be with someone from a different race, he does love you, and a whole lot at that. He simply enjoys learning more about your races culture and history as the two of you go about your relationship. Being able to learn about your lover’s culture through them is a magical experience that he finds brings you both closer together.

NSFW:

Todoroki Touya (Dabi)

If there is one thing Dabi loves most about dating a black woman, it’ll be that nice ass of yours. His hand is going to rain down a whole lot of hurt on your poor behind because he can’t help but love how round and full it is and how good it feels to spank it.

He thanks whatever Gods for your hair because it makes it so easy to turn and toss you how he wants thanks to your hair. The long dreads make it so easy to grip and hold onto you or hold you down. Plus, if they are long enough, you can bet he is going to try and choke you with them because he is that rude and kinky during sex.

Your quietness is going to be thrown out the window when he gets his hands on you. Dabi is all about hearing his partner moan and scream for him and will take it as a challenge if you are quiet during sex. He will do any and everything he can to get a sound out of you, from licking your sweet cunt down until you are begging him not to stop to fucking you so hard that you will end up speaking in tongues by the time he is done with you.

Bubaigawara Jin (Twice):

He never expected sex to be different with someone outside of his race, but he was pleasantly surprised to find out that there are a few differences when having sex with you compared to Japanese women. An example being the way you moan and react to his touches. He loves how soft yet how raw your noises are, how you react to each movement he makes rather than only the pleasure he is or is supposed to be giving you. Your responses to his words and to his actions are so genuine and raw that it takes all his efforts not to cum too quickly when making love to you.

Is very fascinated with your breasts. It’s pretty common for some women of color to have larger areolas and honestly if you do, Jin will love it to bits. He loves to lick around them and marvel at them when you are on top of him. It drives him completely crazy seeing your beautiful breasts bounce as you ride him.

Loves seeing your hair sprawl out behind you when you both have sex. You look so beautiful with your hair strewn about the place, some thrown over your shoulder with the rest behind you, making you look so ethereal and perfect. Words of praise fall from his lips more than you can keep up with when he sees you like this.

Toyomitsu Taishirou (Fatgum):

His favorite position to make love to you in is doggy style. He loves seeing the arch in your back, making you look oh so submissive to him and only him. He loves to be able to run his hand down the arch of your back every so often, feeling the soft skin and smooth muscle there. He also loves the way your ass looks from this position and how he can hold your waist a lot tighter like this, controlling the pace you two go at.

However, what he loves more than doggy style is having you sit on his face. Nothing will make this man happier than having his head between your thighs, tongue shoved deep inside you pulsing cunt as you slowly rock against his face, his hands on your hips to help keep you steady. Big boi loves to eat and his favorite food just so happens to be the sweet fruit between your legs.

He adores hearing your sweet little moans when he makes love to you. They always sounds so angelic and soft and he wants nothing more than for you to keep making those sounds as he drives himself into you. He’ll bend down and rest his head against yours just to hear your sounds a little louder.

Wanna see some other shit I’ve written?

[pitch-pearl-void]

Pirates

Phantom leaned on the railing in front of his cabin and stared down at the deck where their prisoner for the past couple weeks was scrubbing up the rum Phantom had spilled. A strong wind billowed the sails above them, creating a thunderous racket that unfortunately drowned out whatever swears the boy was cursing.

Sam finished reading the letter a second time and spat the same word she had used after she had read the words aloud for Phantom's benefit the first time, "Fuck!"

Phantom smiled. Keeping his elbow balanced on the rail, he raised his left arm and rested his cheek on his palm. Daniel, their prisoner, turned slowly in a circle as he scrubbed viciously at the boards. Phantom wondered when he would notice part of the stain he was trying to clear was old blood and not recently spilled rum. Hopefully not before his ass pointed in Phantom's direction again. Lovely as his face looked, all flushed and sweaty with black hair clinging to his cheeks and forehead, pink, weather-bitten lips pulled into a snarl, there was something truly hypnotic about watching the rough sway of his ass as he scrubbed.

It was why Phantom had allowed the precious liquid to spill from his tankard in the first place.

"You can't keep him," Sam said over the snapping sail cloth. When Phantom didn't immediately respond, she hissed, "Captain."

"You read the letter," Phantom replied absently. "His father doesn't want him anymore."

"Then we kill him and dump his damn carcass on the governor's docks. You know how this works."

Daniel stopped scrubbing long enough to wipe his arm across his forehead, trying to brush his fringe away. Phantom was glad he had only had time to cut off the boy's ponytail back when they first seized him and that one of his crew had had the foresight to preserve as much of his hair as she could when she offered to fix it. Ember had probably noticed Phantom’s interest in their prisoner early on and chose to...exasperate the situation. Likely for her own amusement.

Daniel had finally stopped trying to keep the strings of Phantom's old shirt tied together, and the full expanse of his collarbone lay exposed. The loose shirt billowed freely in the wind where sweat didn't keep it pinned to Daniel's body.

"Captain!"

"Sam," Phantom said, "I think I'm in love..."

"The fuck you are!" His first mate slammed her fist onto the rail beside him. "You know what your are? You're five months from your last fuck and horny as a bitch in heat. Just drag him to your cabin and tumble him as often as you need to get him out of your system so we can get back to business."

"Such delicate language, Sammy," Phantom drawled, still not looking away from Daniel. He had gone back to scrubbing. "Your parents would be so proud."

"Shut the fuck up."

"I'm keeping him."

Sam spat a slew of curses. All the foul words she had been forced to swallow while her parents tried to make her into a proper lady spilling from her lips. Phantom didn't mind. He had heard worse, not that he would ever tell her. She would take it as a challenge.

"Look," he said once she paused to catch her breath, "the governor didn't just refuse to pay the ransom, he was as insulting as possible, and he never referred to his son by name. Not only does he not want his son back, I think he wants him dead. I'm not playing into that man's hands."

Sam thought that over for a second. Phantom heard parchment rustle behind him and realized she was reading it over for the third time, but in a new light. Phantom crossed the fingers of his hand he had allowed to dangle over the rail. He didn't need Sam's agreement, but life would be a great deal easier if she conceded the point.

Some spirit of the ether must have whispered in Daniel's ear that his fate was being discussed, because he looked up at that moment and caught Phantom staring at him. Blue eyes narrowed as they so often did on such occasions, and Phantom lifted an eyebrow as his smile grew. Daniel hadn't stopped scrubbing yet, much to Phantom's delight. Daniel didn't have much muscle to speak of, he had to throw his whole weight into scrubbing as he got tired, and his staring into Phantom's eyes as his body rocked back and forth was very...suggestive.

Tumbling him in the captain's quarter's was sounding more tempting by the moment.

He would never go for it, but Phantom's imagination and hand could probably make up for his absence. At least a little. Maybe.

The wind stalled, briefly allowing the sails to slacken, and Daniel took the opportunity to yell, "What are you staring at?" He put as much annoyance into the shout as he could manage, which was actually a lot. Phantom was impressed. Daniel also stopped scrubbing, which Phantom was less happy about.

"Just enjoying the view, love," Phantom called back. "Don't stop on my account." He motioned with his hand for Daniel to return to his task.

Chuckles cascaded across the deck, and Daniel looked around at the pirates, his jaw clenched as he tried to figure out the joke. He never seemed to realize Phantom was flirting with him, which was an endless source of entertainment for the crew. Perhaps he had yet to encounter men who preferred the company of other men, forced to hide beneath society's notice as they were, but it was also possible he existed in willful ignorance, smothering any thoughts about intimacy between his own sex.

Phantom hoped it was a little of both. If Daniel liked boys too but didn't realize he wasn't a freak, if the wool society had pulled over his eyes to make him feel normal was the reason why Phantom's flirtations kept flying over his head, then they could have a lot of fun once that barrier was removed. If he didn't like other men and that was why it never occurred to him Phantom might be flirting, well...

Phantom's hand and his imagination remained.

Perhaps even a dock boy at the next port, though he wasn't sure he would be able to handle Daniel's innocent confusion the following day. Or in general. He would end up imagining Daniel in the poor sod's place, he just knew it, and that would make things awkward all around.

He really just needed Daniel in his bed and that was all there was to it.

God, he hoped he liked men. Or was at least open to experimenting.

"If you're right about his father wanting him dead," Sam said, speaking slowly, "then he might send someone after us to make sure we do so. We still shouldn't keep him."

"I seem to recall your parents sending bounty hunters after us as well," Phantom replied.

A few suggestive cat calls and wolf whistles were sent Daniel's way, but as usual he didn't take them seriously. He huffed and scowled and made a rude gesture at those closest to him. They laughed at him, of course, and Phantom felt his own grin growing.

"Maybe they did, but I wanted to be a pirate." Sam pointed at Daniel as if Phantom's eyes weren't already fixated on their captive. "He wants to get back to his mommy. I say we drop him off at the next port and damn well let him find his own way back. Maybe give him some coin if your bleeding heart starts to pang."

"It's not just going to pang, Sam." Phantom pressed his right hand over his heart. "It will break. I'll pine for him. I'll be a ghost of myself. A true phantom."

"You'll definitely be a ghost in the next few seconds if you don't start taking this seriously," she snapped.

"I am being serious. You're the one who's not listening."

The wind billowed the sails again with a loud boom. The crew cheered the loud noise, but Daniel winced. Phantom hummed and waited to see if he would resume scrubbing the deck. He didn't. He bent his arm at the elbow then straightened it again, rubbing his bicep through his shirt as he repeated the motion a few more times. It seemed his arms were too sore to continue.

"You will turn us into some noble brat's bodyguards?" Sam demanded. "He's going to bring trouble down on all our heads, and you're just going to let it happen because you want to bed him? Well fucking do it and get it over with!"

Phantom shook his head and straightened from the railing. "There's more going on here, Sam. I won't make any hasty decisions until I get to the bottom of this."

Sam scoffed. "You mean until you get to the bottom of Vladimir Masters' agenda? Or his son’s literal bottom? Because you've definitely been salivating over one of those, and it wasn't the love letter we just got."

Phantom laughed, a light, quick sound. "Both!" He plucked the rolled parchment from Sam's hand and tapped it against his forehead in mock salute, smiling at her irritated expression. "So long as the boy stays safe in my care, I can get my answers and stare longingly at his ass all I want."

"You're making a mistake," Sam said, but Phantom could see she was already conceding the point. She had begun to befriend Daniel too, Phantom had seen her laughing with him just that morning. She was simply more pragmatic. And perhaps a little short-sighted.

"I'll add it to the list then." He turned away and began walking toward his cabin. When he reached the threshold, he boomed in a voice loud enough to be heard across the ship, "Bring me the prisoner!"

