#yeah its a yearning kind of night folks

[clockwork-carstairs]

Remember when Tessa and Jem were in the carriage on the way back from the battle at the start of clockwork princess? And Tessa’s worrying over Jem bec he’s injured and weak, and he lightly holds her wrist and smiles and gently says your pulse is quickening and Tessa says, “I love you.” And it’s just such a tender and moving moment because they’ve both got their hearts on their SLEEVES for each other. Jessa were always so romantic.

[lilaccoffin]

In the spirit of heart day tomorrow I wanna write some stuff about Vanichai from (mostly) Chai's POV

OKAY LIKE I feel like I don't talk about how Chai feels about Vanilla well...I have a joke with friends that he's getting Rose Quartz'd because I haven't been able to tell them much about VaniChai because I don't wanna spoil HFR for them but ahem...maybe I can rectify that by just talking about how he felt in college.

So, I think he's pretty chill about Vani the first time they meet because they get to talk about music for a bit. He doesn't have to say anything about himself much, just his opinion on a band's newest album! Though the conversation gets a little dizzying when Vanilla starts using a bunch of technical terms that Chai doesn't understand. He's totally the type of guy who just listens to music and goes "this slaps!" but doesn't know anything else. I mean, apparently he doesn't even know what being a rockstar entails according to info on his wiki, so...he definitely doesn't know what the hell percussion instruments are by that categorization but he'll see some cymbals and go "oh, cymbals!"

Anyway, he has to really fake it when Vani goes into those kind of tangents so he just nods and agrees with whatever he's saying and Vanilla is none the wiser. He definitely looks up what the hell he was talking about later and goes "oooh...damn this guy knows a lot about music!" And find its really impressive and cool.

So, yeah, we all agree that Chai is the type to keep people at arms length, and that's a result of bullying growing up. I agree with the folks who have said he probably had to deal with fake friends and pity friends and that also reinforced his friendship moat. So when Vanilla is here being genuinely excited to be around Chai and talk to him and hang out, it wigs him out quite a bit on the inside. He tries to reason with himself though, like, why would Vani want to pretend to like him? They're both grown adults! This kind of crap is typical of kids growing up but...this is college, it's different, right?

He also doesn't want to admit that he wants a friend deep down. He's convinced himself he's better off by himself and he doesn't need others, but c'mon...it's very obvious Chai still yearns for something. The fact he wants to be a rockstar proves it. Being a rockstar allows you to be loved and admired by millions without them getting too close! You don't have to worry about any of the crap you had to worry about growing up because security will get those fans out of your hair, but they'll still shout about how much they love you from afar! Perfect, right?

So! Chai tries his best to push aside the thoughts that Vani is just pitying him or faking that he wants to be his friend. He'll give this guy a shot! He seems so genuine...and Chai actually likes hanging out with him, too. He's never really had someone in his life that listened to what he had to say so attentively. Well, anyone besides his parents. It's just nice being able to hang out with someone and feel like the fun is real and it's not at anyone's expense. There's never a moment with Vani where Chai thinks he's being laughed at instead of laughed with, unlike those other times growing up.

Things were going pretty well the first year they knew each other! It was especially funny when they realized Vani was delivering pizza to Chai's two years before and how he has Chai's favorite pizza order memorized from how many times he'd get pizza from their pizzeria. But, the fun goes downhill once Vanilla shares the idea of starting a band together and Chai agrees in excitement. (At this point I've been re-working the iced tea lore because I want it to make more sense and also properly convey that both Chai and Vani were in the wrong in their own respective ways!)

Vanilla runs the idea by Chai after a late night snack run. They're a bit hyper off some soda and candy and it just sounds like the perfect plan! Vanilla wanted to be vocals and Chai wanted to be guitar, but both not being able to fulfill those roles, they agreed that Chai being vocals and Vani being bass would work. They'd just have to find a drummer and a guitarist and if they wanted a keyboardist they'd work that out later! Chai was super stoked! He had a friend for the first time in what felt like ages, and now they would be rockstars together!

It all sounded perfect...until Vanilla started to go into overdrive. He'd do his best to pressure Chai to pick up on his school work, but Chai didn't really see the big deal. He was mostly here in college for his parents' sake. Chai strikes me as the type of guy to think making music should just happen and there shouldn't be a huge emphasis on school stuff to achieve the dream. Vani doesn't agree with him, but not being one to push a confrontation, he would find a way to push Chai along...by secretly doing some of his work for him in classes they shared.

Once Chai finds out about this he feels awful. He knows Vani is very serious about school and if he got caught doing this, it could get them into big trouble. He only really cared about Vani ruining his own chances, so he tells him to stop that and just let him handle it. Vanilla trusts him enough to keep his word, and Chai does put a little more effort into his work, but the shitty attitude from their professors pushes him back onto his slacker tendencies as a way of not letting them push him around. An act of defiance.

This makes Vanilla panic a bit and he tries once again to nudge Chai along, but Chai tells him to seriously not worry about it and let him take care of it! He can't let them push him around! Vanilla tries to understand but he's so bad at this kind of thing. He only knows how to be sneaky about stuff and he's horrible at standing up to people in authority! So Chai doing this with their professors is WHOA to him. He probably tells Chai to just let stuff go when professors mock him and Chai is like "absolutely not, Vani." Vanilla gets kinda mad because him back-talking and not doing his best on his work may get in the way of everything, but he just keeps it to himself and acts passive aggressive for a bit. Chai groans and does the bare minimum for Vani's sake, but not by much. He still doesn't want to seem like he's bending to his shitty teachers' insults. He hates seeing Vanilla anxious more than them, though.

Which brings me to my next point! Chai notices how much of a nervous wreck Vanilla is in college. He may need to squint to see the giant QA center sign, but he doesn't have to in order to see Vanilla's stress levels. Chai often does his best to get Vanilla to take naps and get decent sleep whenever this dude stays up all night to do homework. He also does his best to convince Vani to stop and smell the roses and goof off/take breaks. He'd take him to the record shops or arcades outside of campus or hang out casually in their dorms to get some proper down time and not overthink about essays and exams. Seeing Vanilla happy and at ease made him feel great. Really great...How could he not when this, admittedly cute guy, was smiling and laughing so much and he was the reason for it! Yeah, Chai thought Vani was cute but he didn't wanna think about those feelings too much since he wasn't sure Vani was a boy liker like him and he knew Vani was too busy with school stuff and wanting to be a musician to probably do any dating stuff. So! Even though Chai has good intentions, his actions could come across as him being a bad influence, something Vanilla's other friends misinterpret and don't like. The cocky attitude Chai has also doesn't sit well with them and they start to dislike him, even though Vanilla insists Chai is a cool dude.

It's thanks to people like their professors and Vani's friend group that Chai starts to believe that maybe he is a bad influence on Vani down the road. He starts to think Vani would be better off without him and that maybe he should burn the bridge to friendship he built for him and let the moat take over again. (Boy, I hope that sentence made sense!) He starts to act more like the douchier Chai we meet at the start of Hi Fi RUSH as a means of getting Vani to stop liking him so much. Maybe then when Vani stops talking to him altogether it won't hurt so bad. (Oh, the irony.)

The attitude plan doesn't work. Vanilla doesn't stop hanging around Chai no matter what dickish thing he says or does to him! Ditching him didn't work, calling him a ditz or making fun of him didn't work, nothing did! And honestly? Chai was kind of glad nothing worked! He didn't want to stop being friends! But the more he saw how much potential Vani had and how little he did, it all started to make his head spin. His 'fake it till you make it' attitude started to dip and he got moodier thinking about his professors being right about him. Didn't help when they'd make those jokes about him and Vanilla. Jokes about how much of a better student Vanilla was than him and how they hoped he wouldn't drag Vanilla down...Didn't help to see Vanilla sheepishly laugh them off. Then the guest speaker band in their other class came and...yeah...a mixture of Chai's insecurities and his guilt towards Vani clash and make him have a whole "FUCK" moment.

Soon enough they have the argument on their snacking roof. Chai tries to tell Vani that maybe he should find someone else to be vocals in the band. Vanilla freaks out and tells him that it has to be him! He doesn't want anyone else to be in the band if it means Chai has to go. Hell, he doesn't want a band at all if Chai isn't in it. It kinda freaks Chai out how upset he gets so he tries to shrug it off like "alright! jeez!" Vanilla apologizes for snapping like that but he just...really wants to do this with Chai. It makes Chai feel even more guilty about things, and then Vani shares a song he's been working on with him.

Chai reads the lyrics to himself and he keeps feeling all his guilt and insecurities pile up again and he decides to trash the song, still trying his best to get Vani to stop sticking around him. Chai harshly critiquing it also doubles as him letting out his frustrations with himself. Vanilla just gets embarrassed and thanks him for his feedback. Tells him that this is why he needs him in the band and now Chai wants to snap and tell him that no he doesn't!!!! He doesn't need a guy who doesn't even know what the hell he's doing to be in a band with him!!! But then he thinks about it...thinks about how Vani's friends think he's an egotistical prick...

He scoffs and nods. "Yeah, maybe you do need me! I dunno how a band with songs like these could get anywhere." Fuuuck does it suck to say something like that to Vani. Chai always really liked Vanilla's songs, even the ones with lyrics that scared him! He can tell that stung for Vani and he bites his lip but keeps at it. Vanilla asks him if he always felt that way about his songs and Chai tells him yup. It makes Vanilla panic and he asks Chai what he should fix. Chai sweats nervously and just tells him all of it and Vanilla asks how in clear distress. Being told a band with his songs would get nowhere makes him think about his parents and how they would react to his secret major. They'd definitely say something about how he wouldn't get anywhere with this too...and hearing it from Chai? He's fucking SHAKEN.

Chai instantly regrets saying those things upon seeing him freak out. It reminds him of when his fake friends growing up would drop the bomb on him that they kept him around as a joke or they only pretended to be his friend out of pity or because of some cruel bet. It sucked. He doesn't know how to backpedal after all of that, and knowing how bad Chai is with talking, he just keeps at it. He tells him he doesn't think any of his advice could do much. He can't make Vani a better songwriter. Vanilla feels like he got punched in the gut and still tries to muster up some kind of hope. He asks Chai if maybe he can still try? Still try to help him? Chai feels like shit about all of this so he just shrugs and tells him "sure" to ease some of the guilt.

So they head back to their dorms, both feeling like utter crap. Chai decides that he should just drop out because of how pointless this is. His parents wanted him to try because any good parent wants their kid to secure a job and take care of themselves in life. But he just couldn't take the ableist professors, how he didn't really know what else he wanted outside of the rockstar dream, and now this feeling that he's dragging someone who does have it figured out down with him. If Vani wasn't gonna stop hanging around, then he would. It sucks, majorly. Vanilla is even more fucked up by Chai eventually leaving and not responding to any of his calls or texts. His friends convince him it is for the best that Chai left and that he should keep focusing on his dream. Vanilla takes their advice and keeps giving school his all out of spite for his parents and now Chai. It doesn't help that when Vani told them about their argument his friends put the idea in his head that Chai probably thinks he's better than Vani and would have just used the band as a stepping stone or something for a solo career.

I mean, Chai does cope by being self centered and pretending he's the coolest dude ever after all the disasters in his life...better to fall back on a crappy coping mechanism than be miserable and let the insecurity eat at him. After the events of Hi Fi RUSH, I think he would constantly argue with himself about hitting Vani up again and explaining himself to him, apologizing even! But it's hard...it's hard when he thinks that Vani is still better off without him in his life.

Then Vani gets a job as the band that came to visit their class' songwriter. He'd normally be overjoyed over it, but it's all such a bitter experience. He's bitter about not being the one play his songs, he's bitter that he was driven by his spite and anger to get this far, and he's bitter that he did everything the way he thought he was supposed to and didn't really achieve what he wanted in the end. The band is kind to him, and they praise his work a lot, but it's just not the same. He's not a part of the band and he doesn't always write the songs too so he's just...sooo bitter. Then he goes to get an enhancement from Vandelay because his parents gave him some guff about his ice powers being the weakest in the family during a get together and he snapped over it. Seeing posters with Chai's face all over the campus because he's the new ambassador and face of Project Armstrong...oooo...when Vani finds him...

The boys will be fightiiiing...

[spiltscribbles]

Prompt 37 (from the first list) and bodyguard au seems interesting

By the way I love your writing please never stopped just finished your recent fic and its one of my favourites.

~Notes: 😭😭😭 baby u can’t be out here recklessly making me sob!!! I am so flustered right now!! Thank you so much for being a beautiful soul 😌😌 ok NEGL the bodyguard thing is not here Becs I’m dumb and couldn’t think of one, but there’s protective sirius💜 I hope you don’t hate this!!! ILU!!!

.-

Smash Game  |  Send Me A Prompt💜 |  A Reblog Means SO Much!!!!

.-

Alphard Black was a good man,  a man of his community,   a man of the law. He taught the ins and outs of the constitution  at Columbia, never went an inch over the speed limit, hell, he even  separated his recyclables into their proper piles for the garbage collector, and  all while spending his down time volunteering at some sort of virtuous charity or impactful outreach program for inner city youths—the man basically leaped right out of the screen of some cheesy, after school special, wacky ties and rumpled hair aplenty.

Alphard Black was a virtuous, humble man who abided by the laws set out for him to a painstaking degree—So Sirius sorta thinks it’s hilarious that he’s kind of the exact antithesis of his uncle— the man who brought him up after running away from his bat shit parents and their bat shit values as the top of the one percent.  Just kind of though.

Sirius likes to think he’s still a good guy—albeit in the typical, non second coming of Christ wannabe kind of way.  He gives spare change to homeless folks at Grand Central, doesn’t sneer at raucous kids inside of restaurants or busses… for fuck’s sake  he even smiles at strangers more often than not—— just the typical, What a nice day isn’t it, smile and not, I’m actually a blood thirsty maniac ready to carve out all your organs and wrap your naked, dead body in saran wrap Dexter style, smile…Which is actually a type of smile Sirius has become intimately familiar with considering that unlike his Uncle Alphard, Sirius may have a problem with the whole “Laws are created for the good of the public,” ideology, and rather subscribes to the way of thought that thinks it’s kind of thrilling to see how much you can bend and skirt around the rules till they break, or till he gets caught. Which in turn mostly manifests into Sirius participating in a very high demand business—the sort that’ conducts it’s transactions within the metaphorical underground, and makes it so he spends his days with a group of brilliant  assholes that he considers family, and a discretely wicked boy who he thinks is most probably the love of his god forsaken life.

Mother Mary,  help them all.

~*~

“Padfoot too Moony, are you in, Moony.” 

A moment of static passes before Remus’s voice trickles through the minuscule bluetooth  snuggled in Sirius’s ear, and he can’t help but smirk. “Why are you still trying to make these codenames work—they don’t work, they’re all awful and trash,  and we should just stick with the numbers we were given when Moody first scouted us.”

“Mmm yeah, Moons, talk dirty to me.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,”

“Say trash again.”

“I hate you,” Remus intones. He  sounds all surly and bothered, and Sirius’s fingers curl together to card through the phantom strands  of his hair, knowing full and well how adorably flustered Remus gets whenever they are having one of their little sparring sessions—It’s also the same look he gets whenever he’s incredibly turned on and has no idea how to handle it. Coincidence? Sirius thinks not.

“Ah, Moony, my love, you say that as if my perfect baritone isn’t the highlight of your day. Like you don’t write sonnets and odes about it’s every cadence and lilt in your little diary you think I don’t know about. As if—“

“I’m shutting you off now,” Remus cuts in with his best, I’m trying to pretend  that I am so totally annoyed even if I’m actually really amused by you and all your antics, voice. It’s one that’s basically come second nature to him whenever he speaks to Sirius, ever since they had met three years ago and Sirius had to teach him the trick of the trade after Remus had been invited into the fold, while also trying not to completely accost him with his lips and hands and teeth until the work day was over.

“You would never.” 

“You seriously have an overinflated sense of worth if you’re starting to doubt that I very much would,” Remus goads, but he forgets that Sirius can see every nook and cranny of the swanky penthouse from his perch in the getaway van, thanks to his very beautiful laptop monitor.  And yeah, Sirius can so totally spot that little flicker of a grin tugging on the edges of his pink lips,  where Remus is trying to hide it behind the flute of wine in his grasp—his very strong and capable grasp, one that’s wrapped around the neck of that glass just so tight—Oh, erm, yeah. That’s  a thought Sirius should definitely not be having at their current predicament.

“Righto, beautiful, whatever you say.”

“Was there an actual reason for your little interference, besides you being pissy that you had to take the get away position this time around?” Remus sighs, long suffering before offering a subdued, half grin to a very haughty looking woman passing him, predatory leer on her plump lips. And jeez, Sirius bemoans her poor eardrums if they’re suppose to be carrying diamonds that thick all night long— Poor hag will probably end up needing stitches like his dear mother.

“I missed you is all, lover.”

“Goodbye, Sirius.”

“Oh fine, you total spoil sport. Just an FYI that Marlene’s gotten into the volt’s room, and she’s decoding it as we speak.”

“Oh, good. Should I-“

“Moons, it’s Marls, she’s got her shit handled. You just stand there and be a the good, pretty honeypot that we all know you can be.”

