#this song inspired a very clear image in my head when i first listened to it

[thatonegeekygirl]

i want to believe instead i look at the sky and i feel nothing

little song lyric art piece that i did for school today! words are from Chinese Satellite by Phoebe Bridgers.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Three- Eris

I love this song and it is so Eris coded to me. This is apart of my mini-series inspired by this album

Listen to the song here: Three (i could not get the mini player to work, so if you know how to pretty please let me know)

Warnings: Angst, minor injury to reader (burn), self-deprecating thoughts (eris to himself)

WC:

Finally catching up. For the first time I see an image of my brokenness utterly worthy of love. Maybe I’ve done enough. And I finally see myself, through the eyes of no one else. It’s so exhausting on this silver screen, where I play the role of anyone but me... I only want what’s real. I set aside the highlight reel and leave my greatest failures on display with an asterisk worthy of love anyway.

Eris had been acting strange to say the least. It was rare for you to go a day without seeing the red haired male but it had been a whole week now. Your mind kept playing back to something you might have said or did the last time you saw him. 

You’d gone on a walk with the few smoke hound pups Eris was beginning to train. They were all still tripping over large paws and each other and the sight made peals of laughter fall from your mouth. More than once you looked over and saw your best friend staring at you, although he denied it every time you questioned him about it. Shrugging it off you had kept walking until the sun was starting to set. You turned to face him, to say goodbye, and a pup had run straight into you. Your back would have hit the wet forest floor if it wasn’t for Eris’ strong arm wrapped around your waist. His eyes were wide as he looked down at you, full of softness you couldn’t place but made something in your chest flutter all the same. He had just barely made sure you were standing upright before he called the pups back in and practically ran away from you without saying goodbye. 

You couldn’t think of anything in that interaction that would explain Eris’ absence. Finally deciding you’ve had enough of this, you marched to his study. You didn’t knock as you entered, remembering to lightly open the door. Having learned the hard way that he would violently jump with any door being opened or closed harshly. He didn’t look up from his desk as you stood in the doorway. It took you clearing your throat three times before his eyes even glanced up. 

“Hello.” Was all he said before he turned his eyes back down, his brow slightly furrowed. 

“Eris-”You started, a slight whine in your voice. you heard the sigh that left him. 

“Please. I’m busy. We can go on a walk later.” He was hardly looking at you when he said it.

“Okay.” You conceded. Already knowing he wasn’t going to find you later. 

Days went by and you still haven't gotten the chance to talk to Eris. It was starting to annoy you, making your skin itch in an uncomfortable way. You had gone to a deeper part of the forest to clear your head, a part on the trail that only you and Eris ever traveled. It was starting to get colder as the sun drifted lower in the sky and your lack of jacket made you decide to head back to your room. There was no point in going down to the dining room, to sit with the other members of the court and listen to their dull gossip without Eris beside you. 

You were far away as you walked back, mind absorbed with thoughts of how you could get Eris to talk to you. It was only that fact that stopped you from noticing the body you had walked into. You didn’t have to look up to notice that familiar smell of cinnamon and pine, to know it was the very same male you had been daydreaming about standing in front of you. 

“Eris.” You couldn’t stop the smile that graced your face. 

“Hi little doe.” The nickname made your heart skip a beat. And you blushed. “I didn’t think I would run into you out here.”

“Because you’ve been avoiding me.” You half-teased. His face fell slightly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” You took a step away from him, “Don’t pretend I’m stupid.” 

“I would never.”

“Then don’t lie to me and say you haven’t been actively avoiding me. It's been weeks and I’ve hardly seen you. I miss you.” You said the last part softly, trying to tamp down the anger at the male in front of you. He sighed. 

“I've been busy.”

“You’ve never been too busy for me before.”

“I wasn’t High Lord back then.”

“You spare a few moments from your duties to see me?”

“Please. It’s not like that.” His voice held an edge to it, he wasn’t telling you something. 

“Eris, what’s wrong? Did I do something, did I say something? What happened, I’m sure we can talk it out.” Your words are spilling out of you a mile per minute. 

“Stop. Just stop.” He growled, a pained edge to his voice. It broke your heart to hear.

“Eris please, just talk to me. I want to hel-” A yelp broke from your lips as he grabbed your arms, an involuntary action to the step you took towards him. Both of you were too caught up in the argument to realize the tendrils of flames that had risen from his fingers, the tendrils that had bitten into your skin. He quickly released you, the force throwing you to the ground. His face held nothing but pure horror. When you looked down at your arms you saw the angry red handprints that, despite that they were already healing, would scar. He took a step towards me before he stood completely still. I pulled myself up, tears running down my face. 

“I’m so sor-”

“Figure your shit out, Eris. I’m just trying to help you.” It had been so long since Eris lost control of his powers. Not once had you been the source of that anger. You didn’t look back as you walked towards the forest house. 

You weren’t surprised when you heard a faint knock at your door a few hours after you returned from the healer. A heavy scented balm applied to your forearms, wrapped in pristine white banageds. The burns weren’t bad, you had seen Beron leave worse on his sons. You untangled yourself from the heavy blankets you were curled up in and went to find Eris at your door. You tried to fight the urge to tuck your arms behind your back when you saw his eyes drift towards the gauze wrapped around them. 

“I just wanted to come to check on you.” He muttered, taking a step closer to you. You took a step back, flinching slightly as your arm brushed up against the door frame. Eris wore an expression like you had slapped him. He didn’t look like he was breathing anymore. “I’m sorry. So incredibly sorry.” Was all he said as he turned around, leaving you very confused in the doorway. You didn’t bother calling after him, ignoring the way your body called for you to. You wanted nothing more than him to wrap his arms around you. The two of you had only gotten into minor squabbles. Nothing like this, nothing that stopped you from talking to each other for long periods of time. 

Weeks scraped by and you saw very little of Eris. The manor might have been big but not big enough to explain the rare glimpses you caught of Eris. You didn’t even get the chance to tell him about your upcoming trip to the spring court. One of the healers had their yearly harvest of Hyssop, an important ingredient for making cough medicine that refused to grow in the colder climate of the Autumn court. It was far more potent when used fresh so every year you would make the trip to Spring to collect a few bushels. In return you would stick around for a few days to help with patients. There were always so many in the spring court that any extra hands were appreciated more than any amount of gold. You gathered a few of your lighter dresses to take with you, packing a few more than necessary. And walked to the border, winnowing near your friend's cottage. 

Spring was your favorite court to visit. The flowers and fruit that grew filled the air with a sweet fragrance. The pollen always took some time to adjust to, as did the warmer weather. It was nice to visit but after a few days you would always find yourself missing the rich colors of Autumn. 

Your friend was bursting with joy as she opened the door for you. Your eyes wide as your spied the small babe she was carrying on her hip. 

“Gods, we have a lot to catch up on it seems.” You smile at her before reaching out to pinch the small boys cheeks. “Hello little one.” You cooed, a bell like laugh was your response and you went to hug your friend. 

Cecilia had been busy in the last year since you had seen her. She filled you in on the goings on of the small apothecary she ran. You two had just finished hanging some mint up to dry when you heard the front door open. 

A tall fae male walked into the kitchen. You had met him once or twice during your visits, Greyson, you think his name was. Cecilia gave him a love sick smile that he returned. He said a polite greeting to you before he walked over to your friend's side and gave her a short but sweet kiss on the cheek. They seemed to slip into their only little world, only seeing one another until the baby babbling snapped them out of it. You shoved down the small wave of nasty jealousy at the way they looked at each other. 

“I’ll go check on him.” Greyson said when that little coo turned into a piercing wail. Cecilia’s eyes tracked him until he disappeared from the room. She deflated slightly when he ducked around the corner. 

“So…” You started. A not so subtle way of asking for an explanation. She blushed. 

“We’ve been friends for years, you remember, I was always hoping for a bond to snap and then one day he ran into me while I was picking herbs and it was history from there. We never expected to have a baby so quickly, they’re so rare, but we were overjoyed.” She went on and you realized you were gripping the knife you were chopping herbs with a little tighter than needed. You hummed along to her story. Unknowing what to add to it. 

“And how’s your love life?” She elbowed you teasingly. She was fully aware of your feelings for a certain redhead. You scoffed and went back to stripping off leaves from their stems. 

You left two days later, arms full of all the herbs Ceceila had given you. She gave you a tight hug as you winnowed back to your home. You hummed a light song to yourself as you walked back to your room, feeling lighter than you had in the past days as you arrived at your door. 

Your humming died out as you saw your bedroom door wide open when you knew for a fact you had locked it behind you. Hesitantly, you peaked around the edge of the door. 

“Eris?” At the sound of your voice, he turned to face you. Relief etched into his perfect face. He was across the room in seconds. He wrapped his arms around you, picking you up off your feet. 

“You were gone. I went to check on you and half of your stuff had been packed,” He said as he put you back onto your feet. His chest was heaving rapidly. “I thought you left.” 

“You were too busy ignoring me for me to tell you.” You continued on your path putting away your clothes. Not looking at Eris. You suddenly felt his hand wrap around your wrist which you gently but firmly removed. 

“Doe, please. Look at me.” He pleaded but you only scoffed. 

“Now I’m worthy of your attention. I have been away for three days and now you want to pay attention to me. It’s been over a month since you so much as talked to me, Eris.” You turned to face him, hands on your hips. Almost begging him to try to deny it. 

“It’s not like that-” He ran his hands through his hair, messing up the long locks. 

“Then what’s it like?” You challenged. “You won’t talk to me even though I know something is wrong.”

“It’s nothing.”

“See!” You threw your arms up, a bit dramatic but you didn’t care right now. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Not this.” 

“Eris, what is so bad that you can’t talk to me about it.” Your tone softened a little at the clear struggle on his face. He didn’t say anything and you wanted to scream at him. You didn’t instead you just told him, “If you won’t…Just get out.”

“Doe. Please”

“Don’t, I’m exhausted Eris. If you truly won’t tell me, I can’t help-”

“I love you.” He blurted out. Both of you froze. When you met his eyes you knew he was telling the truth. He took a deep breath, he opened his mouth and then closed it again. He finally spoke again. “I’ve been in love with you for years. And then when-” He caught himself. Stumbling to shut his mouth. You took a step towards him. Hand reaching for his. 

“When what Eris?” You felt your  heartbeat pick up. 

“When I felt the bond snap,” He looked at your  face, you only nodded for him to keep talking. “You’re sweet, kind, and good. Gods are you kind. Kinder and gentler than anyone I could ever deserve. So I thought if I hid the bond that there would be a chance it never snapped for you. That you would be free to find someone who is…better than me.” 

“Eris-”

“I’ve done awful things to people. I’ve hurt people and backstabbed and betrayed so many of the closest people to me. I mean look at Lucien. He can’t even live in his own court.  Look at Mor. Even you have scars that tell me you deserve anyone else but me.” His voice cracked on the last word. Shaking with unshed tears. You slowly trailed your hand up his arm, leaving it to rest on his cheek. He closed his eyes tight but didn’t pull away from your touch. 

“I love you so much and couldn’t believe the mother would let me have a mate as good as you. So I hid like a coward because the thought of it was too much.” He whispered into your palm. You brushed your thumb near his eyes, a silent plea for him to look at you. 

“You aren’t that person Eris. I’ve never seen anything but the good you’ve done. The horrible things that this court has made you do, is not who you really are. Lucien is alive because you got him to spring. Mor is alive because you made your brothers stop, you’re the one who called for Rhys and Azriel that day. But look at all the good you’ve done, just to the court since you became High Lord.” He was crying now, trembling under your words. “Females can walk around unafraid, something they have never been able to do in this court. Children laugh in the street, full and happy. All because of you. Eris you are good, and kind, and oh so deserving of love.” He only shook his head, like he could stop the words from finding his ears. “And I will tell you every second of every day for the rest of our lives until you believe it. I love you Eris. I have loved you for as long as I’ve known what love is.” You spoke clearly, words hanging in the air as Eris finally opened his eyes. 

“You love me?” 

“Long before I ever felt the bond,” His eyes widened. “It was silly, just a look across the room during a ball. And I could never think of the right way to tell you. But I knew before then that there was no one else I would rather spend the rest of my life with. It’s always been you Eris.” He turned his head to give your hand a small kiss. Then he slid to his knees, clutching that hand like it was solid gold. 

“I might never deserve you, but I promise to love you the best that I can.” You smiled softly at him before you sunk down, eye level with him. You threw your arms around his neck pulling him into a crushing hug. 

“You’ve always deserved me.” You whispered before you pulled him in a kiss that made the world freeze around you.

Tagging the Eris girlies/moots as usual: @daycourtofficial @nocasdatsgay @secret-third-thing

[sergeifyodorov]

I just reread strange trails and I'd love to know your inspirations for it! Your ideas behind the worldbuilding, the genesis of the plot, all that good stuff if you'd like to share!

the backstory

im a college student and was unemployed all summer. in order to pass the time while waiting for local jobs to reject me i started a crochet project. throughout pretty much the entire month of june. and possibly also may. i would make my squares and listen to the strange trails album. straight through. every day. i may have gone a little bit insane.

but it's okay. i'm already insane.

lord huron (the band who made the album) has like. lore. am i familiar with this lore? no i am not. am i aware nonetheless that there is lore? yes absolutely. if you listen to their discography there's definitely lore -- recurring themes (resurrection, adventuring, magical seductive women, etc), motifs (depends on the album but strange trails is big on flowers, trees, snow, although there is one song that's set in the desert), characters (they keep mentioning a guy called the world ender.) anyHway the point of all of this is that the music is [solid 7.5 out of 10 but it scratches my exact brain itches] and very evocative of the imagery and idea of a deeper world. my favourite off the album (and one of my favourites in the discography) is la belle fleur sauvage, which tells the listener about a long perilous quest for some mythical thing (a flower. also a woman. metaphor), although one of the ones whose imagery i enjoyed the most is frozen pines, which is a little less concrete but invokes images of cold, the side of a mountain, strange happenings, etc.

the idea

those songs are definitely the most direct inspiration for it but unfortunately my process for developing ideas is kind of terrible because it involves less "sitting down and coming up with stuff" and more "wait for a 60% formed idea to smack you upside the head like rapunzel in tangled and her cast-iron frying pan." which quinn and his sad little corpse did.

if you go back far enough in the quinnfic tag on my blog u can see the post right after it Happened. the idea was literally "quinn hughes carries a corpse up a mountain, and horror."

so i take this little piece of grit from which my pearl of questionable moral integrity will be built and i ask it questions. first off: quinn, why are you on that mountain? who is the corpse? is anyone else with you? soon enough petey decided to join him (although quinn is and was always the protagonist/pov character). the body was The Ghost Of Vancouver before it was brock over top of that.

another inspiration, which i realize i'm leaving out, is this

this is artist grayson perry's work "hold your beliefs lightly" from tomb of the unknown craftsman, and this image of a long perilous upward journey towards some sacred place really combined together with la belle fleur sauvage to form the base idea of the world for the work.

and of course why would you carry a corpse up a mountain to some sacred place if you couldn't resurrect it at the end?

quinn

im big on metaphor. if i'm writing something long it has to have a Point to it, some larger theme than romance and stuff (this is mostly because i'm bad at writing romance)(and also big on curses and the like.) and also because quinn hughes asexual barb i never fucked/i never fucked/all my life man, fucks sake. this was also being written right before the peak of Canucks Captaincy Debate, and in our hearts didn't we all know quinn was going to be the one to wear the c?

so it became pretty clear pretty quick that as well as my attempt at writing horror that this was going to be a quinn character study -- and this is where i should talk about my other fic scheherazade.

in scheherazade, auston actually doesn't make a lot of choices -- he tags along, arguing with the narrator/bill, and only starts to take an active role in the way the story is going near the end, when he finally gets sick of it all. quinn, however, is not at all the same kind of person as auston. he's less artistic and more practical; an older brother instead of a younger one; jewish; not nearly so squeamish. he takes an active role in the story from the very beginning, showing up to the base of the mountain with his pack full, both prepared and not for what lies ahead.

the mountain

vancouver is smack in the middle of the north shore mountains, so there's a million hiking trails about, but the one i can most easily think of (as someone who hasn't been to vancouver in several years) is the grouse grind trail, a popular and fairly short trail that the canucks prospects actually do every year, so i knew quinn and petey (both vancouver draftees) would be familiar. i've never actually done the grouse grind, which was part of the reason i decided to kind of. toy with reality. you can't call me out on inaccuracy when it's Not Real On Purpose (although the sign at the 1/4 mark is copied directly from photos i've seen.)

petey and the plot

once i added petey, i knew i'd have to get rid of him -- a lot of the scene ideas were quinn-only, and petey's way too sarcastic and useless (AFFECTIONATE) to engage seriously with the ideas presented to him like quinn would and did. so i needed to divide them up.

the original plot idea from the outline is actually pretty similar up until the end of chapter 6 (the conversation w the ghost), but it differs in a few crucial ways -- one, quinn breaks down again, crying and everything, and two, he actually does go through with the resurrection instead of using his wish to get petey down the mountain safely. i realized around then that this wouldn't work with the quinn i'd created, especially after his argument with the ghost: he's far less focused on glory than stability, less interested in the cup or his contract and more interested in the safe long bet than high rolling. in a cold, wet environment like the mountain it's a lot easier to get hypothermia without noticing than it is in a dry environment, even if the dry environment is several degrees colder than the wet one. and quinn would know that, having seen petey's thin little sweater and knowing his stubborn ass is going to freeze.

so after that it became about hypothermia. i actually had a bit of a writing pause after this because i knew i was going off-outline, so i had to kind of inch ahead until i knew where i was going. but i'm happy with how it turned out!

[tcroce93]

Process Note

Ideation and Initiation

The guiding question for my project (why do we romanticize sadness?) arose almost as soon as we had begun work on the Sad G*rl unit. Once I felt I had a solid understanding of what the “sad girl” figure was meant to represent, I immediately drew a connection to an example that I was familiar with; Pinkpantheress. I had been listening to her music for years, and the melancholic atmosphere that her music creates coupled with the Internet-inspired aesthetic she cultivates suggested to me that she was a useful example to use when analyzing the “sad girl” phenomenon.

While I did my research into her music and videos, I felt something begin to impress itself on me. It did not take long for me to realize that it was the familiar gut impulse that we feel when we are emotionally affected by a piece of media. I could tell that there was intentionality to the music, and that it was causing the specific reaction I was experiencing. The feeling was familiar; I knew it well from countless books, movies, games, and songs. I realized that it was this exact feeling that has caused Pinkpantheress to jump to mind in the first place.

The cause of this feeling was not merely that the songs were sad, or that they were composed in a minor key, or that the music videos were filmed in black and white. It arose from a combination of these and other elements that lend themselves not only to a tragic story, but to the mind’s interpretation of tragedy. I could see that the music was causing me to reflect on sad moments in my own life, and connect these experiences to the ones PinkPantheress was writing about in her songs. While this did lead to some uncomfortable moments, for the most part, this sadness was a welcome one. This was the feeling that led me to my guiding question.

Stagnation and Revision

As we began the work of curating materials for our project, I tried to find archival pieces that related strongly to the subject matter at hand. However, I found this difficult, and it created some cognitive dissonance for me as I worked. I had an image in my head that I felt sure was the answer to my question, and it was tied very directly to the work of PinkPantheress, Lana Del Rey, and others that pioneered the internet sad girl phenomenon. The pieces of art and literature I researched during the material-gathering process left me disillusioned, as I felt they had very little, if anything, to offer to the conversation I was trying to have with my question. This, coupled with multiple sick days in which I was unable to gather materials on campus, left me lagging behind and without a clear sense of direction.

It was during our peer review class that I was able to find my stride with the project again. In the draft for my statement of purpose, I had offhandedly mentioned Shakespeare’s Hamlet and Picasso’s famous Blue Period as examples of the creative romanticization of sadness in history. These were both examples that I was familiar with, and I had thrown them  into the statement of purpose merely as a way to make a secondary point about the timelessness of sadness in art and culture. However, my groupmate suggested that I expound on these examples as I went forward in the drafting process, and this idea sparked a reassessment of my guiding question.

I found my passion renewed as I immersed myself in the works that I had already pinpointed as prime examples of glamorized sadness. Instead of concentrating my definition of the “sad girl” on a specific timeframe with limited source material, I was able to analyze sadness as a universal concept that transcends technology, culture, and time itself. While this does undoubtedly result in some “broad-strokes” oversimplification of certain trends and ideas over time, I found that I was able to reduce this simplicity by focusing on specific examples, and breaking down why these examples stand out as historically relevant to this day. As I collected resources, I also found myself creating my own work, which took inspiration from both the classic examples I was analyzing as well as the work of PinkPantheress and other contemporary artists.

Conclusions

As my work collecting and curating came to a close, I felt as though I was reaching an answer to my question. Through the process of immersing myself in both classic and contemporary examples of sadness in art and literature, I had found a “common thread” that seemed to tie everything I had collected and created into one. In addition, the Tumblr blog itself seemed to have found a “vibe” that I was happy with. 

One aspect of the project that I had not initially considered was that it gave me an opportunity to work within Photoshop to create unique artistic elements of the blog page, such as the banner. As a graphic designer, any opportunity to express myself and my interests creatively is much appreciated, especially in an academic context.

The answer that I settled on for my guiding question was that humans are innately empathetic, and the expression of sadness gives us solace. Through sharing, receiving, and reacting to works derived from sadness, we find that we are not alone in our emotional experiences. I experienced this on both ends as I worked on the project; revisiting Hamlet and the work of Picasso renewed my appreciation for these timeless examples of tragedy and melancholy, but I also found myself experiencing some catharsis and healing as I created music and artwork for the project. In this way, I have gained a new perspective on the works that informed my project from start to finish. By simply realizing the effects that creative expression was having on me, I was able to understand the communities that have formed online that celebrate that very form of creation.

[tainted-wine]

Caring For Your Hormonally-Charged Bird

Hawks x Reader (NSFW)

(I didn’t mean for this to turn into a monster with over 7k words, but I finally finished it. This is based off of my mutant headcanons and also takes some inspiration from user kazooli’s awesome thirst posts about Hawks. Happy Springtime, everyone!)

Edit: Now there’s a Part 2!

------------------------------

The songs of lovestruck birds rang across the streets. Freshly bloomed cherry blossoms rained petals down onto the pavement. Butterflies and bees hovered around the flourishing flowers. It was undoubtedly a beautiful day. Too bad you had to spend it in an office with an oncoming headache. A familiar voice spoke behind you.

“Wow, look at that. I don’t know what’s more gorgeous; the scenery outside or the lady staring at it.”

Hawks’s charm doesn’t affect you when he has pissed you off so many times in such a short span.

You’ve had the ‘privilege’ of working for the Hero Public Safety Commission for several years, from supporting public events to endless desk work. The pay was generous and life was overall more comfortable. All you had to do to stay on their good side was comply with every demand, ignore the condescending tones of the bigwigs, and turn a blind eye whenever you witnessed the occasional sketchy practice.

When they offered you a job as the personal handler of one of the top heroes of Japan, you almost fainted. You have always been a fan of Hawks. Fast, handsome, charismatic, he may not have the godly strength of All Might, yet he still felt just as flawless. You’ve been helping and guiding the winged young man since last summer and learned that he’s even more than what you imagined. He wasn’t just good-looking, he wasn’t just a sweet-talker…

He was also a fucking nightmare to work with.

You turned around to see said man ogling you a bit more than you were used to, his trademark crooked smile on his face, but you ignored that and went straight to business. “Your carelessness is trending again for the third time this week, Hawks.”

He drew a sharp breath in an exaggerated gasp. “Again? Oh, what could they possibly be on my ass for this time? Was I smacking on chicken wings too loudly in public? Did they catch the moment I almost flew into that crystal-clear window?”

You whipped out your phone, already prepared to show him a news page with a rather shocking photo. A man with an elegant and sleek appearance was beaten and bruised, his dazzling peacock tail fanned out behind him. The attacker was none other than Hawks, who was gripping the other man by the collar, his wings fully spread out with several sharpened feathers floating around his victim as an unnecessary precaution. It was a very aggressive display.

‘HAWKS LAYS SMACKDOWN ON PERVERTED PEACOCK’ was the headline.

“This is beyond excessive force. You could have just as easily restrained him with your quirk.” You scolded, fixing him with the steely authoritarian stare that you’ve been working on.

Hawks flinched, but you couldn’t tell if he was just playing with you or not. “Ma’am! I was simply defending the girl’s honor! She was very clearly uncomfortable and besides, wouldn’t flashing his tail like that be considered indecent exposure?” Yeah, that tone told you that he was clearly not intimidated.

“No, and even if it did, indecency and harassment wouldn’t excuse such a violent subduing. Furthermore,” you gestured at his threatening wing display in the photo. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were demonstrating similar behavior.”

He simply shrugged. “Just showing him who the bigger bird is around here.”

Your eye twitched. “For God’s sake, Hawks, you’re not an animal. Part of my job is ensuring that you maintain a friendly image that will keep the public at ease. This is not friendly. Shall I go through some of the comments for examples?” You scrolled down and cleared your throat in preparation. “Anyone else put off by how violent Hawks looks here? I didn’t know he had it in him to beat someone down like that. He’s usually all about being quick and efficient.” You scrolled down to the next one. “What’s the deal with Hawks? I was there and it was like watching a cockfight.” You clicked on a reply to that particular comment. “I know, right? I always wanted to meet Hawks in person, but after that, I was honestly too scared to-”

“Hold on, babe, I know you’re cherry-picking here,” Hawks, the little bastard, had taken out his own phone while listening to your reading. “Because those are nothing like my personal faves that I found on my Tweeter page.” You watched with silent frustration as his eyes scanned his phone until he found what he was looking for. “Ah, here we go. ‘Oh my GAWD, that look, those spread wings, he looks like such a beast!” He had raised the pitch of his voice for a mock feminine tone. “Leave it to Hawks to make all of us women feel safe. That pervert deserves to lose a few more teeth.’ Oh, and here’s the winner right here. ‘Just as I always expected, that hunk of a bird knows how to dominate. I can just imagine him towering over me, giving that same look while I take his big fat-”

“Hawks.”

He paused, but his shit-eating grin didn’t fade when he noticed your head being held in one of your hands. You hoped he didn’t notice that you were trying to hide the red that crept into your cheeks.

“…cock.”

You groaned loudly enough to most definitely be heard outside of the office. There truly were days when he would cut you some slack and be easy to deal with, but he has become downright unbearable for the past few weeks. His teasing has increased ten fold, yet he’s also been keeping his distance from you for whatever reason. It had taken you a while to notice, but he was normally more than happy to get in your face and ruin your professional act, but now, even when you’re the one trying to approach, he would casually step back to prevent the gap between you from closing.

And then it hit you.

Shit, it shouldn’t have taken you this long to connect the dots. You had even noticed how his wings appeared to be a shade brighter for the past few days, but dismissed it as a trick of the light. No, he had grown in his spring plumage.

“Uh, babe? You still there? Did the ‘C’ word break you?” Watching you stare into space was getting him a little concerned.

“You’re rutting,” was your simple reply.

Hawks’s face flashed into something more serious for a split second before giving a ‘tsk’ and looking away. “Took you long enough,” he scoffed. “Surprised the Commission hasn’t fired you for letting me go wild for so long. They must not have any replacements available right now.”

“Watch it,” you ordered. You pondered for a moment before asking, “Have you not been taking your hormonal medication? I know that you’ve been prescribed some for this time of year.”

He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, as if he was the one who should be feeling annoyed right now. Bitch, please. “Sometimes,” he muttered.

“Sometimes? They don’t work if you only take them sometimes, Hawks. I know you’re a busy hero, but you can put some effort into keeping track of your dosage.”

“Look,” it was the first time you’ve seen a genuine scowl on his face, the expression taking you back. “I just really hate that stuff, okay? They sap all of my energy and I put on a few extra pounds.”

You shook your head at his complaints. “Is that really worse than what you’re dealing with right now?”

“Yes. I’d rather be a horndog than a slug that doesn’t even have the will to move. It wouldn’t even be so bad if I could just sleep around every now and then, but that’s more trouble than it’s worth. I don’t wanna make your job that miserable.” He eyed you up and down for a minute, while you tried not to shy away from his piercing gaze. “Or I could find just one loyal partner that will help me scratch the itch?”

You stepped back, your heart racing at the unspoken request. “E-excuse me?” you stuttered.

Hawks raised his hands harmlessly. “Hey now, it’s just a suggestion. I’m pretty into you, you’re obviously into me, this could work out pretty well.”

An array of emotions were flowing through you, but you were more upset than anything else. “And what exactly makes you think I’ve been ‘into you’, as you’ve said?” Denial. You’re pretty sure that’s what this is. You know that you’ve been attracted to him since before you even met, but you weren’t going to let this overgrown brat have his way.

His sudden burst of laughter startled you. “You’re kidding, right? I still remember that look you had the first time we were in this room together, and it wasn’t the innocent ‘I wanna support my favorite hero’ look,” He was willingly approaching you for the first time in what felt like forever, every step sounding like thunder to your ears. “It was a ‘bend me over the desk and fuck me’ look.”

You were the one stepping back this time. You wanted to remind him not to use such foul language, to berate him for making such vulgar claims, but your voice was caught in your throat.

“We’d be doing each other a favor, right?” he continued, wings slowly expanding. “Keeping me in top shape is part of your job, isn’t it? I promise you that I’m gonna feel a lot better after this.”

You bumped into his desk, leaning back slightly as he finally closed the distance. His wings draped around each side of you, filling your peripheral vision with pure red. His face was only inches away from yours as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“You’ve been smelling so damn good lately. Been afraid that I just might pounce you if I get too close.”

A thickly gloved hand reached out and cupped your face with such a surprising amount of tenderness, you couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel bare. You were so entranced by his lustful gaze that you couldn’t find it in you to resist as he leaned in, feeling his hot breath as his lips drew closer to yours.

The door busted open accompanied by a shout. “Hawks sir! Your help has been requested at-OH!”