He heard Daniel shout and his crew roaring into action with a gleeful cheer. For some reason Daniel insisted on doing things the hard way. If Phantom wanted him in his cabin, Daniel would refuse and would have to be dragged into the room. Sure enough, several minutes of listening to his crew laugh and chant on the deck, a man holding Daniel's legs beneath his armpits walked backward into the cabin while another followed, holding Daniel's upper half by his forearms. The governor's son wiggled in their grip, his body twisting and bucking between them whilst he screeched insults about their mothers, their odor, their moral depravity, their ugly faces.

Phantom sat atop his desk, crisscrossed his legs, and leaned his cheek on his hand as he observed Daniel's struggles, a slow, appreciative smile curling his lips. He could watch the way Daniel contorted his body all day. His shirt was too loose to show off his torso, tucked into his pants so it couldn't ride up, but the pants Phantom had loaned him hugged his ass and thighs perfectly. The only fault in the image was that Phantom wasn't the one holding his legs himself.

The two crew members, Johnny and Shade, dropped Daniel directly in front of Phantom's desk and charged from the room before Daniel could finish rolling onto his front, howling suggestive well-wishes at their captain. They slammed the door behind them, but not before the crew outside cheered their return.

Daniel spat one last, "Pirates," like the word was a sour taste in his mouth before he finished pushing himself onto his feet. He turned a viscous, blue-eyed glare on Phantom, the captain of the hated pirates, but if he hoped to intimidate his captor, he was going about it the wrong way.

Phantom sighed dreamily, exaggerating only half the emotion seizing his heart. "You're too beautiful to be scary, love," he said. "It's like being glared at by a kitten—fierce but so cute."

"What do you want this time, Phantom?" Daniel demanded, ignoring the comment. "I was cleaning up your mess, I wasn't doing anything wrong."

"Captain," Phantom corrected. "Or Captain Phantom. Sir, if you prefer."

"I'm not part of your crew."

"No," Phantom agreed with a grin, "I just want to hear you say it. Preferably in my ear. Softly. Like a prayer."

Daniel's scowl grew more pronounced. His black hair still clung to the sweat on his face. "Can you stop being weird for five seconds and tell me why I'm here?"

"Ah, actually..." Phantom sat up straight, lifting his head off his hand. "I was hoping you could tell me." Daniel frowned, confused, so Phantom explained, "When we accepted this plan—you heard it was a plan we accepted from a third party, yes? Good—our original target was your sister. Our sources said she was the favored daughter, the one likely to fetch a higher ransom, but when we arrived at your estate, your sister and mother were gone, your father fleeing on a horse. The only one left in the villa besides the servants...was you. Locked in your room."

Phantom braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, staring into Daniel's eyes even as those blue irises looked away. The desk was a high one, and they were at eye-level despite Phantom sitting while Daniel stood. "We couldn't leave empty-handed, of course, so we adapted to the situation and took you with us in your sister's stead. We left the ransom demand for your father, along with details on how to make contact with us, and we finally received a response at our last landfall."

Phantom tossed the roll of parchment into the air and caught it as it fell. Daniel's eyes followed its progress like a hungry animal. "Would you like to read what he said?"

Daniel thinned his lips, his jaw clenched. He glared at the parchment a while longer before he said, voice tight with restraint, "He refused to pay the ransom."

"He did," Phantom said, nodding his head. "He also called me a sea devil. The spawn of a four legged beast and a whore. A bloodthirsty criminal with less honor than a rat. Should I go on or can you guess the rest? It's a decent sized parchment."

Daniel swallowed. His cheeks appeared to have reddened further, though it was difficult to tell beneath his sunburn. "I understand."

"He doesn't sound like a worried father."

"...No."

"He's trying to piss us off. It worked. Sam is furious. You've become a waste of time and resources. If the crew found out..."

Daniel nodded. He licked his lips, hesitated, then asked in the smallest voice Phantom had ever heard from him, "Are you going to kill me?"

Phantom frowned. How long had it been since he had seen fear touch those blue eyes? Did Daniel even realize how comfortable he was becoming among them? "That really would be a waste. After all," Phantom twisted a dramatic lilt into his voice and pressed his hand over his heart, "who else could put on such a performance while scrubbing my deck? My heart would wither without you."

Daniel snorted, but the fear receded and his shoulders relaxed. It wasn't gone—it probably never would be—but it was enough for now. "What are you going to do with me now that I'm so useless to you?"

"Other than as a swabbie?" Phantom tapped the rolled edge of the parchment against his hairless chin. He never could seem to grow a beard or even a mustache, though given his natural hair color, that was probably to his benefit. "That depends on what you tell me now. Why were you locked in your room? Why did your father leave you? Why does he appear to want you dead?"

Phantom snapped the last word, and Daniel flinched. They stared at each other as the ship pitched beneath them. The sea had been getting progressively rougher as the sun rose, and soon Daniel would be struggling to maintain his balance again, his clumsy, landlubber legs another source of endless entertainment for Phantom and his crew. He was getting better, however. He hadn't been seasick since that first day. Phantom could almost believe they could make a pirate of him yet.

"He's not my father," Daniel mumbled.

Phantom raised an eyebrow. He had heard the words, but the snapping sail outside made him doubt he had heard correctly. "Say again?"

"Vlad isn't my father!" Daniel shouted, overcompensating. "My real father died five years ago! Killed on some damn pirate raid that never should have happened! He was just a blacksmith! They shouldn't have—there was no reason for them to—”

Daniel stopped trying to force the words out. He sucked in shaky breaths as Phantom watched him. Phantom’s expression remained the same though inside Phantom's thoughts churned, fierce as an ocean storm.

There was a great deal Phantom needed more information on, but for now, he asked, "You're a commoner? The son of a blacksmith? Your sister too?"

Daniel nodded jerkily.

"And your mother? Why did the governor marry a common woman with two children?"

Daniel ground his teeth together, his blue eyes glaring at the wall to his left. "She's...Mom was a French nobleman's daughter, but she eloped with dad and lost her inheritance. She and Vlad used to be friends when they were kids. He says he wants to repair the relationship between her and her father, and Mom...she had no way to support us without Dad. She asked Vlad to hire her as a maid, but he offered to marry her instead. She said yes for our sake...at first..."

Phantom nodded slowly. "She left a comfortable life to be with the man she loved, only for him to be killed. Now her only son from her first marriage is in the hands of notorious pirates, and her current husband has refused to pay for his return." He thought for a moment, frowning at the floor. "Do you think she knows about his refusal?"

"If she did," Daniel said, voice strong with fierce confidence, "she would have gutted him."

Phantom raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"She'll gut you too if she ever finds us," Daniel spat.

Phantom chuckled. "Many people would do the same. Finding us is the trick." He set the parchment down on the desk beside him and cocked his head to the side, considering his prisoner. "Perhaps we should send the ransom to your mother instead then. She sounds more logical, less...slimy."

"Vlad won't allow that." Phantom hummed a silent question, and Daniel added, "He wants me dead, remember? Who do you think locked me in my room? He knows I'll tell Mom he's a two-faced snake if I ever see her again."

"Ah." Phantom tapped his index finger against his knee a few times before he shrugged. "We'll just have to keep you alive to spite him, then. I would hate for him to get what he wants in the end, especially after he insulted my father. He might be right about my mother and me, though." He grinned wickedly, a look that often made his enemies hesitate. Danny didn't flinch, but he eyed him warily. "You've heard the rumors, I take it?"

On Phantom's ship with a crew devoted to Phantom alone, how could he not? The men and woman bragged about their captain any chance they got. It was all nonsense, but it kept their enemies on their toes and his crew loyal.

Daniel nodded. "Is any of it true?"

Phantom shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. I never met the woman, not even as a suckling babe according to my father. Perhaps she was a mermaid. Perhaps she was Calypso. But more likely, she was just a poor woman who couldn't afford a bastard child so she left me with my father. Not the best choice, but at least he never tried to abandon me. So much for all pirates being scum, eh?"

Daniel shifted his weight and his fingers plucked at the sleeve of his other arm. He didn't appear to know what to say.

"It seems your stay with us will be longer than expected," Phantom said, letting the matter drop. He smiled, pleased with the idea. "We should get better acquainted."

The wariness hadn't gone from Daniel's eyes, but it was fully directed at Phantom now. "We're not friends," he said.

Phantom ignored that. "Do you have a nickname? We can supply you one, if you wish, though you may not like the result. 'Daniel' is too sophisticated for us low-lifes, and some of us would rather cut off our own tongue than call someone 'Masters.'"

Daniel chewed on his bottom lip a moment then said, "Danny."

"Ah." That had been Phantom's original nickname too. It would be...odd to call someone else by that name. "You may wish to choose something else. Something less suited for a child or the crew and I might start referring to you as one again."

Daniel scowled. "They haven't stopped."

"No, but I have. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

Daniel rolled his eyes. After a few more seconds of thought, he suggested, "Fenton, then. It was...my dad's family name."

Phantom studied his expression and then tested the name on his tongue. "Fenton...yes, that might work. You might find yourself bound by another name later on, something to do with those lovely eyes of yours, perhaps, but it should do for now. Better than being referred to as 'prisoner' and 'boy', right?"

Fenton nodded, a sharp jerk of his head.

Phantom nodded as well, a pleased smile on his lips. It wasn't as if he could moan 'boy' and 'prisoner' into his pillow at night, after all. ‘Fenton’ would have a much nicer ring to it, a stronger pull.

Damn, he was pathetic.

"How old are you, Fenton?"

Fenton narrowed his eyes. "Nineteen. Why?"

Perfect.

"Just making sure you aren't actually a child," Phantom explained with a teasing grin. "I'm nineteen as well."

Fenton nodded, but he didn't seem to understand the significance. The two of them were nearly the same height as well. Phantom was sure his experience and muscles would give him the edge to begin with, but Fenton was crafty. Finding out which one of them could overcome and dominate the other would be...fun.

"Do you know the French language?" Phantom asked. "You mentioned your mother was a French woman."

Fenton shrugged and dragged his palms down his pants. Were they sweaty? "I'm not fluent, but I can speak it. You want me to translate something for you?"

Phantom couldn't hide his grin even if he had tried. "Give me an example."

"Um..." Fenton licked his lips, thought a moment as he frowned at Phantom, then said in a questioning tone, "A quoi tu joues?"

It didn't make a lick to sense to Phantom, but the foreign words made heat pool in his stomach. He leaned forward again, keeping Fenton's eyes on his face. "And what does that mean?"

"'What are you playing at?'" Fenton replied in the same tone he had used when he spoke the sentence in French.

Phantom chuckled softly to himself. He was officially fucked. The kid was bilingual. He wondered what the French words for 'faster' and 'harder' were, and if Fenton was familiar enough with the language to shout them at the height of passion. If hearing a Fenton speak a foreign tongue was hot now, it would be devastating then. Phantom hoped he would find out some day. Sooner rather than later. Before he had to give him back to his parents.

"I'm only trying to learn more about you, love," he said. "You...interest me. You may ask me questions too if you like."