Remus growls somewhere deep in his throat, and it’s bringing a flurry of such beautiful imaginings to the forefront of Sirius’s mind— including last night, with Remus’s lovely, thin wrists tied up and Sirius’s mouth trailing up and down his every patch of skin.

God, was that a good night.

“You’re a pain in my ass.” 

“I know, it’s a point of pride for me that I get to say I tap that. But hey, always game to switch things up if you are?”

“You are the absolute worst person ever.”

“Ooo are we circling back around to speaking filthy things, because I’ve been having this fantasy including you and these lace—“

That’s when Remus actually does shut off the communication device, and starts chatting up some smarmy businessman who can’t stop staring at his protruding collarbones.

Sirius is most certainly not jealous.

Nope, not at all—Not even a little bit.

Sirius is not jealous.

Okay, fine…So he’s a bit bothered, but can anyone blame him? All of that—chorded muscles and sparkling eyes—is reserved for  Sirius, and Sirius alone. It’s taken years of volleying barbs and really intense sexual tension that was all finally resolved after a way too dramatic spat outside some sleazy BDSM club on the wrong side of town where Sirius got himself fucking shot, and Remus couldn’t stop yelling at him for being such a mother fucking, idiotic, thoughtless prick, (Remus’s words not Sirius’s,) for them to finally get to this point. For fuck’s sake, it seemed as if Remus’s anger fueled diatribe would never end, so Sirius just took the dilemma into his own hands and slanted their lips together, bloody and breathless, panting out an “I love you too,” while Remus just patted up and down Sirius’s torso, not knowing where to put his hands, dumbfounded and eager. As if he could hardly believe that it was actually happening, as if he was shocked that Sirius had finally just put them out of their mutual misery and spoke out loud what’s been lingering in their gazes, and tailing the ends of too short exchanges for years at that point—ones always composed of banter and barbs but always to fearful to take the extra step they yearned for.

Yeah, so it wasn’t exactly a cinderella story level of romance, but the point is they’ve fought tooth and nail to finally get to this point in their relationship. Nights made up of spilt hair on warm sheets, and  hungry kisses of farewell, and shirts tumbling together so many times that  they don’t even know which belongs to who anymore—All of them lingering with a sent of both of them, together. Something intimate. Something remarkable. Something far too soft when considering their line of employment—But it works for’m, and that’s all that counts.

Before Sirius could get to lost in getting all starry-eyed over the life they’ve built for themselves, Sirius moves to sweep his hands across the keyboard, A cautious eye still on Remus and his unwanted suitor while dividing the screen so that he can check back on Marlene’s progress, which is quite impressive if he does say so himself.

“And Black Widow pulls through again,” He commends with a low whistle, watching her practically stroll out of the volt, ancient artifact securely settled in the bag swinging off her shoulder, and cocky sneer proudly splayed across her pretty face.

“You know it dweeb.”

“THat’s not my code name,” Sirius points out  with a put upon exhale.

Marlene’s only response is to hike up her manicured brows in counterfeit surprise.  “you sure? I could’ve sworn…”

Sirius legitimately contemplates just driving off and leaving her stranded, signaling to Remus a separate meet up point for just the both of them. But Eventually, he reasons  that might be a bit of an over reaction. So he settles for just growling out a reminder for her  to “Respect the name,” while a glowing Marlene slinks into the passenger seat.

“Your so precious.” Sirius swats her hand away where she’s begun rubbing her knuckles into his scalp. “Call pretty boy and let’s bounce, will you?”

Reluctant, Sirius listens—only and only because he’s about ninety nine point five percent positive that she could probably beat’m to a pulp with one hand tied behind her back and both eyes glued shut.

~*~

The mission was one they’ve been calculating for months, a huge catch with a credibility brought with it that doubles its actual monetary prophet—(And wowza, that price check is all levels of ridiculous.) Moody is beyond  proud, and tells them as much with a crazy large celebration back at their little underground headquarters, (which is actually an entire floor on one of the top levels of a huge ass skyscraper in the meatpacking district that disguises itself as just a financial consultant firm in the light of day.)

It’s made even more wonderful considering how he, Remus and Marlene are basically the guests of honor for their success. So that night  they drink, and dance and just generally get absolutely slobbered…Then subsequently remember nothing the following morning, as tradition always dictates.

Though Sirius does  distinctly remember trading sloppy hand jobs in the bathroom with Remus while the latest Beyonce banger pounds in the space between them.

 It’s a good night.

~*~

Unsurprisingly, the hangover that persists even two days later really makes Sirius question the worth of all that celebrating, and he ponders on whether or not being sober would be so bad.

“Morning, Black!” 

Sirius cringes back at a crowing Dorcas—Looking as wickedly gorgeous and put together as always—Dark eyes clear and methodic, and long curls obviously freshly washed. 

“Sorcerous!” He accuses with as much vehemence as he could muster. “your evil! How are you even so perky! Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting my eyes!”

Dorcas just preens with far too much amusement than what should be warranted—it’s almost as if she’s enjoying his pitiful disposition. “Not all of us got as sloppy as you Saturday night may I remind.”

“Then you’re doing your entire life incorrectly.”

“I just have a modicum of self restraint, unlike you.”

“Lies! Lies and slander! I am so very disciplined! I didn’t even tell you guys about the time Remus gave me a blow job in the middle of a glass elevator when we were shopping for Jamsie and Lily’s engagement gift!”

Dorcas just rolls her eyes heavenwards, painstakingly exasperated. “C’mon, dumb ass, Alice needs you to use those hacking skills of yours to get the money Lestrange still owes us for collecting those tears of the ocean. And her bank account is sealed shut.”

“Ah, no Cas ’s too early! And my head hurts! I can’t.”

“Shouldn’t have been such a drunken mess during the party I reckon,” Dorcas scoffs with an imperious tilt of the head, tugging him along without even an ounce of sympathy.

“Hey! It was a celebration!” Sirius flails, and Dorcas just looks at him with a decidedly unconvinced glower. 

“It’s all in moderation Sirius.”

“Not at a party it isn’t!” He argues back, totally knowing he’s in the right.

“Yeah whatever, you’re just lucky you weren’t sent off to Shanghai with lover boy, which by the way,” Dorcas pivots on her heels  to face Sirius straight on, prodding at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder.  “Looks like you missed a hickey sweets,” she toots loftily, poking at it again, a flush blooming across Sirius’s cheeks in response.  “Not good work decorum if you ask me.”

“You’re face ’s not good work decorum,” Sirius snarks back mulishly. Dorcas just laughs with glee.

“Do I need to talk to poor, innocent Remus about proper biting placement for you once he gets back?”

“Pff, Remus and innocent don’t belong in the same sentence.”

“Fine, then  I can just give you some tips on how to properly layer foundation? I’m sure it’s a travesty how easily shit shows up with your Wonder Bread complexion.”

“You actually are evil! Aren’t you?”

Sirius could still hear Dorcas’s cackles from down the hall where Alice has set him up for the morning, and he idly thinks to himself how exactly he’s made it so that every woman in his life could destroy him with nothing more than a look.

~*~

Considering that all of their  livelihoods are basically glorified bank robbers, Sirius knows that their jobs don’t really lend themselves to being able to check in on each other whenever they’d please—the only devices they’re allowed for communication are the bluetooth sets  for the team deployed on the task at hand, and a single burner. It can get annoying sometimes, but Sirius and Remus always make it a point to send each other a message from the router phone  whenever they arrive to the mission’s ground of operation—It’s a practice ingrained into them, one  they began long before they ever started dating, one  that they never break, not even if they’re arguing or it’s the middle of the night—It’s important. They’ve both lost to many people in their short lives, and they both know how it feels to be delegated to the worrying mess, wondering what’s happening to their loved one, being consumed by the most awful of possibilities. They do it because they respect each other far too much not to.

So Sirius finds it excruciatingly odd that he doesn’t hear from Remus in over thirty-six hours since he left to the Shanghai hit. 

“Maybe he just forgot, Pads,” James shrugs, always the level headed ringleader. “No Proclivity is absolutely bullet proof—Ah, excuse me for the unplanned pun.” He scratches the back of his head a little sheepishly— the glasses of his wireframes glinting in the light of their shared workspace.

And the thing is, point. James is totally right. Remus just could’ve forgot. It was a long plane ride, he could’ve just been jet legged and a little dazed and it could’ve just slipped his mind  to message Sirius when he landed. That’s totally a possibility. 

But see the thing is, that’s also totally not a possibility—like at all. Remus is like the most diligent person on the face of the planet, which may kind of seem out of character considering how he’s more of the type to follow his heart over protocol when it counts, and his entire livelihood is based off the evasion of the law—But even still, Remus is also the guy who likes a true and tried method. He likes having security in the aspects of his everyday  life he can control. Sirius knows how borderline neurotic Remus can get about certain things, like finishing all of his paper work the night it’s given, or having a stable workout regiment, and a bunch of other minuscule, everyday things that tethers him. But Sirius also knows that the texts Remus sends him blows all of those out of the water. They’re something crucial—something vitally important. If the roles were reversed, if it were Sirius who forgot to send the text, then yeah, Remus would have a perfect history to look back on and just shrug it off as Sirius having been thoughtless, no big deal. Remus would just make a note to give him  an ear full when he gets back. 

But the rolls aren’t reversed.

It’s Remus who didn’t send anything, and Sirius knows it in his heart of hearts that this is not normal, that Remus would never have forgotten. Remus would never have fucking been able to go to sleep without passing Sirius a message of safe arrival. It’s just not him. 

James still looks unsure even after Sirius’s way to verbose and borderline babbling explanation of why he knows something isn’t adding up, so he decides to hit him below the belt.

“If this were Lily you wouldn’t be second guessing this.” 

James jolts back as if Sirius had just smacked him, which Sirius guesses is kind of true, in the metaphoric sense at the very least. But whatever, Sirius’s right, and he knows it. 

IF this was Lily— the beautiful, kind baker that James had met coincidentally on a random Sunday afternoon, someone completely divorced from this world— well, there would  be no room for discussion.

“IF this were Lily you would trust your gut, and we’d already know what went wrong. We’d know that you were right, the she wasn’t safe.” Sirius’s face feels heated, and he knows that his throat is closing up, but he can’t help it god damn it. This is Remus—And even the thought of him being in any way hurt—No, Sirius refuses to think that way. Because he’s not, he can’t be. This is Remus god damn it. He’s brilliant and strong and he can handle himself. He’s what everyone in their group secretly strive to be—He’s not hurt, he can’t be hurt.

James just sits there, gawking at Sirius, for a moment of pure and utter silence. Sirius doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t fold back from the intensity in his best friend’s— his brother’s— gaze. 

“This is Remus god damn it, James”

Something fierce rippling over his face, James nods, finally seeming to understand.

“Let’s tell Moody,  and call a group meeting. We need to figure out what the hell’s going on.” 

Sirius sags with the little relief he’s given, pretends that it doesn’t feel like there’s not a wildfire still spreading over his chest�� from the  bone deep fear.

~*~

Two hours later finds their little ragtag group huddled in the largest meeting room they have, and  Sirius hunched over a menacing letter that was hand delivered by one of Lestrange’s ghoulish little minions— Crouch if their intel is correct. 

“Any news is good news, right?” Peter— their mousey little researcher— says in some weak attempt of comfort from where he’s silently been situated in the love seat the furthest away from the lump some, and Sirius replies by snarling viciously at him;  making Peter shutter back, like the spineless weasel Sirius has always assumed him to be.

Sirius is not comforted. Sirius is furious and sick and he hates everything  in sight. And all Sirius could think of is Remus, Remus, Remus.

“What do we do,” James’s voice is strong, convicted in the painful silence of the room—But when Sirius looks up, he could still see the worry etched into his handsome features, and the fear threaded into his stance. 

James is scared, and that might worry Sirius more than anything else could. 

“This is my fault, I sanctioned just stealing the money she owed us and I was the one who thought Remus would be fine on a solo mission—I thought it’d be a simple grab. I didn’t put two and two together—I just didn’t—“ Alice breaks off, looking away from the group, and Frank slings an arm around his wife’s slender shoulders.

“Hey now, ’s not your fault, ’s not no ones,” as if to emphasize his point, Frank gives a downright menacing grimace to everyone in the room, daring them to disagree. “It’s Remus, he’s resilient. And that bitch knows if he’s actually hurt we’ll destroy everything she’s ever built for herself.” 

“Don’t be so sure,” Sirius’s surprised of the jaggedness of his own voice, leveling him with a look of utter fury. “She’s a psychotic, selfish, self indulgent bitch—There’s worse things than just beating him up or locking him in some cellar.” 

From the corner of his eye he sees Alice shutter, is briefly reminded of that stint where she was badly injured after a run in with one of the darker ringleaders in their line of work, Riddle. And then he remembers, unbidden, how that bastard has some sort of fucked up Harley Quinn, Joker esthetic going on with Bellatrix Lestrange— and a sick, twisted part of Sirius that actually does blame Alice for sanctioning those two risky missions so close together, is savagely pleased of the effect that the reminder has on her. But the rest of Sirius is just disgusted by himself and hates himself even more when remembering where Remus is at this very moment, and what he must be going through. There’s no time to be pointing fingers, and Sirius knows it.

“Whatever, no time to think of it now,” Sirius rises, and the way all of their eyes follow his every move (Even Moody who is the actual boss— doesn’t go over his head. 

“What do you think we should do from here?” Dorcas asks in a small voice, clutching onto the letter like a life line—She’s Remus’s best friend, Sirius knows that, knows that she stopped only skirting  along the edges of this unsavory line of work until Remus came along and helped her wiggle out of her shell. And the reminder makes Sirius feel such a burst of aching for Remus all at once that he nearly topples over, just barely catches himself with a hand on the tabletop.

“Peter,” Sirius barks, making the blonde finally straighten. “Check out where Bellatrix is scheduled to appear next.”

“Ah, erm on it, of course.” 

Sirius starts to feel a little better—no not better, balanced. He knows what needs to be done, what will   happen next, knows that it’ll turn out all right. 

It has to turn out all right, because he can’t fathom a world where it doesn’t— a world without Remus isn’t worth even a breath.

~*~

If there’s anything that Sirius knows about supreme bitch face herself, it’s that Bellatrix is  cavalier to a fault. So it really doesn’t surprise him when Peter finds out that she’s holding a little gala for her new play things art exhibit in her own home that night, and Sirius intends on giving his congratulations, whether or not he’s on the guest list. 

~*~

“Hey, can you hear me.” 

Sirius presses an inconspicuous finger onto his eardrum when Dorcas’s voice breaks through, speaking the affirmative. 

“All right, well Moody says that upstairs is most likely where you’ll find’m. Marlene and James will stay down at the party just incase anything goes wrong.” 

“Right,” Sirius nods to himself, trying to put together all the new information that’s swimming in his mind. “Thanks Cas.”

“Stay safe, and bring him home. Don’t fuck this up, Sirius.” Her voice is small and fragile. Sirius could picture the gleam to her big doe eyes. “We need you both safe.”

“Of course."

~*~

As expected, the upstairs is a labyrinth of doors and alcoves that Sirius could barely wrap his mind around, the only constant thought is that it makes sense that Bellatrix would want to keep the money from the job she had them perform for her. The rent for this place definitely can’t be cheap.

Sirius tries at least ten different rooms before he comes across one that’s locked from the inside as well as a deadbolt, and His heart seizes with a choked sort of hope before he starts pounding against it. 

“Remus! Remus! Are you in there!” His voice goes ragged at how loud he’s screaming, but Sirius doesn’t let up. He starts calling  for him even louder if possible. “Remus!” 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Sirius stiffens, his blood running cold before slowly turning around to a very amused looking Bellatrix Lestrange. Predatory sneer swept across her blood red lips, and weight slung to her left hip. The picture of radiance and leisure in her slinky, black dress. She’s having fun toying with Sirius, with all of them. 

“Where the fuck is he,” Sirius spits out tersely—trying to sear wholes right through her disarming face. He thinks with a start  that she’d be pretty in an almost unchanging way—a timeless elegance that kind of mirrors Remus’s. But where beneath Remus’s golden exterior is all passion and goodness and an endless capacity of love, under Bellatrix’s pale white skin and dark eyes and sheets of even darker hair is just ugliness and cruelty and Sirius has never hated anyone more, or so intensely.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry that they sent the best of their group to the den,” She swaggers up to him, each step premeditated—a lion closing in on her prey, and her leer right then— self assured and cruel all at once— is like a mirror of his mother’s so thoroughly that it’s painful. “I’d really hate to ruin those movie star good looks you’ve got going on,” she runs the back of her hand down his face slowly, tendrils of her warm breath edging his lips. “And honey, you really are so deliciously gorgeous. But Moody needs to learn that no one double plays me so flippantly. No  respect, that kind of behavior  really can’t be tolerated. You understand that, don’t you  love?”

Right then, Bellatrix moves to  gouge Sirius right in the stomach with a dagger she had hidden in the sleeve of her dress—but Sirius’s quicker. 