A genuine growl rumbles through Hawks’s throat and damn, that makes you tremble. By the time he turns toward the stumbling sidekick, he was already back to his cool and friendly self.

“Don’t stop on my account, buddy,” he beamed the younger man with an unwavering smile. “What’s the request?”

———

The next day, you tried very hard to pretend that little office incident never happened. You were not going to let something so unprofessional ever happen again. That was a promise.

Hawks, on the other hand, was being a persistent bastard. You were determined to win this battle. If he wanted the urges to go away so badly, then he can take his damn medication like he always has, not use your lack of authority and experience as an excuse to rebel. The only reason you haven’t informed the Commission about this is because you know that your head will be on the chopping block as well as Hawks’s. You will most definitely be in some shit once they realize that you can’t keep their most prized possession in check.

And to be fair, as the week went on, you really were wondering if you were cut out for this job. With his wings getting more vibrant, his advances becoming more frequent, and his feral rivalry against other men growing more severe, Hawks has officially become too unruly for you to handle, and you’re the goddamned handler. You couldn’t lose this job! What if they terminated you completely and you couldn’t get another position from the Commission?

You paced back and forth in the empty office. Hawks was late this morning, leaving you alone with your endless worries. He may act lazy, but he was never actually late for his meet ups. Looks like you’ll have to call him and pray that nothing serious has happened.

You jumped when your phone vibrated before you even reached into your pocket. Ah, looks like Hawks reached out before you did. You held your phone up, prepared to answer, and froze.

It wasn’t Hawks. It was the deputy, the very man that was kind enough to give you this job. He hasn’t called you since your first few days here to help get you started. With your progress, you doubt he was calling to give you a raise.

Well, as much as you wanted to throw the phone out of the window and find an appropriate place to bury yourself, you didn’t make it this far by cowering from these guys. Taking a deep breath, you picked up and greeted the man on the other side with a steady voice. “Good morning, Deputy.”

He addressed you with the same bored and unimpressed tone that you hear from every member in this cursed organization. Jeez, if you keep working here long enough, are you going to eventually sound as soulless as them? “I assume you are aware of Hawks’s current condition?” he asked.

Dammit. “My apologies, sir. I know that I have been neglectful of Hawks’s health and his behavior during this time. I have been doing my best t-”

“That isn’t the issue I am talking about, but thank you for confirming that you have indeed failed in keeping Hawks’s unsavory habits under control.” You flinched. Way to rat yourself out. “Hawks had managed to find and subdue the troublesome villain Libido.”

“Ah, of course. I have been informed of that, sir.” Libido was a cunning little criminal that has been causing trouble all over the city of Fukuoka. His ‘Love Breath’ quirk gave him the ability to exhale fumes with powerful aphrodisiacal qualities. The guy even made his own gas bombs, releasing them among unsuspecting crowds in the public. He was less of a villain and more of just a chaos-loving hoodlum that was too slippery for his own good.

The deputy carried on. “One of the sidekicks has told us that Hawks was exposed to his quirk.”

Oh. Oh dear. That’s some strong stuff to be subjected to.

“We have ordered Hawks to go home immediately and wait patiently instead of heading to a hospital. We will be sending treatment his way.”

Some of the tension left your body. “That’s good to know, sir. May I ask what kind of treatment he will be taking? I know I haven’t convinced you yet, but I want to do anything I can for his well being.” You hesitantly asked. Please, oh please let me make up for everything that has been happening.

You heard a faint chuckle from the other end. “That’s very good to know, because the treatment is you.”

You’re glad he couldn’t see the confusion on your face. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you saying I’ll be the one to doctor him? I’ll need to know what medicine he needs and how much rest he’ll be expected to-”

“Do you know how people affected by aphrodisiac quirks are normally treated?” he interrupted you for the second time. He didn’t even give you a chance to answer before continuing. “Given your questions, I’m assuming that you don’t. We can indeed offer drugs to weaken the effects, but Hawks will still be in great distress and will take a long time to recover, especially since he’s neglected to take his hormone medication with the help of an incompetent handler.” Ugh, you get it already. You screwed up. “But the quickest and most efficient remedy is, without a doubt, sexual contact and allowing the quirk to run its course. That is what we expect you to provide for him.”

What.

You took a full minute to collect your thoughts and ensure that you heard everything correctly. The deputy waited patiently. How kind of him. Once you gathered yourself, you conjured the most constructive response you could think of.

“Huh?”

An overly loud sigh sounded in your ear. Hey, it’s his fault for dropping this bomb of a request on you. “We can’t have the number two hero out of action for too long. The alternative is to strap him to a bed and sedate him for an uncertain amount of time. His rut has enhanced the quirk’s effects; this may even strengthen his arousal for the rest of the season.”

Your face paled. That sounds ten times worse than the way Hawks was already acting. “So, if I were to…be with him,” you blushed at the very thought. “That would provide the best relief?”

“That is the gist of it. You told me you would do anything for Hawks’s well being. Can I hold you to that?”

Your pounding heart was almost drowning out his voice. You didn’t mean to corner yourself like this. “O-of course. I’ll see what I can, um, do.” This discussion was getting uncomfortable.

“I didn’t expect you to be so hesitant. You’re a loyal fan of his, aren’t you? You should be thrilled. Few fangirls get this opportunity.” He laughed at his own joke. You sure as hell weren’t laughing with him.

“Yeah, of course, sir,” you grumbled. “I suppose I shouldn’t leave Hawks alone for too long. I’ll be on my way soon.”

“Excellent,” he said. “You’ll need to take some precautions, of course. Here’s what you need to keep in mind…”

———

You walked out of the local pharmacy, cradling the pills tightly to your chest like some sort of security blanket. The deputy’s advice echoed in your head.

“It’s best that you take contraceptives. Hawks’s mind will be clouded with feral cravings, such as the urge to breed. He is not going to accept condoms.”

You tossed the pills onto the passenger seat in your car.

“Again, Hawks is suffering from both the magnified effects of Libido’s quirk and his annual rut. It’s possible that he will not be of sound mind. If things get out of hand, you have the right to protect yourself.” the deputy paused for a moment. “Just try not to leave any marks on him, if you can. Hawks must look presentable at all times.”

Well, you did have a stun gun that you thankfully never had to use, and hopefully it will stay that way.

The deputy’s help made you way more anxious than before. Were you about to have sex with a horny man, or tame a dangerous beast? You still didn’t know what to make of this predicament.

You take your phone and select Hawks’s number. It’s probably best not to surprise him at his door. Hopefully he wasn’t too riled up and ignores your call.

The phone rings once, then twice, then you hear…whimpers? Shit, was it getting that bad?

“Hawks? Are you there?” you asked calmly.

“Babe.” Goodness, his voice was rough. He sounds like he just ran across the country. “Oh thank God. Talk dirty to me, baby.”

“Wha—no.” This was a mistake. You really weren’t prepared for such levels of horniness. He just blurted that out like it was nothing! “Look, um, I heard your urges are becoming too much to handle. I’m heading on over there to…help you.”

For a while you just heard what sounded like breathless laughs and weeping. Hearing him in such a fragile state had you genuinely concerned. “Y’serious? We’re-ah-we’re gonna fuck?” He was panting heavily between words.

Heat was gathering in your face. “Yes, that’s the plan.”

“Oh, fuck yeah. Get over here-fuck-so I can stuff you, babe. You’re gonna be mine. Oh I can’t wait to fucking have you.” This sounded like a goddamned porno and you couldn’t handle it. There was a strange sound in the background as he rambled, something like wet smacks. You kept hearing it in sync with his grunts and…

Oh.

“Just hang in there, alright?” You said quickly, wanting to end this call right now. “I’m coming.”

“Well, I’m not. My hand’s really not doin’ it for me. Gotta be inside you, babe. Gotta cum in that tight-“

You hung up.

You banged your head against the steering wheel harder than intended, but at least the pain got your mind off of…whatever all of that was. You can’t believe you just heard your favorite hero breathlessly talking about how he wants to bang you while jerking off. You didn’t know it was possible to feel this mortified, but that wasn’t the worst part.

The worst part was the tingle between your legs.

Hawks, one of the top heroes of Japan, the heartthrob of the generation, was lusting for you. It had you both excited and on edge. You remember the deputy’s comment.

“You’re a loyal fan of his, aren’t you? You should be thrilled. Few fangirls get this opportunity.”

You probably would indeed be thrilled if the circumstances were less dire. Your fantasies normally involved something simpler and more romantic, not saving him from his own sex-hazed mind. You still weren’t sure what you were walking into, and that was admittedly a different kind of excitement.

There was no time to waste with the state Hawks was in. Calming your nerves, you started your car and began taking the route to his place.

———

Here you are, at the doorstep of Hawks’s house. His place was surprisingly humble for a top hero, it made this encounter just a little less nerve-wracking. Pressing a finger to the buzzer, you waited anxiously, rocking back and forth on your heels. You really hope he’ll be dressed decently when he answers the door.

Your heart skips once you hear a click and the doorknob twists. It feels like it takes an eternity for the door to open and reveal…nobody.

Instead, you were greeted by a small flock of feathers suspended in the air. They slowly floated a distance away from you before stopping, as if they were waiting for something. You cautiously stepped inside, some of the feathers closing the door behind you. You don’t know what type of welcome you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. The feathers guided you, drifting up a flight of stairs and into a room with its door hanging open. You can hear harsh breathing inside, reigniting your fear. “Hawks?” You hesistantly called out without getting any closer.

A cracking voice cried out your name. “Help me. It fucking hurts. I’m so hot. Make it stop.” He sounded like he was crying. The desperate pleas prompted you to mask your fears for the umpteenth time and approach the room, taking in the sight of the man that has been waiting for you.

Hawks was naked, not to your surprise, but still to your absolute horror. He sat on his bed, skin glistening with sweat and a deep blush spreading throughout his upper body, making him look more feverish than aroused. His chest heaved with the irregular breaths that left his hanging mouth. His hair was even more unruly as usual, some of his locks sticking to his damp face. Your eyes locked onto his, pupils dilated and looking right through you.

He looked awful.

You came closer, trying your best not to stare at the very swollen and throbbing member between his legs. “I’m sorry,” you said softly, stopping right in front of him. “I didn’t think it would get this bad. I-I want to help. Just tell me what to do.”

He was on his feet the moment you finished, nude body just inches away from yours, but you kept your feet planted where they were. As his large wings slowly opened and enclosed around you, you noticed how brilliantly hued his feathers have become, practically glowing a vivid scarlet. It was captivating.

Two clammy hands came up to hold your face, the same hands he was furiously pleasuring himself with just a moment ago holy shit, and his mouth was on yours before you could even react. You gasped in shock of it all, allowing his tongue to slip past your lips. It was less of a kiss and more of just him hungrily ravaging every inch of your mouth, your own tongue wrestling with his to keep him away from the back of your throat. One of his arms lowered to wrap around your waist and pull you flush against his bare form, making you yelp when you felt his erection pressing against you. Hawks’s dick was on you.

You were too overwhelmed by his restless mouth and his DICK to notice the stray feathers hovering over you. A tug and a loud rip made you jolt. Hawks held you still, the sound of expensive fabric tearing making you flinch as your skin was slowly being exposed. The feathers were shredding your clothes.

You pulled away from his suffocating mouth just enough to take a breath and attempt to speak. “Hawks! Wha—” only for him to smother you once again.

“Don’t move,” he uttered between kisses. “Don’t want to cut you.”

With a few more slashes, your cherished suit was now scattered on the carpet in tatters, revealing your body to him, but the feathers weren’t done. The floating blades carefully slid under your panties and bra. You stood completely still, Hawks kissing you with less aggression in an attempt to soothe you as the feathers sliced through the last of your clothes. You were now just as bare as him. He simply held you tightly, face rubbing against yours with the occasional lick against your heated skin. Your eyes were closed shut, unable to process his frantic tongue, his surrounding body that felt like fire, his cock that was now pressed to your stomach you were going to drop dead holy shit.

“Smell so good. Tastes so good.” he groaned, still sounding short of breath. His mouth went down to your neck, sucking at it hungrily and giving the occasional nip, forcing a faint moan out of you. He continued his descent and reached your breasts, molding them roughly and attacking your nipples with hard sucks. Despite the rough treatment, a tight heat was building up in your abdomen, your hands cradling his head as he explored you. He ventured lower, now on his knees with his face right at your womanly mound.

Your heart was pounding when he leaned in, his nose lightly touching you as he drew in a long breath and giving a pleased sighed. His nose pressed in further and poked at your glistening pussy, your thighs clenching in surprise while he happily took in your scent. Fuck, he was really just kneeling between your legs and smelling you. You were ready to protest and tell him that this was getting too embarrassing before something wet and hot slid against your folds, replacing your planned words with a yelp.

Hawks apparently approved of your taste, strong hands grasping the back of your thighs as he brought you in closer to fully devour you. Your cries were impossible to hold in while he lapped at you, mind becoming too clouded with pleasure to stay modest. He moaned loudly into you, the erotic sound vibrating against you, tongue fondling every inch of your folds before his lips closed around them, sucking greedily and almost making your knees collapse. You were getting close, grasping onto his head in a desperate attempt to stay balanced, his mouth now assaulting your sensitive bud. Your blissful whimpers joined the filthy sounds of his feasting when your orgasm washed over you like throbbing magma. Once your legs lost the last of their strength, Hawks set you down gently on the floor, still licking your sensitive lips.

“Ah, Hawks…too much…” You whined weakly.

He got the message and pulled away to immediately climb over you, giving you a clear view of his face glistening with your juices. Bright wings were fully spread out once more; it feels like you were about to be taken by an angel, the most savage angel you could ever imagine.

He came down for a sloppy kiss, spreading your own womanly nectar all over your lips. “Hope you’re nice and ready now. Ready to take everything I’ve got.” He mumbled against your mouth. You couldn’t help but smile and feel grateful that even in such a frenzied state, he was still kind enough not to jump you the moment you were within sight.

You brought a hand up to caress the side of his face, watching his eyes flutter shut as he leaned into your touch like the needy animal that he was at the moment. His body was still unnaturally hot and he was still breathing harshly. It’s time to finally give this poor man some relief.

“Go ahead, Hawks. I’m all yours.” You were indeed ready for everything he has.

Hawks said no more, gripping himself and aiming right for your opening. The moment his head was pushing past your lips, he thrust forward, filling you completely and knocking the wind out of you.

You honestly thought he came right then and there with the totally profane howl that left him. “Fuck…!” he choked, looking on the verge of tears. Despite the seemingly paralyzing pleasure, he wasted no time in moving, his pace quickening at an alarming rate. Your pussy was still sensitive from his wonderful licking, his dick currently sending painfully powerful shocks that you just weren’t ready for, and yet heat began to pool within your core for a second time. Your arms were wrapped around his sweaty form, nails biting into his skin and forcing rugged grunts out of his throat.

The wet slaps of your bodies rang throughout the room, your limbs quivering as he pumped into you faster, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, full and prepared to pour every drop of its contents into your womb. Hawks had buried his head into the crook of your neck, letting you feel every breathless moan right against your ear.

All you could do was hold on and take the increasingly rough pounding. His rhythm was sloppy from the start, but the thrusts were becoming even more irregular as a sign that he was already reaching his peak. Not surprising, given the state that he’s been in all day. One well-aimed thrust hits your sweet spot, making you moan loudly against him.

The sound eggs him on, driving his hips at a bruising pace and fuck it feels so good it hurts. Your eyes shut tightly as another orgasm breaks free, your feminine walls clamping around Hawks, squeezing his own climax out of him. You gasped at the powerful throbs of his cock as it shot out stream after stream of cum inside you. The purely animalistic growl that rumbled through him had you shaking in the best way while you watched his wings twitch and flap, hitting you with a light gust.

After an impressive amount of spurts, Hawks collapsed on top of you. He was heavy, but having his weight on you like this was pretty nice. You rubbed soothing circles around his back, listening to the rather inhuman cooing sounds he made in response.

You just had sex with Hawks, your favorite hero and the very man you were paid to look after. Oh man, how badly have you screwed up your relationship? Not that you two had much of a bond in the first place, but now things will most certainly get even more awkward.

A twitch inside you interrupted your thoughts. What the hell? Hawks’s breathing was accelerating again as he suddenly lifted his weight off of you, and that’s when you realized even though he came, he was still hard.

With newfound energy, he pushed your thighs towards your chest and rammed into you before you could even register what was happening. His new angle had you seeing stars with each thrust, hitting you even deeper than before. The sensation was dizzying, your overstimulated body beginning to throb all over. Hawks had the most obscene expression on his face, glazed eyes watching your tits bounce while his mouth hung open, drool trailing down his chin. You didn’t know such a look existed outside of adult videos, and having it aimed at you was enhancing your stinging pleasure.

Looking down granted you the view of his drenched dick pushing into you, each slam of his hips rocking you into the carpet, which honestly burned like ouch. Thankfully Hawks was reaching his tipping point once again, his hips moving at a bruising pace before one final smack. You were spoiled with another wonderful image of his head thrown back as a choked moan escaped him, another round of cum shooting into you.

He finally slid out of you as he sat back to catch his breath, wings limply dropping to his sides. Finally. You didn’t know how much more your womanhood could take. The strain of moving your legs made you wince. Did he have to pin you so roughly?

Hawks watched silently as you pushed yourself up. You felt behind your back and…dammit, you really did bruise back there. Maybe you should go find a mirror; hopefully it didn’t look too bad. You noticed that Mr. Horny Wings continued to just stare, pupils still enlarged and his dick was still hard what the fuck. He suddenly shifted onto all fours and crawled behind you. The light brush of fingers over your blemished skin made you shiver. They weren’t big enough to be that painful, but you still hissed when he applied a little too much pressure, making him pull away.

“Sorry.” His voice was still raspy as he apologized.

You shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Could’ve been wor—AH!”

Hawks shoved you forward, manhandling you until you were properly on your hands and knees. Fuck, your entire lower body was starting to ache, and here he was, ready to go another round. The head of his still-swollen dick was already pressing at your entrance. Grasping your hips, he pushed past your puffy lips and re-entered your heat. You bit your bottom lip and took the limitless strength in his hips, his balls sometimes smacking right into your clit and bringing you closer to your next climax.

His pace slowed down briefly in order to lower himself and suck at your bruises. “Nnngh, fuck, Hawks!” The combined pain and pleasure had your insides burning. He moaned and panted into your back, kissing up to your neck and sucking there as well. A pair of strong arms wrapped around your torso, pressing your body against his in an intimate embrace as he plunged into you more deeply.

It was impossible to not moan after each stroke. His face rested on your shoulder, and you reached behind to bury a hand in his hair. Shit, this was all getting so intimate. He was holding you and was so close, you could feel the ripple of his muscles as he caressed every inch of your inner walls. Your third burst of pleasure had you quivering against him as he continued to chase his own orgasm, stars appearing in your vision with each thrust. Hawks sank his teeth into your neck before bottoming out and releasing more cum inside you.

Both of you were lost in your sensual spasms before you collapsed. Hawks didn’t lay on you completely this time, his sweat-soaked form crouched over you, close enough to still be inside of you…

And rock hard.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

You stayed as you were, your face down and your ass up, as you felt him humping away at you again. You could barely whimper as your tender pussy took another pounding. Christ, why wasn’t he getting tired? If the quirk was getting any closer to wearing off, it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

It wasn’t long before he came again, grunting with each hard buck as he filled you with his apparently endless supply of cum. Was he done? Please be done. You turned your head just enough to check the state of his erection.

Nope.

Hawks had enough mercy to carry you to his much more comfortable bed before continuing. He took you again.

And again

And again.

You were positively ruined, no more strength left in your body as he repeatedly claimed you with fervor. Whenever it appeared you were getting uncomfortable in a certain position, he would simply switch things up before carrying on. Despite how utterly exhausted and raw you felt, your orgasms kept coming, every surge of pleasure clouding your mind more and more.

You had lost track of time. Was this his fifteenth go? seventeenth? Keeping count was becoming a drag. It didn’t help that Hawks was in too much of a trance to even speak, giving you nothing but moans and growls. At least he didn’t sound on the verge of tears anymore, so maybe he was making progress.

Another orgasm was approaching; could your tired body even handle it? You were laying on the edge of the bed as Hawks stood and fucked you. Even through all of the overwhelming passion, you never got tired of staring at his wings, the dazzling red never failing to mesmerize you. They fluttered rapidly as the tension in your core spilled over, your mouth opening in a silent scream and a blackness closing in on you with every blink.

Your body was finished.

———

Everything hurts.

That’s the first thing you noticed when you woke up and made the mistake of stretching. Your arms and legs ached, a sharp pain shot through your back whenever you shifted, and between your legs…well, the throb down there didn’t at all feel pleasurable anymore.

Still, you fought the pain to sit up and examine yourself. Your nether regions were surprisingly clean, almost as if someone had already taken care of it. With all of the cum Hawks pumped into you, it should frankly be an awful mess down there.

Speaking of, where was the guy?

“Hey.”

Oh, there he was leaning in the door frame. He had obviously tidied up, no longer a flushed and sweaty wreck, and was now sporting a pair of loose pants and a tee. You had never seen him looking so casual. It was probably a privilege very few had, and knowing that ignited something in your chest.

He glanced around before looking back at you. “You alright?”

Realizing you were just gawking at him and haven’t said anything yet, you coughed to ensure your voice was still clear and functioning. “I’m fine.”

He snickered. It was a sound you were used to whenever he knew he had the upper-hand in some way, but something about it felt softer this time. “I just fucked you into high heaven for a whole day.” He could’ve acknowledged it in a less shameless manner, dammit. “I just wanna know if you’re alright. You look pretty stiff.”

A jolt shot through your lower back in perfect timing with his statement, making you flinch. “Yeah, I’m—I’m pretty sore. Very sore,” you admitted.

“Ah,” He stood up straight. “I’ll go get some, uh, pain relief. Be right back.” And with that, he was out of your sight.

You waited patiently for his return, actually observing his bedroom for the first time. It was surprisingly bare, the room of someone who didn’t spend much time at home. There was a window that you didn’t notice and holy shit he was right. It was nighttime; you spent the entire day in Hawks’s bedroom. The fangirl in you was squealing in delight. You told her to shut the hell up.

The man returned with a glass of water in one hand, a pill in the other, and a set of clothes draped across his arm. “Here,” he handed the water and medicine over before sitting beside you on the bed. You gulped down the capsule, sputtering a bit as the cold water flowed down your dry throat. “I’ve got some clothes that might fit you well enough. Sorry about your suit. I’ll give you some money for a new one.”

He’s never sounded so wooden before and you couldn’t stand it. You let out your best good-hearted laugh as you took the offered clothes. “Stop that, Hawks. You sound as bland as your bosses right now,” you joked.

He laughed along with you. “Heh, sorry babe. Just worried that I came on a little too strong at the beginning there.”

You simply hummed in response. His clothes were so warm and smelled like him. Despite being surrounded by his strong scent for hours, you still welcomed it.

“So…looks like you’re feeling better.” You took in his appearance again now that he was closer. There was still a tinge of red in his face, but he seemed overall back to his usual relaxed self.

“Oh yeah, much better. The feeling’s still there, honestly,” he saw your eyes widen and instantly blurted out, “Just barely! I can ignore it and think clearly just fine now.” A boyish smile spread across his face. “Looks like I’ve got a hero. You really saved me back there.”

A ridiculous snort left you after hearing such praise. “Is that all it takes to be the great Hawks’s hero? I’m flattered.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” He looked you square in the face, and you couldn’t look away from his sincere expression. “It’s never been that bad before. Not gonna lie, I’m embarrassed you saw me like that. That was worse than all of my teenage ruts combined. Damn villain’s quirk really messed me up, felt like I was going fucking rabid. I don’t know what state I’d be in if it weren’t for you.”

Your mouth opened and closed, unsure of how to respond to his gratitude. “You’re welcome,” was all you could say. “You don’t need to feel bad about it. It’s…” You looked down at your feet. “It’s not like I didn’t like it. It was very draining, honestly lost track of time at a certain point, but it, uh, it was an experience.”

Hawks nodded in response. “Sure was. Never thought I’d rail a girl so hard and for so long that she’d pass out. I’m impressed with myself.”

“Hawks.”

He hung his head in mock shame. “My apologies, ma’am! I completely forgot that such vulgar language isn’t tolerated around you.” And there’s the infuriating grin that you were beginning to miss.

Both of you were laughing, slowly melting away the tension and stress that filled the room since morning. This…this was nice.

“So, you probably still don’t feel all that great, sooo…” Hawks rubbed at the back of his neck. “You wanna stay for dinner? Already ordered a chicken pizza with some wings.”

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows. “Taking me to dinner after the sex?”

“Hey now, you know me. ‘The hero who’s too fast for his own good.’ Sometimes I miss a step or two.” He winked before getting up to leave. “You just lay there and rest, and go pee already. Don’t need an infection on top of everything else you’re going through. I already cleaned up the horrifying scene between your legs.”

You shuddered at the crude comment before falling backwards onto the poor mattress that had endured so much today.

Tomorrow, it will be back to professionalism. Back to pretending that you’re Hawks’s superior. Back to sucking up to the Commission. You’re going to cherish every minute of tonight, enjoying the company of Keigo Takami, not Hawks.

A shout echoed from downstairs. “The bathroom’s still empty, babe! Get your ass in there and pee!”

[ratcatcher0325]

Nobody’s Fool (Final Chapter)

Chapter #50. Wow. This is where our story comes to an end. I think Penn’s gonna be okay, after all! Don’t you?

Quick Note: If you haven’t had a chance to listen to any of the music up until this point I HIGHLY recommend giving the last song a listen. It’s awesome and obviously inspired this whole story!

Previous: Chapter #49

Chapter #1 (In case you wanna start all over again)

And if you still wanna read more, I have 3 Bonus Chapters. They are rewrites of the first few chapters from Penn’s POV. Start reading the first one HERE.

CW: Adult language ________________________________________

NOBODY'S FOOL

Chapter #50: Nobody’s Fool

Word Count: 3,087 Read Time: Approx. 25 mins

[Penn's POV]

For the first time in a long time, I was nervous to perform. Like, really, nervous to perform. Eveline had explained to me that millions…. Literally millions of people would be watching me live tonight. I swallowed back the lump in my throat. This was bigger than anything that had ever come before, by a long shot. The whole world was going to see me, little me, right before their eyes doing what no pet had ever done before.

When I really started to get fidgety I stopped and thought that alongside the millions of humans staring at their phones or laptops or T.V.’s on this night… there might be millions of pets, just like me, who caught a glimpse of the screen from their cage in the corner, or heard me speak from across the room. People like me, would get to see themselves reflected in my image. I tried to imagine my teenage self, tortured, terrified, nursing his fresh bruises from the day… I tried to imagine that kid getting to see someone like himself, happy, strong, and, most importantly, free up on the screen. What a difference that would have made for me back then. Maybe I could do the same for some kid out there right now.

Suddenly, I wasn’t so nervous anymore… I was honored to be here. As if on cue, a PA popped her head in to tell me it was time. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I couldn’t help pressing my hand to the glass. Before I had a chance to think, I was in Eveline’s cupped palm. She stared down at me, mouthing, “I love you…” as a crew member cued us to go on. I squeezed her thumb as she took her first step forward.

I could hear, through the muffling thickness of the backstage curtains, the affable and melodic voice of the host as he introduced me, “And tonight, we have a very, very special guest. So special, in fact, that he’s the first of his kind to be on our show. If you haven’t seen or heard of him yet, we’re sure you won’t forget him after tonight, after all, good things come in small packages, don’t they?” There was audience laughter and applause, “Over the last year, he’s become somewhat of an unlikely indie rock phenomenon, playing and writing his own music, and here to promote his first album release, please join me in welcoming….. Penn, ladies and gentlemen!”

Here. We. Go.

The studio lights blazed in all their blinding glory directly into my eyes, I stood, holding on to Eveline’s thumb for balance as I waved. The audience was ecstatic. Cameras were all around. I found myself sliding off of Eveline’s hand onto the hard, flat surface of Jackie Cohen’s desk. The studio crew had arranged for a proportional replica of the chair guests normally sat in to be made for me, placed just shy of Jackie’s right elbow. The man staring down at me seemed friendly enough. He had a drawn, thin face, with blue eyes and a shock of dark hair that was cut neatly and parted. He wore a simple grey suit. I offered my hand and he warmly accepted with just his finger. Everyone adored that. When the crowd’s noise finally died down, he cleared his throat and began.

“Wow! What a warm welcome! I’m amazed, for such a little guy you seem to already have a big following!! I mean, look at this face! Can, can we zoom in here?” Suddenly two fingers were pressing into either side of my face, squeezed between thumb and index, “You’re just the cutest little thing in show business, aren’t you?” He released me and I sort of stumbled back into my chair. My face burned hot. This isn’t how we’d rehearsed this. Before I could protest, he carried right along, “So, Penn, you were recently touring with the band Sticks and Stones…” cheering from the audience, “Oh I see we have some fans here today. But, you recently decided to go solo, is that right?”

“Yes, that’s correct. I felt I could make a stronger impact if it was just my voice—“

“Oh! Look at you using such sophisticated language! Did you rehearse in front of the mirror a whole bunch for this interview? He’s doing a great job, isn’t he, ladies and gents? Let’s give it up for Penn! Alright, it’s time for a quick break but when we come back we’ll get to hear a performance from the world’s tiniest musician, live, here in our studio! So stick around!”

Some crew member in the distance shouted that we had stopped airing for commercials. The second that we went off air, I stood up from my seat, “Uh, excuse me, Mr. Cohen? This isn’t going how we discussed… I thought I was getting a full three minute segment to talk about my advocacy and where the proceeds of my album are going—“ not only was he not listening to me, he couldn’t even bother to glance in my direction. Instead, as though he couldn’t hear me at all, he played some mindless mobile game on his phone. As I continued, he reached absentmindedly over my head for his mug, which he brought back towards himself, almost clocking me in the back of my head, if I hadn’t ducked.