Fenton thought a moment, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "How did you become a pirate?"

An easy question for him to start with. "My father raised me aboard his ship," Phantom explained. "His crew considered me their lucky charm and would bring me sweets from shore. I never set foot on dry land myself until I was eleven. I remember I hated how...still it felt. Like a dead, lifeless thing. When my father vanished, the few members who had stayed with me on land for the mission swore their service to me in his stead. I was fifteen at the time."

"And you've been a captain ever since?" Fenton asked, surprised.

Phantom held up his hand and waggled it side to side. "There were moments others were more fit to lead than I, so they became the captain as decreed by the crew, but overall I have lead more than I have followed. Stay with us long enough, and you might see the captaincy fall on Sam's shoulders for a time. She leads us well, though she is not always the most clear-headed."

Fenton looked baffled, his blue eyes blinking at Phantom like he couldn't seem to make sense of him.

"Not what you expected from a bloodthirsty band of sea thieves?" Phantom asked archly.

Fenton rubbed at his neck but flinched and pulled his hand away when he encountered his sunburned skin. "You're still a bloodthirsty band of sea thieves," he said, "you're just...less violent than I thought. Amongst each other, I mean."

"Oh, we're still plenty violent," Phantom said, but he left it at that. "Anything else?"

Fenton hesitated for half a second then blurted, "Are you educated? You speak better than I did before Vlad..." He trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

"Sam taught me how to speak like a noble," Phantom said, choosing to skip over Fenton's discomfort. "It has become habit now, but I can speak like the rest of the crew if you would rather?"

Fenton shook his head quickly. "I just didn't expect it."

"That's what I'm known for," Phantom said with a cheeky grin. "I embody the unexpected! I'm not educated, however. Sam taught me to speak and helped with my vocabulary, but I hate reading. The letters..." Phantom paused a moment, trying to describe it in his head before he gave voice to the problem. "I have trouble keeping them in order and remembering which shape makes what sound. Sam believes I tried learning too late." He shrugged, unconcerned.

"Maybe," Fenton said, but he didn't seem to like the answer. In fact, he seemed more upset by Phantom's inability to read than Phantom himself.

Phantom uncrossed his legs and stood up from the desk. Fenton tensed, but he stood his ground. He had been doing that more often of late. Phantom appreciated it for the courage it showed but also because it worked in Phantom's favor. He took the single stride that put him within arms' reach of Fenton and stared into the other's eyes. They were a beautiful color.

"Is that all you wish to know?" he asked, enjoying the proximity.

He could see there was something else rolling around in Fenton's head by the way his jaw clenched and relaxed, his brow wrinkled in growing confusion. Phantom longed to smooth his thumb over his forehead, brush back his black hair, but once he allowed himself to touch, would he be able to stop? Brushing Fenton's hair back now might lead to touching his shoulder at dinner later which could eventually lead to grabbing his hand to help him up in the morning. That was especially dangerous because Phantom wanted to hold his hand. He wanted to kiss it too.

He rarely bothered with such sentimentality, he wasn't sure what part it played. He had better step carefully or he would mess things up.

"You keep staring at me," Fenton finally said. "Why?"

Phantom tilted his head to the side. "Why wouldn't I? You're fascinating to watch, love."

Fenton frowned, pulling his lips into a thin line. He didn't understand, and Phantom wasn't willing to simply blurt out his attraction, afraid he might scare him away completely. Sodomy was a crime punishable by death under the law, and while that meant nothing to a pirate, it may mean the difference between life and death to someone hoping to return to normal society some day.

Not that anyone would necessarily have to know what happened on Phantom's ship. So long as Fenton didn't limp with a noticeable space between his legs, hickeys covering his neck once he returned to his mother's side, no one would be the wiser. It was that fear the law had instilled that was the real enemy. Well...that and Fenton's apparently endless innocence on the subject.  

"My turn for a question, I think." Phantom fought the urge to touch Fenton's face by running his hand through his own white fringe, pulling apart what tangles his fingers came across with long practice. He bit down on his lip a moment and considered the brilliant blue of Fenton's eyes. So like the ocean... "Do you know how to swim?"

Slowly, Fenton shook his head.

An equally slow smile curled Phantom's lips. "I could teach you, if you like?"

Fenton's eyes drifted to the wall on their left where, behind the wood, an endless expanse of blue stretched. "I'll pass..."

Phantom laughed, though he felt something inside him ache at Fenton's refusal. "We would wait until we reached another island, of course. The water is shallower there."

Fenton's eyes snapped back to Phantom's face. "You'll let me on shore?"

"An uninhabited stretch of land," Phantom amended.

"Ah," Fenton breathed, "the catch." He sighed. "If it'll get me off this floating death trap, then I'll do it." He paused a beat. "On the condition that you--" He stopped himself and shook his head. He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "Nevermind."

Phantom considered him for several long seconds before he nodded. He wondered what condition Fenton had been about to place on him, but just the idea of getting into the water with him and sharing how wonderful it felt to swim made Phantom beam with excitement. Whatever condition Daniel placed on him would have been worth it.

"Then that's what we'll do the next time we make landfall," he said, rocking back on his heels. "For now, you should probably return to your duties before the crew start complaining about me going easy on you again."

Fenton groaned, but he had received a long enough break Phantom felt he could resume his work on deck without straining his arms. His sweat remained, however, sticky on his skin where his shirt clung to his chest and his hair draped over his forehead. The desire to touch him rose in Phantom again. He didn't sweat as much as other people, but he loved the smell of it, Fenton's especially, and the way sweat made skin slide across skin so effortlessly.

That lead to some interesting thoughts which only amplified Phantom's desire to reach out and touch, but fortunately Daniel was less burdened.

"Can I go now?" Fenton asked dryly. In a mocking tone, he added, "Capitaine?"

The mockery couldn't smother Phantom's delight. He grinned. "Yes, love. You're dismissed."

Fenton took a step back and gave Phantom a mock bow, unintentionally revealing the whole of his flat chest through the opening of his collar. Then he straightened, spun on his heel, and marched from the room.

Once the door shut behind him, Phantom sighed and fell back on his desk. He picked up the worthless parchment Vladimir had sent them and used it to fan his face. "Cujo," he said to the monkey sleeping on his pillow, "don't tell Sam, but I think I'm in trouble."

[myndopeus]

you give me something to think about (chapter 7)

Read on ao3

Summary: Trini’s never been good at making friends, which only makes being stuck in the same school for seven years even more miserable. But when she finally does meet someone nice, she ends up with a whole lot more than she bargained for.

It’s gonna be one hell of a year.

The Slowburn Hogwarts AU that no one asked for.

Trini starts noticing a change in her routine. Normally, the days usually seem to blur together in a sort of haze, passing both incredibly quickly and agonizingly slowly. Now though, it’s like things have slowed down just enough for her to see everything around her.

It helps that she’s kept decently busy with quidditch and studying, not to mention hanging out with her new friends (she thinks they’ve known each other long enough to be friends, now). She has less time to isolate herself and brood. It certainly makes her more tired, but that also makes it easier for her to fall asleep at night.

The constant social interaction isn’t a bad thing, per se, but it is a bit of a jarring change. Trini isn’t used to being noticed so much. More than that, she’s not used to having people who look for her. Whether it’s Jen after morning practice, or Zack before they head to the library, the idea that people are acknowledging her existence is… interesting.

For example, in Herbology, Professor Longbottom had assigned them the arduous and incredibly painful task of trimming the Snargaluffs for the Fifth Year classes. Trini is busy sizing up the plants to find which one is the least deadly when two large hands clap down on her shoulders, causing her to jump.

“Found you,” Zack’s voice says in her ear, and she groans in mock despair.

“As if I don’t see enough of you already.”

“You know you love looking at this handsome face, T. Now come on, we’re gonna take on the biggest one.” This time, the despair she feels is real.

Jason is waiting by the Snargaluff stump with a mildly pained look on his face, and Billy is eyeing the plant nervously, fiddling with his gloves. 

“Now the party can get started!” Zack declares while Trini sulks by his side.

“Remind me why I agreed to this, again?”

“For the glory, Jace. We’re Gryffindors, it’s what we do.”

“We’re not Gryffindors,” Billy pipes up, scooting over to stand by Trini. “So if you don’t mind, I think we’ll just—”

“No take backs, dude. We’re doing this!” Zack’s confidence is not reassuring in the slightest, and Billy and Trini share a glance.

“It was worth a try, B.” Trini takes a deep breath, readying her clippers, while Zack seems to be brandishing a variety of different rakes and retractors. Jason looks like he just made the worst decision of his life.

“Ready… Go!” Zack promptly dives at the Snargaluff, and the others scramble to catch up and make sure that he doesn’t get himself seriously injured.

After several near-death experiences, and what seemed like an endless amount of spiny vines, the Snargaluff is reduced to an appropriate size for 15-year-old children to be handling, and they retreat to the corner of the greenhouse to nurse their injuries.

“Told you we could do it,” Zack crows triumphantly as they’re dismissed. Despite the numerous scratches on his face, he gives Trini a big smile.

She pouts. “We just got our asses kicked by a plant, how are you still so chipper?”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I found it to be an exhilarating experience.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Billy says, frowning as he plucks some spines out of his robes. “There were quite a few times I feared for my life, if you can call that exhilarating. Ow!”

“But did you die, though?”

“No. Obviously.”

“See? All good.”

Jason notices Trini starting to drift off from the rest of the group. “Trini,” he calls, and the other boys turn to look. “You coming to the library later?”

She nods. “Yeah, I just left some of my reference books in the common room. I’ll see you guys there.”

“You better, because I totally wasn’t paying attention during Divination, so I’ll need your help.”

“That’s your own damn fault, Taylor.” She hears the boys start to poke fun at each other as she leaves, and she smiles to herself.

It’s certainly a change. But it’s not necessarily an unwelcome one.

* * *

Billy and Zack are waiting for her when she gets to the pitch. She easily catches the quaffle that Zack hurls her way, throwing it straight back to him. He’s surprised at first, but he quickly recovers, grinning at her devilishly.

“Damn, Crazy Girl,” he chuckles, tossing the ball in his hand. “ Quidditch training is definitely paying off. I’m excited to see what else you’ve got in store.” After a moment’s though, he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and she groans.

“Gross, dude, it’s way too early for you to be popping a boner over quidditch.” She notices Billy surreptitiously sneak a concerned glance at Zack’s crotch, and it’s not long before they’re both practically on the ground laughing.

Zack looks between his two laughing friends, confused. “Wait, did I miss something? What’s happening?” Trini can’t catch her breath to form words, and Billy just shakes his head sheepishly.

“You two are clearly in cahoots about something, and honestly? It’s kind of terrifying.”

They’ve been goofing around for a bit when Billy suddenly comes to a halt. Trini almost crashes into him, and Zack barely stops himself from hitting Billy in the face with the quaffle. Billy, bless his soul, barely notices, as he waves at the seemingly empty entrance to the pitch.