He sweeps Bellatrix’s feet right from under her, twisting her arm behind her back and using her own weapon to chop off the doorknob, all in one fluid movement. Though,  he only has a sparing moment to feel boastful before he steps into the room to find Remus—sickly looking with blood matted in his golden locks, before everything turns to a buzzing in  the background—Sirius runs on autopilot, with the only crucial thought being to get Remus out safely. 

“Baby, I’m here, I’ve got you.” Sirius tells him with the words catching in his throat, and feels such a drowning amount of relief when he hears a gargled retort from Remus. “I’d never let anything happen to you, love. I’m so sorry. I’ll never let something like this happen again.” Sirius tells him with all the earnestness in the world, gently collecting him into his arms. “I’ve got you now, I won’t let go.” The promise is  as sure and true as the pump of his heart—Remus, Remus, Remus.

~*~

When they all return to headquarters, everyone circles a still limp and shallowly breathing Remus, while Dorcas figures out the extent of his injuries.

It’s the worst hour of his life Sirius thinks—The not knowing, it hurts like nothing else. And he swears once more, to himself and the moonlight and the stars peeking through the skyline that he’ll never let this happen, never again., doesn’t want Remus ever out of his sight.

~*~

A week later, and everything feels as if it’s back to normal—more or less.

Their bedroom smells like sage—thanks to the candles Lily bought Remus for his last birthday—And Remus’s swaddled into the most comfortable blanket Sirius could find—his twisted ankle elevated, and a fresh bowl of soup on his night stand.

It’d be the picture of absolute bliss… Now if Remus wasn’t scowling so morosely. 

“You seem mad,” Sirius notes, standing over him with a freshly fluffed pillow. Remus looks up at him from under his spider leg lashes, so very unimpressed.

“You’ve never taken care of me  nearly so intently   a day in your life.”  Remus charges.

“Untrue!” Sirius squawks in contrary. 

“When I got food poising from that sushi place last year, you blamed me for eating it wrong.”

“Yeah, well it’s blasphemous to ever blame Kimiko! The woman is a titan!” 

Remus’s mouth quirks up, his eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. “You’re an idiot.”

Sirius deflates. “Okay, so I might be kind of majorly mother penning it right now,” Remus cranes a incredulous brow. “Okay, okay so a lot mother penning it. But, Remus— love— you were missing—like legitimately missing. And then i found you and you were…” He trails off, can’t even speak the horrors of that night. 

“Yeah, I was,” Remus links their fingers together, pulling Sirius closer, and opening his mouth so that when Sirius crouches to come face to face, he can kiss him properly.  “But you happen to be a pretty all right boyfriend, you found me—I’m fine. You made sure of that.”

“More than all right prick,” Sirius knocks their foreheads together and Remus feigns being in excruciating pain. “I fucking hate you,” he snorts, saddling against Remus’s side, and nuzzling into his neck, taking in the miraculous scent of him— the citrus and cinnamon and sunlight that he’s come to crave at all hours of the day. “I love you sort of a lot, and it was the worst three days of my life, all right. Can you understand that?” 

Remus only hums,  kisses the tips of Sirius’s fingers before lacing them into his own.

“I understand, love, but Sirius, I’m fine. I’m here. You’re amazing, but you don’t need to protect me. Not constantly. This is our lives, and I need you to trust me that I can handle myself for the most part. All right?” 

Sirius makes a displeased sound, lips curled distastefully, and it makes Remus actually giggle like they were school boys again. And Jesus, Remus’s smile is blinding and beautiful and fucking hell, he’s here. He’s back in there room, back in Sirius’s arms.

“God, I missed you.”

Remus crunches upwards, kissing Sirius, and it feels like a promise that he’ll never leave him again. “I love you Sirius.”

Sirius leers, isn’t ready to have the conversation about learning how to let Remus go out without him. So instead he traces his thumb over Remus’s beautifully plump bottom lip, and bends down to whisper into his ear. “So can we talk about the lace then, because I’ve made some purchases and—“

Remus pushes him off their bed, and Sirius feels his laughter punching out of him in response.

~*~

~My Wolfstar FIC Index💜

[icecreamsundayonajulyafternoon]

Alcina Dimitrescu/f reader

+some well meaning Chris

I also posted this on my ao3 account Homoeroticmicrowave as a part of my resident evil oneshots book the link to which is : https://archiveofourown.org/works/32351686/chapters/80202100

For context in this the reader works with Chris but got kidnapped by Alcina and ended up bonding with her

Anyway behold My dignified shit post:

Alcina tilted your head up by your chin with one of her claws with a gentle sort of care “I might just be enamoured by you my little maiden” her voice had a certain air to it as the power she carried held strong though the coldness it had been coddled by withered away.

“And I am just glad to have met someone as truly brilliant as you are you make my heart feel like it’s faltering” Alcina’s tensed muscles and rigid posture seemed to deflate as her claws retracted.

“My little human girl you truly are one of a kind you are too good for this world and it’s cruelty that it afflicts you with”

Her hands incased yours as she held them so lightly ”Stay with me” Alcina’s eyes steadily gazed into your own “I want you to stay with me in this castle forever with me. I want you to marry me and be mine and let me be yours”

You almost thought she was joking but Alcina Dimitrescu would never make such a joke and to claim that she had would be ludicrous it was simply not in her nature to be so brash with her humour. However, declarations received a treatment that was a far cry to how her delicate words of amusement were handled

“I can give you a life worthy of living for you. I’ll have you adorned in whatever clothes you would see fit to clad your body and express your beauty in all of its forms, I’ll have you living a luxurious life that would make a deity envious, your every desire would be fulfilled if you only ask and I promise you I will give you everything if only to see you relish the world you live in” there was a certain warmth to her tone that she never previously expressed to you.

”It’s a pitiful world full of devastation and tyranny and I will not have it harm you from hence forth”

You released one of your hands from her gentle grasp so that your hands could reach out

“You make me feel pink and small and like I’m fluttering like my feet could rise from the ground and I’d float in the air like some sort of silly, little cartoon character when they’re smitten by someone” you felt overheated and uncomfortable as you spoke but you continued

“I would stay with you whether or not you had riches to offer me. Castles and gowns and jewellery is all very lovely but it’s not what keeps me yearning. I want you Alcina, I want you and I want to spend every moment that I can with you” you smiled despite your inability to even glimpse her face. A coward you were and yet a lovesick fool you were all the same.

“I found a home with you Alcina.” Your eyes finally reunited with hers and as she looked at you, you had never felt more loved than in that moment. “Let me be your home too….let me marry you” the words caressed her heart and she moved your arms so that they fell around her neck and she lifted you up by your waist. “I treasure every moment I have with you my love” she whispered. “Let this world we’ll build last forever”

When you had a moment alone while getting ready you radioed into whatever members of your team were still alive and had their radios still working and on them “So I’m not gonna be able to go back with you guys but everything’s pretty good so uh yeah I don’t really know how to explain the predicament- no that’s too negative a word- situation- no, no this is not a situation that makes it sound like there’s some kind of situation- what I meant to say the events that preceded my current happenings can be perceived as a little odd however everything is fine, goodbye forever”

You threw your radio out of the window and into the snow and presumed it had broke. Chances were your teammates would not have heard your message but it was still polite to let them know you were alive and well and would simply just not be joining them on their way home or anything at all again ever because you were about to be married to a giant, homocidal lady. They could be angered by your supposed ‘disrespectful’ tone concerning how you address everyone and didn’t go over formalities but you were gifted with this thing known as manner which influenced your decision to inform them of your lack of presence on the return journey before hand.

You were just considerate like that.

You gushed over the dress you had been so graciously gifted. It truly was a work of art tailored just for you. Each detail of it was made with a passionate precision that had you gawking with glee as you admired every segment of material woven into the fabric.

It was a true marvel and you felt like a piece of artwork yourself that would be displayed with great care in an art museum. You looked like a glamorous painting that was created with such integral beauty that the expertise of the artist could not be measured by any title or prideful words.

A sense of pride ghosted your senses and you found your fingertips brushing the mirror with such a light touch that you couldn’t br sure your skin had made contact with the mirror at all. You were so subconsciously convinced what you were looking into was glazed with deceit and if you touched the mirror you would break the illusion of beauty and your true form of much lesser looks would be restored. But that didn’t happen and for a moment you could sympathise with narcissus as much like them you found yourself fawning over the being of beauty that you weren’t entirely sure was yourself.

You were truly a bride who’s beauty was beyond befitting of any title that could be bestowed upon you and you thought yourself to be belonging with angels of artwork, your place was dancing with the muses who were worth more than simple adoration and worship.

You weren’t a god but you were blessed by Aphrodite’s touch and you were sure simple folk could not help but be too mesmerised to experience jealousy at your envious appearance.

If it were a sin to be enraptured in revelling in your own appearance than you would relish the hellfire that rained down to scorch your flesh and soul. You’d paint such a pretty picture dancing in the misery of hell gifted by sins. Lucifer had treated you well and you thanked them for gracing you with what God couldn’t.

Alcina’s voice rang out like a dove from behind the door and lulled you away from the mirror your attention had been stolen by. “Perhaps you could be so gracious as to adorn me with your presence”

You turned to face the direction of her voice “of course anytime my love” you said earnestly.

“I won’t look at you now nor do I want you to see me just yet but I couldn’t help but to speak to you just for a moment beforehand…I want it to be special my dear and I won’t want for it to be any less special than either of us want for it to be because you deserve everything you want and yet lover I find myself needing to be selfish and needing to hear your voice”

”Alcina it’s okay” you couldn’t help but to let a giggle escape you “I can’t help but feel nervous to see you and yet I can’t wait to I love you and tonight is special because it’s our night it’s special because it marks the first day I get to be with you forever”

You head Alcina let out a small laugh tainted by an agitating anxiousness. “So do I”

You felt breathless as you stepped out into the night. Donna your apparent personal seamstress and now flower girl guided you to where it would take place.

Alcina stared as though she had witnessed something that couldn’t be explained by any science or rationality. While she herself was a sight to take in when she saw you she felt as though her childhood dreams were coming true as you seemed mythical.

When your eyes met her you felt like you were falling and you didn’t want to stop. Not for a moment. She was gorgeous. A wedding dress perfectly fit for her graced her elegant features. She looked ethereal and you wanted to reach out to touch her. Each step you took seemed so slow. Far too slow for your liking. You wanted to be in her arms and soon.

When you did finally meet her while tradition forbid you to kiss her just yet you at least reached out to hold her hands. Your eyes glistened with joy all of the love you had barely fit in your body as it threatened to burst out of you in bounds of laughter and tears. You felt so much and you wanted to feel like that forever. You wanted for this moment to last forever. You wanted to be held by her forever.

Your hair seemed so gorgeous and lustrous in the glowing moonlight. Fairy lights decorated the trees surrounding you and fireflies twirled in the breeze. To think you would see such beauty and wonder in what had once been a placed that had brought you such terror and havoc.

Alcina held you tenderly as though she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. She wouldn’t be isolated in that feeling as you were swarmed by disbelief, you didn’t shun all of the conflicting emotions you were feeling. Not for a moment. You welcomed them and you couldn’t help but tingle with the relief of any negative thoughts or surprise being overwhelmed with ecstatic delight. You had thought of marriage in the general sense before when considering where the events of your life might lead you and while it wasn’t conventional not anything close to what you could have ever expected you would gladly spend the rest of your days residing in Dimitrescu castle with Alcina. She really was one marvellous woman.

You had insisted on certain songs being played at your wedding from fun songs you had once joked about being played at your wedding to irresistibly romantic guilty pleasures that you would have been teased mercilessly for an infinite amount of times had you ever admitted you would want played. But that was in another lifetime and while Alcina may not always understand certain aspects of your interests she was always glad to watch you indulge in them.

You two danced, chests pounding with a romantic joy you had never thought existed in the way you felt it. As your arms wrapped around her neck as she lifted you up you couldn’t help but think how a much younger version of yourself would feel giddy at knowing how in love you were. Though knowing your child self the word ‘gross’ would also most likely make an appearance as the topic of love.

You admired every detail of her face and when you kissed her you thought about how you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with her. However long you had would be amazing as long as it was spent by your side whether it be one day or one hundred years you wanted to spend it all with her. You had been bewitched by her and you couldn’t be happier.

Then your moment was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire. Violence and stubborn hatred truly had a way of ruining even the most kindest and beautiful of moments.

Alcina scooped you up and ran, throwing you over her shoulder and quickly moving so that you may escape the presence of aggression and be safe in the sanctuary she made for you.

Over her shoulder you saw Chris running, bullets blazing as he ran with a determined rage. You thought he would have been long gone by now. You had convinced Alcina to give up her part in aiding Miranda’s plan. Surely you could convince her to let these people leaves unscathed.

You moved in front of Alcina, attempting to quell her anger and bitter bloodlust with promises of trust and hope. You begged her to at least let you try to form some kind of truce so that you would not have to live knowing people you cared about destroyed each other. Hesitantly she let you go. Though her reluctance was apparent and she looked so eager to snatch you up and lock you far from those who put your life at risk.

You left the castle and approached the direction you were adamant Chris and probably his team would soon be.

Geez he really went to the effort to risk his life searching for your and stealing you back with him all so he could lecture you on your lack of formality and far too casual tone when you had radioed in as well as your blatant disrespect, poor execution of the mission and your inconsideration of the expense of the property you had been given. Sounds about right. It was a mistake to attempt some kind of means of communication really. And now look what happened your wedding was ruined.

You raised your hands up to show you meant no harm when Chris and found and approached you.

There was a moment between Chris properly processing you were there and him first catching sight of you where it felt like everything had been put on pause. He eyed you suspiciously as though you were some sort of distraction, a part of a malicious scheme Alcina had made in order to proficiently destroy any hope of Chris’s rescue attempt and mission succeeding.

”Hey” you waved awkwardly in a hopeless attempt to break through  the immense pressure and tension of the situation “nice to see you’re still alive and stuff that’s cool” your voice rang out through the silence. “I’m alive too which is fun looks like we have that in common”at that point you were just throwing dumb words at him in a blatant attempt to get him to respond in a way that wouldn’t suck.

Chris grabbed you and pulled you into a vice-like hug. You felt him lift you up “It’s good to see you….Where is that thing? What did that bitch do to you?” He seethed.

”Nothing she actually had a pretty good sense of hospitality-did you come here on your own without anyone-“

He had you back on the ground but his grasp never left you as he shifted his grip so that he now had a steady hold on your shoulders. “This isn’t the time to act like nothings wrong if you’re injured or you’ve been drugged with something you need to tell me” his hold on you was just as secure as it was when he hugged you even if he no longer had you squished against him.

“I’ve not been hurt really I’m not lying to you Chris” you looked him in the eyes and tried to communicate with your facial expressions that you were telling the truth.

Chris sighed slightly but nodded “good, we need to leave we can continue this conversation when we’re safe-“

You put a hand on his chest to put some distance between you both “look Chris I’m- I’m not leaving. I’m staying here” Chris looked a mixture of perplexed and horrified.

He stepped closer to you so he was practically leering over you “what are you talking about! We’re going. Now.”

“No Chris I’m not. I love Alcina and I’m not leaving her. I won’t. You can leave I’ll make sure she won’t come after you just as I made sure she no longer interfered with Ethan finding Rose but I won’t go with you”You stared defiantly at him as you stood as tall as you could despite him towering over you.

”Alcina? Is that what that bitch got you to call her!You think you love that thing! Jesus Christ what did she do to you!” Chris looked disgusted at your words.

“Hey man I don’t ruin your weddings do I the least you could do is let me go back to her-“ Chris held your arm tightly preventing you from leaving as he radioed into someone.

”I’ve acquired S/n. Clearly they’re under some kind of influence- they must have been brainwashed or put in some form of hypnotic state!” Chris hypothesised to the person on the other end of the radio upon your immediate reluctance to leave. The moment you suggested you had no interest in leaving he stopped talking directly to you. “We’ll meet you there soon we’ll need a medic and possibly some means of restraint for them” he tucked the radio back into his pocket and turned his attention back on you.

“I’m all here I’m just genuinely okay to stay here” you implored him to recognise that you were in fact all there.

Chris ignored your attempts to defend your sanity and slung you over you shoulder. “Fuck are you doing!” You yelped at his sudden action.

“I don’t know what that freak did to you but I won’t let you suffer! I won’t leave you in this hell hole! We can fix this I promise!” He seemed so genuinely concerned and you understood why but you just needed him to listen. You knew how ugly this was going to end up if he didn’t.

”Stop calling her that! You know nothing of her! There’s nothing to fix! She’s been nothing but kind to me! Please just put me down and leave!” Your pleads were wasted as he stopped responding to you.

Panicking you thrashed in his stone like grip even going so far as to try to bite and scratch him. He grunted in response to your little attack and repositioned you so that you couldn’t easily hurt him and if you did you wouldn’t do much damage.

Your fears were ignited when you heard Alcina’s voice rampaging through the wind. Chris cursed and you began begging you to put him down and leave you. Unfortunately, he interpreted your words as an attempt to sacrifice yourself for his sake, which he refused to go along with.

He didn’t let go of you as he began running and quickly grabbing a gun which he fired at Alcina with a precision you wish he lacked. You started screaming begging for them not to fight but your words crumbled as your weeping shouts were overpowered by the insatiable violence that inevitably occurred due to both parties refusal to attempt any form of reason.