Then, in the middle of my sentence he started speaking without looking up, “Sally? Can I get last looks? I’m feeling a bit of sweat in my hairline…” seemingly out of nowhere, a makeup artist appeared, touching him up. “Perfect, you’re a doll, Sally. It’s why we love you!” Dumbfounded I just stopped speaking. Suddenly, the woman’s eyes were on me as she squinted, taking in all my details.

Without asking, she shoved a brush, as large as my head directly in my face, poking me in the eyes, mouth and nose. I immediately sneezed from the sudden invasion into my nostrils. She looked disgusted as though she would need to go burn that brush now. “S-sorry…” I mumbled as she disappeared. We were nearing the final few minutes and as I tried to catch my breath and gather my thoughts, that massive mug came swinging back again, this time threatening to land directly on top of me. This host, whom I was coming to respect less and less, still refused to remove his eyeline from his phone, so he’d nearly placed his steaming hot mug of coffee on top of me. I yelped in surprise and narrowly sidestepped the incident.

No sooner had I landed on my feet from that ordeal, than I felt a tug on my collar as I began to be lifted off the ground. I whipped around, over my shoulder, to see what was happening to me, and realized the PA from earlier, again without asking, was plucking me up off the desk and into the air. She could tell I was a little frightened by her sudden movements and at least bothered to look in my general direction as she addressed me, “We’re sorry, but the rest of the interview has been cut for time. We are going to go straight in to the performance and that will conclude your time with us.” She said this as nonnegotiable fact. My heart sank, all while my brain raced at the speed of a bullet train. I had only about 45 seconds left to change, get my equipment and get settled on the stage. My heart was pounding.

I had decided that for the performance, I wanted to dress down from the suit I wore for the interview. I wanted to wear something similar to how I’d been dressed most days under Claire’s ‘care’. I wanted to look like the pets who would hopefully be watching this too. That was it, then. If all they were going to give me was this one song, then I had to bring my absolute best and hope this could still make an impact… however… small.

I tore off my clothes in a little alcove between the table that my set was placed on and the set itself. Hurriedly, I threw on gray pants, a white undershirt and black dress shoes. My heart thundering in my chest, I clamored on to the set, a sort of box that had been erected specifically for me. Instead of something silly and patronizing, they had actually managed to painstakingly construct a proportional studio space for me to perform in. The room was decked to the nines with details: wooden flooring, an ornamental rug, an entire grand piano behind me! This way, when they filmed me, the audience would see someone no different than any other human musician. They would focus on my sound. They could see me up close in all my minor details. They could recognize me as a person, an artist. This was Naomi’s stroke of genius.

I stood before my microphone, that familiar chrome gleaming in the lights. I’d wanted to wear my hat but was told it would cast too many shadows, so I laid it nearby on a perfectly sized three-legged stool to my right. Instead, I put on a pair of headphones, which, unlike the recording studio, were purely cosmetic and actually were just a tiny bit too large for my head, so I had to keep pushing them up to keep them in place. I rested my heels on the now familiar pedals of my drum and tambourine as I stared above me, waiting for the signal that we were live. If this was all I had been given, it was time to make it count…. The red lights of the cameras flicked on, someone signaled me with their hand and…. I began to play.

[LINK to Video] (Author Note: A chance to see Penn in action!)

My heart was practically in my throat when I began, but I just kept returning my thoughts back to some pet who might be watching, who felt worthless and alone just like I had. I thought about looking that kid in the eye and showing him what we were capable of, with just a little love and compassion in our lives. I thought about all of the humans who owned pets, who maybe were watching me perform right now and found themselves enjoying the music, idolizing the lyrics and arrangement of a mere little nothing like me. Maybe, just maybe they’d stop thinking of me, of us, as little nothings after all. Maybe Jackie Cohen would do the same.

I bobbed and bounced and picked and sang. I was on fire and I knew, the moment I finished the song, I’d done an excellent job. The studio erupted in applause. The second we broke for commercials again, that same PA returned, this time with a whole different demeanor. There was a sparkle in her eyes as she leaned down to me. “Wow! You’re pretty amazing… what’s your name again?” Even as Eveline offered her hand to me to take me backstage and leave, the host himself, stopped us and shook my hand.

“You’re pretty talented, there, squirt. Keep it up!” Well, that was something.

Obviously, the Jackie Cohen show had not turned out to be the advocacy launch we had hoped for. Although, the video of my performance soon went viral. Insanely viral. Upwards of one hundred million views viral. I continued to work a press circuit, I performed at live events, private concerts, answered internet Q & A’s, auctioned off autographed memorabilia… I did it all. But the thing I was most proud of, was the beginning of my foundation. With Eveline and Naomi’s help, I managed to found my own charity tasked with finding safe and loving homes for sick, injured or abused pets as well as bringing awareness to all of humankind about us as something more than just living dolls.

It was thanks to this organization that a true once in a lifetime opportunity came along. I was asked to interview with the BBC in conjunction with the European Union to discuss the legality of personhood for petkind. This, of course, was a legal long shot, and not even something on the books within the American government, but still, I felt strongly that I could be a face and name to this vital discussion.

The interview was to be held in Chicago. The night before, Eveline helped me to pack. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good! Great, actually. I know every single one of my talking points by heart. I feel ready.”

“That’s good. I know you’ll do amazing. I just wish Late Night could have been that for you…”

“I know. Me too. But we can’t look at it as a total loss. I’m more popular on the internet now than ever before because of that one video. That’s something. That has to count for something.”

I was suddenly wrapped all around by her warm, enveloping touch. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I love you, I’m proud of you and I’m gonna do everything in my power to help you change the world. Even if it’s one painstaking step at a time.”

The morning of the interview I felt good, relaxed even. I had written a song specifically to broadcast as part of the interview that I couldn’t wait to play. When we arrived on set, I sat where they told me to, let them adjust my microphone, my hair, my tie. The person interviewing me was a sharp, yet warm woman probably in her early sixties. She had a blonde bob cut sharply and precisely, her glasses balancing ever so precariously on the bridge of her thin nose. “How are you, Penn? My name is Charlotte. Is my team keeping you quite comfortable? Can we get you anything? Water? Coffee? Tea?” She was British. I politely declined.

“I want you to know before we begin that I’m just delighted to have you here. I think I can say with certainty you are the most unique interview I’ve ever had, in all my years in this business.”

Lights were flicked on, focal lengths set, cameras and sound rolled and suddenly it was go time.

“Penn, welcome to the BBC, on behalf of the United Kingdom and the European Union, we are delighted to have you. Now, for those who are unfamiliar, and there are less and less nowadays, please tell us a little bit about yourself, other than the obvious.”

“Thank you, Charlotte, for having me. It’s truly a great honor to get to speak about something so near and dear to my heart with you today. As you can see, and for those at home who can’t, I am actually a pet, so I’ve never exactly expected to ever do something like this, to put it lightly. My name is Penn and I am a musician, and songwriter. I love music with my whole heart but once I had the opportunity to pursue this dream, I realized I had to use it as a force for change and and a chance to make a difference. So I’m very happy to be speaking to you today, about that.”

“One of your videos, a live performance on Late Night Tonight has gone massively viral hitting over one hundred million views. Now what do you say to your detractors who are outraged by this performance? There are many who say the way the set is arranged and the video is shot, there was intentional deception involved in order to make you quote, ‘appear to be an actual person and not just a pet playing pretend’”

“But… I am a person. Just because I’m smaller in stature than the human race doesn’t mean I’m not otherwise in every other way wired just like them. Just like you all, watching this right now, I have dreams, just like you do. Fears. Wants. Needs. And, I think, most importantly, love. Just like you, I have the capacity for love, compassion and understanding. As do all pets. If you could stop for a moment and see us for who we really are, you’d begin to realize how twisted, sick and cruel it is to essentially enslave us  for your own entertainment.” There was a palpable shift in the room. I knew I was butting right up against the line of acceptable levels of outrage. I thought back to something Travis had said to me a lifetime ago, when I had first decided to play in the band. “You can’t come flying out of the gate screaming about injustice. People won’t listen…”

He was right, of course. Travis was always right. I had to win humans over through adoration and empathy. “And that is why, I’m honored to be engaging with you today to discuss legislation that could radically change the way that humanity coexists with pets across much of the western hemisphere.”

“And I understand you’ve written a new, never before heard, song for this occasion?”

“Yes. I’d love to share it with you and the world. I hope that after today, if I can shift just one heart and mind, it will have been worth it….”

I shuffled from my interview chair to a new set, all white (I was told they were filming this performance in black and white) and sat down upon my drum kit. This was probably my greatest creation yet. This was the first song that I felt I was speaking not to humans, but pets, directly. I steadied my heart as my fingers approached the strings… and I played.

[LINK to Song] (Author Note: This is the final song I suggest listening to!)

I loved the soft, dreamy melody I had crafted. It gave an air of loneliness, loss and truth that I desperately wanted to get across. I sang about what it was like to be so powerless in a world designed to keep me restrained. I sang about my lack of agency. My fear of my own legacy. And finally, the most important lesson I had learned since that night in the snow in Seattle… that I was who I chose to be, never to be restricted by anyone else ever again. I sang the final stanza directly to the camera. I hoped the pets who were lucky enough to hear and see this would feel, for a moment, like a fellow pet was looking them in the eyes and acknowledging their existence.

As I relished in the drafty silence of the seconds after the final strum died out, I couldn’t help smiling. I, Penn, was here, and, against all odds, I was going to change the world.

The End.

-------------------------------------------------

Author’s Note: I can’t thank you all enough for coming on this 50 day journey with me and continuing to read, reblog, comment and like. It has meant the world to me that this little story has entertained you! And if you read it all, congrats! You just read the equivalent of an entire novel about this dumb little cowboy and his friends! Thanks SO much for your dedication!

And don’t worry, I think Penn and Eveline and the gang are going to have more adventures in the future. I have a whole plot line for a sequel in my head. But for now, I’m going to take a break... because, phew! That was a lot of work! 

By all means, please continue to submit art, asks and the like if you feel so inclined! 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 19 - ao3 -

Time passed, as it had a tendency to do.

After Cangse Sanren left, Lan Qiren remained in seclusion for the next two months, reviewing texts on the Lan sect rules regarding reciprocation, filial respect, and loyalty, and occasionally playing some new pieces – he’d started composing music as well as simply learning it, and that was a finicky business. Not only did he need to worry about the musical composition itself, like any normal musician, but there was also interweaving the spiritual energies and figuring out the way the song could be used as a spell, which was a completely different and often completely contradictory set of rules.

Moreover, the most powerful song-spells, he knew, were the ones that incorporated and drew on emotion, and he’d always had difficulty with those. Like most of his clan, Lan Qiren cleaved towards the more intellectual melodies, difficult but cold and distant, yet if he wanted to be truly innovative, he would need to find melodies in his heart.

Not long before he went to the Nightless City he had been inspired in a dream with a half-snippet of sound, which he had been painstakingly building up into a song in fits and starts, but recently he had found that whenever he played it the only image that came to mind was that of pearls scattered amidst blood-red mud.

The song was good, though, although it felt unfinished and incomplete. After he emerged from seclusion, he played it for his music teacher, first without qi and then with, demonstrating the suffocating and asphyxiating feeling of it – a heavy stone sitting in the midst of his chest, all his misery and anxieties wrapped up into musical notes – and his music teacher had been thrilled.

“You were born to write tragedies, child,” he said, examining the score proudly. “This is not only good but innovative, a new style with unexpected effects. I look forward to seeing you refine this further, and to your future works.”

Lan Qiren saluted deeply.

Music was just about the only thing that was going right for him at the moment.

The other disciples had been lured back into gossip by his presence, consumed by curiosity, and the teachers had come down on it hard, breeding resentment; even his few friends had been made tired by the whole fuss and only wanted it to die down. The rumors went by swiftly and quickly, anything to do with the Wen sect or the Nightless City almost immediately spread around everywhere, reaching his ears almost immediately upon his exit from seclusion.

One in particular caused him alarm, suggesting that Madame Wen had been discarded or even killed immediately after successfully bearing a son to her husband, but Lan Yueheng had convinced Lan Ganhui, always good at making friends, to write to the Wen sect disciples he’d become friendly with in the Nightless City to find out the truth. In the end, it turned out that Wen Ruohan had merely grown more distant from her, instructing her to go into seclusion for the birth a little early, and had perhaps sarcastically sent her a few treatises on the subject of a wife’s duty to support her husband. In the end, Wen Ruohan was an ambitious and ruthless man who encouraged his sect to take him as his model - as he himself had remarked, Madame Wen’s viciousness in fact demonstrated how she was an excellent match for him.

Lan Qiren hated that he was relieved that Wen Ruohan had not taken out his rage at what had happened on his wife, who had instigated the incident. He hated even more his suspicions that Wen Ruohan might have refrained from doing so not out of morality but out of the thought that Lan Qiren himself might disapprove - he wasn’t sure if that thought made him happy or sad.

At any rate, he soon didn’t have time to worry about things like that.

Lan Qiren’s refusal to explain in any detail what had happened at the Nightless City that had sent him fleeing and retreating into seclusion was largely not accepted by his curious peers, especially when someone had jeeringly pointed out that he’d probably told Cangse Sanren the whole thing already, and he refused to go to his teachers to complain, as he had in his youth.

His brother hadn’t accepted it, either.

He’d given Lan Qiren ten days after exiting seclusion, clearly expecting him to come and report on what had happened. When Lan Qiren had not done so, he had finally grown impatient and found him, demanding to know what it was that he had done that had caused such a fuss.

Lan Qiren had knelt and declared that he was unfilial and disobedient, that he had broken the rules, and requested that his brother punish him for his wrongdoing.

His brother had stared at him for a long time before realizing that Lan Qiren was serious – that he would rather be punished for intentionally breaking the rules against honoring and obeying his elders than tell what he had done or what had happened. Even when he was dragged to the hanshI, his collar pulled tight in his brother’s fist until he was thrown down to kneel in front of their father the sect leader, Lan Qiren did not object; he knelt without complaint, and even pressed his forehead to the ground in deference, but he did not speak.

The punishment his father decided upon for him was harsh, but Lan Qiren accepted it willingly. By the rules of his sect, an accepted punishment expiated a breach of the rules; once punished, he could no longer be persecuted for what he had done to earn the punishment. It would be over and done with.

Of course, there were always ways around that.

Technically, Lan Qiren’s breach was not in refusing to tell what had happened, but in disrespecting his elders by so refusing. A few days after he recovered from his initial punishment, his brother, still furious at having been denied, asked him the same question, with the same result. Their father looked disapprovingly at his eldest son – deliberately exploiting loopholes was not good etiquette – but again imposed a punishment.

Lan Qiren gritted his teeth and endured.

Lan Qiren’s brother did not bother him a third time, but by then it was too late; their relationship continued to deteriorate. Lan Qiren sought to avoid his brother whenever possible, and his brother’s disappointment in him grew; although he did not explicitly complain or impose punishments directly, he made his views clear. Those disciples and teachers that most admired him were, as always, more than willing to follow his lead and fill in the gaps, and for one reason or another Lan Qiren spent more time in the discipline hall than ever before. 

Eventually, noticing the division, others in the sect sought to reconcile them – their teachers, in the most part – but Lan Qiren rebuffed them, having noticed that their requests to be more considerate and free-minded were always aimed at him and never to his brother.

After poor Lan Yueheng, who never cared about anything but his alchemy and his mathematics and, possibly, the particularly indulgent outer-sect female disciple that guarded the stockroom of the ingredients he used to make things explode and regularly looked the other way when he came to get an extra helping, got roped into trying to tell Lan Qiren to be more forgiving, citing rules about fighting within families leading to nothing with a miserable and bemused expression on his face, Lan Qiren went to the teacher in question and rather acidly pointed out the discrepancy.

“He’s your elder,” the teacher said.

“Do not disrespect the younger,” Lan Qiren retorted.

“He’s your family ���”

“Am I not his?”

The teacher sighed. “It’s not the same, with him. You know how he is – how he’s always been.”

Lan Qiren knew. Still, he said, “If you can identify where my conduct does not live up to the rules, please do so, and I will consider if my conduct requires modification. At the moment, I do not.”

“Qiren…”

“Why must I always be the one to yield?” Lan Qiren demanded. “I didn’t answer one question, and I took the punishment for it, as was my right. He is the one who is insisting on making a fuss, not me – why come to me? I don’t want anything from him.”

“That’s the problem. You shouldn’t fight so – why this, why now? You’ve always yielded to him before.”

Lan Qiren said nothing.

“He’s still your elder brother, Qiren. Soon, he’ll be your sect leader.”

“Do not fear the strong; do not bully the weak,” Lan Qiren said. “Being sect leader makes him more responsible, not less.”

“Qiren –”

“I have been a good brother to him for nearly twenty years, honored teacher. Perhaps not the most promising, perhaps somewhat embarrassing, but devoted in my own way. I have not changed so much. I am still loyal, still filial; I still do all that I am asked…the only thing that changed is that I expect nothing from him.”

Not even his love.

Lan Qiren knew better, now. He’d seen what a brother could be, what it should be - he’d experienced, however fleetingly, having someone genuinely care for him, listen to him and indulge him and take joy in his company; no longer would he accept his brother’s barely concealed disdain as an adequate substitute.  

“Qiren –”

“Has my father said anything?”

His teacher fell silent.

Lan Qiren bowed his head, having expected nothing better. His father was growing more and more distant from the world, less and less interested in the minutiae of everyday life; he could still stir himself to care for his precious eldest son, the child of his heart, but his oft-forgotten and overlooked second?

Unless Lan Qiren’s brother had complained about him, his father was unlikely to remember that such a person as Lan Qiren even existed.

“Does father hate me?” he asked, emboldened by his misery. It was the question he had always wanted to ask and had never dared to, and his teacher flinched as if struck. “Is that why he never saw me?”

“No,” his teacher said. “No – it wasn’t…”

“Does he blame me for my mother’s death?”

“He blames himself,” his teacher said, and sounded tired unto death. “From the very first. He thought that if he had not been sect leader, they might not have lost their children; if he was not sect leader, it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d had only one child left. But he couldn’t blame the sect, so he blamed himself – you don’t know how bad it was, Qiren; you don’t know what we all went through back then. When your mother died, he even lost his mind for a time.”

“What does that have to do with me?” Lan Qiren demanded. His hands had clenched into fists at some point, his knuckles pale and white. “If he blames himself and not me, then why did he – he never –”

He barely even saw me, he wanted to say. I am his son, just like my brother, yet it’s as if I don’t exist.

Why couldn’t he love me, too?

“You were very young,” his teacher said, his voice suddenly very distant as if he were remembering something. Lan Qiren looked at him in surprise. “I shouldn’t tell you this, but...she had just died, and he had lost his mind; none of us had realized the extent to it, thinking it merely grief. You were young, you didn’t understand. You ran to him, seeking comfort, and he nearly – he couldn’t risk having such a sin on his conscience, Qiren. You should not blame him.”

“What are you saying? That he neglected me and held me at arms’ length to console himself for nearly murdering me?” Lan Qiren asked, and thought back to all the times he had found himself afraid of his father’s glacial voice, terrified for no reason. If his father had tried to kill him in a rage, as his teacher suggested, shouldn’t he have been more scared of the heat than of cold?

Unless - his brilliant and accomplished father, who always acted as the rules said he should but who had lost his heart along with his wife - unless he had knowingly - 

Perhaps it had been the sect that had ordered their separation, not his father. Perhaps his father, who had spent years going through the motions of leadership and caring only about the son that reminded him of his wife’s joy and not the one who reminded him only of her death - his father, who led their sect and raised his eldest son and in so doing taught them all to be like him, overly partial to favorites and overly harsh to those that did not meet expectations - perhaps he had not objected to that arrangements. Perhaps it had been the elders that had set the rule of meeting only once a month, rather than not at all.

Perhaps they had thought that it had been for Lan Qiren’s own good that they had done so.

Perhaps they thought it was for his own good that they encouraged him to yield now to his brother’s temper, to humble himself despite having done nothing wrong, and all for the sake of familial peace.

That was not the conduct mandated by his family’s rules. Not the ones he followed, anyway.

It’s his fault, Lan Qiren thought suddenly. He saw the path we were walking down, my brother and I, and he did nothing to stop it; he loved my brother too much and me too little, and ruined us both through his negligence and indifference. He made my brother think he deserved the world that he then had to hold up on his own, while he made me think I deserved nothing...he could have done better by us. He should have done better by us.

Finding that his teacher had run out of things to say, Lan Qiren saluted him once again.

“I will be filial and loyal, as the rules require,” he said simply. “I will respect and honor my father and brother. Do not doubt that.”

He said no more. Instead, he returned to his quarters, wondering if they thought he was happy about how things stood between him and his brother, who he still loved.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

He thought miserably to himself that he had been happier living in denial, pretending to himself that there was brotherly affection between them, that his brother’s coldness was only because Lan Qiren had spoiled things somehow by being inferior than his brother would have preferred. When he could love his brother whole-heartedly and think to himself that his brother secretly loved him back, when he suspected but did not know that that had only ever been a lie he had concocted for himself. He had been far happier back then than the way it was now, when even the paper-thin one-sided façade of love was gone.

The saddest part of it all was that Lan Qiren still loved his brother, his stupid Lan heart as inexorable as a mountain avalanche already set in motion. He just didn’t much like him.

He did like Wen Ruohan, the brother that liked him back and might even have loved him if a man such as him could recognize such a tender emotion, but that wasn’t really relevant.

Lan Qiren knew his duty, whether to his sect, to his brothers, or to morality. He knew what he had to do.

For his part, Wen Ruohan waited over a month and a half after Lan Qiren’s exit from seclusion before trying to reach out again by mail. No doubt conscious of his dignity and ego, the powerful sect leader that no one ever really denied, his letter talked around the subject in Wen Ruohan’s usual high-handed manner and evaded either apologies or explanations; from his tone, it was likely that he expected Lan Qiren to respond in anger and denial, or even not to respond at all. Instead, Lan Qiren wrote back obediently, reporting dully on his daily life. When pressed, he even wrote a short summary of his ongoing projects, copying the words precisely from the submissions he made for his teachers to avoid excessive enthusiasm.

Wen Ruohan’s letters developed a certain level of concern after that, which Lan Qiren ignored in favor of continuing to respond politely but unenthusiastically; a filial younger brother, just as he was to his own blood brother, and nothing more. At the next discussion conference, he saluted Wen Ruohan to the exact degree required by their relationship and called him xiongzhang as a respectful younger brother ought; Wen Ruohan had an expression on his face that suggested he had bitten into a sour lemon and stepped in dog shit at the same time, and his eyes followed Lan Qiren around for the remainder of the afternoon.

Lan Qiren was concerned for a while that Wen Ruohan would try to summon him once night fell, forcing the issue, but he was saved through an unexpected twist of fate – namely, that Jiang Fengmian had, like all the others, completely misinterpreted Lan Qiren’s relationship with Cangse Sanren. The Jiang sect heir marched up to him not long after the opening ceremonies had been completed and asked him, stiffly, to swear that he had no interest in the lady and would not communicate with her in the future. Lan Qiren, thinking primarily of their friendship, refused, and then Jiang Fengmian punched him right in the face.

Lan Qiren might be cold and standoffish as a rule, but he did have a temper, and that temper did not hold with being assaulted over things that weren’t even his fault – neither of them were even involved with Cangse Sanren! – and having been so thoroughly goaded he had no choice but to hit back.

In the end, Cangse Sanren had slapped Jiang Fengmian silly and Lan Qiren’s brother had sent him to kneel in disgrace all night, reminding him no fighting without permission and with his eyes silently promised additional punishment when they returned home.

Wen Ruohan didn’t disturb him that night, and Lan Qiren was able to persevere. Indeed, Wen Ruohan troubled him much less than he’d feared, opting in his hurt pride to instead turn to Lao Nie and stay remarkably close by his side – Lao Nie was the one who looked apologetically at Lan Qiren and tried to find time for him, whether to invite him on outings or to scold his brother for the apparent breakdown in domestic tranquility. For his part, Lan Qiren ignored Lao Nie and didn’t hold it against him even when he started showing up to the discussion meetings with distinctive red marks on his throat.

All right, he held it against him a little.

How Lao Nie had such bad taste, Lan Qiren had no idea. Surely he, unlike Lan Qiren, had known enough to realize that Wen Ruohan was an evil man…?

Probably he had; it was only that he didn’t much care. Lan Qiren had promised to try to stop lying to himself about people he liked, and that meant he couldn’t pretend that Lao Nie wasn’t a remarkably callous man at times, ruthless and careless with anything that was outside his sect – even his friends. There could be no doubt that he loved them, sincerely and honestly, and yet…

Lan Qiren was a little disappointed, but not much, knowing that he, too, was irrevocably bound to such a man as Wen Ruohan. He couldn’t blame Lao Nie for the same thing he himself had done. 

Mostly he was just pleased that his suspicion regarding their relationship had been confirmed, even if somehow – unbelievably – no one else seemed to notice it.

In fact, he thought it might mark the very first time in his life that he’d figured out something interpersonal before other people had. Normally he would report it to someone at his sect as soon as he noticed that they’d overlooked it, wanting to do his best for them, but the sensation was too novel and his relations with his sect a little too cold at the moment; he hugged the knowledge to his chest instead, enjoying the brief warm feeling of knowing something other people didn’t.

He intended to tell them, of course, once they returned back to the Cloud Recesses, only they had barely brushed the dust of their journey off their shoulders when they were summoned to the gathering hall for what everyone had now expected for years: Lan Qiren’s father, eyes blank, made the announcement that he was officially setting the date for which he would be retiring as sect leader and retreating from the world, going into seclusion to try to break through the boundaries of cultivation and reach the heavens in a single bound or else die in the attempt.

Lan Qiren’s brother, naturally, would inherit.

He was as fresh from the road as the rest of them, but with his hands behind his back, standing beside their father, he looked as fresh and untouched as a new-bloomed orchid, as beautiful as a polished piece of jade. His eyes reflected the dichotomy that Lan Qiren had learned governed his brother’s life: pride, for the power that he was going to inherit and the accomplishments that everyone agreed made him worthy of that inheritance, and envy, looking at his own father with jealousy, longing also to withdraw from the weight the world had placed on him and do what he could on his own, unburdened by others.

Lan Qiren’s brother, Lan Qiren had learned, saw everything in his life through the prism of himself – did others have something he wanted, did he have something that they didn’t, how did he compare, was he being compared…when he got something into his mind, he cared for nothing else but how to achieve it, no matter the cost, and most of the time he was successful, too. He was fundamentally self-sufficient, requiring nothing and no one but himself, and so was capable of performing miracles – if he was motivated to do so.

Lan Qiren was much less capable. He was lacking in cultivation, lacking in social skills, lacking even in a similar degree of independence, longing as he did for the company and acceptance of his peers even as his introversion demanded sufficient time to himself. There was no way in which he was superior to his brother; in every respect, he was inferior.

And yet, sometimes, he thought that his brother was jealous of him, too.

(Their father retreating into seclusion meant that they would both be losing him – but it was really only Lan Qiren’s brother that lost something. For Lan Qiren, what he mourned was only the absence of what had never been there, and he had finished mourning for that already.)

In the end, the main change occasioned by the impending change in leadership was that Lan Qiren’s brother grew too busy to pay much attention to Lan Qiren, much to his relief. Relations between them grew…not warmer, no, but less fraught, and although Lan Qiren knew he ought to celebrate, he mostly mourned that the cause of it was not a real mending of fences but rather his brother simply forgetting that he existed, just as their father always had.

Lan Qiren took the first opportunity he had to get out of the Cloud Recesses, even attending a party to celebrate sworn brother’s new son with relatively little issue. During the visit, Wen Ruohan ignored him in favor of sticking ever closer to a strangely distracted Lao Nie, almost as if he were deliberately slighting Lan Qiren for having been cold in their last interaction and for not answering his letters the way he wanted. Lan Qiren briefly felt hurt at having been put aside and forgotten so quickly - assuming that he had been forgotten, which he wasn’t sure of, as Wen Ruohan ignoring him sometimes seemed almost performative - but then reminded himself that this, like his poor relationship with his blood brother, was only the results of his own actions, and those of others.

He didn’t – regret it, not really. He’d lived his life by the Lan sect rules, and he didn’t regret doing so now, no matter how lonely the results might make him feel.

Instead, he returned to the Cloud Recesses and began to plan out in earnest his plans for departing the Cloud Recesses to travel the world as a musician, the goal he had set since he was young and was finally, impossibly, on the verge of satisfying. He would need to stay for his brother’s ascension to sect leader the next year, he thought, and perhaps for a year after that – just because their relationship wasn’t good didn’t mean he was entitled to do things that would let other people talk about it – but after that…

After that, he would go.

He would make new friends, or not. He would learn new things. He would see what the world was like.

Sooner than he thought, Lan Qiren turned twenty, thereby finally becoming an adult. The event took place with little fanfare, and Lan Qiren sent back the gifts he received from both Wen Ruohan and Lao Nie unopened with a polite note indicating that he was unworthy of such attention, and Cangse Sanren’s with a much more emphatic note reminding her that he was largely uninterested in sexual matters and therefore had no need for these sorts of implements. 

His brother got him new guqin strings, the same gift he always gave – Lan Qiren had once been very happy to receive it before he realized that it was the storeroom distributing the gift in his brother’s name – and Lan Qiren returned that as well. Lan Yueheng was the only one who successfully managed to give him a gift by virtue of sneaking the fancy brush he’d bought for him into his table in such a way that Lan Qiren utilized it before realizing it was new, and then refused to take it back on the basis that it had already been used. He looked so pleased with himself over his little trick that Lan Qiren didn’t have the heart to scold him.

Time continued to pass: day by day, night by night, season by season.

And then she arrived.

[n0wornever]

Wish You Were Sober - Luke Patterson x Reader

Based on the song by Conan Gray :)

“Are you sure that you don’t want to come?” Alex questions, giving her a quick side hug.

She sighed, leaning into him for a second. “No, I really don’t want to be around drunk people tonight.”

Alex rose an eyebrow “Or is it a particular drunk person...”