“Hey!” he yells out, and Trini and Zack share an equally lost look. Billy turns back to them and notices their confused expressions. “What? It’s Kim, she’s over there,” he says, pointing over his shoulder. Trini looks again, and this time she can make out a small figure leaning against the wall of the boundaries.

“Should we go say hi? I’m gonna go say hi.” Before the others can respond, he’s flying down to meet her. Zack looks at her, and they both shrug before following after him.

“Clearly you guys haven’t been training hard enough, if you’ve still got the energy to play quidditch at this ungodly hour.” Kimberly smirks, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Zack makes an indignant noise, and Billy laughs, before immediately launching into a conversation with Kim, who takes it all in stride.

Trini hangs back a little as the boys talk with her. After spending so much time around each other, Trini thinks she and Kimberly are starting to approach something close to friendship, especially after seeing her in Hogsmeade. She still hasn’t gotten to know Kimberly nearly as well as she knows the boys, but there certainly isn’t the same animosity that was present when they first met.

That doesn’t mean she feels any more at ease around her, though. She used to feel almost… threatened whenever Kimberly was around, like this sort of intense discomfort mixed with fear. She’s no longer afraid of her, but that slight discomfort still remains. There’s just something about being around Kimberly that makes Trini feel like she’s constantly caught off guard. It’s fine when she’s concentrating on something else, but every time Kimberly catches her attention, it leaves her feeling—

There’s a hint of motion, and Trini comes back to focus just in time to see Kimberly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Trini blinks, suddenly distracted, and she scrambles to regain her train of thought.

It leaves her feeling confused.

“So what brings you out here?” Trini gradually tunes back in, and she realizes that the question was directed at Kimberly.

“Felt like getting some fresh air,” she replies breezily, and the boys seem to take her at face value. But Trini remembers seeing Kimberly sitting alone at the Three Broomsticks, how she was walking through Hogsmeade by herself, and she knows that nine times out of ten, it’s more complicated than just ‘getting some fresh air’. In that moment, she makes a split-second decision.

“Since you’re out here, you should play with us.”

As soon as she says it, she regrets how juvenile the phrasing was, and how awkwardly she jumped into the conversation. All eyes turn to her, and she tries to act nonchalant, shrugging and looking to the side to avoid eye contact. She’s unsuccessful, it seems, because Zack seems to be giving her a peculiar sort of side-eye.

“I mean, it would give us an even number, so we could have two teams,” Billy adds. “Cause, you know, it’s not as fair when it’s two versus one.”

Kimberly bites her lip in thought, and Trini, for some reason, feels the intense need to either stare or look away. She chooses the latter, which leads her to look directly into Zack’s eyes, as his side-eyeing has progressed to full-on suspicious staring. She gives him a stern look, mouthing “what”, and he quickly turns away.

“Yeah, Kim, it’ll be fun. Besides, it’ll be good practice for the GvS game.” They all stare at Zack, perplexed. He frowns. “Gryffindor versus Slytherin? I mean, you can’t expect me to say the full thing every time.”

“That’s true, it’s a few too many syllables for you to manage.” Kimberly’s comment draws a small laugh from Trini, and she quickly hides it behind her usual blank expression when the others look at her. Zack raises an eyebrow, and she feels the sudden urge to punch him. But Kimberly is giving her a small smile, and she decides that punching Zack isn’t quite a priority at the moment.

Kimberly nods. “Alright, sure. Why not.”

Billy manages to clap his hands without dropping his broom. “Right, so, are you gonna go get your broom, or…?”

Kimberly gives him a sly grin, before taking her wand out of her sleeve and giving it a wave. There’s a large crashing noise, and the sound of splintering wood, before a broom shoots out to hover next to Kimberly. They all look in the direction where it came from, and Kimberly winces.

“Oops. I’ll fix it later.” Without a second glance, she kicks off, followed shortly by Billy.

Trini is smiling to herself when she notices Zack staring at her again. “So,” he drawls, wiggling his eyebrows. Trini contemplates him for a moment before casually kneeing him in the side of the leg.

Zack stumbles, clutching his now tingling limb. “Why,” he moans.

“Your face was looking suspiciously pain-free.”

Eventually, they join the other two in the air. In the spirit of fairness, Billy puts Zack and Kim on opposite teams, since they’re both somewhat veteran players. Trini is grateful that she’s paired with Zack, since it’ll be easier to work with him. On the other hand, this now means that she’s going up against Kimberly, and if she’s anything like Zack, it was gonna be a pretty legit match.

As it turns out, Kimberly isn’t just good at quidditch: she’s amazing. Instead of just having a casual game, Trini actually finds herself working hard to keep up. She and Zack vibe pretty well as a team, but Kim and Billy are still kicking their asses.

It doesn’t help that Trini is a little off her game. In her defense, she’s never seen Kimberly play before, and it’s a little hard to watch and fly at the same time. Kimberly, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to be having any trouble at all. And Trini has to admit, Kimberly is probably the best flyer out of all of them. Zack is probably the most powerful, and most… unpredictable, and Billy is the most technical, but Kimberly flies with a natural ease and elegance. It’s almost mesmerizing, and Trini can’t help but admire her.

Zack has the quaffle, and he’s racing down towards the goalposts. Billy is keeping close to her on defense, but she manages to shake him off with a sudden swerve that’s undeniably a trademark Zack Taylor move. She hears Billy’s impressed whoop as she darts out to make herself open for a pass, catching a straight toss from Zack. She feels a breeze on her other side, and she looks to see Kimberly flanking her.

“Nice one,” Kimberly compliments her with a smile, and Trini’s heart practically stops—because her grip on the quaffle had somehow loosened, and she almost dropped it completely, fumbling. It’s enough of a mistake that Kimberly is able to swipe it from her, swiftly making a U-turn and heading across the pitch. Trini shakes her head, her ears burning, as she hears Zack yell “Come on, T!”

They’re all so caught up in the game that they don’t realize how much time has passed until they hear the castle bells clanging.

“Shit,” Trini swears. “Already?” They immediately head straight out of the pitch, the four of them jogging to get back to their dorms before breakfast starts.

Halfway to the castle, Kimberly suddenly screeches to a halt, a look of alarm on her face. Billy looks about nervously. “What?” he asks.

Kimberly stares at him. “I forgot about the broom closet.” They all recall the damage she had caused by summoning her broom.

There’s a pause, and then Kimberly makes a face and keeps running. “Someone else’s problem now!” The others hurry to catch up.

“Damn,” Zack pants. “She’s just as crazy as you, T.”

 The comparison makes Trini’s stomach twist in an unfamiliar way. She shakes it off as they race back to the castle.

* * *

Although she had fun earlier, Trini is really starting to regret it. She spent way too much energy, and now she feels like she could eat an entire feast and then sleep for twelve hours. She’s just awake enough to pile food onto her plate, and she isn’t fully aware of what’s going on around her, so it takes her a few seconds to register that Zack and Jason are suddenly sitting across from.

“Oh hell,” she sputters, dropping her cutlery. The boys laugh at her reaction, but she silences them with a glare, going back to eating her breakfast.

Jason raises an eyebrow, glancing at her plate. “Damn, Trini, what kind of workout were you doing this morning?”

Before she can say anything, Zack gasps dramatically, turning to face his friend. “Jason,” he says, aghast, “you should never comment on a person’s appetite! Rude!”

Trini puts on a similarly affronted expression. “Yeah, dude. What, were you raised in a barn or something?”

“I-… What… I was just-” Jason stutters with a deer in the headlights look. After a few moments of watching him fumble, Zack finally reaches over to ruffle Jason’s hair.

“We’re just kidding man,” he chortles, and Jason shakes him off. He’s unsure as he looks to Trini for confirmation. The corner of her mouth quirks in a half-smile, and he sighs, relieved.

“So are you two just gonna sit there and watch me eat?” she says.

“Fair point, Crazy Girl.” Zack reaches out and snags a chocolate croissant off a nearby platter, taking a huge bite and littering the table in front of him with crumbs. Jason rolls his eyes as he grabs some toast and eggs.

Trini shifts in her seat nervously. It technically isn’t against the rules to sit at other houses’ tables during breakfast, but it isn’t exactly a common occurrence. It’s going to seem even weirder for Jason Scott and Zack Taylor to be sitting next to some random nobody at the Hufflepuff table. The boys don’t seem to be bothered, and Trini forces herself to relax a little.

“How are you still so alive after this morning?” she asks Zack, who is chewing on what is probably his second or third breakfast pastry. “I’m exhausted.”

Zack covers his mouth with his hand as he swallows. “I’ve got amazing stamina,” he answers, and Trini prays that that’s all, but in true Zack fashion, he follows it with a wink. Trini slowly puts her head down on the table, and she hears Jason groan.

“C’mon Zack, we’re eating.”

“Well, I’m not the one with my mind in the gutter, here. Blame yourselves.”

The solid table feels incredibly comfy to Trini’s tired brain, and she’s tempted to just drift off into a quick nap when she hears another voice approaching.

“Didn’t expect to find a Gryffindor invasion when I came to breakfast, but life is full of surprises.” Trini immediately straightens up when she hears Jen, suddenly seized with the need to look like she’s being productive.

“Good to see you too, Jen,” Jason greets her as she comes to a stop by Trini. “We’re just having breakfast, would you care to join us?”

His tone is suspiciously innocent, and Zack is also far too quietly minding his own business. Trini isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the fact that they’re pulling this stunt with Jen, of all people.

The Hufflepuff captain crosses her arms intimidatingly, and Jason refuses to break eye contact as he lifts a forkful of food to his mouth. After a tension-filled moment, Jen turns to Trini, who tenses.

“These guys giving you trouble?” It’s not the question she expects, and it takes Trini a moment before she responds.

“No, no, they’re uh… they’re friends.” It’s the first time she’s said it out loud, to anyone, and it’s strangely anticlimactic. Trini feels a little shaken after the words leave her mouth, but the boys are unperturbed, watching Jen’s reaction.

Jen raises an eyebrow. “So you’re fraternizing with the enemy now, is it?” she says, and Trini is completely lost for a defense. She’s somewhat relieved when Zack speaks up, since she probably looks like a fish with the way her mouth is hanging open.

“Isn’t quidditch all about the spirit of camaraderie, or whatever,” Zack jokes. “It’s not like she’s dating us or anything. Or is she…?” He grins slyly, and Trini lets out a strangled noise, wondering if he’s trying to get them all killed.

“No! No, it’s not like that, I swear,” she hurriedly reassures Jen, before fixing Zack with the best death stare she can muster. Jen’s eyes narrow, and Zack’s grin wavers when he comes under the full force of both the girls’ glares.