While you understood the motivation both of them had and if you heard one perspective by itself you could easily side with it if the other one remained unknown to you.

Chris set you down by a tree after tying you to it. You blubbered through your messy tears that he needed to stop and listen to you for just a moment. You were desperate for them to stop before it was too late but just as always you were ignored as Chris left you to fight Alcina.

Your thoughts flurried as paranoia and fear truly sunk in and you were sure one or both of them would die. As you were sure you would lose everything to the cruelty of bloodshed. Time seemed to drag on and you struggled to release yourself from the rope that held you securely. You were so sure that one of them were dead as horrific sounds seeped into the cold night air.

Your fears proved true when you heard Alcina’s screams rattle throughout the air. Your breath hitched. What just happened-

Your head snapped at the sound of footsteps and your whole body felt like it was burning as you saw Chris’s weathered face.

He untied you and lifted you up into his arms that seemed to tremble ever so slightly. “What-what just” you could barely get the words out of your mouth. It couldn’t have possibly meant what-no there had to be some other explanation. Any other explanation.

”She won’t hurt you anymore” with those words you fell a part.

Chris remained silent as you sobbed. He just kept walking. He was sure you were just experiencing some kind of false mourning as the result of whatever Alcina had done to you. And yet guilt threatened to creep at the doubt that teased the back of his mind. He held back his thoughts and focused on getting you home.

[hankwritten]

Keep in a Cool Dry Place

Demoman/Soldier, 3k

A couple of old, past their prime mercs live out their days, but at least they’re slowly breaking down together.

Oftentimes, Jane would go out onto the deck to find Tavish fixed in place, chin tilted skywards, soaking up the stars for all they were worth. He could be like that, sometimes for hours, eye glossy against the Milky Way as he stood so still he could make a statue proud.

“You’re up awful late,” he said to Jane, unmoving. Probably had realized Jane had been watching for a while now.

“Could say the same to you,” Jane said, pulling himself into a deck chair with a great cascade of air from his smoker’s lungs, the grunt of an old man he always thought was an exaggerated affectation until it started happening to him.

“I don’t get up at five in the morning,” Tavish reminded him.

“You could. Good for the health, Tavish.”

“I don’t think anything’s good for the health these days. Just bad, and slightly worse.” He drummed his fingers on the deck’s railing. “C’mere, look at this.”

“I can see the damn stars just fine from here,” Jane sniffed.

Tavish broke from his surveying to shoot a grin Jane’s way, features cut sharp in the porch light. “Come on you old fart, get over here.”

Jane grumbled, pushing out of the chair with more effort than he would have liked to admit. He made his way to Tavish, joining him at the railing, their shoulders brushing just briefly until Tavish swung an arm around Jane’s waist.

His voice took on a fading quality all of the sudden, as though far away winds were dragging him skyward. “Nice night, isn’t it?”

Jane watched him. In the past few years his good eye had grown white in the center, a fuzzy film growing out from the pupil that would one day take the whole cornea. It was irreversible, Tavish had explained, years of buildup from stromnium or strotenium or something like that, Jane could never remember. Tavish wasn’t surprised, had told Jane that he was shocked he’d still had the thing this long, but that didn’t mean there was no mourning within the man. It was just different than how most people would have gone about it.

“Sure is,” Jane said. “Real beautiful.”

“Aye. And you ‘n me, we’re not seeing the half of it. Those telescopes, the ones the size of whole buildings, all they have is a bunch of different magnifying glasses and yet when they put ‘em all together you can see whole galaxies that weren’t there before. Same sky, just some folks can see it, some folks can’t.”

“You can still see it,” Jane reminded him, a gentle bump to the shoulder.

“For now,” Tavish agreed. He turned, smiling with just the corner of his mouth, a testament that was gone before Jane could fully appreciate how much he loved the small, sad ways he chose to be happy. A hand came up to brush the side of Jane’s cheek. “I just keep thinking about how one of these days will be the last day I see you.”

Their foreheads came together. Jane’s hand rose to cover the one across his cheek, thumb rubbing the small band of gold on Tavish’s finger. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this; despite the decades, despite the promises made on cold desert nights, despite watching the grey hairs spring in Tavish’s beard and knowing the same was happening to him, it was still hard to fathom that someone had chosen to spend the rest of their life with him. Even though the years with Tavish came close to outnumbering the years without, that time in Jane’s life of infinite loneliness, of stubborn self sufficiency, made him question how he was ever lucky enough that someone had hung on their sense and decided he was worth it.

Jane pulled Tavish closer. “Yeah. Well. If you’re going to keep a last image of me in your head, I really wish it was back when I was still handsome.”

Tavish laughed, swaying them both slightly in the unusually still air. Normally winds rattled the badlands, stirring up loose sand and seething through plants too hardy to notice. It felt like, for once, the world had chosen to be kind this night, just for them.

“You get handsomer every day Jane,” Tavish said, and hidden behind the words were each day I love you more. “I just…miss.”

“Miss how things used to be?”

“More than that. I’ve got the ‘ole yearning, I suppose, the eater of men.” Tavish chewed his words, looking up at the sky again. “I miss places. I miss how everything used to feel, even if it wasn’t terribly good.”

“Not talking about going back to your home planet, are you?” Jane joked, jerking his thumb at the now witnessed stars.

“No,” Tavish snorted. “Not exactly. But I…” He trailed off.

Now it was Jane’s turn to bring his hands to the sides of Tavish’s face, his own ring warm from where he’d been cradling it inside his fist. “What is it, Tav? You can tell me.”

Tavish looked not at the stars nor the horizon, but the ground, kicking the wooden deck neither of them had ever gotten around to re-staining. “I feel…I feel the hills always calling out to me. Like there’s something in my bones that just wants to rest, to go back where it’s green, to where it isn’t so bloody dry. Every time we visit I think ‘is this the last time I’ll ever see it? The very last time? Am I going to be too old or too tired the next time around, and never feel like I’m home again?’”

Jane watched the worry lines in Tavish’s forehead. “You want to go back to Scotland.”

“I dunno. Just the more my eye goes the more I…I dunno.”

They hung in silence for a while longer, just breathing. Jane hadn’t felt the need to wear his helmet for a long time, not at home, not at this mansion that was their private oasis from the rest of the world. Were money made their problems—if not vanish—then kept far back beyond the fence where they never had to think about them unless they ventured beyond. Where, even with BLU’s protection no longer keeping the various chapters of local and federal law enforcement trying to wrangle some comeuppance out of the soldier for sins past, he still had a place of refuge.

“Let’s go,” Jane said.

Tavish looked away. “I don’t mean for a visit Jane, I mean…”

“I know,” Jane insisted. Tavish’s milky eye fixed him with disbelief. “You want to go home. I get it. We should go.”

Tavish stared at him, still uncomprehending. “Jane you know that would mean…”

“I know,” Jane repeated.

A warm, subtle smile filled Tavish’s face, and neither of them had to say any more. Tavish drew Jane in closer, and the two of them rocked in the wind that had just picked up again.

***

“Jane,” Tavish frowned as he examined the box Jane had dropped thunderously at the bottom of the stairs, “do you really need to bring all of these?”

“Hey, I’m not trying to make you get rid of your treasured possessions,” Jane pointed out, depositing a second box filled entirely with Guns & Haircuts net to the first.

“We’re not going to have space for these,” Tavish retorted. “It’s going to be a tiny little thing, remember? They don’t build mansions in Ullapool.”

Moving had left the New Mexico mansion barren and faded where pictures had hung on the wall since Tavish had first moved in. Now they were all gone, sold off as their attempts to downsize left only what was necessary and a few DeGroot family heirlooms.

It twisted something in Jane to see their home of three decades slowly dismantled into carpet scuffs and cardboard boxes. This had been his dwelling longer than any other, a turning point from when the Gravel Wars had folded in on themselves and left Jane with an odd freedom he had no idea if he was allowed to act on. Even before that, when Tavish’s mother had still been alive and the halls were filled with her vigor, this place was safe haven for Jane, where he’d come to meet with his forbidden friend and get wasted in his living room.

Now it was mostly empty. Ready for the last goodbyes.

“These are important,” Jane declared of the boxes.

“You haven’t read them in ages,” Tavish pointed out.

“So? They are valuable. Scout sold his whole Bonk! Boy collection for a fortune, and I’ve got twice as many as that little squirt does!” Jane cleared his throat suddenly. “Did.”

It was hard to remember sometimes. He thought his old teammates would want nothing to do with him after the end, but to his surprise they actually kept in contact better than when they’d actually worked together. Maybe owing to the fact he now had an actual address they could send letters to.

Neither Spy nor Sniper had ever actually retired, and over time the tepid, passably courteous correspondences with Sniper had stopped a few years after Spy disappeared entirely. Jane assumed something similar had happened to them both. Occupational hazard.

Engie had complications with his diabetes. The remaining team had shown up for the funeral, except for Pyro, who everyone politely wouldn’t mention, even when Jane asked.

The one person Jane hadn’t expected to outlive was Scout. Scout didn’t write, but he could talk anyone’s ear off, and when coming home from the second funeral in as many years it hit Jane hard that he’d never hear the kitchen phone ringing off its holder again, practically trembling as the other line was just dying to tell him about whatever exactly Scout was so wound up about today.

Tavish noticed Jane’s slipup, and kindly ignored it. Nearly ten years, and Jane still found himself forgetting. “That’s because they were comics,” Tavish explained. “They were collectors items. The only person collecting Guns & Haircuts is you.”

“And don’t I know it!”

Tavish sighed. “Are you even planning on selling them, or are you just going to do the same thing you’ve done with them here and leave them in a big box to gather dust?”

“Of course I’m going to leave them in a big box!” Jane huffed proudly. “What other purpose is there in life other than to gather material objects and then have them accumulate in piles in your living room? You do not see me complaining about the giant, wall mounted family crest, do you?”

Tavish rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed as an old argument became even older. “Ach, fine. I suppose we’ll fine the space.” When he opened his eye, he saw the third giant box Jane was hauling out for the movers. “Jane! We don’t need to be taking that.”

“Yes we do, sonny!” Jane said, slapping a hand on the trumpet of the old record player he hadn’t been able to properly fit in the box. “I do not trust those cassette tapes! The snakes that live in them always try to come out and strangle me!”

“We’ve got some CDs now-” Tavish tried.

“Even worse!” Jane declared. “Australian mind control devices!”

Tavish could see he wasn’t winning, which was just fine by Jane. The magazines were one thing, but the record player he wasn’t leaving without.

“Well,” Tavish said, looking around their house, stripped bare. “I suppose that’s everything.”

Jane couldn’t find a reason to object. He glanced around, looking for one last missing detail, one more reason to stall, but found none. Gently, he took Tavish’s hand and squeezed. “Everything we need.”

***

Scotland was even wetter than the last time they’d visited.

Mud, the most distantly remembered and ancient of substances, clung to Jane’s pant leg all the way up to the knee as they made their way down hundred-year old paths someone really should’ve figured out how to weather-proof by now. But, where Jane was grumbling, Tavish looked about as happy as a clam in water. (Or, Jane supposed was more fitting, a pig in mud.)

“Aha! Look, there it is,” Tavish said, tugging on Jane’s arm and pointing at the glimpse of water creeping around the bend. “Still there.”

“I don’t think they would have up and moved a whole lake while you were gone,” Jane mumbled, but Tavish didn’t seem to hear as he moved with surprising speed down the hill. It was times like this Jane actually envied the cane.

When he finally caught up, Tavish was breathing in the thick air, his chest rising and then collapsing with a satisfied sigh. “Used to play down here as lad. Sometimes there’s a beach, far as the eye can see.”

“Thought you were done with sand,” Jane said, stomping up next to him on damp boots.

Tavish just breamed broadly at him, drinking in the sweep of the land and the crash of the lake. Jane could remember the stories, ones from Tavish’s childhood much better than his own, told and retold so many times that he could flip open the memories like a scrapbook and find exactly where every place in Ullapool fit. An old pub, a crumbling church. The house where the DeGroots used to live, the field where Merasmus’s castle had once briefly towered. So vivid were they, they superimposed themselves over Jane’s (admittedly more insubstantial) memories until he felt he had lived here himself.

“…Gettin’ dark, Tav,” Jane pointed out.

Tavish frowned, and squinted at the horizon. “Aye, I suppose it is.”

“Think the movers are done?” Jane didn’t approve of hiring other people to life heavy things when lifting heavy things had once been one of Jane’s favorite pastimes, but Tavish convinced him that if he threw out his back again, it’d be a lot harder to get him to a doctor.

“Probably,” Tavish nodded. “Let’s go see.”

“Do you think they dropped my magazines?”

“I’m sure they’re fine, love.”

They made the long, much more slippery journey back to their new home. It overlooked Ullapool and the coast, but was nevertheless removed enough that Jane could revel in the privacy he had grown used to. Privacy was not on Tavish’s mind when they’d walked through town that first time, however, as he’d greeted nearly everyone who came their way. It had shocked Jane how many people knew him, or at least recognized the DeGroot name, and greeted Tavish as familiarly as they would have had he been gone for only a few weeks rather than years.

It was good, to see Tavish like this. Even now, as they climbed slowly back up the hill, Jane watched him out the corner of his eye, smiling at the look of serenity that hadn’t been on his husband’s face so naturally in years.

“Isn’t this cozy,” Tavish said lovingly as they crossed the threshold of their new home.

That it was. Jane had worried he had grown soft living in luxury, that his years of being rich and retied would make him forgot that he’d once loved his little apartment, had cherished the security its simplicity had given him. But now that he was back inside four walls, surrounded by the items that had come to mean things beyond their purpose, a swell of pleasant familiarity welled up in him. The curtains blocked out the last of the fading light through soft yellow. There was a fireplace (modern and gas powered) but one ready to fill the house with a warm glow.

Tavish made the motions to begin unpacking, but Jane’s pretense of rooting though the boxes had a different goal in mind. Preoccupied, Tavish didn’t turn around until Jane finally slipped the record into place.

Perking, Tavish looked over his shoulder to see Jane offering his hand as the music bubbled slowly to life. “Been a long time since we danced,” Jane said.

Tavish’s smile fit well in this homey, quiet room. He took Jane’s hand, and let Jane pull him up off his knees until they were chest to chest, resting his chin on Jane’s shoulder.

“Too long,” he agreed.

They began sway rhythmlessly to music in the middle of the tiny living room, caring little where they put their feet as long as it wasn’t one top of one another. Jane loved the record player, needed it more these days, as it was one of the only things that made the horrid, incessant ringing in his ears quiet for just a short while. Leaving the fan on at night might help him get to sleep, but the was no denying the scratching notes out of the player were a world more enjoyable.

It was piano piece, one he’d heard Tavish play now and again. There was no space for a grand piano here in this little cottage on the hill, but maybe they could get a smaller one, and Tavish could try teaching him again. Like he’d promised so long ago.

So many promises that’d slipped through the cracks, both to each other and themselves. Things they simply couldn’t do anymore. Ever since the scare with Jane’s lung cancer, they had tried to do better, had realized what they had built meant something and they couldn’t go piddling away with their complacent recklessness. Jane had quit smoking, Tavish had quit drinking as part of the deal.

But still, there were other things, other mistakes that had compounded over the years. Jane always kept thinking he should have been over it by now, that for how many gentle touches Tavish had placed against him, he should forget the violence those same hands had once brought him. The times they’d shoved a sword into Jane’s gut. The bombs from nowhere. The individual atrocities. It was duller now, the years had been good enough to do that, but if Tavish’s memories were anything like Jane’s, he understood why the ex-demoman sometimes woke screaming in the middle of the night, needing to be reminded—soothed, assured, sometimes begged—that the Jane beside him wasn’t the monster from his dreams.

That was the real tragedy of the War. Officially, all they had been paid to do was kill each other—the horrors they chose to inflict on one another had been their own doing, their own wills brought to fruition. RED had never asked Tavish to shove Jane’s shovel down its owner's throat, laughing vengefully all the while. Jane was sure he’d done equally as cruel things to Tavish during those hell times, but had trouble recalling exactly what. It’s much easier to remember the sins committed against you, than those you have unleashed yourself.

Those hands, those bloodstained, gentle, perfect hands, rubbed circles and Jane’s back, and he sighed. He’d listened to this record enough to know it was getting to the end of this side, but he found he didn’t want to move. He wanted to keep standing here, swaying with the man he loved in their home in the mountains, remembering that they had earned this.

“I cherish these moments we spend together,” he said resolutely into Tavish’s chest.

“Every one of them,” Tavish agreed.

Eventually they would lay down, rest their old bones in their new bed, but for now they held each other in the slowly encroaching night, the sound of rain playing its first patter on the roof.

[stusbunker]

AGA: Word to the Wise

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Denny AU Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte, past Dean/Jo

Other characters: Sam, Bobby, Cas, Mick, Ash, Jo

Word Count: 3000 (whoa)

A/N: Sam gets on Dean’s nerves and Dean ends up taking a late night detour. Big talks ahead.

Special thanks to my beta @cracksinthewalls​ who puts up with my whiny ass. Also grateful for @there-must-be-a-lock​‘s insight.