She pushed his shoulder back, a smirk sneaking forward on her lips. She shook her head at him as she pushed him toward his car. She watched her friend’s jeep pull out of her driveway and gave him a half-hearted wave. 

Her phone buzzed, a new message blasting to the front of her screen. She rolled her eyes as she read his name. She opened the device, reading through the message. 

“Alex told me you’re not coming tonight. Bummer :(” 

She tried to fight the grin that stretched across her face at how quickly he had figured this out. She had just told Alex no longer than 10 minutes ago. She really wanted to say something witty, but the her racing heart betrayed her and fogged her thoughts. She sat down on her front porch stair, typing a weak response.

“Sorry :(”

Three little dots danced across the conversation, falling after a moment. Left on read. She shoved her phone back into her pocket as she walked back up the stairs to her house. 

Y/N wasn’t opposed to high school parties. Give her a few drinks and she may convince you that she actually enjoyed them. It was the overall sinking feeling she got in her stomach as she watched him clumsily stumble around the room with a pretty blonde on his arm that made her dread events. She knew it was petty to avoid social gatherings entirely because of one person, but she had convinced herself that the only way to get over her crush on her neighbor, Luke Patterson, was to cut off communication cold turkey. 

They had wandered into each other’s lives three years ago, when Luke’s parents purchased the house next to her own. Their mothers being the hostesses that they were, pushed for joint family dinners and barbecues to get to know everyone. Y/N would usually make herself pretty scarce, bringing her ukelele down and sitting on their old swing tied to the tree in their yard, watching the interactions from afar. 

That was until Luke made it his mission to walk over and break the silence. As he approached her, he pointed at the instrument in her hand and smiled. “You play?”

“No, it’s for show,” She said, strumming it again. 

Luke laughed at her, placing his hand on one rope attached to the swing. She tried to distance the eye contact, but fell victim to his dark green eyes. “For how long?” 

She moved her eyes back to the instrument, fiddling with the third string in her hand. “A few years now...” she trailed off. 

“Nice. I play guitar and....” She took note of his wandering sentence, looking over to see his jaw locked as he stared at her. “And you don’t care about anything I’m saying.” 

This brought a smile to Y/N’s face, letting her nose scrunch a bit. “It’s nothing personal, just don’t like forced interactions.” She starting to play a soft melody, looking over at her mom, smiling wide at whatever Luke’s dad said. 

“Unfortunately my mom is the queen of hosting.” 

Luke nodded, his eyes darting from the table back to her. He nodded his head back in the direction of his house. “We could ditch and just jam in my garage?” 

Her hand stilled. She looked over at her mom pulling out a phone with most likely a horrible old image of her in pigtails. She met Luke’s eyes again and nodded. “Quickly, please.” 

He moved back from the swing, letting her plant herself back on the ground before leading her across the lawn. 

From that day, Luke and Y/N had an interesting relationship. They weren’t exactly best friends, but they were able to bond over their love of music and their hatred of family events. Y/N would use his quiet personal refuge in his garage often just to strum her uke in someone else’s presence, the two rarely talking. 

That was until Luke would cave and play a part of a song for her review. She always giggled at the boyish glow in his eyes when he played something for any willing audience. She’d give him notes and listened to draft after draft until it was completed. 

It was about a month ago when she realized her feelings toward the guitarist had changed. One night she snuck over the fence for a first in-person event that Luke’s new band held. There were only two people in attendance, a pretty brunette who was attached to Luke’s waist, and Y/N. The boys were going to run through a few songs before the next battle of the bands. 

Luke’s eyes met hers with his bright smile. “Y/N you made it! Josie will have someone to sit with.” He beamed down at the girl next to him. 

She awkwardly planted herself on the couch next to the girl, mumbling a ‘hi’ in her direction. The interaction cut short by Josie turning away from her, the obvious conclusion that the girl was going to gawk at the musician the whole time. Y/N curled her feet underneath her, rotating from scrolling through social media and listening to the boys.

As her eyes gravitated toward the stage, she watched as Luke smirked at Josie, shooting a wink in her direction. She felt this feeling in her stomach that made her want to throw up, shoulders sinking lower. Alex’s eyes met her from behind the drumset for a moment before she moved back to her phone. 

As the guys put away their instruments, Luke ushered Josie into the house. His  drummer jogged over to meet Y/N at the couch. “You okay? You seem even more disengaged than usual.”

She let a little smile curl on the corner of her mouth as she met his soft eyes. “I’m fine Alex, just felt a little awkward.”

Alex placed his drumsticks in his back pockets, shifting his weight to his left side. “You can just say you don’t like Josie?” 

Y/N stammered “It’s not that I don’t like her, I don’t know her I just...I don’t know.”

He eyed her up and down “I think you do. And I think the reason is inside right now with another girl.” 

She bit her lip, throwing a pillow at the boy in front of her. Alex dodged it, laughing to himself. 

She’d never been jealous before, but she didn’t like how nauseous it made her. This feeling followed her to every party or event that she went to. Luke would always bring some new girl on his arm, and she’d watch as he’d twirl her out onto the dance floor or catch them sloppily kiss each other in the kitchen while blacked out. 

So she stopped going to parties. She didn’t expect Luke to notice, they didn’t even really talk at those events. They would say hello and Luke would try to get her drunk 90% of the time because he had determined that she needed to ‘let loose and have fun.’ She would roll her eyes and down a shot so he’d leave her alone. 

Instead, Y/N spent most weekends with Alex or Reggie or Julie, and nights by herself in her room with her ukelele and a notebook. She’d started writing music when Luke formed the band, inspired by her friends’ talent and her budding feelings she toward one particular band member. She was happy that she had finally started writing songs instead of just strumming to Colbie Caillat lyrics all the time. It was the first time she felt like a true musician.

She pulled out her notebook and tucked her pen behind her ear, pulling her uke to her chest. She hummed for a moment, staring up into the distance as she thought. A few moments later, she grabbed the pen quickly and scribbled a few lines down on the page. She continued this pattern until she had finished the bridge of her new piece. As she set down her pen, there was a knock at her window.

She grabbed her keys, equipped with a small pocket knife and pepper spray and inched toward the glass. As she got closer she could make our curly brown hair. as she leaned into the futon, she looked out to see a wide-eyed boy staring back at her.

“Patterson, really?” She shook her head as she unlocked the window and pulled it up. 

The boy fell into the room heavily, automatically making Y/N worry about her parent’s wandering ears. She held up her finger to her mouth. “Quiet or I’ll kill you.” She walked past him to stop the cold air from seeping in.

She stomped back over to stand in front of the boy, hands on her hips. “What are you doing here?”

Luke’s eyes were barely open, and she could smell the whisky from her safe distance. He stumbled a bit as he tried to walk forward toward her. She grabbed his hand and led him back to the futon. He leaned his arm on the back of the seat, looking at her with a smirk pulled onto his left cheek. 

“Y/N, I missed you tonight.” 

She rolled her eyes “Did you really climb on my roof to say that?”

He nodded, moving closer to her “You’re avoiding me.” he said, lip jutting out into a pout.

“No I’m not.” 

His eyes tried to widen at her and she pursed her lips. He put his hand her thigh as he spoke again in an animated whisper. “I think you are, and I’m not happy about it. Y/N I thought we were friends.” 

Her heart thumped at this statement. She did feel guilty about ignoring him without giving him a reason. He was so busy with school, the band and girls she didn’t think that his neighbor leaving him alone would be an issue. Luke’s hand came up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, giving her a wider smile. 

“You look pretty in this light,” He slurred, body moving forward toward her. 

She had to shut this down. She felt goosebumps raise on her arms as his hand trailed down her left side. He was drunk out of his mind right now. She couldn’t deal with the very real emotions she was having about this moment, as it was clear that this blank stare and dilated pupils were the only things present on his end. She stood up from the couch and held out her hand for him to take.

“I think you should go,” Luke rose to meet her, hand coming to grab at her waist.

“Y/N, wait.” 

She shook her head, moving over to the window. This drunk idiot was lucky she lived on the first floor. She pointed outside as she looked back over at him. His eyes drooped as he stumbled across the floor. He placed a foot outside before turning back to her once more.

“Y/N..”

She cut him off, rubbing her right eye with her hand “Just go, Luke, we’ll talk later.” He frowned at her before disappearing out into the darkness.

She shut the window and moved over to her bed, flopping onto her back. She pressed her fingertips to her temples. She sat back up to pull back her covers before getting underneath them and shutting off her light.

Early in the morning, she woke up to her mother yelling to her from the kitchen. She crawled out of bed, pulling her slippers on her feet before opening her door and moving sluggishly toward the next room. Her mom was hard at work at the stove, making Sunday breakfast. He mom’s eyes met hers with a soft smile, eyes fogged under her glasses from the steam. 

“We have a visitor this morning,” She stated. 

Y/N gave her a confused look before she saw the small smile on a certain brunette’s face as he sat at her kitchen island. She was tempted to run back to her room, feeling faint from the heat rushing all over her body. Instead, she crossed her arms in front of her as she walked slowly toward him.

Luke looked at her with wide eyes, “can we talk.” She sighed, looking at the way his twiddled his thumbs as he spoke. 

She gave him a small smile, pointing out of the room. She looked over to her mom before heading toward her door. “Let us know when breakfast is ready, I just have to show Luke something real quick.” Her mom beamed at the pair, nodding. 

Luke trailed behind Y/N as she led them to her room. She pulled the door open and let him walk inside. She shut the door behind them, turned on the light before walking over to sit down on her bed, staring over at him, standing with his hands in his pockets. 

“I’m sorry about last night..” He started in a low voice. “I don’t know what came over me.”

She shrugged “it’s fine Luke no need to make it a big deal.”

He shook his head at her. “But it is. Y/N, you’re avoiding me and I wanted to ask you about it for weeks but only drunk me had the courage to come over and do it.”

Her eyes widened. “Luke, I-” 

He interrupted her “Don’t try to make me feel better, Y/N. I can see right through the act.” her shoulder slumped as she watched his eyes narrow at her. “What did I do?”

She ran her hand through her hair, standing up straighter. She watched as his eyes fell toward his shoes, taking a deep breath before addressing him again.

“Luke, I wish I could tell you. I- you never noticed I was there anyway so I didn’t think the distancing would be this complicated...”

His head perked up, frowning at her. “Y/N what are you talking about, we talk like everyday.” 

She rolled her eyes “Yes, it was just hard to do so when I have to be around all of your lady friends every time i’m over. Their energy is always weird and I feel uncomfortable.....”

She watched as his expression changed to one of anger “So I can’t have people over to to my own home when you’re around?” 

She shook her head, feeling her heart rate rise during the conversation. “No, Luke that’s not what I meant, Jesus Christ, I-” 

He towered over her, practically seething as he talked “Then what is it.”

She put her head into her hands, steadying her breathing before looking back up at him. “It’s because I like you Luke, okay? It’s hard to watch you be all over other girls when I’m dealing with the fact that I want to be with you. Are you satisfied with me embarrassing myself now?” 

His mouth ajar, he froze looking over at her. She moved from her bed over to the futon near her window to avoid his eyes. She leaned against the back, staring outside. After a silent second, she felt the cushion fall next to her. His hand came up to her shoulder, causing her to look at him again.

“Y/N, I had no clue...I..”

Tears in her eyes, she chewed on her bottom lip as she studied him. “How would you possibly know, I never acted on anything. I’m sorry I even said anything.” She gave him a pointed look as she watched a sad look paint across his face. “Please don’t feel bad for me, just...just forget I said anything.”

He ran his hand through his messy hair “It’s hard to forget a fact like that, Y/N.” They stared at each other for a moment before he moved his hand to her cheek to wipe her tears. She tried to ignore how the closeness made her chest tighten.

“Can it be my turn to be honest now?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

She nodded, sitting back to get a better view of his face. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before moving his eyes back to hers. 

“I had a crush on you the day I met you,” he started, Y/N pulling a confused face as she listened to him. “But you were so distant, I got in my own head and decided that you weren’t interested. I’ve been dating around because I didn’t think it’d affect you, because you saw us as friends. Now I see that I wasn’t as observant as I thought I was.”

She watched as his hand moved over toward hers, touching it softly as he looked at her, waiting for the okay. She nodded slightly and he wrapped his fingers around hers. His smiled grew and he squeezed her hand softly.

“I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, unintentional or not, I never want you to feel like that around me,” He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. 

“Luke I told you it’s alright. I should have been honest and not iced you out. I promise it’s-” 

“Y/N, if you say it’s fine one more time...”

“But it is I-” Her voice was cut off by his lips pressing into hers. She let herself melt into his touch for a moment before they pulled away. As her eyes fluttered open, she was at a total loss. 

“I still like you, Y/N.” She felt a familiar feeling rush to her cheeks as he rubbed her thumb against the skin. The right corner of his mouth rose into a smirk, basking in her silence.

“If that’s what it takes for you to shut up, count me in.” He joked, bringing his free hand up to her neck and kissing her again. 

.

.

.

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Tag list: @xplrreylo​ @lovesanimals​, @anythingandeverythingfandom​, @crybabyddl​, @oswin05​, @themaddies-obx​​, @lukeys-giggle​​, @bumbleberry-pie​​ @kiss-themoongoodbye​​  @marinettepotterandplagg​​, @lolychu​​, @bathtimejish​​, @dasexydevitt13​​ @musicconversedance​​, @txrii​​  @bestdressedandstressed​​ @daisiesforlacey​​  @epikskool​​  @bookfrog247​​ @carleywhittaker​​ @princessvader15​​ @rudysbay​​ @spooky-season-bitch​​  @kcd15​​ @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall

[sunkaashi]

solo carol  — oikawa toru x reader

genre: angst with a fluff twist.

warnings: none.

word count: 1.6k

synopsis: sometimes, the holidays can bring out the best and the worst feelings in ourselves. being away from home during this time of year just makes it specially harder. oikawa toru always knew exactly what he wanted in life, but he never thought achieving his dreams would cost him so much.

tris' note: this was inspired by the song “only the brave” by louis tomlinson, but i'd say I added a lil of a twist to it. if you want, you can listen to it to help you get into the narrative. reblogs are always deeply appreciated and help me tons! ♡

a special thanks to @tetsunation for reading the first draft to this, and to @hcn421​ for helping me with my block ♡

© sunkaashi — 2020.  all rights reserved. do not repost, plagiarise it, translate it nor reproduce this post as your own.

Shades of red and yellow illuminated the street cobblestones, the gleaming Christmas lights guiding his way to a yet unknown destination. As he walked down the avenue, Oikawa let his eyes wander all over his surroundings, his gaze running almost as fast as his mind did. Despite that, Toru paced slowly along the sidewalk, soaking in the scenery before him. It really was a beautiful view.

But it wasn’t about the garlands wrapped around the streetlights, nor the shiny golden ornaments that delicately hanged from them. Even the decorated trees didn’t quite catch his attention that night. It was something else that fought for his heart instead. Something that he hadn’t had a taste of for a while now.

And tonight, his undying desire felt like being parched while standing in front of the sea.

Cheerful laughs echoed through the air as little children sprinted past him, unaware of the man’s presence. Yet, he didn’t mind, his sheepish giggle joining theirs. Downtown street bars buzzed with loud chatter, smiles painted on unfamiliar faces as a natural halo appeared to involve every single one of them. The warmth Oikawa felt rushing through his core had nothing to do with the sultry weather, rather, it emanated from that sight before his eyes.

Still, he seemed to lack a light of his own, and basking in other people’s glow, as joyful as it may be, comes with a price. Toru was left alone, only his shadow accompanying him through the night.

Staring at his silhouette reflecting onto the ground, the man moved his hand out of the pocket and to his nape, carefully watching his own contour mirroring him in every move. And even with every step taken that assured him a bond between himself and the dark figure, he still felt like something was out of place.

Oikawa could feel his slouched shoulders pushing him down. For a man who always stood with his head held high, there was only so much he could take. As he dragged his feet through the curb, he asked himself when it all changed so fast.

A quiver took over his body as if he refused to admit to that idea. He had it all, didn’t he? He sneered, lightly shaking his head. If he acted tough enough, maybe his thoughts would catch up to his actions, right? At least that’s what he wanted to believe.

Cracking his neck, he looked up to the clear summer sky, determined to push those thoughts away as if doing so would make it all magically fall back into place. As his eyes met the silver shimmer from the stars, which were shining a little brighter than they usually did, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the beauty of it. Most of all, he was struck by what it reminded him of. He thought back to Miyagi. To Japan. To home.

“Oji-san!” His nephew came running down in his direction, almost knocking him over with all the strength in his little body. “You’ll never believe what Santa got me for Christmas! Guess it, guess it!”

“Wow, calm down, kiddo!” Toru laughed as he held the 6-year-old into his arms. “Hm, let me think…” He said looking up to the ceiling and softly clasping his chin. “Legos?”

“Better than that!” The little guy answered while squinting in joy, eyes twinkling in a way his uncle had never seen before.

“Hm, a bike?” He asked calmly, messing with the kid, knowing that was the present he’d gotten last Christmas. The teenager tried to hold back a giggle, but mocking his nephew was just too much fun. 

“No, oji-san! It’s the coolest gift ever! Try again!”

“Is it a rocketship?” Toru said, widening his stare like even himself would be excited if that was the case. But the child sighed, rolling his eyes. Hiding a smirk, the older boy decided to stop playing around, finally giving in to the youngster’s wishes. “I give up! I have no idea! What is it!?"

“A volleyball! Just like yours!”

Oikawa smiled at the reminiscences lingering in the air, the memories immersing his senses back to the time and place he never wanted to leave. Closing his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of his nephew’s embrace, a tight and cozy grasp around his neck, saying more than words ever could. But his daydream didn’t last long enough to suppress the void hoovering his heart. As soon as he opened his lids, he was taken back to reality.

And then, just when he thought there was nothing else that could haunt him that night, a sore sight caught his attention, putting out the last flicker of flame that rested in his almond eyes.

It was just a glimpse, just some little specks of sand running down the hourglass of his life. Those few seconds usually would barely mean anything in the long run, but tonight that was enough to wash away his beam. Slightly furrowing his brows into a hurtful look, he tried to fight back the tears threatening to fall down his face.

An innocent couple running across the street, hands intertwined in a knot while brief chuckles scaped now and then, an exchange of accomplice looks giving out their most clandestine thoughts. It was at that moment, when unforgiving loneliness meets undeniable happiness, that Toru fell apart.

Slowly, he made his way to the building next to him, leaning his back onto the brick walls of the construction. He stood there, swallowing down the feelings that begged him to be screamed out.

He always knew he’d have to make sacrifices for his dreams. But all out of all the things he missed, there was only one that he would never forgive himself for letting go. And as he watched love surrounding him from every corner, it was impossible not to think of it. Not to think of you.

Raindrops cascaded down the windows of the apartment as the man dove himself further under the covers. Shrinking his body between the sheets, Oikawa felt a too familiar touch enveloping his torso, comforting him with a warmth that even sunlight could not compete with.

“Couldn’t you just stay like this all day?” Toru groaned as his fingers found their way to your locks, gently caressing your hair. 

“Mhm?” You hummed in response, too disoriented by your lack of sleep to even process what he was saying. Leisurely, you opened one of your eyes to peek at your boyfriend, lips instantly curling up into a smirk. 

“Nothing, love” He chortled. Oikawa didn't need to ask you again, he’d found his answer in the way you looked at him.

"Someone woke up in a good mood." You said, trying to tease the boy. "Santa must've gotten you a very special gift." 

"I'm looking at it right now." 

Brushing against your skin, his other hand played with the buttons of your shirt, the one you were too tired to take off the night before.

“I’m going to miss this. Miss you.” 

“I’m not going anywhere. Not now, at least”

“But soon you will” You paused, a heavy silence filling the room. “Toru…" Before you could finish your sentence, he delicately pushed you away, placing one of his hands onto your chin, obliging you to look into his eyes. 

"Please… Let’s not think about that now.” Pulling you closer to his body, he held you tighter and tighter by the minute, afraid that if he ever let go, you’d slip away.

And you did.  

Looking back at it, he regretted everything. All the words left unsaid, all the things he should've done so that he’d have you in his arms right now. But you couldn't leave it all behind just to follow him to the other side of the world. Even if you wanted to, he would've never had the heart to ask you such a thing. 

So you both decided to break it off.

Yet, it had been two years and there wasn’t a single day when you didn’t cross his mind. And right now, when the pounding sound of bells resonated throughout the air, bringing him back to earth, Oikawa believed it must’ve been some kind of sign that you were the person he was thinking about. It was only then that Toru realized he was standing at a church. 

Step by step, he moved away from the wall, drawn by the chimes warning him that it was already midnight. Christmas time. Walking towards the olden gates of the holy ground, he contemplated the image in front of him, being hit by one final blow.

Families gathered all around the church, the words "Merry Christmas" being repeated over and over again as everyone exchanged smiles and caring hugs. Even if he wasn't necessarily a religious person himself, let alone christian, Toru still felt inspired by the passion radiating from them.

As the mass finally started, the loud buzzing of the crowd quieting down, he closed his eyes, his mind transporting him to the place he wanted to be.

So he decided to pray. Pray for his loved ones. Pray for you.

He asked for your health, for your well-being, for your happiness and, as much as it hurt him, for you to find love too. The loneliness he felt was something he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemies, and you just happened to be one of his favorite people in the world.

Oikawa didn't even know whom he was praying to. Even so, his wishes were so pure that someone must've heard him because it was in the moment he said his last prayers that his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. A call coming in.

When he saw the name that popped on the screen, Toru thought his eyes were probably deceiving him. That's just what his heart wanted to see.

But as soon as he picked up the phone, your unmistakable voice woke him in a rush. 

Maybe there was something magical about the holidays after all.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Thinking about how the octatrio was in a band in middle school, do you think whenever they put on a performance in the lounge the rest of the dorm would make up the rest of the house band? I bet Octa A-kun would rock the trumpet!

I’m sure Azul could pull some strings and convince some of his students to pitch in for the performances.

I know this ask wasn’t meant to be a writing request, but I felt inspired to make some mob student content, featuring Octavinelle A-kun, aka Kon~ and a Free! Iwatobi Swim Club reference

Imagine this...

Octa A should have known that trouble would be afoot (... er, afin?) as soon as he was called to his dorm leader’s office. Nothing good usually came of such summons--they typically led to prepositions that Octa A would rather not get involved in... And as luck would have it, that was exactly the case.

“A-A live musical performance? H-Here, in the Mostro Lounge?”

“Precisely.” Azul rose from his desk and clapped his hands together. “Customers are willing to pay for not only food, but for the experience that comes with their meals. Fear of missing out on these limited time offers will drive sales up. That is why we offer seasonal menu items--and that is also why I intend to hold a live musical performance.”

The octopus bore a deceptively sweet smile. “Of course, you will assist us... Won’t you, Kon-san?”

“W-With all due respect, dorm leader... W-Why me? I’m... I’m not r-remarkable in any way... I-I’m pretty much just a nobody, a background character...”

“On the contrary, my dear background character,” Azul chuckled, pulling open a drawer and fishing out a folder secured with a paperclip. He slid it toward Octa A, who nervously picked the folder up. “I had Jade do a bit of digging into your background, you see.”

Octa A blanched, his hands going clammy.

“I hear that you are proficient in the trumpet. Back in middle school, you played for the band--first chair. You will find the full collection of pieces you have performed, in chronological order, in that folder if you don’t believe me.”

“I-I...”

“It would be a shame if you didn’t put that talent of yours to some good use. Squandered!” Azul paused dramatically, then added, “Ah, and of course, there will be a cash incentive if you lend us your aid.”

“A cash... incentive?”

“I imagine that you would tire eventually of the cup ramen that you constantly dine on,” Azul spoke lightly, his blue-grey eyes glimmering. “30k Madol for a few hours of your time. That is more than generous, yes?”

He hesitated. “N-No strings attached?”

“No strings attached. Just play your heart out alongside us--that is all that I ask of you.” Azul extended a hand and a warm smile. “So... do we have a deal?”

Octa A perched on a slightly raised platform--the area that would soon be his stage--as he polished up his old trumpet. Its brassy shine was finally starting to return.

He had done it; he had accepted the gig--but his stomach still roiled with unease. Rather than feeling like an old friend had returned, Octa A only felt as though he were holding a lump of cold metal in his hands.

He glanced out into a sea of tables and chairs, only to be met with a single golden eye in the darkness.

“Konbu-chan,” Floyd drawled, “Are you practicing your trumpet?”

“S-Something like that.”

“Ne, ne, if you need to practice, play a song for me!! It’s boring cleaning up all these tables without something to listen to!”

“F-Floyd-senpai, it’s been a while, so I’m rusty... P-Please give me some time to get used to it.”

“Mmm? What, you can’t just blow into it?” The eel tilted his head to one side. “Aaah, that’s so different from playing the drums. Ehehe. It’s so easy to just belt out a tune on those!”

“... Not all of us are gifted,” Octa A mumbled under his breath.

When you're ten, they call you a prodigy. When you're fifteen, they call you a genius. Once you hit twenty, you're just an ordinary person.

Octa A had always been ordinary.

He stared down at the instrument in his hands. As a child, he had adored the glisten of the trumpet, the bold sounds that came out with each breath he passed through. He had loved it so, so much--had put his soul into each piece that he played... Until, one day, he realized.

He would never be remarkable.

And so, he had faded into the shadows and embraced normalcy.

“... Hey, Floyd-senpai.”

“Yeah?”

“D-Do you think I deserve... all of this?” Octa A gestured vaguely to the lights overhead. “Th-This role... this attention... being at NRC... sh-sharing a stage with you, my talented senpai...”

A brief silence followed his question, punctured only by Floyd’s exasperated sigh.

“Eeeeh? I don’t understand you at all, Konbu-chan. If Azul picked ya, then that’s that. You’re thinkin’ way too hard about these things.” Floyd picked up a fork and lightly tapped it on the rim of a glass. A small chime rang out. “Just cut loose and enjoy making music!”

Cut loose and enjoy making music...

Octa A’s brows furrowed as he considered the words, turned them over in his head. The image of his younger self, happily blowing into a glass jar to produce breathy notes, resurfaced. His music was clumsy, still finding its footing--but each step was one made with joy in stride.

He lifted the trumpet to his mouth and blew.

The note that resounded was clear as a bell.

Violet liner glided across Octa A’s upper lash line, flared out into a wing, then tucked under his lower lashes. He flinched at the unfamiliar feeling and balked away from his makeup artist’s touch.

“Do hold still--or I may very well poke your eyeball out with the pencil,” Jade warned, though the curve to his lips suggested that he would not mind at all if that were to happen.

“Y-Yes, Jade-senpai!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He set down the eyeliner and peeled off his gloves, dipping his digits into an open tub of a gelatinous substance. “Now then, tilt your head up and close your eyes.”

Octa A obeyed.

Robbed of his vision, he was left to rely on his remaining senses to piece together his surroundings and experienced sensations. The distant footsteps of clamoring customers being seated for the big show, the muted strums and toots of instruments being tuned, the hammering of his own heart...

Cool, near wet fingers deftly weaved through Octa A’s hair, pushing his locks back. Stray strands fell at his temples, framing his eyes.

Then came a spritz of cologne at the nape of his neck, under his chin, and on each of his wrists. It smelled of the sea and salt and sorrow, bundled in sandalwood.

“There. All done,” Jade announced, prompting the mob student’s sight to snap back to him. He handed Octa A a handheld mirror with a polite smile. “Fufu. A rather cohesive look, if I do say so myself.”

Fitted in a crisp white suit, black dress shirt, and a lilac bowtie, the young man in the mirror looked ready to tackle the world. His makeup was impeccable--and with his hair parted back, his maroon irises shone like jewels.

“I-I don’t... even look like myself.” Octa A cautiously put a hand on his cheek--just to make sure that the stranger in the looking glass was, indeed, the plain old Kon that he had always known. “D-Did I become a prince or something?”

“I have merely transformed your appearance into something befitting the band’s aesthetic.” Jade adjusted his own lilac tie and passed a glance at the clock. “The magic only lasts until midnight, Kon-san. Do take care to not ruin your ensemble until the show is over.”

“Y-Yessir!” Octa A abruptly stood, trumpet in hand, and bowed in deference.

“Jade. Kon-san.”

Octa A raised his head to find Azul and the other Leech twin approaching, dressed in a similar attire as he and Jade were. Floyd expertly twirled around two drumsticks in his hands, while their dorm leader carried a folder of piano sheet music under his arm.

“There you are. The show is about to start. Are you ready?”

“Once I procure my bass, yes.”

“A-As ready as I’ll ever be...”

“Excellent. Then, let us make this live performance a memorable one for our dear customers. Come! It’s showtime.”

“Y-Yes! I’ll... I’ll do my best! I won’t disappoint you, D-Dorm Leader!!”

Octa A stepped onto the stage, embracing the lights, and the audience that awaited him.

[ananicoleta]

I’ll Always Be Here

Summary: Penelope makes a last second decision that she does not want to be in Space Jam 2 without Pepe, and she quickly goes home to comfort him.

Hello, everyone! I’m back with a new fic about Space Jam 2, this time focusing on Pepe and Penelope. This fic was inspired from and ask, submitted by anonymus on @thebrownssociety 's account. They said they didn't want to write it, however, so I did instead (with their permission of course).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. They all belong to Warner Bros.

Enjoy!

“Ms. Le Pew, filming starts in ten!” The voice of a staff member reached Penelope’s ears, muffled by the door of her changing room.

“I’ll be there in a minute!” She called back. Then, there was the sound of footsteps walking away, meaning that she was all alone again.

Penelope sighed and looked at the scrip in her hands. She had tried memorizing the lines all morning, but with no result. Her brain just couldn’t process the text, the words danced in front of her eyes and the letters all became hieroglyphs with no meaning. No matter how much she tried to concentrate, her mind always drifted away, far from the Warner Bros. lot, far from the film set and the film itself, traveling all the way back to her home, where she knew there was her husband, alone.

It was so unfair. 