“You’re lucky I have a sense of humor, Taylor,” Jen warns. “But I suppose you’re right, there’s no harm in some friendly conversation. You better not be messing with my team, though, otherwise, I will end you.” She starts to leave, but then she turns back to Trini. “Oh, by the way, change of schedule: practice has been moved to tomorrow, there was a mix-up with the Ravenclaw team and the pitch bookings.” She makes a face before walking off without a backwards glance.

Trini sighs with relief before turning to Jason. “Has she always been that… intense?”

He laughs. “Only when it comes to quidditch. Usually she’s pretty chill. When she gets angry though…” He and Trini shudder in unison, while Zack scoffs. “Seriously Zack, you weren’t there during the incident with what’s-his-face last year, when he was talking shit about Ernie? The only reason Jen didn’t get suspended was because the dude was scared shitless.”

“Oh come on, I’m not that stupid. Besides, it’s not like she’ll actually kill me.”

“Maybe not, but she’ll definitely kick your ass.”

“Zack is probably into that,” Trini mumbles, just loud enough for the boys to hear, and Jason chokes on his water. It’s at that moment that Billy suddenly materializes behind Zack and Jason.

“Just dropping by to say hi,” he greets them, before focusing on Jason, who quickly wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Hey, are you finished with breakfast? Because I wanted to talk to Slughorn about my independent project before class. It’s cool if you’re not, though, because I can definitely just wait outside.”

“No, no, yeah, I’m good.” Jason stands, grabbing his bag.

“…is that a yes or a no?”

“It’s a yes.”

“Cool.” Billy smiles at Zack and Trini, waving goodbye, before grabbing Jason’s hand and heading for the exit. Jason is so caught off-guard that Billy ends up practically dragging him along for a bit before he finds his footing. Trini watches them go, noticing how Jason’s face suddenly matches the shade of his tie.

She hums in thought, drawing the attention of Zack, who follows her gaze.

“What? Those two?”

“Not that it’s any of my business, but… is there anything going on there?”

“Between Jason and Billy? Uh… I don’t think so.”

“Well if there isn’t, then there should be.”

Zack’s eyes widen. “Oh thank god, I thought I was the only one who thought so. They’re so cute together! I mean, of course I want them to figure it out on their own, but honestly, it’s taking forever,” he gushes.

He reaches for the last chocolate croissant, but he stops when he sees that Trini is reaching for it too. They stare at each other, Trini with a steely look in her eyes, Zack with a challenging glint in his. There’s a long pause before they both simultaneously lunge for the pastry.

* * *

They ended up almost being late to potions, because in their scuffle, they’d knocked over their glasses, as well as upending the pastry platter. They’d been forced to clean up the mess by hand afterwards. It had all been in vain, too, as the croissant had ended up getting squished and then landing in a puddle of water.

Which brought Trini to her current predicament; the day has barely started, and she’s already so tired that she’s on the verge of falling asleep standing up. The atmosphere of the potions dungeon certainly doesn’t help. The temperature of the room ranges somewhere between hot and sweltering, and it’s always incredibly humid. It’s a struggle to stay awake on a good day, so Trini is somewhat proud of the fact that she hasn’t faceplanted into her cauldron yet.

Admittedly, part of the reason she hasn’t done so yet is currently standing next to her, mumbling the instructions to herself. Kimberly is definitely more awake than Trini is, and she is definitely not as confused and lost as Trini is. Trini hates having to talk to people, and while she would usually prefer to work in silence, sharing a table with someone who talks to herself is probably the better option at this point.

She stifles a yawn behind her hand, and blinks to clear her watery eyes. She’s reaching for the next ingredient when someone suddenly grabs her arm. She has her sleeves rolled up, and the warmth of the hand grasping her wrist startles her. She looks at it, and her eyes track up the offending appendage to reach Kimberly. Trini raises her eyebrow dangerously, and Kimberly quickly releases her.

To her credit, Kimberly looks a little embarrassed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I just, uh… you’re not supposed to add dragon gallstone yet,” she explains.

Trini frowns. “But that’s the next step, right? ‘Stir three times counter-clockwise, once clockwise, and then add dragon gallstone’,” she quotes the textbook.

“Yeah, but you’re only supposed to add it when the potion is at a simmer. Yours is still boiling.”

“Wait, really? When did he say that?”

“He didn’t,” Kimberly says, rolling her eyes. “It was mentioned in the last lesson, though. It’s probably one of Slughorn’s little tests, or something, I don’t know.”

“You’d think they’d put those kinds of warnings in the instructions,” Trini huffs out, and Kimberly makes an amused noise. Trini waves her wand, decreasing the intensity of the fire beneath her cauldron, and waits for the potion to cool a bit. She sees that Kimberly is doing the same thing, which leaves them both without something to occupy themselves with.

Trini is staring forward, half-spacing out and half-avoiding looking at Kimberly. She’s idly watching Jason at the table in front of her as he struggles with his potion. He looks around the classroom confusedly, as if he’s wondering if he’s in the right room, and Trini smirks a little. She watches him examine an ingredient for a moment, before shrugging in a way that clearly means “fuck it”, before moving to add it to the cauldron. He’s already halfway there when she realizes what it is, and her eyes widen. She hears a gasp of recognition from Kimberly as well.

“Jason, wait-”

“No, stop-”

BOOM!

* * *

“Well, I think we can safely say that Slughorn’s little tests are definitely a bad idea,” Trini grumbles, spreading healing cream on the burns on her arm. There’s a peculiar prickling sensation as the cream takes effect.

Jason’s small explosion had ended up sending several students to the hospital wing, so they’d been forced to cut the day’s lesson a bit short. Professor Slughorn was in the corner giving Madam Pomfrey a very flustered apology and promising to, in the future, “provide more explicit instructions in the name of safety”.

“Are you kidding?” Zack says, sprawled out on one of the hospital beds. “You got class cancelled, we all win.”

“That… No, Zack.” Billy shakes his head from where he’s sitting next to Jason, who nods.

“Yeah, I’d hardly call this a win.” He gestures to the bandages wrapped around his eyes. Trini’s sleeves had gotten singed, but the front of Jason’s robe had practically caught fire, and his tie had been completely ruined. He looked slightly ridiculous, covered in soot, but they all pitied his temporary blindness too much to make fun of him.

“Well, Madam Pomfrey said that you’ll probably be able to see by the time the next lesson starts. Although if you’re still kinda blind, then I guess you won’t have to go…”

 “Guess there’s a bright side to everything, then,” Jason chuckles wryly. He frowns. “I’m uh, really sorry, by the way. Hope you guys weren’t hurt too badly.”

“This, coming from the guy who temporarily blinded himself?” Kim points out, earning a chuckle from the whole group.

“Damn, I never thought you’d fuck up this badly, Jace,” Zack chortles. Jason doesn’t seem bothered by the comment; if anything, he finds it funny too. Trini is the one who rolls her eyes.

“Oh please, we all know that if Jason hadn’t done it, it would have been you instead.”

“Me? What about Billy?” They all stare at him, nonplussed, and he shrugs. “You’re right, not realistic. Still, what makes you think I would’ve made the same mistake? Maybe I was gonna do it perfectly, huh?”

“Oh really?” Kim smirks, leaning forward. “Remind me how the second half of the potion goes?”

“Easy. Tap with the wand, three times to the left, once to the right, then add dragon gallstone.” His confidence is replaced with confusion when the girls and Jason start giggling. “What… don’t tell me that’s not right.”

“How do you think we ended up here, Zack?” Jason says, and Zack deflates. Crestfallen, he turns back to the girls, who are watching him with self-satisfied expectancy.

“Alright, I admit defeat. You guys were right.”

“Course we were.” At that, Kim grins at Trini. It’s an unexpected gesture, and one that implies a closer friendship than Trini had previously thought they had. Unsure how to respond, she just turns to look at the toes of her boots, tapping them together slightly.

They’re kept in the hospital wing until the end of the class period, and after a brief but thorough check-up from Madam Pomfrey, they’re all dismissed. Jason is still squinting in the light, but Billy takes it upon himself to guide Jason to their next class. Trini and Zack say goodbye to the others before heading to the Divination Tower. Trini dimly recognizes that she still smells like burning metal, but she’s too tired to care, and Professor Trelawney’s triumphant assertion that she had predicted such a disaster washes over her as she proceeds to space out for the next hour or so.

* * *

“…-ing here? Hey. Trini.”

She’s snapped out of her reverie by a hand poking her in the shoulder. She assumes that it’s Zack, and she swats at it off-handedly, mumbling something incoherent as she tries to focus on her work again.

“Wow, I’m hurt,” the voice says jokingly, and it’s definitely not Zack. Trini blinks fully back to reality, and she realizes that the table is empty, and Kimberly is standing next to her. She tilts her head as Trini looks up.

“Sorry, I was spaced out. What were you saying?”

“Spaced out is putting it lightly. Anyhow, I’m heading back to the dorm. Are you going to stick around?”

“Uh yeah, I have to finish this.” It’s not the real reason why she’s staying late. She’s avoiding her dorm, more specifically, the letters resting on her bedside table from this morning. She’s too tired to deal with that today, and she had hoped that some physical distance from them would help to ease the nagging anxiety in the back of her mind.

Kimberly is watching her with an unreadable expression. It’s the same look that she used to wear before they actually met, back when Trini only knew her as that popular girl from Slytherin. Trini squirms slightly under her gaze, not sure what it means or why it’s come back now. She turns away, pretending to glance over her work. After a moment, she hears a little exhale.

“Ok. Goodnight, Trini.” She realizes that there’s something else behind Kimberly’s expression, but before she can figure out what it is, the other girl is already turning to leave. Trini hesitates for a split second before opening her mouth.

“Night, Kim.” She turns away to hide her face as she hears Kimberly’s footsteps pause. There’s a second of silence before the footsteps continue, receding into the quiet of the almost-empty library.

Trini tries to actually be productive, but after a while it’s clear that she is not in the right mind-space to be doing anything school-related, so she resigns herself to packing up and heading back to her dorm. She’s clearing all her things up when she notices the book sitting on the edge of the table. The title is indecipherable to her, which leads to the realization that it’s probably about Ancient Runes. She knows that Zack and Jason aren’t taking that class, and Billy is too organized to forget a book, so that just leaves Kimberly. Out of curiosity, Trini decides to thumb through the pages a little.

HISS!

 Something leaps out at her from the book, and she reflexively slams the book shut. The hissing is cut off, and when the initial shock clears, she sees the head of a paper snake poking out from the pages of the closed book.

The first thing her partially-incoherent brain comes up with is that Kimberly left it there as a prank on her. The thought has more impact that she expects, and she takes a deep breath as her stomach tightens. She gingerly pulls the paper snake out, going to crumple it. She stops when she notices the markings on its back, in bold black ink. She unfolds it to read the message.