The bowling league was in lean attendance due to a surprise snowstorm, but that didn’t keep Singers’ Slingers from mopping the floor with their competition. Dean ended on a spare in the last game, putting him just over his average for the night. State bowling wasn’t until spring, but if they kept up their momentum Dean was sure they could place well. And a weekend away would be a welcome break from his usual exhaustion. 

Dean still owed Mick a rematch from last year’s trip. Mick drank him under the table and Dean didn’t want to lose two years running, he had a reputation to uphold afterall. Bartending had cut into his training time, among other things.

Ash was the first one to bow out for the night, knowing his side towing business would be busy with vehicles in ditches for however long the storm lasted. Cas bummed a ride with Mick, since his car had never done well in this weather and he was still dragging his feet on upgrading. Dean knew he had been hinting at shopping around, but Dean wasn’t going to push the topic and get dragged into helping or finagling with the salesman for the guy. Cas could figure it out on his own, and Dean was finally in a place where he felt comfortable letting him. Huh.

Sam had been quiet all night, but Dean hadn’t mentioned it, attributing the sour mood to post-break up blues. They bought Bobby his weekly drink, “team dues” as he called it and settled in along the bar. 

Dean kept the conversation going, trying to keep the mood light, but Bobby was too tired to ham it up and Sam was not amused by his brother’s antics. Once Bobby polished off his last beer and headed home to Ellen, Dean was rolling his eyes in exasperation.

“Fine, you know what, I’ll reel it in, don’t want to interrupt your sulking,” Dean muttered after another joke fell flat. Sam winced at Dean’s jab, which Dean instantly regretted. Though it did seem to shake Sam out of his funk, if minutely.

“So, tell me about Benny,” Sam brought up with elephantine grace.

Dean stared at Sam like he proclaimed he was quitting the law firm and joining the circus, coulrophobia and all. 

Sam huffed. “What?”

“Nice segue there, counselor,” Dean grumbled. “What about him? Hmm, you want a new bowling bag? Because that was already on my list for you for Christmas.”

“Dude, you don’t have to do that. I mean, that’d be great, but no, I was kind of wondering what your deal was? Like do you hang out a lot?” Sam started fishing.

“Yeah, totally, everynight,” Dean deadpanned. “I mean I only work two jobs when I’m not moving your sorry ass back into Mom and Dad’s.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam said, waiting to figure out where he was going with this line of questioning and just shot in the dark. 

“What I’m trying to say is, is this, like, a Cas thing?” Sam choked out, unable to put it any more delicately. 

Dean burned with shame as his hackles raised in defensiveness. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Sam cocked his head and pursed his lips, unamused and unimpressed. “You know what I mean, man. Don’t make me spell it out.”

Dean wouldn’t budge, he dropped his beer with a thud. “Well, you’re gonna have to, because I have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

“Dude!” Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“The fuck is your problem? You got something to say, just say it, Sam.” Dean fumed, daring him with a murderous glare. Sam inhaled pregnantly, face still inching towards bitch mode. Sam eyed the bartender who was trying not to listen and the late game bowlers who suddenly decided they could catch up lane side instead.

What Dean didn’t realize was that he needed Sam to say it. He yearned for it, for his truth to be spoken, and known without him having to say it himself.

“Look, I know this isn’t something we talk about. But, I just want to make sure you’re okay. Alright? In the beginning with Cas, it was like you were obsessed, man. And since he just always seemed to need something from you. I just want to make sure you’re not getting used, I guess,” Sam unraveled the heart of his concern without saying too much, which Dean was not expecting, at all.

Dumbfounded, Dean retreated, annoyance trumping any chance at relief. 

“I think I can handle myself, thanks,” Dean spat. Petulantly, he took a sip from his beer, the cold glass solid in his hand, giving him something to clutch or even throw, if it came down to it.

“I didn’t say---,” Sam broke off. “Fine! You know what? You’re on your own. Just remember that I should have listened to you about Ruby and now I’m paying the price for my own stubbornness.”

Sam stood and reached for his money clip, tossing an extra five on the bar for the dramatics. He gave Dean one last chance to come clean, to own up to what they weren’t saying. Dean stared straight ahead, eyes unfocusing on the liquor labels behind the bar as if Sam had already left. So he did, just as he came: pissed and questioning his brother’s motives.

    Dean didn’t go home after that. Instead he absently followed a plow down the main road until he happened upon a familiar turn off. Which he took slow and steady until it ended in a T. The little brick ranch at the end of the lane held a lot of memories. And it was more inviting than ever with its Christmas card perfection in the falling snow. Dean put the Impala in park and let the radio play, wishing he had a joint just for the sake of something to do. 

He wasn’t there ten minutes before his phone rang, which he answered without processing the caller ID.

“You gonna come in or you just gonna sit out there feeling sorry for yourself?” Jo’s voice sliced across the line.

“Didn’t know if you were still up,” Dean bullshitted.

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say. Backdoor’s open,” her unimpressed reply. She hung up before Dean could make up an excuse to leave. He slouched out of the car and trudged down the long country driveway. As soon as he had stomped the snow off his boots, Jo welcomed him in with a firm hug and an appraising glint in her eye.

“Thanks, it’s a real mess out there,” Dean explained.

Jo just shook her head at him. “How’d ya bowl?”

“619 series, finished strong in the last few frames,” Dean answered. “Were you at your folks?”

“Nah, just know it’s Wednesday night, which means the boys were at the alley,” Jo smirked as she reached atop her fridge for the good stuff. 

She held up the whiskey in offering and Dean nodded, bending out of his coat. He slipped it over the back of a chair and settled in at the vintage kitchen table. She poured him a glass and watched as he inhaled the first round like he had been outside for hours and needed to fight off a much deeper chill.

“Well alright,” Jo resigned herself to playing shrink and poured Dean another drink. “So, what’s got you stuck in your head, hm?”

Dean weighed his head from side to side as he let the whiskey roll over his tongue. He never got far into a pouting session when Jo was around, but he also didn’t know which chamber of his heart he could stand to prop open for her inspection tonight.

“How’ve you been, Jo? You still schooling those truckers on taking care of their own rigs?” Dean sidestepped with ease.

“You know it,” Jo confirmed. “Not a day goes by that I don’t have to put another asshole in his place. Pays good, though.”

Jo had followed in Bobby’s footsteps and became a mechanic, but two Singers were already one too many for the shop and salvage yard. So she took her skills out to the interstate and made a name for herself as the only female diesel technician in four counties. Dean used to hate it when she would fix something faster than him, but it had been more than a decade since her skills had made him feel inferior. Dean knew Jo’d be his boss someday, but he wasn’t too worried about those far off futures; Bobby wouldn’t retire unless Ellen made him or killed him first.

“How’s Rufus holding up?” Jo teased, knowing her dad’s old friend was getting worse for the wear, much like John had.

“Stubborn, and as glib as ever. Good thing your dad rehired him, because he’s a bit too mouthy for most customers,” Dean admitted.

    Jo hummed with nostalgia. “I gotta swing by and bug you guys sometime, but it just keeps getting busier.”

    Dean sighed. “I hear that. What’s it been? Labor day? No. I haven’t even seen you since the Fourth. Christ!”

“Yeah, well, you’ll see me next week for Thanksgiving, don’t get too sentimental about it now,” Jo quipped. She took a short sip off the bottle as Dean swirled the last of his second helping.

“I’m seeing someone,” Dean staggered the words, like he wasn’t sure if their meanings and sounds fit together.

Jo sighed dramatically, “Finally, the truth is revealed! What’s up? She’s not pregnant, is she?”

“No.” Dean had to bite back his guffaw. “Definitely not.”

“Okay, then why the sad face? Not pulling a Ruby on ya, I hope?” Jo tested the waters.

“No, it’s--uh--- it’s been good. Really good. I just, kind of need to make up my mind if I’m in it for the long haul. Ya know?” Dean clarified, relaxing with each little confession. 

“Uh-oh it’s getting serious,” Jo mock whispered.

Dean rolled his shoulders. “No, well, it could be. I don’t know.”

Jo giggled. “I can’t believe you! You’re fucking twitterpated, aren’t you?!”

“Jo, if you start making Thumper jokes, I’m shutting up right now,” Dean warned with a pointed finger. “Care to top me off while you’re at it?”

“Okay, okay, gosh.” Jo rolled her eyes dramatically as she poured him another drink before pointedly putting it back on the fridge. “But you’re in deep. You’re all blushy about it.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m ready to go big. It just means they’re willing to put up with me until I say the word,” Dean tried to downplay his feelings and Benny’s confession.

“So do it! Bust out the grand gestures already,” Jo encouraged.

Dean scoffed, “I’m not built for commitment, you know that!”

“Except you kinda are! You’ve changed, Dean,” Jo insisted, head hung to pour her honesty from her eyes. “I don’t know when it happened, but you’re not that reckless boy that I knew. You’ve always been a good guy, but now?---- Maybe it’s been since Sam came home, I don’t know. But somewhere along the way you grew up.---- It’s okay to let yourself want something more, you know.”

Dean grumbled and rolled his neck, breaking the eye contact. She always could do this to him, just like her mother, see straight through his every defense. “I always thought it’d be you, you know?”

Jo smiled without teeth. “Firsts can do that to people. But, we’re not those kids anymore, Dean. So, if you’re asking for my permission or seeking my approval---?”

Dean dropped his head to his hands, thick fingers poorly hiding him from Jo. “It’s a guy, Jo. I’m--- I don’t know--- Bi? I guess?”

“Dean?” Jo waited until he stopped being sheepish and looked at her, even if it was only out of the corner of one eye. “You’ve been head over heels for Cas for years. If you dare tell me this is about him, so help me, I will throw you out right now.”

Dean couldn’t help but laugh ruefully at that and toss back what was left of his whiskey. “You saw that, huh?”

She didn’t answer, waiting for him to work through it on his own.

“It’s not Cas.” Dean smacked his lips and held up his glass for a refill. Jo stood and brought the bottle back to the table. Dean poured himself three fingers worth and pondered the sloshing liquid before he continued. “Your mom know?”

Jo licked her lips, cocked her head, and sighed.

Dean closed his eyes and asked, “Bobby? Fuck!--- my mom?!”

“No one has ever said it out loud, Dean. I don’t know who knows, honestly. But we’re family, that doesn’t change.” Jo grasped his wrist firmly, he held her hand to his and then she slapped her other one on top. Time stopped long enough for Dean to accept that his secret was finally out, but also that it was safe.

“I can’t believe I’m talking about this with you, of all people.” Dean thumbed her knuckles, staring into eyes he knew as well as his own.

“Really? Who else would you be talking to about it? Sam? Ash, maybe?” Jo giggled. “I’m honored, actually. It means you stopped hating me.”

Dean pulled his hands away and took another drink. “I never hated you.” 

“Okay, well, maybe it means you stopped hating yourself,” Jo corrected.

Dean’s brows crooked incredulously.

“Too much?” Jo asked apologetically.

Dean shook his head and sighed. “You are your mother’s daughter.”

“Now you’re the one being rude,” Jo muttered before taking a solid drink off the bottle this time.

Dean let himself relax, let the whiskey and conversation work into his muscles and set his worries aside. They talked like the old days and about the old days. Those in between years after high school and before anyone was ready to face responsibility. When half their friends went to college, they had just kept on working. After another hour, Jo leaned back in her chair and started scrutinizing him once again.

“You know how I know you’re happy with what’s his name?” Jo teased.

“Beh--- I didn’t tell you, fuck! Benny, his name is Benny. Goddamnit Joanna Beth,” Dean cursed through a chuckle; more details dragged out of him than he had planned on.

Jo cocked her head and considered the name.“Benny, right. You wanna know how I know?” Jo pushed.

“Fine, how?” Dean held up his hand, beckoning for her to hit him with her response.

“Because this is about the time of night you start giving me the lazy once over. But not tonight,” Jo proclaimed, chin out condescendingly. She had him, every few years they’d find themselves back in each other’s beds, for a night or a weekend and then they’d move on. He always thought of her as his home, his starting point. But maybe they weren’t the same thing at all.

“You still look good, Jo,” Dean replied, trying to save face.

“That’s not what I meant, Dean. Besides, I know!” Jo snarked, straightening her spine and tossing her hair over her shoulder. Dean couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore and it spilled out over a toothy grin, making Jo almost choke on her drink. God, Dean felt like anything was possible. That life was good. 

After the hysterics had calmed down, Dean exhaled. “Thanks, Jo. I needed this.”

“You sure did, nobody else was gonna hand you your ass so kindly,” Jo agreed, standing and taking the bottle and Dean’s glass with her to the counter that held the sink. He whined comically, but knew her timing was right. She leaned back and smirked.

Dean grew quiet and Jo waited to see if it was exhaustion, the alcohol or something else. She didn’t have long to prepare.

“How’m I gonna tell my dad?” Dean asked, the pain and panic pulling at his face until she saw the telltale tears well up.

“Fuck ‘im. I mean it, if your dad can’t get his head out of his ass to see how happy you are, he isn’t worth your time,” Jo said adamantly.

Dean let his thoughts roll to the side of his head and licked his lips, biting against the tremor. He quickly wiped away the tears that escaped and inhaled wet and ragged. Jo slipped to his side and ran her hand through his hair, letting his face fall against her chest as he breathed through the onslaught. Dean couldn’t help but think how motherly the affection felt.

She pulled back to look him over at arms’ length. 

“So what now? You want the couch? Or should I call you a ride? I’m sure Sam owes you one,” Jo asked, as no nonsense as ever.

“I’ll be fine,” Dean dismissed her concern, rubbing up his face to wipe off his nose.

“Well, you ain't driving.” Jo held up his keys. Dean blanched, feeling his pockets for them, fruitlessly. He stood to snatch them, but she had already skipped across the kitchen, too far to catch. “Nuh-uh, no way I’m letting you risk your baby. Or your thick skull in this weather.”

 Dean put his hands on his hips, and blinked through the dizziness. He realized he hadn’t stood in a few hours. “Sam.”

“What’s that?” Jo prodded mischievously, ear leaning in as if she couldn’t hear him.

“Very funny. Call Sam, will ya?” Dean rolled his eyes as she scrolled through her contacts, murmuring the names under her breath. His keys were raised in victory, as if he couldn’t reach them above her head. He could have snagged them in an instant, if he wanted to.

 While Jo woke Sam, Dean checked his own phone. Ignoring some texts from his mom and Cas, he selected the conversation with Benny. There were no new messages since that morning. Dean hesitated before relocking his screen.

“Sam’ll be here in twenty. You want something to eat? I’ve got chips.” Jo offered, opening the cupboard.

Tagging: @flamencodiva​ @dolphincliffs​ @dontshootmespence​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @wingedcatninja​ @defenderrosetyler​ @ericaprice2008  @crashdevlin​  @mylovelydame21 @cajunquandary​ @itmighthavebeenintentional​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @there-must-be-a-lock @tatted-trina6​ @cracksinthewalls​ @atc74​​

Series Masterlist

SPN Masterlist

Tell me what you thought?

Part 10: Spit it Out

[unfortunatelysirius]

UNEXPECTED | Regulus Black, Marauders Era

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」

Request // Regulus finds something unexpected—at a Slug Club dinner party, with a girl named Y/N L/N.

「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」

Sorry if this sucked.

        LOVE.

                Even the word itself felt like a promise. It could come like a metaphor, as gentle as misted rain, or it was a broken idea, radiating animosity that maimed worse than misplaced surgical lesions. Some folks went their entire lives without knowing it, feeling it, getting the chance to embrace and relish it—while others did indeed get a taste only for it to scorch like too-hot coffee. A funny little thing, love was. As scary as it was delightful.

        Regulus Black didn’t know much about love. He only knew bleak sun—and a yearning that churned his stomach like butter. If he let his thoughts wander off too far, they’d explore territory too disturbingly foreign he’d have no choice but to retreat. His parents taught him discipline and obedience, but “love” was a rare occurrence; truthfully, the only person who ever even had an inkling of understanding for it was his brother Sirius, and the bastard left Regulus to bleed under the ripe moon. He knew what hatred felt like, same with spite, same with betrayal, same with repulsion.

        Then he descended on the path weary travelers couldn’t cross.

        It all started at the start of his fifth year, getting worse from there. He began noticing the Gryffindor who never stopped challenging professors and requested an extension on nearly every Charms essay. Who always wore an untidy uniform with the shirt untucked, cloak rumpled, and two different stockings. Who could be more quiet than a fairy’s whisper but the loudest personality in the room. Who once punched Giovanni Rivera, some snob in Hufflepuff, so hard in the nose he stayed slumped unconscious by a knight in the open dungeon corridor for an entire night.

        He noticed you.

        It was entirely accidental. Regulus was not someone to dive head-first, always treading the shallow end before walking into riptides that couldn’t be foreseen. He was caution in a world of chaos. He didn’t want to know the definition of “love,” even though he thought that was what he felt for Sirius. Brotherly love. The love someone had for another that protected them, provided for them in times of need. Then Sirius was labelled the family disgrace, shunned by Orion and Walburga; the perfect little Slytherin son, Regulus shunned him too. Regulus lost that feeling and failed to find it again, even in his circle of friends that mocked tainted blood and wanted more than meager lives. They aspired for a Wizarding World cleansed of impure magic; Regulus wasn’t sure what he wanted.