Pepe didn’t deserve all the hate and backlash he had gotten. Her beloved had done nothing wrong ever! All those people that claimed Pepe was encouraging a deviant behaviour had no idea what they were talking about. They didn’t know him, so why were they speaking like that?! Her Pepe, was the kindest, most romantic and gentle soul she had ever met. He would never hurt a fly, let alone do those kind of things.

But people didn’t seem to understand. No matter how many times Pepe and the other Looney Tunes tried to clarify this misunderstanding, how many times they told people those were just cartoons and they were just actors, how many times she tried to explain she had not been assaulted, their narrow minds just couldn’t comprehend it. In the end, the descision to remove Pepe from the movie and from the future Looney Tunes productions was made and, despite all the protests, no one had been able to do anything.

Those news had terribly depressed Pepe. Every single one of them knew how much the skunk liked acting and how fond he was of cartoons, so naturally, the whole situation was like a punch in the gut. He isolated himself from the rest of the world, which deeply worried both her and the rest of their family. At least Speedy, who knew better than any of them what it felt like to go through all that, had tried to cheer him up and comfort him, and to some extent, he succeded. Everytime Speedy talked to Pepe, he always felt better afterwards and acted a bit more like his usual self.

Still, concern always seemed to pull on Penelope’s heart strings, now more than ever, considering Pepe was all by himself at home, feeling lonely and depressed that he couldn’t be with them and do what he loved. And oh, how she wanted him to be near her right now! She wanted to hold his hand, as they walked on the film set, she wanted to hear him whisper romantic things in her ear, and then scold him because “it’s nor the time nor the place!”, but both of them knowing she liked it a lot. She wanted him to make her laugh and smile and fill her stomach with butterflies. She wanted...

Suddenly, she noticed a wet spot on her page and wondered what could that be. Then she noticed another. And another. Bringing her hand towards her face she realized that her fur was wet. She was crying.

Tossing the script aside, she buried her face in her hands and cried, and cried, and cried, letting all of her frustration out.

Knock, knock

Penelope jumped. “Who is it?”

“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Le Pew, but filming is starting now.”

“Yeah, s-sure, I’ll be out immediately.” She said, trying not to sound disstressed.

She got up and checked her reflection, making sure there were no clues that she had cried, then exited her trailer and marched towards the set, desperately whishing that Pepe was by her side.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Ms. Le Pew, are you even listening?” 

That sentence snapped Penelope out of her thoughts. She quickly realized that no, she had not been listening. Instead, she kept galncing at the empty spot, where Pepe should have been...

“I am sorry, Mr. Lee.” She apologised. “Please, continue.”

So, the man went on about how he wanted that specific scene acted and all that blah, blah, blah that Penelope, again, did not, could not, listen too. What was Pepe doing right then, as her and the others were filming? Was he feeling lonely or had he found something entertaining to do? At least that was what he had promised her that morning. I promise you, ma cherie, I will be fine. 

Those were his exact words. But the question was, did he mean them? Or they were just pretty lies, meant to chase away all her worries? Knowing how much Pepe loved her, she wouldn’t put it past him to hide his sadness just so she could have a good time...

Finally, Mr. Lee finished his rant and they were ready to film.

It should have excited Penelope. Ever since the first Space Jam released, she had dreamed of filming a sequel. Back then it seemed so exciting and fun to relive all that. Now, however, it was different. Suddenly, she realized that she didn't want to film at all.

“Okay, people, places!”

Just then, a thought blossomed in her mind. What if...? But no, she couldn’t do that. People were counting on her. She couldn’t possibly... Or could she? Truth was she didn’t play a big part and did not have that many lines, so it wouldn’t really be a problem if she left... would it? 

She looked around frantically. She had very little time to make a decision and she needed to make it right then!

“Ready! Actio-”

“Wait!” The word had left her mouth before she could even stop them. 

Everyone looked at her.

“Is there a problem, Ms. Le Pew?” Lee asked, confused.

“Yes, it is.” Penelope said. “I do not want to be in this movie anymore.” 

For a moment, silence engulfed the set. Then, the director’s voice rang clear, stuttering and, as Penelope had expected, trying to convince her against it.

“Ms. Le Pew, p-please, reconsider- I mean, you can’t- you can’t possibly-”

“Oh, I can. And I have.” She said confidently, ready to leave.

But Mr. Lee was not finished. Getting up, he marched right after her.

“Ms. Le Pew, why? Why do you want to leave production? Is there something wrong?”

“Yes, there is. My husband is not here and I don’t want to do this without him. Good day Mr. Lee.” And with that, she turned around and left, leaving behind a shocked director and a bunch of rather happy Looney Tunes.

“Guys, can’t you do something?” Mr. Lee said to the rest of the cast. “Convince her to come back?”

“For Warner’s sake, leave her alone, Doc.” Bugs said casually, munching on his carrot. “Even if we tried to convince her to retoin she’d refuse. Besides, we don’t wanna.” The other looneys nodded in agreement. “Now how ‘bout we get back ta filmin’?” The rabbit smiled (a bit) smugly at the director.

Mr. Lee sighed, realizing he had lost the battle, and yelled at everyone to get to their places again.

Meanwhile, Peneople was already out in the parking lot, unlocking her car, desperate to get to her beloved. As she drove back to Toon Town, not for one second did she regret her decision.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Pepe sat in his armchair, quietly reading.

It had been a long day. A long, boring day. His wife and friends had left in the morning to film Space Jam 2 and he had been alone ever since.

First, he tried taking a walk through Toon Town. Usually, a breath of fresh air, hearing the birds sing, the perfume of flowers and even the sight of other toons, going about their day, cheered Pepe up. It was so normal, so simple, yet he enjoyed it, and it reminded him to be grateful and take pleasure in the smallest things in life.

That day, however, it was different. The cent of flowers didn't smell as good as it did, the song of birds faded into obscurity, mixing with other sound and becoming insignificant, and the mere image of toons hurryig to work, filled him with depression. It reminded him he had no job anymore, no purpouse...

So he had returned home, picked his favorite romance book, Gone With The Wind, and sat down to read. But even that wasn't able to cheer him up.

He had truly lied to Penelope that morning. He was far from being fine. But, what else was he supposed to say? That he was sad and needed her there? How could he?! Penny had wanted to film that movie for so long. He couldn't take that away from her.

Just then, he heard the front door open and shot his head up in alarm. For a split second he thought someone had broken into his house (maybe some backround character thief that would be stupid enough to try to rob a house by walking through the fromt door?)

But, all his fears were cast aside and replaced with confusion when he saw his beautiful wife standing in front of him.

"Penny? What are you doing here?"

"I quit the movie." She said in an unaffected tone.

Pepe jumped on his feet. "Tu as fait quoi?!”

"I already told you. I don't want to film Space Jam 2 anymore." Her voice was, again, emotionless, showing absolutely no regret.

Walking towards her, he cupped her face in his hands. "But why?"

Pepe wasn't stupid. He had a hunch why she would do it. Yet, still he wanted to make doubly sure.

"Because I don't want to be in it, if you are not in it."

There it was.

Pepe sighed and caressed her face. "Ma cherie, don't let me spoil your fun-"

"But you're not! You never spoiled anything for me! Those bastards did when they kicked you out!"

"But you were so excited, Penny. You wanted this, so don't let me get in the way. Please, go back."

"But I don't want to!" Her voice now was hoarse and her eyes were filling with tears. "True, I was excited in the begining, but that changed when you were out. I don't want to do it without you, so don't ever feel guilty or say you are getting in the way. You are never getting in the way. It was my choice to leave, and I regret nothing, got it?" She was basically clinging to him now, gazing into his hazel orbs.

Looking into those beautiful eyes of hers and, seeing her passion, love and sincierity, filled Pepe with a strong emotion. Lifting her chin up a bit, he kissed his wife deeply. Penelope reciprocated this gesture, warping her arms tightly around his neck.

They stayed like that for a while, completely lost in their bliss. When they finally broke apart a few inches, Pepe had tears rolling down on his cheeks.

"Thank you for being here, my angel. Je t'aime beaucoup."

Penelope smiled. "I’ll alway be here, love. Et je t'aime aussi."

THE END

Translations: Ma cheire = my dear 

Tu as fait quoi?! = You did what?!

Je t'aime = I love you

Beaucoup = very much

Et = and

Aussi = as well

Thank you everyone for reading!

[erin-bo-berin]

My Heroine

MASTERLIST

This fic was inspired by the song My Heroine by The Maine which you can listen to here, if you’d like. The song I’ve come to realize sounds like it can have multiple interpretations, but I was inspired to use the whole “reader is Spencer’s drug of choice” plot. Not gonna lie it was rough writing about his prison trauma cause I consider it to be one of his biggest traumas, but I kinda wanted this to be a journey from his avoidance of it to his eventual acceptance, all while sex is his “heroin” or the reader is the “heroine” in his story. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 4,460

I’m feeling pretty dirty baby

Forgive my sins

I get the feeling you can save me honey,

My heroine

The silver gleam from the sharp blade caught his eye as it hit the light. In any other circumstances, the sharpness of it might actually be considered  beautiful.

This was anything but beautiful.

This was horrifying.

The metal was so closely pressed to skin that even a small flinch could draw blood.

“Never ever mess with a man’s stash on the inside. When you do,” the man paused for a second—a millisecond—before the knife sliced across the skin, ripping the hostage’s throat open.

He struggled against the person holding him, his momentary shock and need to help his friend making him fight the grip of the big man, even more.

“People get hurt,” the first guy said, backing away.

The second man let go of him, his friend falling to the floor, choking on his own blood. While they made their departure from the laundry room, he ran to his injured friend’s side, grabbing a towel to hold against the wound.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeated, kneeling over the only friendly face he’d known in the last weeks.

If he repeated it enough, he’d be okay. He had to be. 

“Guard!” he yelled.

His hands cradled his friend’s face as he lay gasping and wheezing, the fear in his eyes matching his own. 

In all the years, throughout all the things he saw that most normal people didn’t, he’d never been as terrified as he was right now. His heart raced from the fear and he was breathing heavy as he screamed as loud as he could.

“HELP! HELLLLP!”

Spencer shot up in bed, breathing hard.

His face was sweaty, his entire body was sweaty, in fact. His t-shirt clung to his skin.

He kicked off the covers, sitting on the side of his bed, running his hands through his hair. He tried in vain to calm his pounding heart and slow his breathing.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped. If anything, they’d gotten worse.

A rare burst of anger caused him to shove the object that was sitting on his nightstand, off of it with extreme force.

He glared at the journal on the floor where it had landed haphazardly. He didn’t want to write in it like his therapist suggested. It didn’t help him then and it wasn’t going to help him now.

He rubbed his eyes, trying desperately to erase all the images that constantly played behind his eyes, regardless if he was asleep or awake.

It was the middle of the night, but he knew what he needed. He grabbed his phone off the charger and sent a quick text.

I need a distraction.

The recipient would understand, he knew. It was only 1 am and they were known to be a night owl anyway. 

He grabbed a pair of pants to change into and pulled them on in place of his pajama pants. All he had to grab were his car keys and his phone and he was out the door.

-

It’d only been six months since Spencer had been released from prison in which he spent three long, grueling months in.

He had been framed.

That was the first thing he remembered thinking, even under the influence of heroin and cocaine, in which the unsub had drugged him with. He had been sitting in a prison cell in Mexico, but deep down he knew he hadn’t done anything, even if his mind was scrambled and tried desperately to convince himself otherwise.

Fucking Cat Adams. If she hadn’t been such a psychopath, he might’ve admired her intelligence and skills to pull off something so elaborate, but alas, she was.

Her and her female partner Lindsey Vaughn had been watching him, waiting to strike. All because Spencer had arrested Cat and outsmarted her. It’s where she belonged after all. She’d been a

hit woman, operating in the shadows of the dark web that even experts in the area couldn’t even fathom.

She, along with four other assassins had been working for years before any law enforcement even knew of their existence. Spencer and the rest of his fellow Behavioral Analysis team had been the only ones to get close enough to them. Close enough in fact, to take them all down, every last one.

Cat Adams though, had been the hardest one. She was one to play mind games and she hated to lose. Which she had against him; he’d outsmarted her and she was the one who’d landed in a prison cell.

Of course, being the kind of person she was, she wasn’t going to take that lying down. So, she returned the favor.

He had been determined to help his mother—Diana Reid—who’d been suffering from paranoid schizophrenia all his life, but now had been diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. He was smart, he was sure he could help her, fix her maybe.

There’d been a plethora of drug trials, medicine combinations, diet changes, but nothing helped. So without his teammates—who happened to be the closest friends he had—knowledge, he had been crossing the Mexico border numerous times to get medicine for his mother, one that was definitely not FDA approved.

It was one of these trips that Lindsey—and technically Cat too—had struck. 

She’d dosed him with a spray of scopolamine, pumped him full of cocaine and heroin and murdered the woman he’d been meeting to get the vials of medicine from.

It was bad, really bad. He was the prime suspect in the murder and that is how he ended up in Millburn Correctional Facility pending trial for three months.

Thankfully, the BAU had worked their asses off to clear his name, but in the time spent in prison he had experienced some pretty awful things.

If that hadn’t been bad enough, Cat had orchestrated another evil plan. Lindsey had managed to kidnap his mother.

Less than 12 hours after being released from jail, he was back in another one to face Cat again and play her games. 

She had been executed for her crimes and the additional charges she faced for framing him and kidnapping his mother. He wasn’t the least bit remorseful; if anything, he was glad he’d never have to deal with her again. He dealt with her in his mind enough as is.

Spencer didn’t deal with emotions very well, so it was no surprise to himself that he didn’t stop to process his trauma.

Instead, he found other outlets.

He’d known Y/N for several years but had done an awful job of keeping in touch as the years passed. He’d recently reconnected with her before his arrest and then he’d pulled away again.

He felt bad for never telling her until after the fact, but he’d been embarrassed enough. 

She was a good friend, one who had said she would do anything to help him if and when he needed it.

That’s how the arrangement began. It’d happened once, by accident, but it had helped him forget everything when he needed it the most.

Which is why at 1 a.m. he was headed over to her house, just to forget everything for a while.

Your hips, my hands, you swing and you dance

Yeah, I’m feeling pretty lonely baby 

Just let me in

Just let me in

The door to her apartment opened to reveal her barefoot and in a long, oversized t-shirt.

“Hey,” she greeted him.

He didn’t waste time with the greetings, he kicked the door closed with his foot and grabbed her face, kissing her.

Within minutes he had her pressed up against her door, hands roaming under her shirt as he kissed her hungrily.

He wanted to forget.

Needed to forget.

She moaned into the kiss. Lucky for him, she got horny easily. She was always ready to go at it whenever. Maybe it had something to do with him, although he didn’t know. He never really took the time to dwell on it.

His fingers stroked her bare stomach as his tongue moved against hers. Her hands clutched the bottom of his shirt, pulling away long enough to help him yank it over his head. Her shirt followed suit.

For a while, they stayed there, top halves pressed against one another as their lips moved together in a complicated, yet simple dance. 

They made out for a while, while Spencer forced his brain to empty and focus on her. It finally worked as he felt his crotch tighten, his need for her now more than just something to get him through the night.

She led him back to her bedroom and within minutes was kneeling in front of him, pulling his cock out of his pants.

“You gonna be a good little girl and suck my cock?” he mumbled, looking down at her with lidded eyes.

Normally, he would never fathom talking like this. But something had changed within him in the last six months. He was rougher around the edges, he quite literally didn’t give a fuck anymore. Which proved to be true since he quite literally had a fuck buddy—something the old Spencer wouldn’t even consider.

He cared about her, but like him, she didn’t want anything serious, so he never felt too bad taking advantage of her this way. Weren’t they both using each other anyway?

“Your wish is my command,” she purred, making his cock throb even more.

The moment her mouth touched him, his eyes closed in pure bliss, the feeling chasing the nightmares away.

His hand threaded in her hair, guiding her head as her tongue glided and mouth hollowed out, sucking him like her favorite popsicle. She was amazing at this, he definitely had to give her that.

“Y/N, fuck,” he groaned, his hips bucking up towards her mouth.

Her tongue was his gateway to an anxiety free mind—at least for the time being.

He pushed her away after a few minutes. He wasn’t going to last if she kept that up much longer.

With surprising agility, he’d had her from her knees to bent over the end of the bed in seconds.

Their sessions were far from romantic love making—the type of intimacy he knew she deserved—but more animalistic and frenzied. 

He knew he was selfish and instead of letting her have what she deserved from a man, he held tight to her like she was his lifeline.

In a way, she had become his lifeline. Things got worse the longer he tried to stay away from her. That’s why he always returned.

Her moans and the slap of their bodies were the only sounds heard in the room as he thrust deep into her. Even as fucked up as he was, he had to be an idiot to not admit that sex with her was incredible. She was incredible.

“Spencer, oh my god, fuck.”

Her words came out in a strangled moan as he’d switched up the movements of his hips. Instead of the fast and harsh thrusts, they turned into slow and deeper ones. He may only be her fuck buddy, but he was still gonna be damn sure she got her pleasure out of it too.

His fingers dug into her hips as he tried to erase the images of his earlier nightmare with every thrust. Usually, it worked. Tonight though, he was struggling.

Instead of disappearing, the memories kept flashing through his head like a silent movie on repeat.

The helplessness everyone felt in that prison.

The fear he felt.

The images of a group of white men who pointed a knife in his face his first full night in prison.

Two, sneering and sadistically joyful faces hovering over him as they beat him to a pulp, smothering his face with a rag.

His desperate decision in doing something so awful that it hurt more men than he intended it to.

The constant paranoia.

The fear he had become a monster.

Every single moment inside he’d spent that he had to make choices he’d never fathomed he’d have to—only to survive.

Delgado.

“Switch it up,” he muttered, pulling out of her, turning her around.

His jaw was tense, his body was rigid. All he wanted was one orgasm to erase his nightmare.

Her eyes narrowed, sensing his tension but knowing better than to comment on it.

“Let me take care of you,” she whispered.

She pushed him towards the head of the bed, ordering him to sit against it. He did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on her again.

When she climbed into his lap to straddle him, his breathing had become ragged and he was glad that the stirrings of his arousal were coming back—his sexual attraction to her luring him back in again.

She sank down on him and he exhaled sharply, groaning lowly. The feeling of her tight around him was always like drinking water after being utterly parched.

“You like that?” she purred, her hands resting against his chest, “You like when I take care of you?”

“Very much so,” he growled.

He thread his hand into the back of her hair, pulling her face towards his. He kissed her roughly, his lower half meeting the speed she’d set since she was now the one in charge. Her pelvis grinded against his, giving her even more pleasure, he was sure.

As much as he did this for his benefit, he also had a small sense of pride in knowing he could make her moan and writhe like he did. His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them and she threw her head back with a loud moan. 

He could practically fall apart at that sight alone, but he managed to resist.

His lips attached to her throat, sucking harshly, sure to leave a mark. Their moves were frantic as she gripped the headboard and he bucked relentlessly into her.

They both spiraled into ecstasy, not that far apart from one another.

Sweaty and out of breath, she moved off of him, gathering her clothes and tossing his own to him.

“Want something to eat before you go?”

She asked it so nonchalantly it was as if he hadn’t just spent about half an hour buried to the hilt in her.

“No, thanks though.”

He wasn’t one to stay long after the deed, even though a part of him felt like an ass for it. Y/N didn’t deserve that. But if it ever bothered her, she never let on.

She nodded, watching him as he finished pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m around, if you need me.”

Spencer gave a nod and headed to the door, grabbing his car keys on his way out.

You’re my heroine, but you’re suicide 

If I let you in you’ll crawl inside 

You save my skin

But you can’t wait to sink in 

My heroine

In a way, Y/N had become his drug.

Whenever things got too hard, he went to her. But lately, it was like every time he fucked her, it only left him needing more.

His PTSD was getting worse, the sex was only distracting him for so long, but he was stubborn. He wasn’t going to give her up anytime soon.

The PTSD was also affecting his work and he knew it.

It’d been six months since his release from prison, but he’d only been reinstated for three months. He worked his ass off to get his position back and he wasn’t about to let his emotions get the best of him.

He was currently trying to focus on the geo profile in front of him, but his vision kept blurring. He rubbed his eye, trying hard to block out everything else but this case.

He was becoming increasingly irritable as well.

It had only been a week since his last visit to Y/N, but he was craving her and her distractions so much. His nightmares hadn’t ceased, he was hardly sleeping and his teammates weren’t oblivious.

They knew he was having a hard time readjusting.

Spencer doubted they knew just how bad it really was though.

The map blurred in front of his eyes again, the sight being replaced with moving pictures, his memories being played before his eyes.

Like the time he was so desperate to survive, he poisoned drugs that he was supposed to move, instead of getting involved with the situation.

He ended up causing several men to get incredibly sick—his guilt over that still haunted him at night.

Prison was an incredibly dangerous place and he had been too good of a person to survive as long as he had.

For a while he’d had two friends; Delgado and Shaw.

One was murdered in front of him.

The other turned out to be using him. Shaw ran the entire prison population. He called the shots and people listened to him. But Spencer wanted no part of that.

Making an enemy of Shaw had been deadly. In fact, it came close to being deadly. Spencer could’ve easily lost his life behind bars.

It had been months since he had been locked up, but the sense of helplessness he felt still haunted him to this day. It smothered him like the sweltering heat on a hot, summer day.

He rubbed his palms into his eyes. He felt like he couldn’t breathe while at the same time his heart rate accelerated. His sense of fight or flight was being triggered and he couldn’t stop the sense of dread that was engulfing his senses.

“Spence, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just need some fresh air,” he answered, brushing past a worried JJ.

The moment he exited the crowded police station and the cool air hit his face, he felt fractionally better, but the anxiety still gripped him.

He gripped his tie, yanking at it and loosening it, so he could breathe. The feel of it around his neck had been making him feel like he was suffocating more so than he already had been.

His therapist had told him panic attacks were normal with PTSD, but he hadn’t had them much. This was an exception apparently.

He leaned against the brick of the building and tried to focus on his breathing to bring his heart rate down. After all he’d endured, he wasn’t about to let a damn panic attack take him down.

His eyes were closed as he tried to calm down, so he didn’t hear Luke approaching.

“Reid.”

He opened his eyes, seeing his teammate Luke Alvez, standing next to him. 

He wondered how he currently looked through Luke’s eyes. A mess, probably. 

Luke didn’t beat around the bush, either.

“Your PTSD has gotten worse, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently.

Spencer shrugged.

“Spencer, if you need to take some time—”

“I don’t need to take time off because I’m fine,” he snapped.

Luke flinched as if Spencer had physically hit him. If anything, he knew that his outburst was just further proof at how not okay he was.

“I need to get back to work,” he mumbled, moving around Luke to head back inside.

He wasn’t sure of anything much lately, but one thing he knew for sure was when they got back from the current case, he was heading straight to Y/N’s apartment.

I feel a little withdrawal baby,

Come pick me up

Took a hit from your level

Now I just can’t get enough 

Your taste, my touch

A little bit of love and a whole lot of lust 

He was back at her door, knocking.

She opened the door, dressed in another oversized t-shirt—due to the late hour of night—and greeted him with a wordless nod. Somehow, he thought she knew that he was having a bad time today.

He looked like shit, that he knew. His hair was a mess of tangled curls, his eyes were bloodshot and deep, dark bags shined brightly under his face, darker than his normal appearance. His cheekbones were more prominent lately as well since he wasn’t eating much, nor was he sleeping well either.

“How do you want me?” she asked.

Her tone was dull and to the point and threw him off guard for a moment. She’d never made it about her, ever. But now, looking at her, he could see her unhappiness. Whether he caused it or not, he was unsure.

This arrangement of theirs had been only to help him forget. Too quickly, it had become like an addiction for him. She was like his drug. He needed her to forget. But maybe, at the same time, she was tired of trying to help him when he couldn’t even help himself.

He promised himself that this would be the last time. Once more and he’d let her go. He’d let her be free of him. She’d be happier anyways.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said.

He tried to be gentle as he pulled her towards him. As he kissed her, he felt her body melt into his. Maybe he had been imagining her mood earlier.

He tried to focus on getting hard, not on all the horrors that constantly swirled in his mind.

His lips moved swiftly with hers in a kiss that was anything but romantic or gentle. It was lust driven and filled with his own desperate need to be distracted.

She knew exactly what to do to get him in the mood, that’s for sure. 

Her teeth tugged at his lower lip gently, her tongue almost the complete opposite of their current actions. It was gentle and hesitant as it met his before continuing its dance with his own.

He pulled her closer, his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her more roughly, pushing her against the arm of her couch.

In the blink of an eye, he had her turned around and bent over the arm, his hand gliding over the silk material of her underwear. He felt a small swell of pride hearing her moan as he touched her. It also went a long way in helping his own arousal which was now throbbing in his pants.

He was already unbuttoning his pants as he kissed her neck, his hips pressing into hers. The more he got into it, the more he actually felt that he wanted this—that he wanted her.

With one smooth movement, he had her underwear pulled down to her thighs and he entered her with a groan.

But he couldn’t focus. 

Somehow, without him realizing it, the memories had slipped through a crack in his mind.

Instead of being there with Y/N, he was back in that cell.

The countless hours sitting in a cell, trying to remember something he never did.

The desperation, the helplessness in that place.

Familiar faces he dealt with sped across his mind.

Malcolm, Shaw, Delgado, Wilkins. Frazier, Duerson, the two men who gave him a beating meant for Delgado.

The fear he felt in those final days when he had no one to trust, when he had to stab himself in the leg to get into solitary confinement, just to stay alive.

The horrible memories were flashing in his head at the speed of lightning.

“Ow! Spencer, you’re hurting me.”

Spencer snapped back to the present, realizing his fingers were creating bruises on Y/N’s hips from his too tight grip.

“This isn’t working,” he said in way of an apology, pulling out of her.

He was already going soft anyway, the previous arousal now completely gone and replaced by his racing thoughts and memories.

“It’s fine,” she muttered, pulling down her t-shirt and pulling up her underwear.

He had just zipped up his suit pants—he’d come straight from the jet—when she spoke again.

“Actually, no. It’s not okay.”

Spencer blinked in surprise at her harsh tone. He didn’t think he’d ever heard her raise her voice.

“I’m sick of this Spencer! I know we started this a while ago for...reasons,” she flapped her hand in midair as if demonstrating all the unsaid things between them.

“But I can’t do it anymore. I care about you Spencer. Honestly right now I don’t know if it’s as more than a friend or just as a friend but that’s another can of worms to open another time. You can’t keep doing this! You can’t keep coming to me and fucking me to try and rid your demons. You’ve been through a hell of a lot and you didn’t deserve any of it, but I’m not going to stand her and watch my friend destroy himself because he refuses to get the help he so desperately needs.”

Spencer stood, frozen in place, mouth agape. It was then he saw tears shining in her eyes.

“We have a lot to sort out between us, eventually, but you need to help yourself first,” she whispered, as if feeling defeated by her previous outburst.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I know facing everything, processing it all is a scary feeling, Spencer. Even if you tried reaching out to a friend to talk through it, that would be a big step. I just...I just want you to get better.”

A single tear slid down her cheek and he did the worst possible thing to do.

He fled her apartment like the coward he was.

•

He didn’t go home. 

Instead, he walked around the city as the daylight receded and the sun slipped behind the horizon, saying goodnight to the world until the next day.

He spent a lot of time thinking.

He ended up dashing into a busy diner he came across as the night sky opened up and rain began falling in sheets.

He sat in his booth, absentmindedly sipping on the cup of coffee he’d ordered and watched the rain fall in the darkness outside.

In an ironic way, the weather outside was similar to the turmoil he felt inside. 

Just like the completely blackened sky outside, he felt just as dark and empty. The storm was similar to the storm of emotions, memories, traumas he continually tried to squash, all in the wrong ways.

He knew ignoring his problems wouldn’t make them go away; he also knew using sex as a distraction was the worst possible thing to do as well, yet he’d continued to do it and he’d hurt more than just himself in the process.

He’d hurt his friends, who’d only wanted to help, but pushed them away. He’d hurt Y/N, who didn’t deserve to be treated like a plaything, yet he kept coming back, making things worse.

By the time he’d finished his coffee, he decided what he wanted to do. What he knew he needed to do.

I’m feeling pretty lonely baby,

So just let me in

Just let me in 

He’d ran through the pouring rain. He didn’t even bother to try to take any transportation. The rain felt like it was washing him clean from the horrors of the last year.

He was back at her door, but this time, for a different reason. 

He was soaking wet and felt a lot like a dog with his tail between his legs, but he refused to chicken out once again. So, he knocked.

She answered, this time in actual pajamas rather than the attire she was in hours before.

Maybe it was the expression he wore or something she saw in his face because she didn’t immediately slam the door in his face—something he knew he deserved. She stood patiently, almost questioningly, waiting for him to speak first.

He took a deep breath before speaking the words he should’ve uttered months ago.

“I’m ready to talk. I’m ready to get the help I need.”

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[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

Music for the Soul

Summary: Soulmate AU where the song your soulmate is thinking of gets stuck in your head. 

This fic is inspired by and gifted to @yellowpaintpots.

Notes:  canonical, this is S2 E6 and a little beyond but it’s not exactly like the show obviously.

AO3

Kurt Hummel was used to not fitting in. At McKinley High, he was often an odd man out. He did partner projects alone, he held his tongue around bullies and had no one to complain to, and most days, he had an entire lunch table to himself. No one sat with the kid in weird, homemade clothes unless there was no other choice. 

What kept him going was music. He had one earbud in as he walked down the halls. Choosing from playlists his mother used to listen to, Broadway soundtracks sung by people still performing on stage today, and to the thrill of his father, rock classics. If Burt Hummel had passed anything onto his son, it was his music tastes and the fantastical idea of soulmates. 

The image of a white knight coming to save him by serenade was one that haunted him before he fell asleep. A boy, which little eleven-year-old Kurt held close to his heart, picked out by the universe meant just for him. Even when he started to find the fantasy a little too cheesy, it kept Kurt going until he found the glee club.

No one could touch him or change him because there was someone out there who would love him exactly the way he was. 