TRAITOR

Trini is even more confused. She hasn’t betrayed Kimberly in any way, not that she’s had much opportunity to. The realization hits Trini that this message was meant for Kimberly, not her. It makes sense that she would have some enemies, what with how popular she is, but this stunt was way too menacing to be a simple prank. Trini can’t help but wonder who has it out for Kimberly, and why.

Shaken, she shoves the book in her bag before hurriedly walking out of the library, looking over her shoulder as she goes.

[coffeesforfuckers]

Our Summers Together Are My Best Kept Secrets And My Biggest Mistakes // Chapter Eight

Ships: Peterick, Brallon, Ferard, Trohley, Jalex, Zian and others in the background

Description: Summers for most kids are spent going to the beach and on vacations with your family but lots are shipped off to summer camps for the whole summer. But the kids at Hempman Summer Camp actually beg to go! Patrick Stump, Andy Hurley and Joe Trohman all met there, they had all known each other for probably over a decade because of this absolutely amazing stay-away camp for kids from the ages of six to nineteen. All the kids that were there came back until they couldn't and they always had the same kids except a few new, younger, kids every year. That is until the year that the weird kid with the jet-black, dyed, black fringe and the crazy piercings and a couple tattoos comes in like he owns the place. That year also happens to be the same year that Patrick Stump gets gum stuck to the new emo kid's face and hair. It was love at first sight... But hate at first interaction for the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy and the complete opposite for the new kid, Pete Wentz.

Chapter 8: Eight: A Meal For Two, A Car Ride For The Damned and A Love To Fool Them All.

Pete

Having Dallon and Brendon as roommates was quite an experience. Brendon was a bit stand-off-ish and from what Dallon says, it’s from a traumatic experience. But he’s been getting more touchy-feely. Brendon is constantly touching Dallon and grabbing him, it’s funny. There’s something familiar about him really but I couldn’t place it, I’d figure it out later, right now I was too busy trying to get Patrick to fall in love with me.

It was still just a lot of fucking and him flipping shit if it got too crazy for him. He’s pulling me out to his car in the parking lot, wanting to go drive somewhere and have sex in his car.

We get out where we won’t get caught and Patrick pulls over the car, fumbling into the back of the car. I stay up front, lost in my own world. I can feel his arms wrap around me from around the seat, Patrick is kissing my neck and I can’t resist. I flop into the back on top of Patrick. He kisses my neck and bites at my ear, I suck at his skin and grab at his crotch. It escalated quickly and soon enough we’re shifting around, slamming into things, things being jabbed into us. Patrick’s elbow jabbing into my stomach by accident, my knee shoved into his side. This had been a terrible idea.

“Patrick you’re probably going to end up with my foot up your ass instead of my dick if we fuck in here.” I sigh.

“Let me blow you then.” He says instantly, his wide, blue eyes sparkle with a weird excitement. I, at first, am hesitant but think, what could go wrong and nod.

“Okay, sure.” I shrug and he pushes me and my back slams into the car door I groan and he starts kissing me, undoing my pants. He lets me struggle out of them before doing anything. I’m already hard as a rock at this point so I didn’t need Patrick to get me hard first.

Before I truly have a chance to process any of this my head is tossed back and I’m gasping. This was new, so new… So good, “Oh, fuck… Patrick….” I breathe and shiver as a rush of pleasure runs over me. It was all moving so fast, pieces were missing from my memory.

His tongue flicks around the head of my dick in a way that causes me to let out a much louder moan than normal, my fists clenching in his bleach-blonde hair, panting and almost choking. My hips involuntarily thrust upward and Patrick pulls away, gagging at the unexpected dick being shoved deeper than he could take.

“Fuck.” Patrick coughs, “I almost threw up, dude, don’t do that.” He groans, rubbing his hand over his chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it just felt so good I couldn’t really help it.” I frown and he smiles back at me.

“Shut up and stop apologizing.” He moves back to hovering just above my cock. I whine at his teasing and he smirks, taking my whole length. I moan and clench his hair within my fists. His tongue runs over my member and I choke back a gasp, throwing my head back.

“Oh fuck…” I gasp and arch my back. This felt really good, so fucking good.

I cum into his mouth and he pulls back, swallowing the mouthful of semen. He kisses me quickly and grins.

“Ready to go back?” He asks as I pull my pants back up.

“What about you?” I ask seeing as he got nothing out of this.

“No, let's go out to eat.” He insists even though I can full well see he has a bulge.

“Um? But, Patrick?” I'm thoroughly confused.

He tumbles back into the driver's seat, “Come on. Where do you want to eat?” He watches me as I fall into my seat up front.

“Wherever you want to go I guess?”

Frank

In the car to the concert Gee blared Sleeping With Sirens and sang the lyrics, well more like shouted them while drumming the air and banging his head. His long red locks of hair flying everywhere. I sing along too, but not as loud and violently as Gerard, he’s crazy into music and he’s actually pretty great himself, he can sing like nothing I’ve ever heard, well besides Brendon and Patrick that is, they’re voices are god-like and so is Gerard’s in my opinion, their like a trinity. A very emo, trinity.

Kellin Quinn was a fucking god . Okay?

He’s so exited to meet them, he’s practically shaking when we pull up outside of the small venue almost two hours from camp. I wasn’t nearly as excited as Gerard but I don’t think many people could be, these were his idols. I also wasn’t like, super into them either but they did have good music.

We make our way out of the car and Gerard is tugging at my arm, trying to pull me as fast as he could go into the building. I’m laughing at his excitement. It was so cute.

“Hurry up!” He whines as I go ‘ too slow ’ for him.

“I am! I have tiny legs!” I defend and he starts chuckling at the statement, knowing full well that it was true.

“Your tiny legs are too slow, get bigger ones.” He teases with a grin and I roll my eyes.

“I hate you.” I groan, continuing to jog after him. He’s so cute when he’s this excited, I haven’t ever seen him so excited before.

Inside the venue, waiting in line was worse, Gerard was so fucking pumped and bouncy. So cute.

I yawn and Gerard smacks me, “What the fuck’s that for!?” I elbow him in the side.

“Stop being bored you fucking loser.” He hip-checks me and I slam into the person walking by, some older man who was probably in his twentie’s or thirty’s.

“Sorry about that.” I apologize and Gerard makes a choking noise, attracting both mine and the guy’s attention.

“You’re Justin Hills!” Gerard coughs, gripping onto me in awe. The man holds a finger up to his lips and smiles at him, ruffling his hair.

“See you two soon.” He nods towards the passes around our necks. Gerard squeals into my shoulder nodding as he hugs me, squeezing his arms around my waist.

“Oh my god, Frank! You touched Justin fucking Hills!” He shakes me and I laugh.

“Dude I didn’t even know his name until you said it, I didn’t even know who he was.” I chuckle, rubbing at my neck, “I like their music and I mean I know most of it but I don’t know any of the members.” I shrug and give a sheepish smile to him.

“Really? You like them but don’t even know their names?” Gerard seemed baffled by my ignorance to the subject.

“Yeah?” I shrug, is that not what people do?

“Weird…”

Rian

I lay on my bed with my eyes closed, not sleeping but not awake enough to function. I’d been like this for probably two hours, I was just trying to nap but my brain was not allowing that. It was running wild with adventures, nothing in particular, just falling between dreaming and real life.

I hear the door squeak open and clatter closed, too tired to even see who’d come into the room.

“Rian, get up.” I hear Zach’s voice which is extremely stern for some reason.

“No, sleep, shh.” I hum but I’m soon being ripped from the warmth of my blankets to the cool wooden floor.

“Get up.” He’s even more serious this time and I groan, sitting up.

“You didn’t have to be so rough, jesus.” I grumble, rubbing at my back.

“I can’t take it anymore!” He shouts, pacing as he tosses his hands into the air.

“Take what? I’m sorry, I’m not awake enough for this, please explain.” I grumble, staggering to my feet and yawning. I stretch and my back cracks, Zach winces at the sound.

“Them! Alex, Jack, Tyler, Brendon, Dallon! Their driving me fucking nuts! ‘ You should date, Rian! You and Rian would be so cute together! Are you together yet? ’” He mocks, “I’m gonna put a gun to my fucking head and pull the trigger if I have to hear it one more fucking time!” He’s yelling as he grabs me by shoulders, shaking me as he says his next words, “Will you fake date me until they fuck off?” He begs.

“Dude, neither of us are gay though, right? I know I’m not.” I say.

“I’m not either but I’m so close to killing myself or all of them that I will do anything to make them stop.” He pleads, “Please, we can break up in a few weeks, just fake an argument and end it!”

“We’re going to have to make out and kiss and touch and shit Zach!” I push him off of me, “No way in hell, I’m sorry Zach, but no way.”

“Please!” He shouts, “Rian I will do anything! I mean it’s just kissing! It’s not like it’s sex!”

“Well, I don’t want my first kiss to be with a dude, Zach!” I yell back and he freezes.

“You’ve never had your first kiss?” He gasps, wide-eyed.

“This is why I never told any of you.” I huff and cross my arms.

“You always said that your first kiss was out at a pond near your house with the neighbor girl though! It was such a pretty story!”

“It’s called being a good story-teller, asshole.” I grumble.

“I won’t kiss you, we could just be like… The type that doesn’t ‘show-off’ around our friends and stuff.” He still begs and I, of course , relent.

“Fine. Not for too long though.”

“Deal.” Zach nods, “Hey, so like have you done anything with anybody before?” He asks.

“I’ve never dated anyone, jeez, fuck off already.”

Asshole.

Chapter Masterlist ~

Previous -

One - The Gum Habit Gone Bad

Two - On the Rooftop with You

Three - I Have a Forehead Texting Me and He’s Kind of Cute?

Four - Memories I Keep Locked Away for Times Like This

Five - Crying into the Void That is You

Six - A New Year and a New Us and Some New Friends

Seven - Abandoning You Was My Worst Mistake but Somehow You’re Still There For Me

Next -

Nine - Falling For You

[ericxanders]

Publicity || Eric and Maverick

Notes: In which Eric and Maverick explore one of his biggest fantasies.

Scene Week: Dom 102, sub 102

Scene week was just another easy excuse to scene with Maverick. An excuse wasn’t really necessary at all; they’d developed a routine in that regard where they were starting to become more and more open with one another about what they liked, what they wanted to explore and so more intense scenes developed naturally from that. He was particularly looking forward to this however. It was a fantasy Maverick had shared; and he’d built upon. One about being used and denied. One that invited other people to do the using while Eric watched on. Maverick, while he’d never outright said it, had alluded to the notion he might liked being ignored to an extent and that was something he was curious to explore. When Maverick met him, he looked him up and down, arching a brow. ‘You should know better than to be wearing clothes in my presence pet.’ he winked. ‘Lose them, then bend over. Show off what you’re going to be offering to anyone who happens to walk by.’