        He quickly became lonely. As the days turned to months then years, he preoccupied himself with his studies—working diligently to fabricate a living lie like he had any future outside of the Dark Lord’s bidding. He envied Sirius for breaking from the family so soon, forcing Regulus into a compromised position; their parents scrutinized him more carefully now and expected more than he would have had to provide if Sirius was the pride-and-joy firstborn they could have turned into a great ally, rather than an adversary.  Regulus hated it, hated that whatever he liked and the little joys he had in life were useless now that he had one reason to live. There was little to his life except growing up to be part of the Dark Lord’s army. Regardless of anything, he did know what he hoped for. The only thing that truly, truly belonged to him was his hope. It was different from his aspirations, as even those were polluted by conditioned hate.

        He watched you frequently. He watched you curse his own brother, Sirius, for calling you a suck-up. He admired your appearance, from your Y/H/L Y/H/C hair to your facial structure, the effortless way you stood and walked, the kindness in your expression when guiding none-the-wiser first years. You were the same year as him, fifth year, and an entire breed of your own. Regulus didn’t know when he began falling for you. Well, the idea of you. You encompassed freedom, and fuck if Regulus didn’t crave freedom. He wanted to see himself careless, able to act out and be himself inconsequentially. This was an impossibility he loved to consider, like a dreamer in a room of realists. His parents expected the most out of him and in his crystal ball, all that laid in wait was the Dark Mark etched in his skin. Death and destruction. His head dark and heavy. It wasn’t happiness that killers strived for—it was pleasure. Power, too. Regulus knew he was different from the others. He had to hide it and fight every inch of himself that wanted what Sirius had. Freedom.

        Regulus wanted to unleash every idea, every desire, every unspoken dislike. A brave heart scratched from under his skin, itching to have a say.

        Sirius was the courageous one, not him.

        He stuck to watching from afar.

-

        You hated Potions class. You hated parties. You hated Slughorn. Most of all, you hated Slug Club parties. Dammit, you hated your life.

        “Why did you drag me here, Lily?” you complained for the umpteenth time, fidgeting in your Gryffindor-red attire. You didn’t even like this shade of red. It was one of those colors you got tired of after seeing at every waking hour. All the assholes that prided themselves in the House the Sorting Hat bellowed, uniquely chosen for them… bleh! Dawning red and gold, parading around in Gryffindor scarfs bought for a bargain. You couldn’t be bothered. Lily had begged that the two of you go in a matching set, as one of your good friends. You never envisioned yourself agreeing. Fucking Lily, conniving you into wearing a dress like looked like it was sewn from a red Christmas stocking and attending a Slug Club party.

        Lily smiled innocently. “You owed me a favor!”

        A favor. You wracked your brain for any situation you’d been a part of where Lily offered her help. As your honorary big sister and a sixth-year prefect, she was the one calling for damage control whenever you did something warranting of punishment… and you didn’t want to fulfill your duties as a serious student. She chastised you at your worst but boosted you up too. Your best consisted of her praise and affection. You loved her, yes, but you didn’t love what owing her favors implied. It always wound you up in some unlikable predicament, such as this godforsaken party.

        “I don’t owe you shite,” you grumbled, pinning your eyes on a table of refreshments over by the door. You belatedly noticed a figure standing by it. The air went still and silent, your blood pulsating like a gushing river of red. Your eyes narrowed just the slightest bit. Regulus Black was sharply—no, impeccably dressed, standing with his glossy dark hair in a neat do and his gray eyes watching the floor indifferently. When he got too close to looking at you, you quickly turned away. Lily was already raising a brow. “What? I don’t.”

        “Yeah, okay,” Lily said amusedly. As she reopened her mouth to remind you of your every last unreturned favor and escaped week of detention, she spotted something over your head and a look of horror struck; you gauged this by the way her eyes bulged at the sockets. “Oh, Merlin—why the bloody Hell is he here? I’ll talk to you later, Y/N. Try to have some fun.”

        She retreated like a squirrel from a hound, her body launching at the occupied Slughorn over half a room away. As she was nearly there a bulk dressed in black dress robes followed, at a tame pace compared to Lily’s. You knew it was James only by the unruly mess of black hair you saw from his enrobed backside profile.

        You rolled your eyes and snuck another glance at Regulus. He wasn’t looking your way.

Try to have some fun, my arse.

-

You were here. Regulus didn’t know how, but you were. He hadn’t calculated what he’d do if you attended this party, not knowing you were a member. He assumed you weren’t, a rash assumption by all accounts, and that costed him. He didn’t want to be dogged by the thought of you all night, and now that your presence was mere feet from him, his mental duties seemed like lost causes. The burning urge to stare at you, consequences be damned, was incinerating—and control failed him left and right. Fucking hell.

Regulus filled a drink for himself. A punch of some kind. He drank it in one go, hoping the taste would eliminate you from his mind. If it were bad enough he could instead be hounded by his throbbing throat, gagging like no tomorrow. That would be better than this.

The punch didn’t work its magic. He looked again at you and calculated the inevitable penalty of making an approach.

        Cursing his luck or lack thereof, he felt less inclined to drown himself in the punch bowl upon the appearance of a bloke he had in Potions, Terrence something. He was a Ravenclaw know-it-all, but he was Pureblood. He could go overlooked conversing with the fellow. Regulus was a master of mimicry and had his haughty Slytherin performance down pat.

        The bloke asked too many questions and was evasive on topics Regulus had no interest in discoursing, but he was a well-welcomed distraction. Or ill-welcomed. Regardless of the reception, Regulus’s ambivalence towards you transitioned to an annoyance towards Terrence. Annoyance, that he could work with. He felt it most days. It was familiar territory. A stroke of olive on a canvas of emerald where you were lavender.

        It worked. It worked until Terrence bid a hasty farewell, trailing after some quiet, expressionless brunette from Slytherin.

        Regulus subtly scowled. Out of the corner of his eye he looked at you, surreptitious in a way he remembered from parties he went to hosted by well-known Pureblood families. You were in mid-conversation with some Gryffindor he knew from a mutual class the three of you shared. It was a bloke whose mouth seemed too keen on keeping a conversation going and hand was swaying too closely to your waist. Regulus’s eyes hardened without his meaning to, and before he knew it, his feet were in complete control; he walked to the two of you with renewed purpose.

-

        You were ready to unleash your inner ugly. Random people kept coming up and trying to talk to you, each of them more mentally-taxing than the last. First there was Cornelius, an absolute walking disaster, then there was Dave, who went on tangents without checking to see if you were listening. Then Kala, then Paisley, then Travis. Finally, there was Justin. Justin was a compulsive flirt. You politely tried to get him to fuck off, but he just wasn’t catching the hint or acknowledging your blatant apathy in what he had to say. He wouldn’t understand discomfort on the part of his conversational partner if it slapped him in the face.

        It was like a blessing and a nightmare when Regulus Black, wearing a cold expression and marginally more perfect up close than he was from a distance, appeared.

        “Can I borrow you for a moment, L/N?” he asked, something off about his voice. Your eyes narrowed. If you had to garner a guess, you’d say he was straining to maintain a calm disposition, truly angry. The cold in his expression was cracking, giving way to heat. Had he noticed your wandering eye and wanted to clarify with you that he had no interest except to exterminate your muddy self from the Wizarding World? You were unsure; it was a common ideology among extremists, the hatred of non-Purebloods, but Regulus didn’t give off that ambiance. He didn’t feel like a future monster.

        “Sure,” you said, sneaking a glance at Justin. Justin’s face wasn’t aggravated at the interruption, just confused that Regulus Black had been the one to interrupt. Regulus kept to himself usually… and he hated anyone who wasn’t pure of blood, supposedly. “Sorry to cut this chat short, Justin. I’m sure there’s plenty of other birds to talk into a stupor around here…”

        Justin’s eyes lit up, disregarding the annoyance in your voice. “You’re right! Thanks, Y/N.”

        You raised your eyebrows at him but bit back a less subtle remark, following Regulus when his hand prompted you at the shoulder.

        “So, what was that back there?” you boldly asked, trying to avoid smirking. It was almost adorable, the way he swooped in and rescued you from a dolt. He couldn’t have approached you just to chastise your invasive stare or threaten you with death. You were taking a chance in assuming he came to save you the burden of dealing with Justin Doley’s bland chatter, but you didn’t care. You really didn’t. It was a sweet gesture if that were his true intention, but a niggling suspicion refused to believe it was. “Thank you, by the way. I was ready to lock my knees just so I could escape.”

        Regulus’s face blanched, a tinge of hot pink flooding his cheeks. His brows made a cute little furrow that gave the impression of a natural unibrow. “Why would you lock your knees?”

        “When you lock your knees, the blood stops circulating and can lead to fainting,” you said. Now you smirked. “Trying to avoid an answer? I’m hurt.”

        He frowned at you. “I’m not trying to avoid anything. It was nothing. You looked uncomfortable…”

        “I was more annoyed than anything,” you said, a correction you weren’t obligated to make. Seeing Regulus squirm was a pleasure on its own. He would already squirm, caught willingly communicating with a Gryffindor, but you had a tendency to go over and beyond in putting others on the spot. It made you a childish shade of giddy both inside and out, not that he would be able to tell. “You don’t have to keep talking to me, you know.”

        “Oh,” Regulus said but didn’t move. He stayed rooted where he was, watching you with a piercing gaze. Now that you were close enough to reach a finger across the distance and graze those gaunt, knife-sharp cheekbones, you ogled him. You knew he was gorgeous from the brief times you interacted and the long, solitary moments you took to dissect him outside lessons, but being so close and with no time limit, you took a chance. Your chance was a rescue mission disguised as a private discussion.

        A smile tore at your lips. “You clean up nice,” you said, your ogling session finished. You could stare at Regulus much longer than you deemed appropriate and actually did, but he was a moment and moments had the ability to pass you swiftly by. In this case, he’d leave without you getting to properly know him. Opportunistic as you were, you wouldn’t let him leave without taking what you could.

        Why would you even want to know him? you asked yourself. He’s probably a Muggleborn-hater. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, try as you might to logicize.

        Regulus frowned. “Thanks,” he said. He hesitantly snaked his eyes up and down your figure, stopping on your neckline. A beautiful necklace with your favorite gemstone adorned it, a gift from a Muggle relative. He cleared his throat aggressively. “You do too.”

        He’s a shy bugger, isn’t he?

        You inched closer, moving on a whim and putting your hand on his arm. Your fingers tightened around the material of his sleeve. He drew closer, like it was instinctive, and your eyelids fluttered as you basked in his perfumed, intimate proximity. You’d regret advancing on a Slytherin, especially one as admired and esteemed yet dark and dangerous as Regulus, but he just had this air about him. Like going from an altitude that took your breath away to one that had enough air to burst you at the seams. Like a butterfly with clipped wings, a scorpion without its stinger. He was tempting, but beautifully broken.

        I know. I just know.

        “When you came over, I thought you were going to confront me on how I haven’t kept my eyes off you all night,” you murmured. You met his gaze evenly, ignoring your pounding heart and fluctuating nerves.

        Regulus froze immediately. “What?”

        “Oh, did you not notice? Silly me,” you said, flaPping a hand like it never mattered in the first place. Truth was, your thoughts were frozen and fixated on his ignorance—ignorance you had just given a reality check. There had been no point, absolutely no hidden objective, in admitting your inability to overlook Regulus. Yet you had—and now he was staring at you like you had turned the color orange and horns magically sprouted from your head.

        Then, like a switch went off that had full control over Regulus’s emotions and the way he expressed them, he smirked. It wasn’t a full smirk, just apparent enough you noticed it. All the tension contorting his face flattened, leaving him like he was relaxed, the opposite of how he looked mere seconds ago. Always the skeptic, you stared at him with narrowed eyes, scrutinizing him from head to toe. He didn’t lose the smirk, his arms crossing over his sleek robes in a devil-may-care fashion.

        “Presumptuous of you to think I ever notice you in the first place,” he said, in that pompous voice you were used to hearing from Sirius’s favorite Slytherin, Severus Snape.

        You laughed at his audacity and, hearing the music change tone and tempo, reached out a hand. You forgot your wit and lost all possible responses to give his arrogant retort. “Dance with me, Black,” you said softly, “before your brother comes to ruin my night, like the prick he is.”

        Regulus raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t deny you. He interlaced his fingers into yours and his free arm, moving at whim and ease, came quickly to your side, enveloping your waist in a delicate embrace. A formal embrace that bespoke of the distance between you, the invisible rift. The dance he swept you in was unfamiliar, but it was simple enough that you could match his pace without tumbling over your own feet.

        You felt everyone staring, but nothing mattered more to you than the feeling of his hand on your waist and the deep, unreadable waters of his foggy gray eyes. He was an enigma that swept coast to coast, tainting the sand with his attendance but leaving wild imaginations to run rampant wondering why he was there, what he did, who he was. Everyone knew of him, but no one knew him. You couldn’t deny you also didn’t know him. Really, you knew nothing about him except that he was a Slytherin in your year, the younger brother to Gryffindor’s infamous playboy, and a supposed Pureblood extremist. You were curious, though, and wanted to know all the dismissive facts that made up his mind and crafted a mental narrative even you found ambiguous. He had consciousness, and there was no way in Merlin’s sodding Hell he was a host to someone else’s thoughts, opinions, and interests the way so many other future killers seemed. Every now and then he showed you something unusual—a mannerism individual to him, words you recoiled back at hearing from his mouth. After he smirked at you and accepted your demand to dance, you lost yourself in the shock of his dismal composure cracking at the folds.

        You never really believed in love.

-

        Regulus never really believed in love.

-

        But if you wandered too far into the bittersweet fantasy of happy endings…

-

        Regulus could get lost.

-

        The song changed again; slow and calm it became. Pressing your cheek to Regulus’s chest, you let the soft fabric of his dress robes sway you into an admittedly false sense of security. The hawk eyes following your every move disappeared with every cyclic step Regulus took. You were hypersensitive to his heartbeat now. It pounded against your cheek like a drumstick, a vibrato of epic proportions. You felt delirious with delight, yet a piece of you was stuck to the path your half-conscious feet made through the slow dance. It’s like you left a trail, and you’d have to pick up the pieces once Regulus became sick of your pathetic antics.

        “Are you asleep?” he asked amusedly, his chest vibrating against you. It rattled you enough to awaken some semblance of nerves.

        “No,” you said, shaking yourself out of the daze. You pulled back from him, bridging enough space to look him in his eyes. He had beautiful eyes a silly girl like you could get lost in. Any girl really. They were pools of fog made of spring mornings and forest hues. You just wanted to kiss his eyelids. What a strange desire, but you felt it all the same…

        Regulus blinked and you were drawn back in the moment. He had said something.

        You hummed in question, your eyebrows raising.

        He shook his head, his face flattening until it was expressionless. “I have to go,” he said. You knew what lies looked like. He was a good liar, but you were a better observer. “I have a matter to discuss with Slughorn.”

        You laughed. “That’s too bad,” you said, voice coming out like a purr. Your hand rose until it settled on his chest; your fingers curled around his robe, until fabric was fisted and cupped into a swirl. “We could have had some fun.”

        “No,” Regulus said firmly. Almost too firmly. His hand jerked up to meet yours and his larger fingers interlaced yours, tugging in an attempt to prompt your release. Your refused to let go. “Y/N.”

        “I like it when you talk all authoritative,” you said teasingly.

        His face blanched and it was enough of a shock to make him lose all incentive to fight the good fight. You took this chance and drew him in, his feet stumbling in a clumsy attempt to regain balance. “Y/N, I—”

        “What are you so afraid of?”

-

        Regulus was afraid of a lot of things. He was afraid of what his parents would do if they figured out he didn’t despise tainted blood the way he was raised to. He was afraid of his peers shunning and scorning him for being caught dead with a Half-blood. He was afraid of losing himself in the moment just to sate his deadened hope and watching you get killed in the crossfire of his foolish, self-indulgent mistakes. He was afraid of many things.

        He would never dare utter those fears aloud.

-

        You watched the conflict flit across his face, erasing itself seconds after.

        “What?” you innocently asked, noting that he had gone stiff. You were unaware to how deep his issues ran. You knew from Sirius’s running mouth that Pureblood households were devoid of tender moments and affectionate caresses. You wanted to imagine an alternative for them, but Sirius was a hellish hailstorm when honest; his feelings were subjective, but his experience was likely to ring alarmingly true. Regulus was quiet and allowed things to fester, so no one would ever know how he felt.

        He looked at you now, a lock where his mouth was. No key in sight. His eyes were piercing and unquestionably inscrutable.

-

        He had to leave before he lost control of his mouth. He couldn’t afford to involve you in his mess. He was a hurricane and you were summer rains. He would destroy you.

-

        “I have somewhere to be,” Regulus said, no room left for an argument. His arms disappeared from around your waist and he tore his eyes away, like it was physically painful to do so.

        You grabbed his wrist before he could melt into the dancing crowd. “Regulus, wait,” you said. You hated the way you sounded. You didn’t know him, but you felt strongly anyway, like he mattered more to you than was plausible for a girl and boy from two separate worlds. You couldn’t explain why you cared; you just did. He hid himself under the pretense of a rich, spoiled Pureblood who stood above the rest. He was hypnotically beautiful and bathed in greens and silvers. He was brilliant in ways Gryffindor House could only aspire to be.