The New Directions were a hot mess when they started, of course. The 5 of them weren’t winning any competitions when they first found themselves in the choir room but they were five misfits who finally had friends. People who understood the passion of music and an adult who shared that same passion and would hopefully guide them to their dream futures. 

Just months later, they became a mixture of a dozen sophomores and freshmen with a Sectionals win under their belt all ready to face the Dalton Academy Warblers in a few weeks. With Regionals looming over them, glee had become much messier than usual. With plenty of in-fighting about solos and song choices, the choir room was always a jumbled, loud mess. That is until Mr. Schue came up with the idea for a school musical. It was taking their minds off of Regionals for the time being.

Kurt was all too happy to be auditioning for a role instead of sitting in the back row wishing he had a shot at a solo. His voice was too unique for Ohio. But someday, he knew, it would get him to Broadway. He held that thought close to his heart while tuning out Rachel’s insistence bickering.  

Yesterday, Mr. Schue had decided their school musical was going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Kurt loved cult classics as much as the next person but he wasn’t sure how Mr. Schue had gotten this approved by Figgins. It seemed too risqué for high schoolers. 

He only hoped whoever his soulmate was enjoying the soundtrack he had stuck in his head this week. 

Kurt planned on auditioning for Riff Raff. Already putting mental outfits from his closet to wear. The wound of Mr. Schue assuming he’d play Frank N. Furter based solely on the fact that he was gay was still fresh but his audition was going to blow everyone away. 

He had chosen “Dammit Janet” for his audition despite it being a Brad and Janet duet. Quinn, who was hoping for Magenta, was going to be his partner. They had joked about the main roles already being off the table before auditions; it was clear Mr. Schue had chosen Finn and Rachel for the leads. It was hard to be upset when Quinn had instantly offered to do a joint audition with him. Their voices went so well together and Kurt liked spending time with her. 

Ever since Kurt and Mercedes had their stint as Cheerios, they had gotten closer. The three of them even had a weekend sleepover this past Saturday. Mercedes had dumped the Cheerios but Kurt stayed on and Quinn had just gotten back on the squad after her dismissal last year. Coach Sue had them sing during practice last week and Quinn was waiting for him after their showers with the suggestion of a double audition song. 

They had been having rehearsals in the auditorium during their shared free period and twice after glee club on days when it wasn’t already reserved. As the day came closer, Quinn offered her house to practice in since her parents were rarely home and so Finn wouldn’t become Rachel's spy. Though, Kurt assured her Finn was much too engrossed in video games to bother with their rehearsals. 

Since they increased their run-throughs, Kurt’s had one song in his head all morning. In case the lyrics weren’t already ingrained into his head, he had his own little concert in his head. Just after lunch, that changed. A mere 3 hours until his audition after school his soulmate’s music had taken root. As much as Kurt was willing to bow down to the queens of pop, what he wouldn’t give for 5 minutes of something other than Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream”. This bubble gum pop song had gone from ‘oh, that’s a good song to scream in the car’ to ‘if I hear it one more time, I’ll rip my ears off’ fairly quickly. 

It hadn’t helped that his brain went from one song on repeat to another. 

As he sits in geometry, he tries to hear Mr. Finnegan’s explanation of arcs but his brain has other plans. 

Let you put your hands on me in my skin tight jeans. 

Kurt knows it’s just a song but the image is so clear in his head. 

Smooth, soft skin. Obviously, someone who used lotions regularly, Kurt expected nothing less from his soulmate. Neatly trimmed fingernails so they wouldn’t catch on Kurt’s pants when fingers trailed up to cup his knee. The grip would be teasingly light. He never let his fantasies get too far. Especially outside the privacy of his bedroom. In all honesty, even when he was alone in his bed at night envisioning the same kind of scenario, Kurt didn’t really know what came next. He wasn’t even sure what kissing really entailed. 

What if his soulmate is ready for...certain things...Kurt’s not even to verbalize yet. What if he’s imagining their first meeting very differently then Kurt, who’s hopeful they’ll have coffee or a meal together before they do anything besides maybe hand-holding. The touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets, unless you ask Katy Perry it seems. 

He spends the rest of math wondering what the boy with Katy Perry in his head must look like. Kurt wonders if his soulmate wears bright colors like his idol or maybe Katy is a secret shame that he’ll only share with Kurt. 

…

Blaine liked fitting in. He enjoyed the uniform for many reasons. One, he thought the blazer looked stylish. It was also nice knowing what you had to wear every day, one less thing to worry about people judging you for. Plenty of people at his old school picked on him for his bow ties but at Dalton, everyone had neckwear. The standard blue and red striped tie. He liked how neat it was; there was a certain way to wear said uniform. 

Everyone was the same here. No typical hierarchy of jocks and cheerleaders. Only the Warblers stood out simply because everyone knew them. 

How could you forget a group of boys singing acapella at all hours of the day?

 Blaine might joke that they’re teenage rockstars but really they are just a group of talented guys who liked to sing. 

The Warblers were the first real friends he ever had. 

When he was still attending public school he held tightly to the idea of his soulmate since it seemed hopeless to wish for friendship. Not when he was being harassed for a sexuality he wasn’t sure of yet and being pushed to the ground in the parking lot for it. 

But a soulmate was a guarantee. Everyone had one. By the time Blaine reached eighth grade, he knew. All of those middle school bullies had used words Blaine didn’t quite understand until that moment. 

He was surrounded in the parking lot after school having missed his bus because someone had stuck gum in his curls during last period. That was the day Blaine started to seriously consider investing in some gel. Maybe that would prevent some bullying. Anyway, he was surrounded, being literally kicked around by a group of soccer players and friends. 

Other students had gathered to watch the so-called fight but Blaine thought their chants would only grab the attention of a teacher or so he hoped. No one came quickly. He had enough injuries by the end for his mom to insist on a trip to the ER. A big black eye and sprained his wrist along with plenty of bruising on his limbs. 

But he honestly didn’t remember getting hurt beyond the initial pushing to the ground. When the bullying got bad like this he pulled out those daydreams. This time around it wasn’t this blurry image of hand holding, there was a boy. Blaine hadn’t seen his face but his voice was soft and comforting, inviting Blaine in. There was an outstretched hand just out of reach for Blaine to take. Blaine knew then. His soulmate was a boy. 

When everything was over and he was being released by the doctor, all he knew was there was some boy built perfectly for Blaine just waiting to be found. Waiting for him. 

He hadn’t even been upset by his injuries because he was sitting with these thoughts of ‘how do I come out to my parents?’ 

Instead of deciding that day, he kept those daydreams close to his heart for the next year and a half. Until the issue of high school came out and Blaine didn’t want to go back to public school. To his surprise, both of his parents took it well. They were more concerned for his safety than his sexuality. Together, they decided on Dalton. A private school with a zero tolerance policy for bullies. That was that. 

He still had his doubts at Dalton. Was he really good enough to be a lead soloist let alone go onto Broadway someday? Could he make it out of Ohio? In those moments, Blaine still came back to his soulmate. Someone, no matter what came, Blaine would have by his side. 

When he imagined his soulmate, Blaine could never truly figure out what he’d look like. All he saw was that outstretched hand. Usually, people could draw up a picture in their heads based on the music they heard. 

For Blaine, the genre of music didn’t help. His soulmate was clearly someone with mixed taste. 

Today’s selection was...a musical. Blaine wasn’t familiar with the characters Brad and Janet but he had looked it up at lunch. Some kind of cult classic people went to see in the weeks leading up to Halloween. It was October so it made sense for the soundtrack to be stuck in his soulmate’s head. Blaine wondered if he had gone to see it, wondered who he saw it with. 

The Warblers thought he was crazy. Imagining that his soulmate was off with some other person. It was rare to date seriously before meeting a soulmate but Blaine always told them the same story of his parents. Both of them had been in very serious relationships before they met. Hell, his mother had been engaged. Neither of them thought they’d meet their soulmate, which was also fairly rare but had happened.  

When they met, they didn’t drop everything to be together. The wedding was put on hold but his father hadn’t broken up with his girlfriend right away. His parents wanted to be together only if they agreed with the universe’s choice. 

Blaine knew his dad had been wary of his mother’s music taste. Pam had been deep into her metal phrase in her early twenties. His dad, Robert, was not a fan. He loved classical music. Forever dooming Pam to hum music without lyrics meanwhile Robert was cursed with “nonsense yelling” as he called it. Lucky, both of their music tastes had shifted over the years to have more overlap. Though, Blaine and Cooper had been subjected to dinners with a mixtape of Def Leppard and Bach. 

They got together in the end, which was the important part, but what if they hadn’t chosen each other? What if Blaine’s soulmate was deeply in love with someone else and he’d spend the rest of his days loveless and alone?

When he voiced these thoughts aloud, his friends usually told him what a downer he could be, which tended to shake those fears away. If his parents, different as they were, still fell in love it would happen to him too. It was just a matter of when. 

…

The next day at lunch, Mercedes was fretting over her soulmate. 

“What if he’s super young, Kurt?” 

“What makes you think that?” He asked, stabbing his salad. 

“He’s got The Backyardigans theme song in his head again,” she sighed. “He got to be like 7. I’m just not comfortable with that.” 

“It’s an age gap for sure,” Kurt agreed, but he’s fairly sure Sam Evans was singing that song after PE today, “or maybe he just has younger siblings. Don’t let your only-childness cloud your judgment.”

She hummed in agreement and pushed her tater tots around. 

It was sort of a hard way to figure out your soulmate unless they were obvious about what music they had playing in their heads.

Some people, like Mr. Schue, we’re pretty obvious. He had been singing in the auditorium when Ms. Pillsbury found him. It was a pretty clear-cut match. As far as Mercedes was concerned, Kurt is sure she’ll overhear Sam’s humming soon enough. 

He doesn’t want to spoil anything for his best friend nor does he want to be wrong. Soulmate meetings only come once in a lifetime. 

Well, the first soulmate meeting that is. 

There are plenty of people, like his dad, who lose a soulmate too soon and are gifted another one later in life. Kurt was so happy when he introduced Burt and Carole at parent-teacher conferences. They had just been listening to the Wicked soundtrack in the car ride over and Carole Hudson did not strike Kurt as the type of person who knew “I’m Not That Girl” by heart. 

“Are you nervous about auditions?” Mercedes asked. “The list goes up today after glee.” 

“Not at all like,” he shrugged, “I think Quinn and I did well.” 

“Oh no, Kurt, we crushed it,” Quinn said, sitting down with her lunch. 

He smiled at her. Quinn went on to compliment Mercedes on her audition, having heard part of it from outside the audition. She would’ve been inside with Kurt to watch but Coach Sue wanted to meet with her head Cheerio about their upcoming competition. From what Quinn had told them via text, Sue was going all out at practice today. 

“She doesn’t want us to be late,” Quinn said. “That list better be up right away.” 

“We should change before glee,” Kurt suggested. 

“Good idea.” 

Once Quinn had sat down the rest of the New Directions filed in. With interlocking pinkies, Santana and Brittany wandered over taking the last two seats available. 

“Cheerios practice is gonna be hell, hope you’re up for the challenge Hummel,” Santana said. 

He shot her a short glare. 

“Kurt always understands the assignment, Santana,” Quinn quipped back. 

Brittany nodded in agreement smiling at Kurt from across the table. She gave him a small wave half hidden by her lunch tray. In return, Kurt waved back just as shyly. 

They had an interesting friendship. Kurt had kissed Brittany before. He was sure it hadn’t phrased Brittany as it had him. After all, she had kissed almost every boy in school. Some kind of record, he thought. 

They sort of dated for like a week when Kurt was trying to convince himself he was straight. When he firmly realized he was kidding no one, not even himself, they broke up. Since then, he and Brittany had remained close. They were both Cheerios and in the glee club, it made sense. 

He was happy to have Brittany in his life, even if that meant Santana by extension came with her. Santana was fine outside of the public eye. If the Unholy Trinity incited Kurt to their sleepovers, Santana was a different person. She put up a front at McKinley, extremely similar to the one Kurt attempted when he dated Brittany. 

Few are privy to why she did this, Quinn and Kurt knew and he was fairly certain Mercedes did as well. She was very perceptive that way. Brittany was Santana’s soulmate. It explained so much about their relationship. Always in sync, completing each other perfectly, a literal better half.

Honestly, it gave Kurt so much hope that everyone’s soulmate was like that. A missing puzzle piece. 

He really hoped his soulmate listened to more than just Teenage Dream because the lyrics were slowly creeping into his everyday language. 

Usually, Kurt found himself hyper-focused in glee club. He got an energy boost just from walking into the choir room. Like a light switch turning on. His focus wasn’t always on whatever lecture Mr. Schue was pursuing, sometimes he watched his fellow glee clubbers (catching himself up on drama just by sideways glances), or mentally mapping out his next performance. 

Today, Kurt wasn’t able to do any of those things. With the soundtrack of Teenage Dream (again) in his head, all he was thinking about was the center of a bulletin board with the cast list for The Rocky Horror Show on it. How far down the list was Riff Raff? How many names came before his?

Someone was snapping in front of his face. Kurt shook himself from his daydream to find Mercedes.

“Boy, wake up!” She said, “cast list is about to go up.” 

Either glee club had gotten shorter or Mr. Schue was putting it up early. 

…

Blaine didn’t really understand why the Warblers were concerned. Doing an improv performance was not new to them. In fact, Blaine had done three already this school year and he was only a freshman. 

The first one he did had been way back in September, he hadn’t even been an official Warbler yet. Warbler Tradition said: all potential freshman recruits were required to perform again after their auditions with the whole group. It was a solid way to see if they fit in well with the other established Warblers. Blaine fondly remembers vibing along with the older Warblers and fellow potentials to a medley of Pink songs. None of the freshmen had solos but it was still a fun time. 

At the time it seemed like all of Dalton fit into the choir room and surrounding hallways but in reality it was the entire freshman class. Improv performances weren’t something any middle schooler had seen before but the upperclassmen of Dalton knew the Warblers had plenty of improvs to come for the rest of the school year. The first one was special. Just for the newbies. 

Three days after that performance, Blaine had gotten word that he was to be a new Warbler and two months after that he was granted his first solo. Now, he was slowly becoming their go-to soloist for almost every performance for an audience. Blaine had become a vital part of all rehearsals for the most part. He was honored by their commitment to him honestly and he loved to sing however, a week and half of preparations was a tad excessive. Still, he walked his way to rehearsal positive that the council would have at least five points to discuss before they actually started singing. 

He walked into the choir room shaking his shake fondly and smiling at the Warblers already present. 

The council were always first to arrive. Together. Then it was a mixed bag of who followed. Usually Trent was there, punctual as always, and Blaine took the seat between Trent and Jeff. 

The room was mostly full already. 

Nick came in shortly after Blaine and sat across from him immediately asking if there had been a pop quiz in Stanton’s class earlier and was rather relieved to find out Jeremy was a filthy liar, who liked to start trouble. Before Jeremy could get on Blaine’s case about being overly sincere, the meeting began. 

Wes banged his gavel and welcomed everyone before gesturing for David to read off last meeting’s notes. Once the talking portion of the meeting was over, they pushed the furniture aside to make room. 

...

A week later Kurt was happy to have one musical under his belt but thankful the performance run had been short. If you thought the New Directions were dramatic during competition weeks, it was nothing compared to their musical rehearsals. 

Now, Mr. Schue was having the brilliant idea to host a boys vs girls competition. Of course, Kurt hadn’t wanted to work with the boys. They were sure to exclude his musical talents and he doubted he could get them to agree to any of his costume suggestions. 

This was hardly a challenge. It was bland and they had done it already. 

Kurt was sitting in the back of the choir room pouting. Yes, pouting. Full on arms crossed, head down, and bottom lip puffed out. Until, Mr. Schue had an actual brilliant idea, Kurt’s suggestion of course, to spice things up. 

The boys did not appreciate Kurt’s six hours of work putting two posters together. Even with the assignment to bring more feminine qualities into their performance, the boys ignored his input. So, when Puckerman suggested Kurt spy on the Warblers, he was thankful for a reason to leave. He packed up his projects and headed home to change.

When Mr. Schue found out who their competition was, Rachel and Kurt did some googling. He had seen the all-boys school uniform and was fairly sure he could replicate it with clothes he already had. 

He pulled some looks from his closet. Once satisfied he looked up directions to Westerville. 

Dalton was huge. It looked like a museum. How on earth was Kurt going to find their choir room? He hoped there were signs inside or a map. 

As he walked down a spiral staircase much too pretty to be in a school, he decided to just ask for directions. He was going to get lost if he kept walking without help. 

When the boy he stopped turned around, all Kurt could think was ‘I’d love to put my hands all over you.’ Which was a ridiculous thought to have because he didn’t know this boy and where had that even come from? Oh right, Teenage Dream was still playing in his head. Thanks, Katy. 

If only his soulmate knew he was using this song to fantasize about running off into the sunset with another boy. 

…

Blaine loved being in the spotlight. Wes would say it was because he didn’t get that kind of attention from his parents but that simply wasn’t true. Well, unless Cooper was around; he always pulled focus when it came to their parents. Older sibling privilege, he assumed. 

But he was running late. He stayed behind in class to ask a question which turned into his teacher rambling. Didn’t he know the Warblers had a performance today in the senior commons and Blaine was their lead singer? 

He was checking the time when someone stopped him on the stairs. 

A beautiful boy. Unlike anyone Blaine had ever seen before. He almost missed his name because he was caught up in memorizing his face. 

There was something said about being new, which Blaine doubted since he wasn’t in uniform, and Blaine mentioned a shortcut he knew of. 

It wasn’t really a shortcut. More like the long way to the Senior Commons but less crowded. Everyone was making their way to the Warblers and Blaine wanted as much time alone with Kurt as he could get. 

He wanted Kurt’s full attention. It was no wonder he instantly wanted to show off. Teenage Dream fit his vocals perfectly and Kurt was an excellent audience. In fact, Blaine was set on serenading him. 

He had no way of knowing that exact song had been playing all day long in Kurt Hummel’s mind. 

Afterward, Blaine lost himself in a group hug from the Warblers but Kurt’s beaming smile caught his eye. He pulled Wes and David aside, confirming his own suspicions that Kurt was spying on them first before convincing them to invite Kurt for coffee. 

The four boys sat at a table. Kurt seemed very nervous now. Blaine wasn’t sure if it was because he had been caught or something else was going on. In the end, Blaine thought it best for just him and Kurt to have a conversation. Not at all because he wanted alone time with him. 

This clearly wasn’t the time or place for romance. 

Once they were alone the whole tale seemed to flow out of Kurt: the name calling, locker shoving, his biggest bully. Blaine could relate. 

Sometimes he felt phantom pains in his right leg from Sadie Hawkins. At first, Kurt scoffed when Blaine began sympathizing. If he were Kurt, he might not believe himself. 

Private schoolboy bullied? Blaine sure didn’t look like someone who lacked friends. It was fairly common knowledge that Dalton had a zero tolerance policy for harassment. So, he explained. As brief as he could about his own experience with public school bullies. 

Kurt and he seemed to have more in common than a love for music. 

He doesn't have any plans to see Kurt again though Blaine has plenty of ideas on how they could get together. Coffee at the Lima Bean. Old musicals were playing at the revival theater. Maybe another high school was putting on a play this weekend. All Blaine needed was a good enough message to ask Kurt out. He drafted plenty but none sent. 

After school, Blaine knew Kurt might need an extra push. He was pretty sure classes at McKinley were done for the day. 

He sent a single word. Less second-guessing that way. 

Courage. 

Then, he walked to the library to start writing an essay on Lord of the Flies for English. 

However, he found himself unable to concentrate. Usually after a performance, Blaine had the song stuck in his head for at least a day or two afterward. In addition to humming in the weeks of rehearsals, of course. Instead, Blaine found himself thinking about Start Me Up by the Rolling Stones and oddly Livin’ On a Prayer. Both songs he thought better suited his father or Cooper’s tastes. It was a mashup of the two songs like his soulmate was hearing them simultaneously. 

When he started thinking about his soulmate, there was a clear picture of someone. It didn’t take long for Blaine to bring up those blue eyes and the soft complexion of Kurt Hummel. Which was crazy thinking. He had no idea if Kurt was his soulmate. 

Soulmates tended to be around the same age but just because Kurt was also in high school meant nothing. By that logic anyone at Dalton could be his soulmate too. 

During his brief time with Kurt this week, Blaine heard no music from his mouth. In fact, Blaine had done all the singing. Even with half his brain saying he was nuts to think Kurt was his forever, Blaine couldn’t let the thought go. 

…

Blaine’s text comes in in the midst of the girls’ performance. A wonderful mashup and excellent costumes. Tina had texted Kurt about the leather jacket idea early this week. He was very proud of how they managed to pull the looks together in such a short time. It was impressive. 

Altogether, Kurt was feeling great. The boys had their rehearsal, apparently their performance was turning into an apology. Kurt wasn’t sure what they had done to Coach Beiste but apparently, she was quitting. He and Blaine were texting periodically now. No one knew it but Kurt was surely developing a huge crush on the Warbler boy. 

Then, he confronted Karofsky. He didn’t want to feel the same regret Blaine did—no one messes with the Hummels. 

It seemed like mere hours but in reality, it was days, Kurt was enrolled at Dalton and saying goodbye to the New Directions. 

He was full on having a Vanessa leaving Troy moment here. Kurt Hummel has got to go his own way. 

God was he nervous to start at a new school. In the middle of the school year too. Being the new kid was going to be hard but not as difficult as staying at McKinley would be. 

When Kurt was greeted by Blaine’s smile outside the office on his first day, it made Kurt relax. At least he already had a friend here. 

It isn’t until they’re walking down the hall together—Blaine insisted on escorting Kurt to his first class—that Kurt noticed Blaine was humming.

“Is that High School Musical?” Kurt asked. 

“Oh, um, technically it’s the sequel.” 

“What about us…” Blaine sang, “what about everything we’ve been through?” 

“What about trust…you know I’ve never wanted to hurt you?” 

Blaine chucked. “Cheesy but true. Such a good movie.” 

“We should watch it sometime,” Kurt suggested. 

Instantly, he wanted to take it back. He’s been told he can come on too strong. Especially around cute boys. 

“I’d love too!” Blaine said. “I have it on DVD.” 

Kurt doesn’t see Blaine again until their one shared class of the day right before lunch. He sits across the room from Blaine during history but next to him at the Warbler’s lunch table. 

Most of the group has the same lunch so Kurt is introduced to them before his audition later this afternoon. 

“Nervous?” Wes asked, “you shouldn’t be.” 

“Yeah, from what Blaine's told us you're a great singer,” Trent added. 

“He’s barely heard me sing,” Kurt replied, poking Blaine’s arm. 

He only sang one line of a song to the other boy today. 

“Well…” Blaine rubs his neck abashedly. “I might’ve watched some New Directions videos on YouTube.” 

“Oh, I forgot Rachel uploaded those.” Kurt tunes to the other Warblers then, “I hope I don’t disappoint.” 

After lunch, Blaine walks Kurt to class again. “Between you and me, you’re a shoo-in.” 

“Really?” The Warblers were such an esteemed group. Not at all like the disorganized New Directions. They had also been a glee club for far longer. 

“Really.” 

***

Blaine has had High School Musical songs in his head all day. Whoever his soulmate is, at least he’s got good taste in Disney Channel original movies. Then as the Warblers were preparing for Kurt’s audition, the song switched. An Evita song. 

His soulmate sure did love musicals. Blaine was rather happy about that. He could already picture them sitting on the couch cuddled under a fluffy blanket with any number of classic musicals laid out before them. Arguing over if it was too soon to rewatch Moulin Rouge and whose turn it was to make popcorn. 

They’d be in a big city apartment. Somewhere where no one cared if they were gay. All anyone wanted to know was how they discovered they were soulmates. Their origin story. 

From that point, the daydream grew fuzzy. Blaine couldn’t come up with that meet-cute story. It hadn’t happened yet and nothing his brain could come up with would ever match up with his future reality. 

He shook his head, bringing himself back to the choir room. 

The room was buzzing with excitement. It wasn’t every day the Warblers auditioned someone mid-semester. Of course, Kurt had special circumstances but the group was notorious for never breaking tradition. 

Blaine tried to focus but it was difficult without Kurt at his side. Lately, he had been distracted whenever Kurt wasn’t around. All Blaine could hear, despite the loud room, was the song in his head. 

I had to let it happen

I had to change

Then, Kurt walked in and music started to play. For a split second, Blaine thought he was imagining the words from “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” coming from Kurt’s lips. Surely he hadn’t chosen the same song as Blaine’s soulmate had in their head. He knew it couldn’t be his imagination when Trent leaned over and whispered to Blaine how much he loved this song. 

Like lightning striking a tree, Blaine had a realization. Kurt Hummel was his soulmate. 

Oh god, what was he going to do? 

His skin was burning as if it was burned away like bark. He drooped in his seat desperate for water to put himself out with. To put a stop to the tingling sensation bubbling up under his skin. 

All he wanted to do was reach out and touch Kurt. Some part of his brain was able to override that thought. He couldn’t ruin this audition for him. There was plenty of time to spend with Kurt after this, Blaine had all the time in the world to talk with his soulmate.

Soulmate.  

Never did he think he would find his soulmate this soon. Gosh, they were only teenagers. They had so much life to live together. This was rare, special, to find your soulmate so quickly in life. Blaine would cherish it, he’d be thankful for this gift for rest of his days. 

But how in the hell was he going to tell Kurt? It had to be romantic. Blaine always thought it would be when he finally came face to face with his soulmate, his one true love. There was so much work to be done and so little time to do it. Now that Blaine knew, he didn’t want to spend another day without Kurt knowing too. 

He used to dream about running dramatically in slow motion towards each other and embracing just as it started to rain, which of course led to a fabulous first kiss in the sudden storm. But Blaine knew how unlikely that would be. 

He’d just have to build a new fantasy, which he thought would be easy to do if Kurt was his so-called Prince Charming. Whatever happened was going to outweigh everything his imagination had come up with thus far. 

First and foremost, he’d had to sit through a discussion of this audition, which he was barely able to pay attention to. All he wanted to do was walk up to Kurt, cup his face, and kiss him. After Kurt was finished, the council dismissed him. Blaine knew he’d find Kurt just outside the choir room because they had plans afterward but now he had no idea how he was going to sit through coffee with Kurt and not tell him. 

“He’s very good,” Trent said, nudging Blaine. 

He nodded in agreement. It seems most of the group concurred, Kurt was a good fit for them. 

Kurt Hummel was the perfect fit for Blaine too. Even if he didn’t know it yet. 

***

Kurt didn’t consider himself to be a good reader of social cues especially when his own emotions were involved. See, Finn Hudson and Sam Evans. Crushes on straight boys never ended well. With Blaine, he swore things would be different. 

They were friends, classmates, and hopefully, soon they’d be fellow Warblers. Kurt was not going to mess this up. Even if Blaine was really cute and friendly and super kind and understanding. There was so much to love about Blaine, Kurt found it hard to find something he didn’t like. 

He had found focusing on his dislikes of a person kept his feelings at bay. Like how messy Finn could be really shut down any romance fantasy Kurt had drawn up. Except, Blaine didn’t dye his hair like Sam, he was completely organized (Kurt had seen his dorm room; spotless), he was modest and genuine. 

It made sense that everyone at Dalton wanted some of his attention. Blaine embodied Kurt’s idea of a gentleman and then some. 

After his audition, Kurt sat outside the choir room waiting for his results. The council would discuss with the full group, release them, and regroup tomorrow with a vote. Kurt was waiting for Blaine to be dismissed because Blaine had promised to buy him a cup of coffee. 

Some of the Warblers who were leaving had some pretty nice things to say about Kurt’s performance. Just general praise which soothes some of his initial nerves. Mostly, he just wanted Blaine to walk out with a big smile on his face. That boy couldn’t keep a secret. Kurt would know if he was in or not just by looking at his face. 

Kurt was joined on his bench by a boy who introduced himself as Duncan. 

“I was super nervous after my audition. I just got in at the beginning of this year so I know what you’re going through.” 

Kurt felt his shoulders drop in relief. As much as Blaine tried to assure him the audition would be perfect, Kurt felt like he couldn’t relate much as the star of the glee club. Back at McKinley, Kurt rarely had center stage. Here, Blaine always had everyone’s attention. 

“That’s actually great to hear,” Kurt said, with a slight chuckle. 

“Seriously, Kurt, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I’m a little concerned they’ll kick me out just to have your voice,” Duncan teased. 

They keep talking about what it’s like to be a new Warbler since Duncan is positive Kurt will be getting good news shortly. He offers up some pointers to get on the council’s good side. 

“I loved your song choice by the way, so weird because Evita had been in my head all day.” 

It feels like someone’s dropped an ice cube down his back. He sits up quickly. 

Oh, Kurt thought, is this it? 

“You did?” He must’ve heard wrong. There’s just no way. 

“Yeah, I love that musical,” Duncan confirmed. 

Could it be this easy? He wondered. 

“We should hang out again soon,” Duncan told him, “I’d love to get to know you. Newbie Warblers gotta stick together.” 

Kurt gives Duncan his number before the other boy wanders off. Before Kurt can get too deep into any fantasies of his soulmate, wondering if that soulmate has just left him or not, Blaine comes out from the choir room. 

“Hey you,” Blaine greeted with a big smile. 

“Are you allowed to give me any inclination?” 

He shook his head but was still smiling wide which made Kurt feel like good news was in his near future like Duncan had said. Kurt was telling Blaine how long he had practiced the song over the weekend with Rachel and Duncan reassurances when Blaine blurted, “Duncan Samuels?” 

“Yeah, we just met.” 

Should he tell Blaine about them being soulmates or wait until he was sure? 

But Blaine just nodded. Something was clearly bothering his friend. For now, Kurt was going to let it go because he was sure Blaine would come to him if he wanted to talk. He didn’t want to force it out of Blaine. 

Kurt couldn’t even get Finn to talk to him during their warm milk chats at night. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to pull the information out of Blaine if he tried.

“Anyway,” Kurt said, continuing his previous line of thought, “Rachel has this whole stage setup in her dads’ basement.” 