Maverick smiled as he walked up to Eric and saw the Dom looking him over. He was eager to start, he always enjoyed scene week. More than that, though, he always loved sceneing with Eric. His smile turned into a grin as Eric spoke and winked at him. “Yes Master,” he giggled softly, and didn’t hesitate for a moment to strip right there in public for Eric. He folded his clothes neatly and placed them at Eric’s feet and turned around and bent over. He reached behind himself and pulled his cheeks apart, to show off the goods. “Like this, Master?”

‘Exactly like that slut.’ He examined him from various angles, touching him as he pleased; targeting spots he knew were sensitive, spots he knew would prompt a reaction. ‘First things first, you can rest assured that anyone touching you today will be well aware of your safe word. I won’t be leaving at any point; even if you cannot see me, I’m here. I’m watching.’ He promised. ‘You’re my plaything but your limits are as important as ever.’ He squeezed his ass, and delighted in the slight reddening of the skin. ‘Hands away; palms down. I think we need to get you making some noise slut. Let people know you’re open for use.’ He was purposeful with his language; Maverick was much more than a toy but that wasn’t the headspace he was supposed to be in. ‘I want you thanking me for every slap.’ He instructed, before bringing his hand back and landing a hard smack across his cheeks. He found a pace; raining heavy smacks down and pulling every sound he could until a small crowd of amused and excited onlookers started to gather.

Mav smiled to himself as Eric reassured him that he would be safe. He wondered if Eric ever considered that Mav wouldn’t ever think he wasn’t safe when he was with the Dom. “I know, Master, I know you’d never leave me alone and I know you’d make sure everyone knows what they need to know,” Mav nodded. He groaned as Eric squeezed his ass, and then instantly moved his hands away, placing his palms flat on his thighs. “Oh Lord,” he whimpered as Eric told him he needed to make noise. He loved being a toy for Eric, and how the Dom could alter his mindstate just by using a different pet name for him. He nodded quickly, and yelped out loudly as he was spanked. “Thank you, Master!” Mav cried out, wanting to attract as much attention as possible.

‘Spread your cheeks slut. Show everyone what they’re standing around to use.’ He instructed, rolling his sleeves up as he turned around and took a proper look. He spotted Dave hovering towards the back, and he caught his eye before flashing a grin. He didn’t waste time in making the most of the lube he’d brought; he worked with precision and it wasn’t long before he was scissoring two fingers in and out of the submissive, opening him up for everyone to see. He added a third and thrust into him harder, curling his fingers to prep him as much as possible. Not so much that he wouldn’t feel something though; he so enjoyed watching his face contort. ‘Stand up and turn around toy.’ He demanded as he pulled his hand back. ‘Show everyone your cock. Let’s let it out shall we?’ He grinned.

Maverick eagerly spread his cheeks again, and smirked happily when he heard a few cheers. He had no idea who was back there and watching. For all he knew, half the institute was watching. He gasped out as Eric began to stretch him open, enjoying the feeling of his Dom’s fingers inside him. He loved everything Eric did to him, really, but knowing the Dom was literally preparing his body for strangers to use was incredibly hot. When Eric pulled his fingers out, he knew from experience that Eric had left him tight enough that he would really feel it. He stood up and turned around as soon as Eric told him to, and then blushed desperately when Eric hinted at what he was going to do next. “Y...yes Master,” he nodded.

He kept the key with him always. He’d never had to use it other than times they’d agreed but it wasn’t something he’d ever leave without. He unlocked him, removing the cage before trailing his fingers along his length. ‘I don’t think they can even see you in the back slut.’ His tone was just shy of mocking, testing the waters with this aspect of humiliation. When he seemed to get a positive response, he felt comfortable to continue. ‘Why don’t you go take a walk through the crowd and let them get a proper look at you?’ He directed. ‘How are they supposed to know you’re worth using if you don’t give them a little taste?’ He prompted, sliding his hand down to squeeze his balls. ‘You can all touch at this stage, but no penetration of any kind. Yet.’

Mav blushed desperately brightly as Eric teased him. They’d never played with humiliation about Mav’s cock size, but they were close enough that Eric would definitely know it was a kink for Maverick. Most things to do with humiliation were, after all. He heard some of the laughter from Eric’s comment, and he ducked his head in embarrassment. His cock showed interest though. His eyes were wide with surprise when Eric told him to take a walk through the crowd. In all his fantasies about this, he’d never once considered having to do that. He smiled a little, beyond happy that Eric could surprise him, and groaned as his balls were squeezed. “Yes Master,” he said softly, before walking into the crowd. Immediately he had hands all over, stroking his chest, tweaking his nipples. More than a few people in the crowd played with his cock and balls, making comments about his cock size, and his ass was grabbed repeatedly.

He’d always thought scenes like this would make him feel some sort of jealousy but instead he found himself feeling incredibly proud of Maverick. He watched where people put their hands, laughed along with the comments they made about his cock. ‘What do you all think? He’s worth playing with isn’t he?’ He addressed their onlookers as Maverick moved back towards him. The resounding cheer confirmed what he already knew. ‘Looks like you impressed everyone slut.’ He praised, twisting his fingers in his hair and using his grip to guide him back over the table. ‘Hold yourself open and wait. Keep your eyes front. It’s time for me to pick the first person to get you.’ He picked a talk Dominant first; one he knew from his Dom 102 class. He handed him the condom, advised him of his limits and Mav’s safword then watched with amusement as he thrust himself inside completely in one hard push. The other, Max, put his weight behind every thrust and Eric watched on; aroused and eager to watch him take more.

Maverick was glad to be back with Eric after his walk through the crowd. It had been more intense than he’d expected and while he still liked it, the intenseness had taken him by surprise. He grinned as Eric addressed the crowd, but he smiled sweetly as Eric praised him. Mav gasped as Eric grabbed him by the hair and pulled over to the table. He realised, a little too late, that this was all going to happen without his cage on, and he wondered if he’d be able to control himself. “Yes Master,” he said, staring at the wall at the space in front of him. He’d been expecting someone to ease into him, take their time, but when Max pushed into him in one thrust, Mav screamed out. Max’s cock was stretching him instantly, and he gripped at the edges of the table tightly.

The first time, Eric wanted to make sure Maverick was very aware of his presence so he stood in his eyeline and kept his hand in his hair the whole time. ‘He’s good isn’t he?’ He remarked, talking over the submissive to the Dominant pounding him. Max was quick to respond positively; his words coming out between a moan. ‘Clench around his cock now slut. Make sure he knows how much you appreciate him for using you today.’ He instructed, giving a light tug to his hair. Max didn’t last long; he’d started hard and fast and that was how he finished. This clearly wasn’t his first rodeo because he pulled out quickly and moved away to create space for someone else. A girl Eric didn’t recognise was quick to step up, grinning as she asked permission to play with his little cock. ‘What do you think toy? Do you want Miss —‘ ‘Lola.’ She supplied. ‘Do you want Miss Lola to play with your cock?’

Mav really wasn’t sure in the moment what was hotter. How Max was fucking him so hard and fast, or Eric talking about him like he was barely there. “Y...yes Master, I am, I promise, I’m real, real appreciative,” Mav promised, gasping out as he clenched around Max’s cock as tightly as he could manage. He practically cried out needily as Max was all too quickly pulling out of him, but Mav didn’t need to worry. He felt his cheeks flush as he heard a girl he didn’t know talk about his little cock, and whimpered softly to himself. “I...if my cock is good enough, yes Master. It’d be a real honor to serve Miss Lola,” Mav nodded quickly.

He gave a firm swat that landed across both cheeks. ‘Well then, turn around toy. Give Miss Lola access to your pathetic, little cock. Show off what’s there so we can have our fun with it. As soon as he was in position, the Domme was reaching out to touch him. Eric watched with a bright grin as the Domme moved her fingers over Maverick’s length. She seemed to take pleasure in teasing him and the noises she could pull from his lips. He was only too happy to encourage her. ‘I wonder what he’d do if we just squeezed —‘ as he spoke to her, he allowed his hand to join hers and while she stroked his cock, and teased her fingertips at the swollen head; he cupped his balls roughly and squeezed.

Mav groaned desperately as Eric swatted his cheeks, and turned around as quickly as he could manage. His cock being ridiculed was one of the highest forms of humiliation for Mav, and it was making his cock as hard as it could get, beads of precum leaking down his shaft already. He was watching Eric and Lola closely, wondering what they were going to do, and Mav then practically arched up off the table as Lola began to touch his length. “Oh Lord,” he cried softly, whimpering and whining as he was touched. He could deal with the way Lola was teasing him, after all the day he barely just begun, but as soon as Eric began to roughly squeeze his balls, Mav sat up quickly, though he kept his hands exactly where they were. “Oh Lord, Master, Master,” he cried softly.

‘Doesn’t my boy make for such a needy slut?’ He grinned, ignoring Maverick for now and speaking directly to the Domme. He pressed him for a little more; enjoying the way he could see his cock twitch in Lola’s hold, and the way his breath changed the harder he squeezed. ‘Maybe it’s time we give you a break huh?’ He suggested, gesturing with his head for Lola to move away. She did so immediately. The people participating seemed to so easily accept that ultimately he was in charge; that made him feel all the more safer indulging Maverick’s fantasies like this. ‘Is your mouth open for business while we lay off your cock slut?’ He asked. ‘On your knees now. Let me hear you invite our audience to use your mouth however they might want to.’ He hopes Mav caught his implication without him actually having to say it.

Maverick grinned too, even if the praise wasn’t said to him, it was about him and he absolutely loved it. He was being good enough for Eric to brag about, and that meant the world to Maverick. His cock was still twitching in Lola’s grasp, and so hard because of Eric’s torture of his balls. “If...if you want to give me a break, Master,” Mav nodded. He knew logically that Eric was in control here, but seeing him give a subtle direction and a Domme follow it just turned Maverick on even more, which he’d been sure wouldn’t be possible. He watched Eric carefully as the Dom spoke, and he whimpered softly to himself. The implication was pretty clear to him, and he nodded. Mav reached out to take Eric’s hand, under the guise of pulling himself up from the table but really wanting a moment of comfort. He squeezed his hand gently, before he settled himself on his knees, in front of the table. “I’m sure you all heard my Master, Sirs and Misses,” Mav called out. “My mouth is open for business, for whatever you want to do to it. Fuck it, humiliate me somehow, piss in me. I’m here for you all to use.”

He let the submissive take his hand as soon as he reached for it, and returned the squeeze. ‘You’re doing so well my sweet boy.’ He murmured, just loud enough for Maverick to hear after he had addressed their audience. As he looked over the crowd, he noticed more familiar faces; his eyes easily picked out Caleb but he didn’t let his gaze linger on him too long. If he wanted to participate, he trusted he would. A rather shy looking Switch stepped forward and Eric greeted him with a grin. ‘Can we really -‘ the Switch stopped short. Eric winked. ‘You can really use his mouth how you like. He’s a very good boy. He wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t want it.’ He assured him. ‘Isn’t that right toy?’ He moved his fingers into Mav’s hair and massages against his scalp.