        Regulus didn’t respond to your plea. He stared at you, waiting briefly to hear what you had to say.

        You didn’t have anything to say. You had something to express—and words weren’t always the best at expression.

        You reached up to his face and palmed his cheeks, finding little skin and mostly bone. His cheekbones jerked underneath your grip. His eyes went slightly wide, like he disbelieved you had taken physical initiative with him. Your fingers didn’t dig or tear at his skin, nor did you impulsively decide that you had him in your grip and now was the time to hurt him. You didn’t want to hurt him. You wanted to show him that he didn’t have to be risk-aversive; he could fall clumsily into risk with you and the two of you would make it work. As long as he felt this bizarre, unnatural connection same as you did.

        You’d find out.

        You pressed yourself flush against him and drew your lips until you were a breath away. Then you kissed him.

        The room and its occupants disintegrated, leaving only Regulus and you. Regulus dissolved into putty. His arms went around you again, one of them circling your waist entirely and a hand gripping your hip tight like letting you go would mean you never came back. His lips were soft if slightly chapped, moving against yours like they belonged there; there was no hesitation, no anxious energy. Regulus had lost himself in the moment, same as you. He wasn’t a Pureblood and you weren’t some Half-blood Gryffindor who had spent half the night pinning after a Slytherin who would keel over dead before wanting you. Regulus was different, and you hadn’t failed to sense it.

-

        Regulus abruptly remembered his place and pulled from you. Your eyes were still fluttered shut, and it took several seconds before you noticed he was no longer wrestling with your lips.

        You stared. Regulus wiped all emotion from his face, refusing to let you know he wanted a second kiss. You were not a good deceiver and every emotion you felt showed on your face, from confusion to lust to apprehension.

        “That should not have happened,” Regulus murmured, glancing around. There were people staring; even some of your Gryffindor friends, like Lily Evans and Marlene Mckinnon, were aghast, eyeing the two of you like you had just committed a murder.

        “Why?” you said confrontationally. “Did you regret it?”

        Regulus glanced at you but didn’t say a word.

        You could feel your heart plummet to your gut. “Yeah, okay,” you said, shaking your head. You knew he was being dishonest, but that didn’t stop you from feeling hurt at his blatant favoring of his reputation over a chance at this… this relationship. You jerked out of his slackened grip.

      You fought tears as you walked away.

-

        Regulus watched you go.

        He knew what it felt like when towers crumbled and empires fell, as it happened frequently. His life fell apart more than it came together. He missed you the moment you left but he knew this was for the better. That kiss had meant more than Regulus would ever admit. He felt the connection and he knew there was a future that would happen if he allowed it, if he chose not to intervene. He was the inhibitor of a lot of good things, but he would rather see himself drown than another person swallow their breath underwater.

        So he stared at your retreating back, wishing things were different.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 10)

A/n: What, thought I was done with this series. HA NO!! I still have a playlist for this shit and it fuels me. Just, slowly.

Word Count: 5000+

PLAYLIST

Masterlist

"Parents will never admit to this, but they always have a favorite." Jerome looked at Jeremiah as he lounged on his chair. "Right, brother?" Harley felt eyes on him so he looked over, only to look directly in Bruce's eyes. There was something there that spoke to Harley what both boys knew- this wasn't about Bruce. The younger boy seemed to be trying to reason or apologize without words, but Harley just looked away. It was far too late for that bullshit. "The one who cleans their room. Does their homework." Every word was a twist of a knife Harley didn't realize was buried in his chest. He was maybe the one who understood Jerome the most. Maybe that's why they'd gotten this far with each other. "Who doesn't try to kill everybody." Harley smiled. "Little Mr. Perfect here? Yeah. He was that guy. He was adopted by rich folks. Went to the top schools, then a top college." Harley suddenly felt angry. Angry at Jerome's family. At everyone in Jerome's past, in fact. Especially at Jeremiah Valeska. And you know what... at Bruce Wayne too. "Meanwhile, I got dragged through the circus by my depressed, alcoholic mother. Forced to clean up elephant dung every day."

"Who cares?" Someone in the crowd shouted. People began to speak up in agreement.

Harley stepped forward. "Don't interrupt the man!" He hefted his bat and the crowd suddenly went silent.

Jerome looked pleased, but his smile died quickly as he returned to his little rant. Harley moved behind him, running his free hand through Jerome's hair every once in a while. "Do you know how big those things are?" He was completely calm, but in a sort of empty way as his eyes searched out people in the crowd. Harley recognized the plea. For understanding. For pity. For anything. Someone to get him and not judge him and tell him that he was right to be doing what he was doing. Everyone's disapproval didn't stop him, but he yearned for someone to love him and it was so very clear to Harley now more than ever that it upset him. Why were people always so cruel? "But I know something mommy and daddy," Jerome continued. "They never knew. You’re as crazy as I am." Jerome dropped the mic, standing. "It's in your DNA." He turned to Jeremiah, Harley right next to him, still brandishing his bat as he watched Jerome's back. "See, we got the same blood running through us. We are practically identical. You are a killer." He had a knife and he moved close to Jeremiah, obviously trying to put him on edge. "It's in your nature. Stop trying to fight it." He cut Jeremiah's ties and there was a pause. "Take your best shot."

"What?" Harley demanded, turning around. He found his body stiff with panic. Hard to move and respond with. Jeremiah was holding the knife Jerome had been a few seconds before. He went to step forward to stop this, but Jerome held up a hand. Harley looked at Jerome with rage. "Jerome-" Jerome shushed him.

Perhaps the man still could take Harley by surprise.

Jeremiah looked at his brother, his features slowly twisting with more and more anger until he screamed, trying to tackle Jerome to the ground but failing. Jerome giggled as he kicked Jeremiah and Harley frowned. He stepped away, irritated that Jerome hadn't at least cued him in on this part of the plan. At least given him a head's up or something... As he looked away, he noticed Bruce. This time the boy was looking at Jeremiah, his face twisted in pain and anger. Harley rose an eyebrow. He'd seen Bruce be pissed by injustice before, but there wasn't just his sense of right or wrong driving him to these emotions. There was a sort of protectiveness in the way his hands curled into fists. He'd only seen it when someone had gotten a little too rough with Y/n back in the days, or when Selina had been in danger those few times Harley had seen Bruce get protective of her.

What were the odds that Harley wasn't the only Wayne that had a crush of some kind on a Valeska?

From the way he struggled against his ropes, Harley was starting to think they were getting more probable by the second.

Everything was cut short as gun fire went off on the rooftops, diverting Jerome's attention just long enough to be shot in the shoulder by Jim Gordon. Bruce escaped, Jerome's trigger didn't work, and everyone was scattering as a giant blimp began to inch across the sky. Harley moved to Jerome, slinging Jerome's arm around his shoulders. Jerome pulled away though. "What's up?" Harley demanded, desperate to escape in the chaos.

Jerome groaned. "I have an idea. But we need to go up." Harley hesitated but then nodded, both of the men running to a nearby building and up the flight of stairs to the roof. Harley hid just out of sight when Jerome told him to. Jim busted onto the scene moments later and Harley ducked out of sight, moving so he could still see even if he couldn't quite hear. Words, at least. The gun shots he heard clearly. One to Jerome's hand, knocking the phone away. Another to his stomach, and Jerome was falling. Back. Off the ledge and over.

Harley almost threw up. He was stunned, eyes wide as he watched Gordon scramble forward. He only got comfort when he heard talking over the side and saw Jim reach down a hand... Harley rushed forward, hitting the back of Jim's head with the bat he still had. The officer crumbled.

"Gordon?"

Harley leaned over the side to see Jerome barely dangling by a pole. "You idiot." Only now did Harley realize he was crying. He reached down but Jerome just frowned, not taking it. Something then dawned on Harley and the boy paled. "You weren't going to take his hand either, were you?"

Jerome grunted, rolling his eyes. "This is the end of the line for me, Harley."

"No the fuck it isn't," Harley snapped back. "You promised me we'd talk about us later." He shook his hand, offering it again. "You've been driven by hate and loneliness and spite your entire life. You didn't think past that night you killed your mom, did you?” Something changed in Jerome’s face, but Harley was too angry to stop. “You barely tried to hide it, and you made minimal effort to get away with it. Then after, you stayed in Gotham to, what? Destroy your brother?" Harley scoffed. "I'm tired of this Jerome. Damnit, I'm tired of watching people suffer." He sniffed and Jerome's face seemed to relax as he actually listened. "We can kill whoever you want, I don't care. But my brother and your brother have a crush on each other and it's hilarious and I need you here to laugh with me about it, okay?" He choked up. "I need you to rule this stupid town with me. Or to not to. Maybe we could stay lowkey or leave. Maybe we could hide out somewhere and just go missing or fake our deaths and never show our faces again so no one knows we're around to even find us. Maybe..." He shrugged. "You can take me to whatever hell you want to Jerome. Let's blow more things up and kiss over dead bodies. You don't have to ruin your brother just because he ruined you. Or maybe you do. Whatever. Just come back with me, okay? Please." Harley stretched out his hand more and Jerome got a new look on his face.

He took Harley's hand, and Harley hauled him up, struggling only minority. The second he was standing, Harley grabbed his face and kissed him. Jerome hooked his good arm around Harley's waist, keeping them close. "You love me."

Harley held tightly to Jerome, closing his eyes as he tried to let go of the mental image his brain was trying to create of Jerome being flattened on the street below. "More than I even love myself," Harley confirmed. "It's probably why I've stuck around, really."

Jerome hummed. "Our brothers have a thing for each other, huh?"

Harley laughed. He leaned back and Jerome reached up, wiping the tears away. "Maybe we could just let them be." Harley shrugged again, struggling to come up with the words to explain how he was feeling. "If they really do like each other..."

"My brother is as messed up as I am," Jerome warned. "I'm at least fun- he's just manipulative."

Harley nodded. "Then what better way to break them than have them break each other, hm?" Harley nudged him. "And if he does end up being total shit, then we can turn him crazy just like you want to with that gas of yours." Harley sighed. "Just, I don't know, my brother deserves to be happy. He's lost his parents and now his brother and his whole world is on its head and-" he stopped cold, sucking in a sharp breath. "It's his birthday today." The day occurred to him suddenly and he looked up at Jerome, pleading. "Would it be too much to ask for?"

Jerome pursed his lips. "When he hurts him-"

"You can kill him, and I'll help you."

A smile finally grew on Jerome's lips. He knew this was a win-win. Either he was wrong about his brother and they all got somewhat of a happy ending, or he was going to see some actual fun. Either way, it was going to be entertaining. "Fine." He sighed. "We have to get to his little base quick then, though." His smile grew and Harley felt himself get excited.

-

"Hey Handsome."

Jeremiah jumped at the sound of Harley's voice. He went tense, looking around for his brother who usually accompanied the boy in front of him. No sign. "What are you doing here?"

Harley shrugged. He was pretty amicable so Jeremiah calmed even if he didn't totally relax. "I killed Jerome."

That seemed to take Jeremiah by surprise. Understandable. He wanted to doubt Harley, but the boy's expression was open and honest. Even vulnerable, like he was apologizing. "Why?" He asked instead of voicing doubts that were slipping away. Harley was wearing a casual t-shirt and jeans now, different from the little fancy get up he'd been wearing while with Jerome. There was something different about the boy in front of him as well. Something distinctively different than the Harley that had flirted with him a foot away from Jeremiah's brother, who was presumably also Harley's boyfriend.

"He tried to kill Bruce." Harley sighed, leaning against the wall behind him. "We had an agreement that Bruce was untouchable. If he died accidentally because he was being an idiot, fine. But Jerome sought him out specifically. And on his birthday." Harley clicked his tongue, shaking his head back and forth. "Bruce can hate me. He has every right to. But he's still my younger brother." He looked away. "He means everything to me, you know. We used to be best friends." He smiled softly but then looked back at Jeremiah, clearing his throat. "Sorry. I'm sure you're not wanting to hear that after I've told you your own brother is dead."

"No,"Jeremiah reassured. "It's actually quite a relief." Harley nodded as if he understood. "Wait but why did you come here? Just to...tell me that?" Harley held up a purple package with a huge silver ribbon. Only then did Jeremiah realize the boy had been holding it at all. "And what's that?"

"Jerome came up with a gas. Had Scarecrow make it himself. Kind of like fear gas, but it makes you..." Harley tilted his head back and forth as he searched for the word. "More like Jerome, to put it nicely. Unhinged." Jeremiah stepped back from the box, curling into himself. "I didn't want his plan to succeed, so I'm here to step in."

Jeremiah looked at Harley, confused again. "Why would you care what happened to me?"

A smile rose to Harley's face, soft and rather attractive. Jeremiah had already come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to Harley Quinn. He was also attracted to Bruce Wayne, so maybe it was just that the Wayne bloodline produced very good looking men. Whatever it was, Harley seemed much more welcoming and friendly now compared to his flirting the last time they'd had an extended conversation. One where Harley had stood up for Jerome and seemed to hate Jeremiah. One that had left an impression to someone who was quite opposite of the man standing in front of Jeremiah now. "I see the way my brother looks at you."

Jeremiah felt his heart pick up. "You- what?"

Harley giggled. "I don't think even he knows yet, but he does have some feeling toward you. I figure he's lost enough people. Had far too many opportunities for something he deserved pass him by. He's sacrificed enough." Harley stepped forward, closer to Jeremiah. "I guess I want to get you guys together. Maybe one relationship between a Valeska and Wayne can actually work out." Harley's smile was strained here and Jeremiah felt pity for the boy. "So what do you say? You couldn't tell him I was around, of course, but I'm sure you'd do a lot better with a bit of help."

Excitement rose up in Jeremiah's features. "You can stay here if you want. I have a free room I could make into somewhere you can sleep."

Harley grinned. "How sweet. I actually would appreciate that, if you don't mind." He stepped away. "I have to dispose of this, but... you know, I think we're gonna be good friends." He nodded in a silent farewell and Jeremiah smiled in return. Harley found his way out himself. Jeremiah didn't think anything of it as he was far too excited thinking about the possibility that Bruce Wayne could return his feelings on any level, as well as the possibility of having a real guy friend his age. Ecco was cool, but branching out a bit wouldn't hurt.

It took five minutes for Harley to find his way out. He skipped to the waiting car then got in the driver's seat, starting it up and taking off. Jerome grinned from the passenger seat. "How is it that you got around without that little blonde girl following you?"

Harley scoffed cockily. "If you and him think the same, then I can just as easily figure out that maze of his as you can. The same way I assume Ecco has it down as well. She knows Jeremiah like the back of her hand. The same way that I know you." He shot a wink at Jerome who smirked, leaning back in his seat.

"So you're my little secret weapon, eh?"

Harley giggled as he pulled to a stop at the building they'd been hiding out in since escaping Arkham. "Something like that."

Jerome leaned over, catching Harley's chin in his fingers, and then Harley's lips with his own. The kiss was slow and deep and purposeful, and it made all of Harley's insides light on fire. "You know, I love you too." Harley's head was spinning and he couldn't wrap his mind around that kiss let alone the words that had followed it. Jerome had never kissed him like that.

"What a joker," Harley croaked. It had become a bit of a running gag  to call Jerome that. "Cute but totally rude."

Jerome's hold on Harley's face tightened. He looked angry. Maybe Harley had offended him. But how could he have? “You know Harley, I show you every time I've been genuine. You've seen me afraid. You've seen me sad. You've seen me confused. You've seen me have many other emotions beside just amusement and anger which is what most people see. You've seen me about to jump off a building and end it all for god's sake." Harley swallowed, trying not to let that exact instance come back to him as a memory in his already muddled state. "Do I look like I'm joking to you?"

Harley wet his lips. "Why me?"

Jerome smiled, giggling softly. "Because you're just like me, and you accept that. You thrive off of it. I don't have to bend and twist to get it out- you wear your crazy like a badge. You walk through fire to be with me just because I've asked you to. Because you love me, and I like it, even though I’ve despised the thought of love... until now. You're probably the only person in my life who's ever loved me." His hold loosened in favor of caressing Harley's face. "You were right, you know." He snorted, as if amused by the sentence. He must not have said it a lot. "You can't just belong to me. And you don't. I belong to you too. I really would do anything for you." Smiling, Harley leaned forward and kissed him again.

There was a certain excitement in the moment. Jerome loved him.

There was also a sense of dread. A sense of being locked up, in a sense. Jerome had never been loved before. Had never loved anyone more than he loved himself before. He wouldn't handle it well if Harley was hurt or left him. Harley couldn't imagine wanting to leave Jerome after everything they've been through, but normal relationships always had the recognition that it might happen, right? You dreaded that moment and hoped it never happened... By the look in Jerome's eyes, Harley knew that wasn't a possibility. They were stuck together forever now. It was Jerome's Harley and Harley's little Joker. Forever.

Or, at least, until death do them part.

-

"Hey Lovebird," Harley greeted brightly one morning.

Jeremiah scoffed, but he was smiling so Harley knew no harm had been done. "Good morning Harley."