“I don’t find that hard to believe based on everything you’ve told me about her.” 

After that comment, their coffee date is back on track, Kurt doesn’t bring up his potential soulmate meeting. 

***

Duncan Samuels was his lifelong nemesis. As far as Blaine was considered his life began when he figured out Kurt was his soulmate and if Duncan was going to interfere with that they were now enemies. Since their coffee date yesterday, Blaine hasn’t heard a word about Duncan but he also had yet to see Kurt today. They only had one class together after lunch, which Blaine was on his way to now. 

Kurt saved him a seat and delivered the news. 

“Duncan and I are going for coffee today.” 

Those words were devastating. 

In normal circumstances, Blaine would’ve asked Kurt why he wasn’t going to rehearsal but of course Kurt wasn’t a Warbler…yet. Blaine knew the Warblers were going to announce Kurt’s membership at the end of day, which meant this was the last rehearsal Kurt wouldn’t attend. 

So instead of a calmly said, normal statement, Blaine spent the next minute freaking out. 

Duncan was the worst! He was going to steal Kurt away from him before Blaine ever got the chance. Well okay, the rational side of him thought, Kurt isn’t being stolen he’s going willingly. 

“That’s nice,” he finally said. 

There was no way for Blaine to stop Kurt and honestly no reason to try since Duncan posed no threat to Kurt. He didn’t need a protector. Blaine knew they were soulmates and he’d find a way to tell Kurt later on. At the end of it all, Kurt was his soulmate. He just knew it. 

“Are you free when I get out of rehearsal?” 

“For you?” Kurt asked, “of course, I’ll probably still be in the cafe.” 

“I’ll come find you,” Blaine told him. 

Still, all throughout Warbler rehearsal, Blaine’s attention was elsewhere. He needed to get out of here and meet up with Kurt. Wes knew it too because he pulled him aside at one point while David ushered the guys into a new arrangement.

“What’s up with you?” He asked, “I need you focused for competition.” 

“I will be,” he vowed. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Blaine looked back at the other boys but they were already harmonizing. 

“It’s Kurt.” 

Wes smiled. “Don’t worry about him. He’s in, I can’t believe we have a countertenor on our team now. We’re going to wipe the floor at regionals.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Wesley. McKinley already knows what a talent Kurt is, he won’t be a surprise to them,” Blaine reminded him. 

“Ah, but they didn’t utilize his talent,” Wes said, “it’ll shock them to see Kurt in the spotlight.” 

Wes patted Blaine’s back and guided him back to the group to finish up rehearsal. 

Blaine couldn’t help but check his phone again before he tuned back into rehearsal. He knew Kurt was getting coffee and that’s why he wasn’t answering his phone. 

One of the best things about Kurt was when you were with him everything else was put aside. Blaine was sure if things got really serious, Kurt would shut his phone off entirely to prove a point. Right now, it was annoying as hell. Blaine needed to see a reassuring text that Kurt wasn’t running off into the sunset with Duncan Samuels. 

What if his phone was turned off because the two of them were standing at the altar? Everyone turns their phones off in church. 

He really really needed to talk to him. Blaine didn’t want to be the type of soulmate that holds onto that information too long. It’s like he’s lying to himself not being with Kurt. 

Once rehearsal was finally over, Blaine rushed over to the on-campus cafe where he knew Kurt would be. He had to be there. 

When Blaine pushed his way through the door, he saw Kurt was sitting alone nursing what looked to be a cup of tea. When Blaine approached him he could tell it was Chamomile. 

“Can I sit?” 

Kurt nodded but didn’t say a word as Blaine hung his bag across the back of the chair and removed his blazer. 

He expected a question about the Warblers, perhaps an inquiry about his status to become one but nothing came. Kurt wasn’t even drinking his tea. 

“What’s wrong? Did Duncan say something to upset you?”

“I’m fine, Blaine,” Kurt said, “Duncan didn’t do anything wrong. It’s me as usual.” 

Blaine didn’t understand. 

“Am I that unlovable?” 

“What?” 

Kurt was the most kind, sincere person he knew and Blaine had only met him a few weeks ago. He was most certainly lovable considering Blaine fell for him in just under 3 weeks 

“I can’t really blame him,” Kurt continued, “it’s not his fault we aren’t soulmates.” 

“You thought he was your soulmate?” 

Maybe telling Kurt wouldn’t be too difficult after all. 

“It’s just he made this comment yesterday that made me think…but of course I got too ahead of myself again and really I should know by now,” Kurt mumbled the last bit, “nothing ever goes to plan.” 

“You can say that again.” 

This cafe wasn’t a romantic candlelit dinner. He didn’t have rose petals to scatter around. There was no champagne to toast. But he had the most important thing. 

Blaine reached across the table to grab Kurt’s hand. “Think of a song.” 

“Why?” 

“Just do it,” Blaine said. 

Kurt’s face was scrunched up in a “I’m confused but I’ll trust you” kind of way. 

As soon as the song hit him, Blaine opened his mouth to sing, “this could be the start of something new…it feels so right to be here with you.”

“How did you—?” 

Blaine smiled at him. “Pick another song.” 

“Your cares and troubles are gone. They'll be no more from now on.”

His mouth opens slightly. 

“Your turn,” Blaine said, “ I want you to sing what comes to mind.” 

Wasn’t the best way to prove they were soulmates to test each other? 

Blaine wanted Kurt to have his own moment of realization even if he engineered it. He didn’t want their “how-did-you-know” story to be him informing Kurt about their connection. Instead, he wanted to tell people about listening to Kurt’s Warbler audition and thinking how odd it was to know the song he was going to sing before it began. Kurt’s story would start with a laugh because he imagined someone other than Blaine as his soulmate the very same day. 

And wasn’t that just so silly of him? 

Rather than have Kurt just sing to him, Blaine harmonized with him. This was the proof. He’d sing everything Kurt could come up with and vice versa. 

“But baby, can't you see there's nothing else for me to do? I'm hopelessly devoted to you.”

“Blaine,” Kurt said. “We’re….”

He nodded. 

Before Blaine even realized it, Kurt was out of his seat leaning towards him, they’re kissing. Kurt’s fingers are curved around his chin and his other hand is tickling the curls at the back of his neck. The tiny wisps of hair that always escape the gel by the late afternoon. 

Blaine would happily keep his curls loose if it meant Kurt would keep his hands in his hair always. Especially, if it meant they’d never stop kissing. 

Eventually, Kurt has to pull away. They’re still close enough to feel each other’s breath. 

“Soulmates,” Blaine whispered. 

It had been quiet while they kissed like everything else in the world just stopped. All the sounds of Dalton came rushing back all at once. The students in the halls, coffee orders being called out, and the shuffling of chairs as people came and went. 

“When did you know?” Kurt asked, sitting down again. 

Blaine pulled his seat around so they were closer and Kurt immediately reached for his hand. 

***

3 months later. 

Blaine hadn’t been upset to lose to McKinley at Regionals. How could he have been when he got to sing with his soulmate in front of a crowd? Their duet was so in sync and the crowd could tell. He doesn’t think he ever received such a loud applause. 

Blaine had wanted to just be in that moment forever—staring into Kurt’s eyes hearing the words in his head just before they were said aloud, gripping his hand before pushing him into the spotlight to soak up the audience’s love. 

No, Blaine was happy about Regionals. The Warblers had worked hard on the set; their second place trophy sat on the right corner of the council’s table at meetings now. What Blaine was concerned about was Kurt’s leaving. 

His dorm room was empty now, the last suitcase zipped up. Blaine was sitting on his boyfriend’s mattress taking in the last moment that Kurt was a Dalton student. 

“I’ll miss you too, you know, a lot,” Kurt said from the doorway. 

“I know,” Blaine replied, “it’s just sad.” 

Kurt took a seat next to him on the bed. 

“I’ll sing to you.” 

Blaine smiled. “Promise?” 

“Everyday.” Kurt kissed his cheek. 

They were going to be okay. 

[duskholland]

Say Goodnight | Harrison Osterfield

Summary ↠ you and Harrison broke up before he left to chase his dreams in Hollywood. With 5,000 miles between you, you’re both struggling to adjust to life without the other; exes to lovers; prompt: “why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

Warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, a breakup, one curse word?

Word Count ↠ 2.7k

A/N ↠ I miss Harrison. A lot. And I haven’t written enough for him, so...here ya go! This is definitely inspired by Ariana Grande’s song goodnight n go, which never fails to hit me in the feels (listen to the version from her live album... it’s magic).

This is also my fic for @t-holland2080​‘s writing challenge! Thanks so much for hosting such a fun challenge Sammy - I hope you enjoy this :)

(a repost because tumblr decided to block me out the tags lmao)

You didn’t think it was possible to cry this much.

Harrison’s standing in front of you, glistening tear tracks running down his rosy cheeks. His eyes shift over your face, guiltily running the lines and curves of your cheeks and your forehead, trying desperately to stay away from your eyes, because you both know that seeing the heartbreak reflected in his icy blue gaze will be too much. Your chest hurts and you’re shaking, but you know that everything he’s said is true. You know that breaking up is for the best.

But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I still love you,” Harrison tells you quietly. He rocks back on his feet, his teeth grazing his lower lip before he adds, “I’ll always love you, Y/N. The timing just…”

“The timing isn’t right,” you finish. With shaky hands, you reach up behind your neck and your fingers fiddle with the clasp of the necklace Harrison had draped around you, all those months ago. He makes a small sound of objection as the chain falls heavily into your hands and you hold it out in front of you. “Keep it,” you urge. You finally let yourself meet his eyes, and you try to stay strong as you grab his hand and push the chain into his palm. “So you don’t forget about me whilst you’re off being a movie star.”

Harrison reluctantly pockets the chain, his eyes lingering on the solid curve of the H. “I could never forget about you, Y/N.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that the only way Harrison can pursue his dreams is 5,000 miles away, across the Atlantic in America. It’s even more unfair that you can’t go with him because you’re enrolled in university in London. But worst of all, neither of you signed up for a long-distance relationship when you first began dating, and now you’ve had to come to the mutual, heartbreaking decision that breaking up is going to be easier than stringing out a virtual relationship together. It doesn’t matter that you love Harrison more than you’ve ever loved another person, nor that he holds you so closely to his heart that he’s certain you’ve somehow intertwined yourself with his soul: long-distance is too much, and you both think you’ll be too busy to maintain your relationship. Neither of you want to sit by and watch your relationship break down.

So breaking up is simpler, supposedly.

“You should go,” you find yourself saying, swallowing down the lump in your throat. Your hand rests on your front door knob, the cool brass feeling icy against your warm skin. You use your other hand to sweep beneath your cheeks, trying to stop the endless flow of tears from your eyes. “Don’t want you to miss your flight, Haz.”

He runs his hand through his hair, a grimace spread across his face.

“I- Are you sure this is the right choice?” He asks, echoing the words you’ve both been saying for days.

You shrug helplessly. “I don’t know,” you admit. “But I know that I can’t stand here waiting for you to walk away any longer.” You release a deep breath. “Just go, Harrison. Please.”

And he looks like he really wants to stay. His feet twitch, as if he’s about to push his way back into your flat and throw himself down on the sofa like he’s done a thousand times before. But his eyes pass over your tearful, heart stricken face, and he finally sighs, slipping his hands into his back pockets as he manages a weak smile.

“Goodbye, Y/N,” he says softly, his lips curving around the words with ease. The way he says your name so fondly causes the pain in your chest to crack and expand.

“Bye, Harrison.”

And then he turns, slowly, and you watch as he drags his feet down the corridor. Harrison pauses when he reaches the staircase, one hand on the door as he casts his eyes back towards you. Your mouth twitches into a smile instinctively: the sight of his face, his loose blond curls, and his friendly smile never fails to make you feel warmer - even now, as he walks out of your life, taking a piece of your heart with him.

You raise your hand in a final wave, and then Harrison steels himself and walks through the door at the end of the corridor, leaving you standing alone in your doorway, a lump in your throat and a weight hanging so heavily in your heart that you know you won’t be forgetting him any time soon.

[-----]

Life without Harrison is hard.

Before you’d started dating him a year ago, you hadn’t believed love could feel so fulfilling or right. But then you’d stumbled into him at Tom’s birthday party and you’d immediately hit it off, and everything had changed. You think it would be hard not to instantly fall in love with Harrison: he’s charming, witty, and he carries such a bright light in his eyes that he had you hook, line, and sinker within the first ten minutes of your conversation.

As you try to move on, you find Harrison haunting your every move. You open Instagram and you see his posts and stories staring you right in the face, broadcasting his life out in LA with his new friends and castmates, and it stings. When you strike out and find yourself in the pub with Sam, all you can think about is how you used to frequent the place with him, and your eyes find the corner booth you’d used to sit in, your figure usually curled up in Harrison’s lap. You can almost feel the presence of his slender, delicate fingers wrapped around your waist as you gaze longingly at the booth.

And the most frustrating part of it all? Harrison seems fine. He seems completely unbothered, which just serves to twist the knife further into your chest every time your thumb hovers over his contact photo, or you start writing out a lengthy, emotional text. You’ve heard nothing from him, and it makes you question everything you’d thought you’d had together.

Everything changes one Wednesday night, around six weeks after Harrison had left.

You’re woken up by the loud, shrill ringing of your phone. You try to ignore it at first, groaning as you roll over on your side and try to press your head into your pillows, but it just keeps going, and it seems to rattle louder against your skull the longer it prattles on. So, after releasing a stream of your best expletives, you roll over and snatch it off your bedside table, accepting the call before you’ve even had time to check the caller ID.

“Hello?” You croak, clearing your throat immediately as you hear the fatigue hanging heavy in your throat.

“Y/N.”

Suddenly you’re wide awake.

“Harrison?!” You exclaim, sitting bolt upright. You bring your knees to your chest as you pull the duvet around you, trying to hide beneath the warm sheets as if they’ll protect you from the way that hearing his voice unleashes an onslaught of painful emotions. “What’s going on?”

Harrison doesn’t reply for a few moments, but merely the sound of his level, familiar breathing is enough to bring tears to your eyes. You try to push them away as your heart races in your chest, so many emotions flying through your heart that it feels consuming.

“Uh, nothing,” he eventually says softly. “Sorry. It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why did you call me at 2 in the morning?”

The sound of his chuckle is forced, but it’s so lovely to hear him again that you can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Oh, I didn’t realise it was so late,” he says, “‘m sorry, love.”

“It’s okay. I missed your voice.” It slips out before you can really stop it.

“I missed your voice too,” Harrison admits, voice thick. “I miss you so much, Y/N.”

You swallow deeply, running your fingers over the crinkles of your duvet as you think. Your mind runs slowly, clouded with your fatigue and your emotions, and you really don’t know how to take this all, but you know that hearing his voice makes you happy - more happy than you’ve felt in weeks.

“I miss you too,” you mumble down the line. Your fingers ache from how tightly you’re gripping the phone. “How’s LA?”

Harrison chuckles, and you hear a noise in the background as if he’s climbing into a bed. You can almost imagine him: his lanky legs spreading out over the sheets, a low groan slipping past his lips as he stretches out his arms and back. That lazy pink smirk hanging freely from his perfect lips. The image burns into your eyelids.

“LA is mad,” he tells you honestly. “It’s a whole different world over here, Y/N. It’s… It’s exciting, but it’s so different to London. I wish it would all slow down.”

“You’re really busy then?”

He hums lightly. “Yeah. I’m either on-set or doing fittings or rehearsals.”

“Are you having fun?”

Harrison takes a while to ponder your question.

“Yes,” he says, bringing a swell of tears to the front of your eyes. “But I’d be so much happier if you were here too.”

You try to disguise your sniffles, but you’re almost certain he can hear them. “Well… I’m not,” you manage. “I’m glad it’s giving you everything you wanted.”

There’s a very awkward, very thick silence that envelops the line, and it makes you shift uncomfortably in your sheets.

“I should let you sleep,” Harrison says, guilt lacing his words. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I shouldn’t have called you.”

“Oh, okay.” Your free hand clenches into a hard fist as you try to stop your lower lip from wobbling. “Don’t worry about it, Haz. I’m always here if you want someone to talk to.” A small smile flicks out across your lips. “Doesn’t matter what time it is.” I love you - those three unspoken words hang between you. You can feel them, surrounding you, smothering you, and you can almost hear them on the tip of Harrison’s tongue, so you jump in to add, “Goodnight, Harrison,” because you really can’t bear to hear them.

You can feel his reluctance, but you release a deep breath as he says, begrudgingly, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You hang up quickly, your fingers trembling as you toss the phone down the bed. The blank screen stares at you, taunting you, and you’re overcome with such a strong sense of regret that you almost reach out and call him back. Your body craves him - his soft, melodic voice, his gentle words, his love.

Your phone starts ringing, and you snatch it back up, eyes taking in the image of Harrison’s contact photo as he flashes over the screen. You accept it without a second thought.

“I don’t want to say goodnight yet,” Harrison says immediately, words falling into one another. “I don’t want to stop talking to you, Y/N. Can we please keep talking? Just for a bit.” He pauses, his voice breaking. “I miss you.”

The relieved smile on your face shows no sign of budging. “I don’t wanna say goodnight either, Haz.”

[-----]

It’s a bad habit, but for the entire time Harrison is away, you end up on the phone with him each evening. The first few times had been fairly spontaneous, but soon it becomes a habit: every day, as Harrison finishes filming, he gives you a call and you have a long, rambling conversation. It breaks up your sleep, but you grow so used to it that you start setting an alarm at 1.50am just so you can grab a cup of tea and wake yourself up before he calls.

It’s definitely inadvisable to stay so connected to your ex-boyfriend, but it feels too good to quit. Harrison is your drug, and every time you hang up the phone, you’re left feeling sad and hollow inside. But it eases the pain of having him so far away, and maybe a part of you deludes yourself by reasoning that your calls are helping you get over him: cutting him out completely was too hard, but maybe sharing these phone calls will help you. Eventually he’ll stop calling, and you’ll be able to heal, because you’ll have practised saying goodbye so many times it’ll feel normal.

But Harrison doesn’t stop calling, and you don’t stop answering, and soon enough, he’s been away for six months, and he’s preparing to move back to London, his film complete.

You don’t really know where you stand with him, if you’re being completely honest. He’s still your ex - but you’re still helplessly in love with him, and you’re fairly sure that most exes don’t spend hours on the phone each day, chatting and laughing like you’re still together. You try to bring it up with him, but every time you start the conversation, your heart clenches in your chest and you wimp out.

You ignore the difficult conversation for as long as you can - which lasts until you hear a loud knock on your front door, and you know that it’s him.

It feels almost like a gravitational pull, drawing you back to his figure. You’ve spent all day pacing your flat, fussing over your hair and your outfit, but for the entire time you’ve spent waiting on his flight arriving, you haven’t been sure if you’d be able to open the door and face him. But now you know that he’s here, your heart seems to act of your own accord.

You wrench your door open, and immediately you’re pulled into a tight, crushing hug. It knocks the air out of your lungs and you wheeze as you feel that familiar set of curls brushing up against your neck, and you feel a few tears slip from your eyes as you take it all in. He’s back.

“Haz,” you exclaim, your voice choked with tears. His hands move over your back, clinging to you, drawing you as close as possible as his rich, earthy cologne invades your system. It doesn’t even matter that his jacket has a collection of chilly raindrops clinging to the leather, because it feels so fucking perfect to have him so near you again that you can’t focus on anything other than him.

“I missed you,” he whimpers, as he pulls away from your neck. His large hands fall on your shoulders as he stares at you intently, his focused eyes whipping the air from your lungs. He looks so cute that you can’t really stop yourself from shifting closer and pressing your lips to his. Immediately you relax, and he does too, and he kisses you back softly. Your mouths are tender at first, pressing together softly - testingly - but as you wrap your hands around his waist and bring him closer, it deepens. Your mind spins with dizzy, overwhelming happiness as you revel in the feeling of Harrison, enjoying him utterly, your heart thrumming happily against your ribs.

“I missed you so much,” you mumble against his lips, kissing him between each word. Your fingers drift into his hair, and you smile as he hums in agreement.

“We are so stupid,” he says, drawing a laugh from your lips. “Can’t believe we ever thought breaking up was for the best.” His mouth shifts up to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I love you so much, Y/N. Please, can we get back together?” His words are desperate, but they echo the things you’ve been feeling for months, and hearing them is such a relief that you simply have to kiss him again.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whisper, moving to rest your forehead on his shoulder. Harrison brings you into a warm hug, and you let him hold you as you breathe him in. “I missed you. I love you.” You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes gleefully. “I’m so glad that you’re back.”

Harrison reaches down and pulls a familiar, glinting chain from his pocket. Your gaze softens as you pull away from him and tilt your head, letting him wrap the necklace back around your neck. The H pendant settles gently over your chest, and it feels like coming home.

“Perfect,” he comments, and you’re not sure if he’s talking about you or the necklace, but you’re willing to accept either.

With a warm smile on your face, you move aside and welcome him inside. “D’you want a cup of tea?” You offer.

Harrison steps across the threshold and presses a final, loving kiss to your lips. “There’s nothing I’d like more.”

----

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[shewillreadyou]

Me before you: Chapter 5: Love on the Brain

A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. Drake takes an interview and surprises Riley. Enjoy!

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: Language, adult content, sexual content, IF YOU ARE NOT 18 JUST DON’T. 🍋🍋🍋

Word Count: 4849

Catch up: 

Haven’t met you Yet  

For Real 

Excuse me Miss

It’s Getting Late

Prompts: None

Pairings: Drake & Riley

Song inspiration: Love on the Brain- Rihanna

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy.

There was a knock on his door as he moved around his room to pack for his weekend trip. “Come in,” he said with a raspy voice. It was one of the things she liked most about him. She wanted to hurt Liam, she wanted him to feel the way he had made her feel everyday for years, like she wasn’t enough.. When she stepped inside his room she closed and locked the door. She sauntered over to his bedpost where he looked to be packing a bag. “Carsyn, what’s up?”

She felt her nerves gather in the pit of her stomach. She needed to just say it before she lost her nerve. “Drake, you know that I have always had a thing for you.” He stopped what he was doing and looked at her incredulously. “Yeah right, you’re the queen of Cordonia. Why would you ever give me a second glance?” 

She moved around the post and let her baby blue robe slip off of one of her shoulders. “Why wouldn’t I? You are strong, loyal, brave, smart, and sexy. You seem like a man who has it all figured out.” He laughed humorlessly. “Carsyn, what can I do for you?” he asked. “Right, straight to the point,” she cleared her throat. “Drake, I just want to feel good, desired, like a woman. If you know what I mean.” He didn’t. “What does that have to do with me?” He was oblivious. She let the robe fall to the floor as she stood uncomfortably close to him. She ran her finger down his lips. “Fuck me, Drake.” 

He swallowed thickly as he took a step back. “Carsyn, that will never happen. You are my best friend's wife.” She pulled the ribbon that unlaced the front of her lace teddy exposing her breast. “Come on Drake, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, Liam is a big boy.” She moved closer to him and he rolled over the top of the bed to put some space in between them. “Listen, Car, this is all very flattering. But really, I can’t. I have a girlfriend. I think you should go.” She rounded the bed grasping his strong arms. “All that proves is that you like sistas. What does she have that I don’t?” He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was sure he was being pranked. “Uh, my heart. I’m a one woman man Carsyn.” She pouted. He passed her robe to her and walked over to open his door. “Bye Carsyn.” With an exasperated huff she made her exit. 

     Drake put his ear buds in and closed his eyes. The 747 took off smoothly and before he knew it he was in the air. He was on the way home, to the States, to her. It had only been a few days but he missed her like crazy. He wasn’t ready to show his hand to Liam quite so soon. He had thoroughly impressed Robert from DHS. They called him back the next day. They wanted a second in person interview with him on Friday. After a conversation with Bianca, he agreed to come back under the guise of Bianca being sick. He only packed casual clothes and planned to shop for something to wear to the interview when he arrived. He had told her about the video interview but didn’t mention the in person interview. He wanted to surprise her. They had spoken on the phone, texted, or video call everyday since he’d left. He took a redeye, timing it perfectly so that he could text her to say goodnight right before she laid down. He hoped she wouldn’t get suspicious when he didn’t text her first thing in the morning. 

When he landed he noticed that he had several missed texts from her. 

He responded while he waited for his Mom. He only ever packs a carry on. He figured he’d be back on a plane for Cordonia by Sunday night. He rolled his luggage to the curb when he saw her blue Chevy Silverado approaching. She would take him back to the ranch and then he would be able to drive into the city to surprise Riley. He was happy to see his Mom. Their relationship had grown so much closer the older he got. She was still the same ole Bianca though, she wanted to know when he would settle down, get married and give her some grandbabies. 

“Mom, you have Bartie. Besides, if Riley and I get married she might not want kids right away. So you are just going to have to be patient.” 

Riley started her day listening to voicemails and checking emails after grabbing her coffee from the coffee shop in the lobby of her office building. She had a couple of conference calls and a marketing meeting about the  new handbag account she was leading. Her morning was routine by all accounts until she returned from the restroom to find an edible arrangement on her desk. 

She pulled a note from the pick and it read:

I REALLY MISS YOU,

But probably not as much as you miss me. I’m pretty fucking amazing.

-Drake

She smiled from ear to ear as she plucked a pineapple flower from the arrangement. She picked up her phone as she settled into her plush desk chair to text her thanks. This time he responded immediately.  Maybe she was really in her head. Maybe her friends were right. She was really trying to convince herself that they were moving too fast and maybe subconsciously trying to create some space in between them. It would be easier to push him away. It was her most toxic trait. But it was different this time. Being with him felt different. It just felt right. 

He roamed the aisles of Jos A. Banks. It’s where Riley had suggested when he said he needed a new suit. They looked at the website before he had left for Cordonia and she thought that he would look great in a blue suit, so blue it was. Maurice, a clearly fashion forward gentleman helped him and he was able to get rushed alterations. He left the store with a Kenneth Cole navy blue herringbone slim fit suit, white dress shirt and several ties. He knew that the tie could make or break his look. He wasn’t big into image but he knew that it mattered in this circumstance. For some reason he felt lucky around Riley and he thought she should be the one to make the decision about which tie he wore.

He glanced at the gunmetal fossil watch on his wrist and noticed that he had just enough time to swing by the florist and make it over to her office. He had never gotten her flowers before and wanted these to be special. Maybe moving forward flowers from the supermarket would be acceptable, but not today. She got his edible arrangement earlier today and had sent him a text to say thanks. She didn’t suspect a thing. He’d hoped that she would be as happy to see him as he was to see her. He’d left in such a haste before that it had been constantly on his mind. 

“That will be $124.83,” the bubbly blond squeaked from behind the counter. 

He quickly paid before retreating to his Jeep. His Mom would have a fit if she knew how much he spent on the same flowers he probably could have gotten for $40 down at the Kroger. He shrugged off the thought as he pulled into traffic. His phone rang and he sent it to voicemail when he saw Bastien’s number. He was off the clock and did not want to concern himself with the crown at the moment. He had 28 minutes before she would be off work. He drove through an automatic car wash before taking a couple minutes to dry him off. Jax. It’s what he called his Jeep. It made him feel connected to his late father. When it was all clean and shiny he hopped in and headed to her office. He had driven by earlier and noticed that her car was parked in front of the building instead of inside the parking structure. This meant that she was running late this morning. He smirked as he maneuvered into the parking space directly in front of the door. He ran his fingers through his chocolate mane, used breath spray and the cologne he stashed in the glove box. He rolled down the window and played Bruno Mar’s, “Just the way you are” on repeat. He walked around to the passenger door to retrieve the roses from the front seat before leaning against the vehicle and waiting for her to appear. 

He saw her before she saw him. She looked like a goddess. She was wearing a pink 2 piece suit with pink pumps. She was talking to her assistant, Lexi when Lexi spotted Drake. He held the roses up to conceal his face before he thought to himself, “what am I doing? She is going to recognize the Jeep.” Lexi touched Riley’s arm before she motioned to Drake. She froze. He would give anything to know what she was thinking at that moment. He wanted to run to her and gather her in his arms but he decided to play it cool. When she gathered herself she hurried out the revolving doors before pausing. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?” Clearly, she was trying to play it cool too. They both burst out into a fit of laughter. “What can I say? Maybe I missed my girlfriend.” He handed her the roses. Before she could say thank you he tugged her close and took her mouth in a desperate kiss. The roses laid securely in the crook of her arm, her free hand found its way under his shirt. When he broke the kiss she was breathless. When she could speak again she simply said, “my place.”

He walked her to her car and opened the door for her. Once she was inside she rolled the window down. “I’ll beat you there,” he challenged. “You sure?” she smirked and he leaned inside to sweetly kiss her lips. He was sure that the route she took home added a few minutes to her commute. He got to her place before she did. He was waiting at her door when she approached. She bit her bottom lip and looked at him with hooded eyes as she undid the button on her blazer. His length stiffened and his eyes went wide when he realized that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “You know I let you win, right?” He looked around and made sure no one else was watching before he pulled her close attempting to cover her nakedness before he took her keys from her hand and fumbled through opening the door. 

Once inside she jumped into his arms wrapping her legs around his waist. Riley kissed his neck as he panted,”slow down il mio amore. You have me all night. Let me take care of you,” he said as he lifted her petite frame onto her quartz countertop. She shivered, head lolled back with her eyes clenched tightly. Her body quaked when he ran his hands down her legs to remove her strappy heels. He peppered her with kisses from her feet to the inside of her thighs. White heat pooled in her center as she twitched with anticipation. His strong hands flanked her hips, sliding her thong off. He pecked her thigh and looked up at her with a teasing smirk knowing exactly what she wanted him to do. He could feel the heat radiating from her center. He stopped and her eyes sprung open. It was unbelievable how ready she was. They had an undeniable connection. Her body was responding to him like it never had to anyone else.