Maverick was beyond grateful for Eric’s sweet words, though he’d had no doubt that the Dom would give him comfort whenever he asked for it, silently or not. From his position, Maverick could only see the faces of the front row, and nobody there was anybody he recognised. He wasn’t sure if that was something he appreciated or not, because there were definitely people he’d rather didn’t see this. Not enough for him to want to stop, though. He saw the Switch step forward and instantly recognised that he was a shy guy. Maverick beamed up at Eric as he complimented, and nodded. “Yes Master, everyone can use my mouth until you say to stop,” he said, before leaning forward and pressing his face against the Switch’s bulge. “Please Sir? Please use my mouth?” he asked, looking up at the man. The Switch still looked a little shy, but he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. It was perfectly average, but Mav moaned just as  needily as he did for everyone. Mav was focused on checking out the cock and his mouth closed just slightly, right as the Switch started to piss. More than a few droplets hit his lips and then the floor, before Mav opened his mouth wide again and started swallowing eagerly. “He missed some,” the Switch said to Eric.

His first criticism was that the Switch hadn’t really given Maverick any indication as to what he was going to do. He put that down to the boy’s nerves but he wouldn’t just admonish Mav without correcting the Switch too. ‘He did, because you didn’t give him any warning about what was going to happen. You need to communicate. Keep an eye on the submissive you’re with and if they’re not ready, talk to them.’ His tone was firm, speaking to the Switch the way he would as a Dom to any submissive. ‘Lick your lips toy.’ He instructed, attention returning to Maverick. ‘And look down at the mess you let happen. It’s on his shoes. You better clean that up.’

The Switch was blushing and ducking his head as Eric explained what he’d done wrong, and it wasn’t long before he finished pissing into Maverick’s willing mouth. “Sorry Sir,” the Switch mumbled, as he watched Maverick swallow. He reached out to pat Mav’s cheek, who looked up at Eric and licked his lips clean of all the droplets that had ended up there. “Yes Master, sorry Master,” Maverick said quickly, before lowering himself down and licking at the Switch’s damp shoes eagerly.

When Maverick was finished, he praised him warmly and gave the Switch a grin so he knew he wasn’t angry or anything like that. ‘Look at your little cock. Still so hard, but no relief.’ He teased. When he looked out again, he caught Dave’s gaze and he eagerly beckoned his friend forward. ‘Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?’ He hummed. He leaned up to kiss him. Kissing Dave wasn’t like kissing anyone else. He was just so much taller, and frankly, Eric was a sucker for feeling his arms around him. ‘My boy is yours to use gorgeous. Take your pick of his holes. I know he’d only be too glad for you to use him.’

Mav grinned up at Eric, even though the teasing about his cock brought another pink hue to his cheeks. “Little sub cocks don’t get relief, Master,” he smiled. He looked out at the crowd again when Eric was clearly speaking to someone he knew, and grinned when he saw Dave stepping towards them. “Hi, Sir Dave!” he said, with a sweet smile on his face.

Dave chuckled at Eric, and cupped his cheek before leaning down and kissing the other Dom. “If it isn’t my favourite Dom dude,” Dave grinned. He was well aware of exactly how much Eric loved his bigger arms around him, so he did exactly that, subtly positioning them both so they had the same view of Maverick. “Maverick, I’m gonna make out with your Master, and I want you deepthroating me. Got it? Don’t want you disappointing your Master because you don’t know how to deepthroat a big dick,” he grinned, specifically using his teasing voice because he knew Eric would never be disappointed in a submissive for something so trivial.

He glanced at Maverick, making eye contact and gauging how okay he was with this. He was only too happy to make out with Dave but he couldn’t let himself become overwhelmed by it. Maverick needed to remain his focus. There would be options for the three of them to play together privately. ‘One hand on my leg toy. It doesn’t leave my leg and if you need me, if I don’t see something, squeeze.’ He instructed, ensuring Mav knew exactly how to communicate with him when his mouth would be otherwise occupied. He slid a hand down Dave’s front and undid his pants, pulling his cock free. ‘I think I rather like being in this position with you,’ he confessed, holding his cock so Mav didn’t need to use his hands. As he fed the other Dom’s thick length past his lips, he leaned up and kissed him fiercely.

Maverick was watching Eric and Dave closely, and he nodded quickly as Eric spoke. “Yes Master,” he said quickly, reaching out to grip Eric’s leg. He watched as Eric unzipped Dave’s pants and took out the other Dom’s cock. Maverick groaned at the sight of it, and eagerly opened his mouth wide so Eric could feed it to him. He groaned around it, and started doing his best to make Dave happy.

Dave smiled as he watched Eric reassure and take care of Maverick, and chuckled as Eric took his cock out for him. “I know I like being in this position with you,” he grinned. “Getting blown while making out with the hottest guy here,” Dave teased, as he kissed Eric eagerly and just as fiercely.

He melted into the kiss for a while, enjoying the way it felt to be held in Dave’s arms and feel Maverick grasping at his leg. It was a glimpse into a future he hoped could be a real; a devoted submissive and perhaps, a romantic partner. His hand twisted into the submissive’s hair and he forced him a little further. He broke away from the kiss to watch him choke around the other Dominant’s thick length. ‘Good boy.’ He praised. ‘Show Sir Dave how happy you are to serve him.’ He encouraged.

Mav gasped, as much as he could, when Eric shoved him forward and force dhim to take a little more of Dave’s thick cock. He grasped tightly onto Eric’s leg, and groaned as he forced himself to take even more of Dave into his mouth. It felt like a really big stretch on his jaw, but he wanted to do his very best.

Dave groaned loudly and unashamedly as Maverick took more of his length. His hand moved to Eric’s shoulder, and grinned wickedly at the other man. “Oh man...Eric, your toy…,” he gasped out.

‘You’re doing so well sweet boy.’ He praised. Maverick was his toy for this scene, that was the whole point; but he felt it necessary to include soft reminders of just how much he cared for the submissive. A familiar and kind pet name seemed to be the best way to do that. ‘Isn’t he wonderful? He’s my good boy.’ He boasted. Dave was one of a few people he felt comfortable showing his possessive side to. ‘So why don’t you give him what he wants gorgeous? He’s been so good. Cum down his throat.’ Perhaps there was a hint of an order in there; he wasn’t sure if he meant it to be that or if he was just exceptionally eager to watch his friend cum down his submissive’s throat.

Maverick’s eyes sought out Eric as he took Dave’s cock down his throat, feeling so happy that he was keeping both men so pleased with him. He held onto Eric’s thigh as he felt Dave moving forward, slowly thrusting into his mouth and still letting him do most of the work to bring Dave off.

Dave chuckled at Eric, and nodded. He recognised the smallest hint of an order, and he liked that Eric was the only person he was comfortable enough with to explore that in any way. “If that’s what you want,” Dave smiled, and forced Mav’s head down on his cock. It didn’t take long for Dave to get there, and he shot a big load down the submissive’s throat eagerly. “Hmm, thanks for that, gorgeous,” Dave smiled at Eric.

The sight of Dave shooting his load down Maverick’s throat might have been one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. He winked at Dave and grinned. ‘You’re very welcome.’ He answered. He stroked through Maverick’s hair. ‘How are you doing toy?’ He asked softly. He could have talked to Dave further but his thoughts consistently went to Mav and this being the first time they had engaged in this kind of play. ‘Can you keep going?’ He asked, scratching his nails against his scalp.

Dave knew that Eric’s attention really needed to be on Maverick, so he pressed a kiss to Eric’s cheek. “Have fun,” he teased lightly, before he stepped away back into the crowd.

Maverick looked up as Eric turned his attention to him, smiling as Eric stroked his hair. “I promise I’m okay with going until I’m exhausted,” Maverick said softly, resting his forehead against Eric’s thigh. “Or until you tell me we’re stopping, Master.”

‘That’s my boy.’ He grinned. ‘Back into your position; ass up nice and high for me.’ He instructed, giving his hair a light tug. He turned away from the submissive, trusting he would obey without being watched. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen, my toy is open for business for the next hour or before that if it’s too much for him. His limits are violence, blood and scat. You’ll treat him with respect. There will be no double penetration. You can fuck him, you can edge him and you can use his mouth. Just tell him what you want from him and I know he’ll comply.’ He explained, glancing over his shoulder to look at Maverick. ‘Enjoy him.’

Maverick smiled as Eric called him his boy, and then nodded as he was told to get back into position. He moved to the table and did exactly that, making sure his ass was on show for everyone who was watching. He listened to everything Eric said to the crowd and whimpered softly to himself. He loved everything that was happening right now, and he just hoped Eric was getting just as much enjoyment from it too. Before he knew what was happening, a man from the crowd had stepped forward, rolled a condom on, and was pushing into him.

Eric watched, keeping himself in Maverick’s eyeline, as each person stepped up to take him. He counted; one, two, three, and then four. His boy took four further people who fucked him hard and fast. He’d always thought he would feel jealousy more than anything else and initially he’d set this up more to indulge Mav’s dark desires but the more he experienced it, the more he took pleasure in it. He took pleasure in knowing that Mav was only allowing himself o be used to please his Master. He took pleasure in the show of trust from the submissive. A fifth person tried to step up and Eric held his hand up. ‘He’s done.’ He decided firmly. ‘My boy’s given you all more than enough.’ He stroked his hand down Mav’s back and smiled. He pulled a robe from the bag he’d packed and draped it around him. ‘You’ve been so wonderful my sweet boy. Let me take you back home.’

Maverick had been convinced before starting this that he could go to the double digits easily, but there must’ve been something about his expression that made Eric call it off, because as soon as he heard Eric say he was done, Mav knew it was the right decision. He could’ve maybe handled another guy before he would’ve called it off himself, but he took a lot of pleasure from the fact that Eric clearly knew how to read him. He whimpered needily as he felt Eric’s hand on his back, and then a role being draped over him. Slowly, he eased himself off the table. “I did good, Master? I made you proud, right?” he asked quietly. Normally, he was a lot more subtle when he was trying to fish for compliments and praise, but the events of the day had left Mav feeling extremely submissive and needy.

‘You have made me so proud my sweet boy.’ He assured him, fitting the robe over his frame properly and tying it loosely at his waist. He kissed him then, in front of the few who had lingered and he cupped his face gently. ‘You are mine Maverick Lynn, and you’re my good boy.’ This was the mindset he was still learning to navigate; one in which Maverick was so perfectly deep in his subspace. ‘I think I’ll collar and leash you for our walk back. I want everyone who sees you to know that you’re mine. I want them all to look at me and be jealous.’ He smiled, stopping to produce the red collar from the bag. He secured it around his neck and attached the leash which he held tightly. ‘Walk with me sweet boy. Lean on me as much as you need to. I promise I’ll take care of you always.’