He slipped her blazer off and tossed it over his shoulder before Riley reached for him pulling his white t-shirt over his head. She drank in his chiseled chest with hooded eyes and began to blush furiously. “What?” Drake said in a low raspy tone. “This is happening.” He smiled at her, “Oh, hell yeah, this is definitely happening,” he said as he kissed from her tummy up to her breast. She ran her fingers through his hair watching for a reaction when he saw the stretch marks on her waist hips and tummy. He didn’t seem to care. He took her stiffened nipple into his mouth. Noticing the apprehension on her face. “What’s up?” he asked before he went back to sucking the other breast. “Nothing, everything is perfect.” He moved back down her stomach as he threw her leg over his shoulder. “Good.”

He spread her thighs and plunged his tongue into her center. “Drake!” she screamed, caught off guard by the sudden movement. “Oh my God!” she belted as his tongue and fingers worked in tandem. “I’m gonna..ohhh shit Drake!” Her voice echoed in the large apartment. “Do it!” He encouraged her. He used his free hand to unbuckle his belt and pants, freeing himself. He stroked himself as his pants slipped around his ankles. He kicked them off as he pulled her to the edge of the counter. “What are you--” she quickly figured it out. He rubbed the head against her entrance and she gasped. “Fuck, go slow,” her suspicions were correct. Not only was it not small but it was easily the biggest she had encountered. 

“Relax, you’re definitely ready.” He wrapped his arms around her waist lifting her before slowly impaling her. He grunted as she stretched around him. He thrust several times before pinning her against the wall. “Raye, we have to change positions. You’re so fucking tight, I’m not going to last.” He walked her over to the living room draping her over the arm of the couch on her side. “I told you it’s been a while.” Drake rested her leg on his torso as he entered her again. She noticed that he was going even deeper in this position and moved up a bit. “Are you scared?” She was. “No,” she lied. “Then, stop running from me,” Drake said gravelly as he picked up speed. “You could have told me you know,” she whimpered as she whined her hips. “Oh, you knew,” he quipped.

He pulled out, “what are you doing?” He easily lifted her body and re-positioned her on the couch. “On your knees,” he demanded. “No, you sit.” He liked that idea even better. He sat on her couch stroking himself as she straddled him. She slowly settled on top, guiding him into her. He hissed when they connected. She began to bounce on his lap and his eyes sparkled as he watched her perfectly perky breast slap against her torso. He took her breast into his mouth as pure pleasure coursed through her body. Their bodies were sticky with sweat and she screeched every time he thrusted roughly into her. They heard a loud thumping on the wall before he placed his hand over her mouth to muffle the screams. She bit his hand, and he pulled it away. “I can be quiet,” she said as electric pleasure shot through her body. “Sure you can.” She began to contract around him as he grabbed her waist to slow the tempo. “Shit, Raye. I’m close.” They finished together with one final scream. They cuddled for a while in silence before Riley spoke. 

“That was...well damn. I’m famished.” She rose, going to the kitchen before tossing him a cold water from the fridge. I took out some chicken but only one breast. Drake joined her approaching from behind opening the freezer to check out their options. “I have shrimp. That thaws quickly.” He snaked his arm around her waist, kissing her neck. “Let me cook. Relax, you worked all day.” She turned to him, noticing that he was erect again. “Are you sure you can cook like this?”  He smirked. She stroked him, he twitched and hardened in her hand before she fell to her knees and took him into her mouth.  

Later

Drake prepared a decadent pasta dish with shrimp and chicken before they showered and headed to bed. As her head lay upon his chest he ran his fingers through her hair. She listened to his heartbeat and felt comforted by his breathing. “What was that look about earlier?” he asked quietly. She lifted her head to look at him. “What do you mean?” He shifted to look her in the eyes. “You looked nervous. You said everything was perfect but your eyes said something else.” She closed her hazel eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah, that. So, I know it’s a little late for this, but I forgot to eat my birth control this morning.” He went pale as a ghost. “Jesus fucking Christ, Raye!” She started cackling at his response. “I was joking, I have an IUD. I’m sorry babe, I was trying to lighten the mood.” He exhaled. “You are trying to give me a fucking heart attack.” “Oh, no kids, noted. I looked like that because I used to be a bit bigger than I am now and when I lost the weight… well, I have stretch marks you know. I didn’t know how you would respond.”

 “Il mio amore, I don’t care about that. You are breathtaking. Don’t worry about that. A real man wouldn’t worry about stretch marks, and I absolutely want kids, but after I’m married.” A soft smile spread across her face. “He wants to be married and have kids. Check and check,” she thought to herself. She wanted to ask him about that before but didn’t want to scare him off. She also didn’t want to get into a committed relationship with someone who didn’t want to have children.

“But Raye, while we are communicating there was something I needed to talk to you about. Something happened and I want to be upfront about it.” Her blood ran cold. She leaned back to look him in his eyes. “I’m listening,” she said in a brittle voice. 

He could see the tears forming in her eyes. “Carsyn came to my room to seduce me before I left.” She felt instantly nauseous. Was this all a mistake? Did she just give him her precious gift for him to turn out to be the very thing that made her cautious in the first place? Did he wait until after so that he could score before breaking her heart? Her thoughts raced. She was not even sure she heard the rest of what he said. When she was able to focus again she uttered, “did you sleep with her?” in a defeated voice. “What? Fuck no! Absolutely not. I wouldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t do that to Liam. She’s hurt and lonely and confused.” Riley gasped for air. She didn’t even realize that she was holding her breath. Drake wrapped his strong arms around her, reassuring her that she was safe with him. That he would handle her heart with care. She was relieved. She felt like she could breathe again. 

When she thought about it logically and took the emotions out, she couldn’t imagine that he returned Carsyn’s affections. He didn’t have to tell her. He is not her past. He could be trusted. She quickly went to the kitchen. He sprung from bed following, to find her in the  liquor cabinet where she poured a tumbler full of bourbon. She swallowed it in one gulp. “You ok Raye?” She looked at him thoughtfully, “yes, I just need a moment. But tell me this, is it the first time this has happened? Like has she made a pass at you before?” 

He moved to the couch pulling her into his lap. “No, it’s the one and only time that it’s happened. I shut her down and put her out of my room.” She was quiet for a moment as she twirled his hair around her fingers. “Wait, then why are you here? You never said, did you quit?” her eyes lit up with hope. 

“No, I didn’t quit.” She deflated.  “I have an interview with the Department of Homeland Security in the morning. Actually, I need you to pick my tie. “Drake!!! That’s awesome. Her voice boomed excitedly. There was another thump on the wall. “Fuck off!” Riley yelled. “That’s my girl,” Drake laughed. “What time is your interview?” He stood and pulled his shirt back over his head. “11 am.” He looked around the room. “What are you doing?” Riley asked. “Where are my shoes?”

She lowered her head and bit her bottom lip. “Raye? Do you know where my shoes are?” he asked in a husky tone. She didn’t answer; she smiled at him and nodded her head. He tackled her, pinning her to the couch. “Drake!” she squealed. He nipped at her neck before kissing her sweetly under her ear. “What have you done with my shoes?” he growled.

“Don’t laugh at me. I’m emotional right now. But I hid them. I figured you couldn’t leave me again if you didn’t have shoes.” 

“Il mio amore, you know I have to leave eventually, right? But, also know that I don’t want to leave.”

She pointed to his shoes, they were on the balcony. “I know, but do you have to go right now?” 

“Raye, I was just going down to my truck to get my bag. I’ll stay here with you all weekend if you want.” He untangled himself from her and moved towards the balcony to retrieve his shoes. 

“Yes please,” she could hardly believe she’d have him all weekend. “I called into work on Monday. So, I have to go in tomorrow. I pushed my Monday meetings until tomorrow. But I can wrap up early. “You don’t have to do that. I am sure I can keep myself busy, I will go see my Mom and maybe take my favorite girl to lunch,” he smirked as he headed out the door. 

She closed her hazel eyes and tilted her head backward and took several cleansing breaths. She’d say a prayer that Drake got the job. She was still getting to know him but she was pretty sure he was it for her. She only hoped he felt the same way. She would have never thought that she would fall so hard and so quickly. But there she was, sitting on the verge of a panic attack at the thought of him leaving again.

He let himself back into the apartment rescuing her from getting lost in her own thoughts. He had his rolling bag, a garment bag and a shopping bag. “There is room in my guest room closet,” she took his rolling bag into her bedroom. “You, uh have a lot of clothes. When I move in you’ll have to make space for me,” he joked. Her heart warmed at the thought and for a moment she wondered how it would be to have him there all the time. “Do I need to try on the whole suit for you to pick the tie?” he yelled from the guest room. She entered the room to find him standing with his belt unbuckled, his jeans hanging low on his waist. She leaned against the door frame admiring him. He turned to her, holding up 5 different ties. “Navy with white diagonal stripes.” she could picture him confidently entering the interview. 

“Wait!” She disappeared into her bedroom. When she returned she was holding a small black box. “Here, these are for you. I was going to wait until you formally accepted the position, but they would be the perfect finishing touch tomorrow. He opened the box to find a set of Gold Christian Dior cufflinks.

 “Gee, thanks Raye. But these look expensive.” She smirked, “of course they were. I can’t have my man walking around in cheap ass cufflinks.” They both laughed before she admitted to getting a deal on them.     

After laying out his suit, shirt, tie, socks and shoes, they headed back to her bedroom where she watched him strip down to only his boxer briefs. She bit her bottom lip as he pulled his shirt over his head noticing the deep V that disappeared into his jeans. 

She thought to herself, if she took away the clear physical attraction, would they have enough to make a go and a real long lasting committed relationship? She thought that now was as good of time as any to bring it up. “Drake?” she said innocently. “Yeah Raye?” He settled into bed next to her, his Sauvage by Dior cologne wafting in the air. “You smell great,” she smiled shyly. “Thanks, but that’s not why you called my name, I know it.” She smiled thinking of how well he seemed to know her already. She also couldn’t think of the last time she had smiled this much. 

“You’re right. I didn’t want to bring it up so soon, but do you think you’d be up for talking about where you see this relationship going, or at least your hopes, desires?” she asked as she nuzzled into his side. He cleared his throat. “Well, I honestly was waiting on you to ask. I didn’t want to scare you off. I think since Liam got hitched, my family, our friends have been expecting me to settle down. I always thought I’d settle down when I met the right person. I thought it would be in the future, like years from now. I never thought that I would meet my person in the States. I assumed I’d be in Cordonia forever.” 

“And now…” 

“Now, I can’t really imagine life without you. I want to be where you are. Raye, tell me, honestly, if I get this position, I mean my Mom is here and my business is mostly here. I could personally check on my investment properties, but that is all a bonus. The biggest part of why I’d take it would be so that I can be here with you. Is that what you want? Should I move back to the States?”

“Drake, I would like nothing more. I had Wyatt put in a good word for you. I have to be honest. I want to get married, and start a family. Like soon. Does that scare you?”

“No, well how soon were you thinking?” he asked as he gently stroked her bare arm.

“I don’t know. I never thought I would meet anyone who would be worth giving myself to for the rest of my life. You have been a breath of fresh air. But, I am getting older. Maybe married in the next year or two, kids almost immediately after. How many kids do you want, Drake?”

“Uh maybe 3 or 4.” 

Her eyes widened in shock. She choked on her saliva and started to cough.

“Are you ok?” 

“Yeah, that’s a big family.”

“I know. It’s always just been Sav and I and I always thought it would be fun if we had a couple more siblings.”

She was floored. She knew that she wanted to be with Drake and if it meant a big family she was sure that she would get used to the idea. She only ever considered 2 children because she never wanted to struggle to take care of them. She never considered that her partner would be wealthy in his own right.   

“I mean, I guess. So, back to you taking this job as DHS? Where would you live? On the ranch with your Mom?”

“That would probably make sense financially, but it would be an hour of driving everyday.”

“You could move in with me,” she blurted. She immediately regretted her words. “He is going to think I am rushing him,” she thought.

“Well, I was going to say I could start looking for places nearby, but if you don’t feel like it would be too much… I mean I don’t want to impose. I would cover the rent and utilities.”

“I don’t need you to do that. But thank you.” 

“I know that you are an independent woman and that’s hot and everything, but if we are talking about marriage, you are going to have to let me lead. We can make decisions together, but I won’t have you taking care of me financially.” His voice was calm and low but authoritative. She had never been with a man who wanted to take care of her. It turned her on. She straddled him and sweetly kissed his lips. “Is this happening? Am I dreaming? Are we talking about moving in together and getting married?” He smiled against her lips. “This is happening.” 

They made love again and she fell asleep in his arms for the first time and she couldn’t wait until it was her reality every night.

@txemrn​​​ @pixie88​​​ @secretaryunpaid​​​ @khoicesbyk​​​ @blackkingliamstan​​​ @mom2000aggie​​​ @shannonwrote​​​ @hopelessromanticmonie​​​ @chemist-ana​​​ @rideordiechronicles​​​ @lucy-268​​​ @dcbbw​​​ @darley1101​​​ @maurine07​​​ @sfb123​​​ @bbrandy2002​​​ @kingliam2019​​​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​​​ @lem-20​​​ @choicesficwriterscreations​​​ @no-one-u-know @jessiembruno​​​ @queenrileyrose​​​ @thefrenchiemama​​​ @somersetmummy​​​ @axwalker​​​

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[the-gay-prometheus]

Frankenstein AU Segment - “Willful Disobedience”

Clervalstein yearning goes brrrrrrr

Anyways- uh... so as I said at the beginning of pride month, my goal for June is to write at least one directly Clervalstein related AU segment each week because gay. 

This time around, I was inspired to write about the events that led to how Henry would eventually find Victor and the Creature on the mountain, so in terms of timeline, this takes place before all segments I’ve written except for “Home Again” and “Same Scars, Same Stitches.”

A couple of fun little tidbits about the making of this segment (feel free to skip over them and get right to the segment below the cut, this is just me rambling about some inspiration):

1. The whole bit with Victor drawing and the Creature mimicking him by drawing as well was somewhat inspired by the “Forbidden Friendship” scene from How to Train Your Dragon. I listened to that specific track from the movie score a few times while I was in the process of thinking about this idea!

2. Another bit of musical inspiration actually came from the Chronicles of Narnia, specifically the track “Evacuating London” from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. If you time it just right and you’re somebody who can actively read and listen to music at the same time, it should somewhat line up with the last few paragraphs (excluding Henry’s bit at the end) - starting at where Victor says “I’d give anything-”, then with the little piano part being timed with the paragraph that starts with “It was intricately detailed-”, then the major swell in that half of the song should line up with the paragraph where the Creature begins feeling the need to disobey Victor’s most important rules; then comes the part that begins with a bit of bells and eventually vocalization, and that entire half of the track should align with the Creature carrying out his plan at least most of the way. Of course - all of this depends on your reading speed, but I would definitely recommend listening to the song after reading at least and imagining those parts of the segment along with it if you’re interested in a little peek into my crazy writing process! 😅

Anyways- this is another wholesome segment, so no warnings needed to my knowledge!

As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are welcomed, encouraged, and appreciated!

~~~

Sunlight warmed the cold stone of the mountain ridge upon which Victor sat. His sleeves were rolled up on his arms, as the heat from the summer sun was felt much more intensely up on the mountain top despite the cool alpine breeze. Heavy clouds capped the peaks beyond though the sky was primarily a clear blue, and mist drifted through the valleys below. Though the view was magnificent, the sketchbook that sat on Victor’s knee contained no trace of the mountains. His eyes darted from the open page to the horizon, but it wasn’t the horizon he was searching for. As he stared over the peaks beyond, it wasn’t the view itself he focussed on, and instead an image that was clear in his mind. With a slight smile at the thought, he turned his gaze back down to the page and continued his sketching. It wasn’t long before the smile faded as the sound of quiet, careful footfalls upon the stone broke the calm silence, and he became aware of a presence directly beside him. He instinctively scooted himself about a half inch away as the other figure slowly sat at his side, his brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate harder on his sketching. “What are you doing?” came the inquisitive voice of his creation, and he felt the looming figure lean over in an attempt to view what he was drawing. With a further frown, Victor covered over his sketch with his other hand and turned away.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he grumbled in reply. The creature tried to get a better look, but Victor’s hand covered over too much of it for him to be able to see. He sat there for a moment longer, his mind wandering and his gaze flitting about from view to view as he tried to decide what it was he should do. Now that the cabin was finally completed, he found himself with a lack of activities to keep him busy, and though his creator was certainly better company now than he had been when he first arrived to the mountain, he still wasn’t much of a conversationalist and was often preoccupied with his own thoughts or projects. Out of ideas, he hummed something softly to himself, some tune he had once heard Victor singing one day many weeks ago. Victor lifted his eyes at the sound and glanced over at him, but the moment the creature returned his gaze, he rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning back to his sketching. Quieting himself at his creator’s reaction, the creature sighed and stood, walking back toward the cabin. Victor almost felt bad - almost - but he kept drawing, now absentmindedly humming the same tune. After a few minutes, he became distracted by the sound of footsteps once again, but this time the creature sat a ways away from him. He went quiet, trying to ignore his creation and keep his focus, but he heard the scratching of another pen on paper, then a pause, then more scratching, and he felt himself being watched. With an exasperated sigh, Victor dropped his pen beside him and looked over to the creature. “What on earth are you doing?” The creature looked up at him, his expression blank.

“Last I checked, that was none of your business,” he answered matter-of-factly. Victor stared at him a moment, then frowned.

“Back talking me? That’s new.” The creature blinked, but didn’t answer, instead turning back down to the piece of paper that lay on his knee and continuing to draw something on it. Now thoroughly curious, Victor stood, walking over to him and standing behind him to look over his shoulder. The creature made no efforts to hide his drawing, and Victor could clearly see the rough beginnings of a person sitting in the exact same pose he had been sitting in. “Are you… drawing me drawing Henry?”

“Ah, so you were drawing someone named Henry.” Victor blushed furiously.

“Oh you sly bastard,” he muttered. The creature glanced up at him. “How clever of you, to get an answer out of me like that.”

“That was not my intention, but I cannot say I am disappointed by the result,” the creature responded simply. Victor sighed, sitting down beside him before flopping dramatically onto his back. Now trying to think based on memory, the creature gazed off into the distance before looking down at his paper and continuing to draw. “May I ask who this Henry person is?” he asked as he drew. “I hear you speak the name often. He must be of great importance to you.” Victor wanted to be angry. He wanted to tell his creation to mind his own business and stop prying into his personal life, and yet… he couldn’t be angry - not while Henry was the topic of the conversation, anyway.

“Henry is… was my…” He paused, carefully thinking about how to choose his words, “closest friend.” There was a length of silence as he felt an ache in his chest from the thought of Henry, and the creature took a moment away from his drawing before returning to it.

“Tell me about him,” he suggested as he sketched. Victor sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, holding his sketch of Henry over his heart as he stared into the sky.

“Where to even begin with him,” Victor uttered quietly.

“Describe him to me.” Victor lifted his sketch up and stared at it, before holding it out to the creature. The creature glanced up, and looked at it with a curious expression. Victor gave him a curt nod, signaling that he was welcome to inspect it closer, so he gently took it from Victor’s hand and inspected it closely.

“He’s tall, but not too tall - just tall enough that I have to look up in order to look into his eyes. And he’s always well dressed - I don’t think there’s ever been a day when he wasn’t looking his best, though I suppose I might be a bit biased on that.” For a moment he wondered just how much further he should go with his description. How could he describe someone like Henry without giving his true feelings away? He hesitated, then sighed with a smile. His creation already knew one of his secrets, and, after all, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere or seeing anyone else, so what harm was there in completely venting his thoughts? “He has the most thoughtful hazel eyes, toffee brown around the edges and streaked with emerald green that deepens toward the pupils, the kind of eyes you could get lost in if you stared for too long.” The creature’s pen went still and he looked up toward the horizon, trying to imagine what Victor was describing. “And his hair is long - not quite so long as yours, but ends just past his shoulders - and lays in tangled waves always kept tied back, though a few strands never fail to set themselves free. When the sun hits it just right, I could swear it was made of fire,” Victor breathed as he pictured it in his mind. “It’s the kind of brilliant auburn that takes your breath away, that seems to gleam with its own radiant light. Sometimes I swear he’s more angel than man, and perhaps if angels do exist, he may well be one of them.” The creature smiled, but the smile soon faded as his mind drifted to Paradise Lost and further to his past. He blinked the thought away, then turned his eyes back down to his art, setting Victor’s drawing of Henry down at his side. “He’s covered with what must be thousands of freckles, mostly concentrated on his cheeks but they expand over his face and at the very least his arms, chest, and back. I would liken them to… dark stars against a bright sky,” Victor explained. He raised an arm up and began tracing lines in the air as he continued. “I used to try to find constellations among them, and sometimes I thought I nearly could. Orion, Andromeda, Lepus, Lynx, Pegasus, Phoenix, Vulpecula,” he muttered each constellation as he imagined himself tracing the lines between freckles on Henry’s skin, his chocolate brown eyes seeming to light up with wonder as he grew to be lost in his own imagination.

“He barely sounds real,” the creature interjected nonchalantly, hardly looking up from his drawing as he began to focus closer on it. Victor grinned and chuckled softly.

“I tell myself that every day,” he murmured with a hint of sarcasm. “Surely no man could ever be so perfect, and yet there he is-” He paused, reaching higher toward the sky and extending his fingers to feel the breeze between them, “as real as you and I.” His hand dropped back down to his chest as he heaved a sigh. “There’s no man on earth as generous or as compassionate as my-” He stopped himself, blushing hard as he realized what it was he was about to say. “As Henry, I mean. Just… just Henry.” The scratching of the creature’s pen stopped again, and Victor glanced over at him to see him staring ahead in clear contemplation of the implications of his words before returning to his art. “You know,” Victor began, returning his eyes to the sky. “I can just about guarantee that if it were Henry who made you instead of me, you would have turned out ok.” The weight of his words hadn’t set in before he said them, but now that they were out, they sat heavy on his chest like lead. It took him a moment, but he sucked in a ragged breath and exhaled unsteadily. “If it were him instead of me, William would still be alive.” At those words, the creature froze, as rather than a weight to him they felt like a dagger slowly piercing between his ribs and etching each letter directly onto his beating heart. “And to think… Even if it wasn’t him who made you, if it were him who found you here, perhaps your night terrors would have all but ceased by now. And maybe, by his grace, you would be at peace.” They sat in contemplative silence, both somehow altogether calmed and unnerved in each other's presence. “I’d give just about anything for him to be here,” Victor mentioned, breaking the silence and lifting himself up onto his hands. “And I know all it would take is one letter. He’d drop everything to come here. But that’s… that’s just it. That’s the problem.” He sighed, fully sitting upright. The creature glanced over at him. “I can’t let him just… ruin the rest of his life for me. I don’t know how I could live with myself knowing that I held him back because of my own mistakes.” His eyes dropped to his other side. “And yet… I barely know how I can live with myself without him here.” It was at that moment that he felt something being laid gently on his lap, and when he looked down, he saw the drawing the creature had been working on.

It was intricately detailed, each line placed carefully onto the page with such precision. Though it was only simple line art, Victor could clearly see the image of himself sketching from earlier on the page, but standing in front of him was another figure - Henry. He was exactly as Victor described him, tall and well dressed, with long hair tied back and a few strands that drifted over his face. Though there was no color, his eyes seemed just as gentle and full of wonder as Victor remembered them to be as he stared off to some distant land. His face was covered in tiny dots, freckles, each so meticulously pricked on that Victor could clearly trace some of the constellations he described between them. Tears welled in his eyes as he placed his fingers gently on the drawn image, running them gently down the drawing’s cheek, wishing instead of cool paper that it was the soft, warm touch of Henry’s face. “Did I do him justice?” the creature inquired quietly, trying to read his teary expression. Victor sniffled and smiled.

“You… you’re quite the artist,” he managed to answer. Gingerly, he folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket, slowly rising to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll be back later. I need to take a walk and… clear my head,” Victor mentioned, wiping the tears away from his eyes. “Will you be ok on your own?” The creature didn’t answer for a moment, his yellow eyes staring into the distance as he thought deeply, but soon he snapped his attention back to the present.

“Yes, of course. Take your time, Victor.” Victor sighed and nodded.

“I’ll try not to be too late to return.” His creation watched as he wandered off and eventually disappeared into the trees, before returning to his thoughts. It was strange - in all the months that he had been there, the creature had never once considered disobeying Victor, especially out of the fear that he might abandon him again. Suddenly, however, he felt the strong need to disobey each and every one of Victor’s most important rules. He hated to see his creator so struck with longing, but even more so, he considered the positive ramifications of what his carefully formulated plan might bring. Sure, Victor might be initially upset, but with how much he desperately wanted this Henry person to be there with him, surely it would be well worth it in the end.

The first part of his plan was simple. He would need to break Victor’s trust, and search through his personal belongings. He made his way back to the cabin and slipped into Victor’s room to find a mess of folded papers lying on the bed stand - each paper being a letter he had received from a Henry Clerval. Though all he was searching for was an address, the creature couldn’t help himself and decided to read through some of the letters. As he did, he became even more certain about his decision. Not only was this man exactly as Victor had described, but the connection between them was clearly something so strong that it should have been unbreakable. To his luck as well, the creature managed to find amongst the scattered papers a letter Victor had intended to send as a reply to Henry but never had the chance to send, dated from a time before his creation.

The second part of his plan would be the most time consuming, but also the most critical, and this unsent letter would prove to be the perfect resource. Retrieving his pen and a small stack of paper Victor had stashed away, he began crafting a letter of his own. With as much precision as he could muster, he forged Victor’s handwriting and did his best to copy his style and choice of language. A few hours were spent on this, most of that time spent on crafting one single sentence until he was sure it was perfect before finally continuing on with the rest of the letter. After he completed it, he spent a few more minutes checking it once, then once more to ensure it was in fact as accurate as he could make it, before then spending a little more time practicing forging Victor’s signature and finally signing the note in his creator’s name.

Finally came the most dangerous part. With only his own memory of his travels from Ingolstadt to guide him, he would need to find and deliver the letter to someone who would be able to ensure that it reached Henry safely. Of all Victor’s rules, perhaps his greatest was that the creature was to never descend the mountain, and above all, was never to enter civilization or interact with any other human beings. Each of these would need to be broken in order for his plan to succeed. For a moment, he hesitated. Would Victor become so cross with him over this that he would abandon him once again? Where would he go if he did? What would he do? Who could he turn to? Still, it cut him sharp to think that he might be squandering this small chance to bring his creator some joy after all his sorrow if he were to abandon his plan now. His mind was made - no matter what the outcome would be, he was going to ensure this letter was delivered, and hope that Henry would arrive some day soon just as Victor said he would.

He would need to be swift in order to ensure that Victor would never know he had even left, so he quickly yet cautiously put each letter back in its rightful scattered place as though they had never been touched, and pulled the hood of his cloak over his head. With a deep, shaky breath, he could feel a new sensation pulsing through him - a rush of adrenaline that raised his heart rate and widened his yellow eyes. Letter clutched tightly in hand, exited the cabin and broke into a sprint. Down the mountain he ran with superhuman speed, leaping over logs and boulders as though they were mere hurdles. Though he should have balked at sheer cliff faces, instead he lept from them and skid down their sides, ignoring the sharp pain of the rock scraping at the soles of his feet and the palm of his empty hand. Letting his intuition guide him, he continued his swift journey to Geneva. Though the place held painful, dreadful memories for him, the surge of adrenaline that coursed through him overrode the thoughts, and he raced toward the location of the address. Slowing to a walk, his chest heaved and ached from exertion, but he slowed his breathing as he came upon a fence that outlined one of many pastures that outskirted a large house on a hill beyond. In one pasture, he could just barely see a figure on horseback, cantering through a field with his wavy, tied hair flickering ember orange in the sunlight behind him. 

“Can I help you, sir?” came a sudden voice from beside him. He jumped at the sound, instinctively hiding his face in the hood of his cloak.

“I- ...yes. Yes, I believe you can,” he stammered in reply. The stranger, a servant from the Clerval household, gave him a curious look as he held out the letter. “This is a letter for a man named Henry Clerval. I am of the impression that this is his residence?” The servant smiled as he took the letter.

“Ordinarily I would have sent you in the direction of Ingolstadt in Germany, but as luck would have it, master Henry returned home just yesterday.” He inspected the folded letter curiously. “May I ask your name?” The creature froze, gripping his cloak tighter around himself.

“I am but a simple deliverer of this message, kind sir. My name need not be of any concern. As for the letter, I am under the impression that he will understand who it is from once he has received it.” The servant nodded.

“I understand. Thank you - I will see that it’s delivered to him promptly.” With that, the man turned and started off toward where the man on horseback was riding, glancing back at the creature in confusion for a moment before continuing with a brisk pace to the one he would be delivering the letter to. The creature waited a moment longer to watch for the rider’s reaction, smiled, knowing he had made the right decision, and began his sprint back toward home.

“Master Henry? Sir?” the servant called in the pasture, letter held carefully in his hand. Henry’s hazel eyes lifted as he turned his head and gently pulled back on the reins of his mount. The mare he rode slowed to a trot, then to a walk as Henry carefully turned her in the direction of the servant.

“Yes, Marc? What is it? Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, sir,” Marc replied. As Henry slowed his steed to a stop at his side, he looked down curiously at the other man, who held the letter out to him. “This arrived for you just now from an unknown deliverer. He said you would know who it was from when you read it.” Now thoroughly intrigued, Henry took the letter and opened it. His eyes widened as he beheld the handwriting, and slowly his other hand lifted to his mouth as his jaw dropped while he read. “Is there something wrong, sir?” Tears welled in Henry’s eyes, dripping down onto his freckled cheeks as he looked up from the letter, his expression of shock turning to a tearfully happy smile.

“No, Marc, everything is much better than I had anticipated.” Marc gave him a confused glance. “Will you help me ready a supply pack and ride with me? I will need to be leaving at once.”

“Of course, sir,” Marc replied with a curt nod. “May I ask where it is we are headed?”

“The base of Mount Montanvert.” Henry turned his mount, his eyes resting on the distant mountains. “Be prepared to bring the horses back here for me once we arrive there. I might not be returning for quite some time.”