Harley waved at Ecco who nodded at him in return, a small smile on her face. "Any plans today?" Harley asked, setting himself down next to Jeremiah.

A little coy curve of his lips was answer enough, but Jeremiah explained anyway. "Bruce is coming over today to see the new prototypes." Here he got excited, going into full nerd mode. Harley and Jeremiah had begun to get close. It was kind of wild to see a sane version of Jerome. Boring though. Harley could never bring himself to spend too much time with Jeremiah before he needed to visit his boyfriend again.

His boyfriend. Jerome had finally made it official and had picked up the pet names again. Harley was weak over it. He didn't think he'd ever have a boyfriend, let alone one who was so unapologetically proud of being with him. Someone who really loved him and encouraged him to be himself. It was exhilarating.

Ecco brushed her fingers along the back of Harley's head. The boy knocked out of his thoughts and looked up to see Jeremiah looking expectantly. "Oh sorry." Harley blushed, embarrassed. "What did you say?"

Jeremiah shook his head, but he still had that amused smirk on his face. A teasing expression. Lighthearted. "I was saying that I was thinking about maybe asking him on a date after. If... if you think it's not too early to do that? Or if he won't totally shoot me down?" He got nervous.

It seemed that Jeremiah had gotten into the habit of ignoring little odd things Harley did. He still hadn't asked how Harley so easily found his way through the maze, nor did he question little moments like just now. What could Harley be so happy about? Maybe he wrote it all down to Harley's time with Jerome and his excitement for the possibility of his brother being happy or something. I think Jeremiah was basking in the feeling of watching two brothers really care about each other- something he never experienced but undoubtedly had wanted in some way or another. Harley was curious but couldn't ask, himself. All the odd things he was doing didn't need to be brought to light in favor of exposing the little odd things Jeremiah was doing. And Ecco seemed to trust Harley enough, as long as he made no move to hurt Jeremiah in any way. So for now, it was fine. I guess.

"I don't really know," Harley relented. "The only relationship I've ever been in wasn't exactly... normal."

Jeremiah suddenly got very serious. "Of course, sorry."

"No worries," Harley dismissed. "I just mean I would probably be a bad gauge of timing. I think you should go for it though. Maybe try to be subtle, but definitely drop some hints and give it a try." He smiled and Jeremiah mirrored the expression, relaxing as he daydreamed just a little bit about things that might happen if this whole thing went well. "Until then," Harley continued, flicking Jeremiah's shoulder to get his attention back. Jeremiah blushed, making Ecco smirk and roll her eyes. "Let's make some dinner. Nothing will get him to stay like some good food, and knowing him, he'll probably have skipped a meal again while still unsure if Jerome is alive or not." Harley looked at his hands.

Jeremiah swallowed. "Yeah, makes sense." He moved to Harley, nudging Harley's shoulder with his own. "Come and help me?" He was trying to be a good friend and keep Harley distracted from sad thoughts. Little did he know that Harley was simply annoyed. He just wanted to be happy with his boyfriend without his brother trying to find them both and throw them back in that hell hole Arkham.

"Fore sure," Harley responded anyway, forcing a smile. "We better hurry. Waynes have high standards for food."

-

Harley chilled in the room with all the monitors as Jeremiah showed off his prototype to Bruce. Jeremiah had moved the operation to the room to allow Harley to listen in and gauge Bruce's reaction to things. Harley couldn't help without coming out and revealing himself, but Ecco went back and forth so if Jeremiah really needed a hand he could give advice through her. Harley and Ecco together were really good at coming up with solutions and dealing with romance. They seemed to be able to find a whole braincell between them, and it worked well. It was quite impressive actually.

Bruce seemed super interested in Jeremiah's little project, but every once in a while those eyes full of light and excitement would turn from the energy thingy - Jeremiah had explained it maybe hundreds of times to Harley, but he still didn't exactly get how it worked - to Jeremiah, and his eyes would get even brighter; his smile even wider. Harley got it, honestly. Jeremiah was shy and soft spoken for the most part but get him talking about his idea for this cleaner power source and he came alive in a way that made him all levels of adorable. He used his hands to talk when he was excited, and kept looking between the project he was explaining and the boy he was explaining it to. Every time the boys' eyes met, both of them got a little pinker and it made Harley giggle.

"They're such nerds," Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"They're idiots," Ecco agreed. "Which is crazy considering they're both seen as geniuses in Gotham. Especially Jeremiah." They both laughed softly before Ecco headed out again, leaving Harley alone.

Watching them took quite a while, and as time passed Harley found himself getting more sad. He wished that he could do things like that with Jerome. Flirt and geek out together and share little looks and innocent moments. Go on dates and hold hands and share long looks and dusty pink blushes. Harley wondered if Jerome had ever looked at him like that. No, such a soft look didn’t belong on Jerome’s face.

Eventually it ended and outside the compound, Jeremiah asked Bruce on a date. Obviously the boy said yes. Inside, the trio of friends celebrated as Bruce went home that night. And after they’d cheered and congratulated, Harley told Jeremiah that he needed some air and headed out.

This was another odd thing that Jeremiah was choosing to ignore. Sometimes Harley stayed the night and sometimes he didn’t. No one questioned it.

Harley headed to the hideout where Jerome was waiting for him. He was busy though, seeming distracted by a small book and lots of drawings. Harley planted himself on the couch to give Jerome some space. Whether he was planning or just musing, Jerome likes his space when doing it. Harley was willing to wait and give it to him.

In the quiet, Harley’s mind wandered back to his thoughts from earlier. He imagined just for a second, a world where Jerome’s smiles were soft. Where his smiles were warm. Where his eyes were wide and his words were honest and soothing. Where his touch was gentle. Where they were together and they cuddled in the park during lunchtime and had a picnic as Jerome rubbed his back and they both lay in peace and quiet. He imagined kisses that brushed rather than bruised. It was a sweet thought. A fantasy he’d loved as a child.

Did he still like it? Could he imagine himself in a life where he got a job and wore a suit or even a tshirt and jeans like he had been for Jeremiah? Like he had when he wasn’t Harley Quinn? Honestly, he couldn’t.

A frown took his face. He had nothing to distract him and icky feelings began to rise up, so he defaulted to habits that had yet to fail him. He went out to the store and got a drawing notebook and a pack of pencils and then colored pencils and got to work. He sat and drew as he continued to wait for Jerome, sifting through his mind.

He expected to draw that fantasy. That park and the grass and the serene expressions on his and Jerome’s faces. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it though and instead spent the next however long drawing memories rather than fantasy. All of them were Jerome, and there was blood everywhere. Most of them were just doodles, but the expressions he focused on. He made sure to capture the twisted enjoyment in each recall.

Only then did he divert to that sort of calm Jerome. Not Jeremiah, who was a coward and awkward and kind of annoying and paranoid and boring. A Jerome who’d grown up in a place that was loving and a world that was accepting.

This drawing took time. It was detailed and careful as Y/n drew the smiling face of a boy that had been destroyed before he even had a chance to begin. There was softness and warmth and gentleness and it made Y/n grown even more deeply.

“What’s that?”

He hadn’t realized Jerome and gotten up, but it didn’t bother him to show his boyfriend what he was doing. Harley had nothing to hide. “I’m having these thoughts. Watching Jeremiah and Bruce today...” he shrugged. “It made me think.”

Jerome hopped over the back of the couch, landing next to Harley. He tilted his head in curiosity. “Think about what?”

Harley offered a small smile. “You don’t want to hear about it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Jerome countered, “You don’t know what I want to know. Tell me!”

Sighing softly, Harley gave in. “You know every tine we have sex, it’s rough. And every time you kiss me it’s hard and desperate. Like it might be the last time. Every time you look at me there’s a heaviness in your expression. Like your affection for me is weighed down by something. By fear or anger or lust rather than love. And- I mean I don’t mind it. I like our sex.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes at himself. “I don’t know I just saw how they looked at each other today. And the awkward way that they communicated. Being coy and innocent and flirty. It was kind of cute. Made me realize I’ve never had anyone look at me like that.”

Jerome nodded as he listened. He was getting better at that as time passed. He was easily bored and antsy, but spending time with Harley seemed to ease him in some way. Just enough that the two could hold out a surprisingly functional relationship. It was why Harley spoke so honestly now- there were no more secrets between them.

Jerome tugged the book and writing utensils out of Harley’s hands, setting them on the ground before pushing him down on the couch. “Is that what you want?”

Well that wasn’t expected. “Do I want someone else? Of course not.”

“No,” Jerome corrected. His hand rose to stroke Harley’s neck. The boy shivered. “Do you want me to be gentle?”

“I-“ Yet again Jerome had somehow surprised him. “Why?”

Jerome shrugged. “You deserve the world, my dear. If you want someone to look at you like those idiots in those sappy movies, I’ll do it at least once. My motto is that you have to try everything at least once to see if you like it. It’s how I figured out I like men.”

That made Harley chuckle. He touched Jerome lovingly, humming in thought. “You don’t have to change for me, J.”

“I know.” His hips dipped and he grinded into Harley. The boy beneath him gasped, his lips parting and his head pressing into the couch as his grip fighting in Jerome’s arm and shoulder. “Do you want me to do it or not? Just so you know.”

Taking a second to regain his breath, Harley nodded. “Just as long as you’re in charge.”

Jerome grinned. “Good, because tonight I’m in the mood to make you feel really good.”

-

Male reader tag List: @sheepfather

[straighttohellbuddy]

Honestly, I cried like, five times yesterday. Three of them were at work, once in front of a customer. People get so shitty at this time of year and I’m just like “I know that taking your anger out on us is a convenient thing, but it’s not nice or fair!! don’t do it!!” So I’m trying to get through but I get a day off on the 23rd so I plan to sleep in.

Lmao I fully get the feeling with the whole western world, as someone who follows the pagan holidays i try not to eye roll too much (my manager has caught me a few times and just laughed lmao) but I love that your love language is gift giving!! It’s one of mine too!! So I fully get it!! I’m glad you were able to find the right gift for your mum tho!! Hearing abt gifts makes me excited for the intended recipient lol. I’m so v lucky to have chosen family I do have as well as my mum in my life. It’s easier w technology mercifully, but my other love language is touches and I’m literally so touch starved 😩😂 but you’re too sweet 🥺 🧡

I feeeel you with treating yourself like a toddler tho!! I try to keep my habit of eating when I immediately come home from work but some days I barely make it past my bathroom and I’m showered and crawling into bed lol. But I’m trying to keep routine. I’ve noticed alarms sometimes help but if I stop instead of snooze them rip my schedule for the evening lmao. Rambling is good, I do it too!! -🐈‍⬛

Sorry this took so long to get to!! i'm so sorry about how you've been treated, seriously im sending you all the love and good vibes, and i hope you get to take a well earned break soon 🧡🧡🧡 we love a good chosen family!! im glad to be back in my home town because the folks who i consider my irl chosen family live here too, and i get to see them!! i'm excited!! mum's super hard to buy for, but she really likes, like, weirdly showy sneakers, like she had a sparkly gold pair for a while there, and she's currently wearing a floral pair, and i saw an ad on insta for a collaboration between Vans and MoMA, and DUDE they have her favourite painting (Monet's Water Lillies) on shoes!! so yeah im mad happy abt it. i didn't used to get touch starved really, im painfully introverted, socially anxious, and probably a little paranoid, so it was really hard to reach out to people and my body was kind of the same i guess?? but now im in love with a girl in another country and i just wanna be able to see her in person so i YEARN so much, and being touch starved in The Worst!!! though i have been trying to be more open with people irl, i messaged one of my best friends this morning telling him that i miss him and would like a hug next time we're in the same town so fingers crossed its soon. some time in january. ah man, i hope you get all the solid hug and affirming touches you need soon. i believe in u and ur routine!! honestly if i could sacrifice a little bit of my good routine for a decent amount of sleep each night, i would, but i literally have too many ideas in my head so im constantly writing, which means im awake, which means im having reasonable meals and showering but not really sleeping.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls (Final Part)

There are places where lives unfold and places where lives come to an end, more often than not these places are one and the same. Sometimes these places are quaint harbor towns where buildings are centuries older than any of the citizens currently hustling in and out of them. Sometimes these places are have cliffsides that are older than even the buildings, worked at and eroded by waves significantly more timeless than them. Often these cliffsides see thunderous clouds and tempestuous waves, lit by forks of lightning and filled by curtains of rain. And more often than folks like to admit, these towns have their ghosts; sails on the horizon during a storm, ladies in billowing white dresses that stand at the edge of cliffs, and speters that travel through arches of limestone. It might be that the towns folk get bored and invent legends, or perhaps it is a tourist thrill, still it could be that some of the inhabitants need a good ghost to keep them secure in the realm of the living.

In such a town, the rain could be pouring and lightning could be bursting in the sky. People might be rushing to pack in their picnic food and snatch up their umbrellas. Some of them are too late, like a boy named Jet and a girl named Jin. Their umbrella has lifted out of the sand and is riding the gales out towards the sea. It wasn’t his idea of what a date should look like, but at least it was a thrilling one.

Others have more luck on their side; more or less. A married couple could be safely tucked into their restaurant had they decided to take down their patio umbrellas and move their chairs inside sooner.

Inside of a restaurant called La-bsters there is a rather interesting cluster of people. Mostly there are tourists and people who have hustled into the building for shelter from the rain. But there are also two teens interviewing for their first jobs. A girl will venture out of the town for the first time to study marine biology and her friend, Toph will take her place waitressing for the restaurant. There is also a bald boy and his dog, the three are an inseparable duo and Aang swears that he will teach the dog to be a good employee too.

The restaurant is cozy. It is home. In a quaint harbor town that seems caught within a bygone era, anywhere is home really. It is no wonder that some people are hesitant to leave. When home is so warm and inviting, so safe and unchanging, why would a person ask to leave?

For some it is a need for change, a yearning for something new. A desire to see the world with a knowing that they can come back to their harbor town and see it nearly as it was when they had left. Nearly, but not quite. For everything evolves. Everything changes. And if you know a place well, then the most subtle of changes are extraordinarily profound.

The rain pummels the roof of La-bsters as Toph high fives Aang, “Congrats on your first summer job, Twinkle Toes!”

“Yeah, you too.” He smiles meekly.

“When do we start?” She asks.

“How about on the first day that we have some sunny weather?” Hakoda offers.

A table away sits a group of four, they split a platter of fries, onion rings, and hot wings. Azula douses the wings in an extremely generous amount of spicy dipping sauce. “Seriously, I can’t eat this!” Sokka exclaims, eyes watering. “My mouth is burning!”

Azula smirks. “Yes, that’s the point. Either you’re going to build up your spice tolerance or I am going to have all of the wings to myself.”

“Not if I can help it.” Zuko plucks one of the wings. He takes his first bite. After swallowing he clears his throat. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Katara.”

“Go ahead.”

“We’re still having a hard time building the lighthouse back up after how far behind we’ve fallen. I was planning on opening up a restaurant of my own. It’s going to be more like a bakery and I’ll run it from the lighthouse.”

“My idea.” Azula cuts in.

“I thought that it would be smart to…” He backtracks. “Azula thought that it would be smart to partner up with La-bsters. It’s going to be folklore and ghost story themed and stuff. Do you think that your parents would want that.”

“Ask them, Zuko.” Katara laughs. “They’ve never said no before!”

“Speaking of parents, how has your dad been?” Sokka asks, nostrils still flared from his second attempt to eat one of the wings. He fans his face.

“He’s a year sober now.” Azula replies.

“He and uncle are planning some kind of road trip to relive the glory days.”

“Why are you cringing?” Katara laughs.

“Do you know what their glory days looked like?” Zuko asks.

“Father just wants to make up for wasting so much of his time on drinks and grief.” Azula shrugs. Silently, she thinks that he just wants to enjoy one more summer before life moves on. Or maybe she is just projecting; for as much as she had fought Sokka on it, it would be nice to have one last summer where everything is as it was, simple and thrilling. Now that she has eliminated his hesitancy, she will indulge him in one more summer of old habits and nostalgia.

She will begin it with one final surf competition and end it with the annual beachview music festival.  That will be nice, considering that they’d missed last year’s. She peers at her surfboard, which she has propped up against the corner. She is going to miss it, how could she not when she had spent so much time riding waves on it? But it is time to put it aside, the sea calls her in a different direction and she has already made the necessary arrangements to answer it. And besides, she thinks it would be kind to allow Chan and Ruon their time to shine. They have more passion for the sport than she. They have worked their whole lives for that competition.

They will be performing Port TuiLa’s first partner routine. ‘Brave and risky! Daring and fun!’ So the townspeople declare. She will do her own routine, but it will be more lax and mundane. Her father and uncle will be there with bouquets of hibiscus, lais, and smoothies, weather she wins it or not. There will be a party in their backyard, a BBQ that doubles as her birthday party and her victory celebration. She will slip an invite to Jet; if he makes an appearance it will be just like old times. If he steers clear...she supposes that, that is just the nature of things. People get hurt and people grow apart.

“Go and ask them, Zuzu.” She nudges as Hakoda enters the building completely drenched.

Zuko takes a deep breath, stands, and rolls his shoulders. Azula rolls her eyes. “So dramatic. How long have we known them?”

Katara laughs and gently pushes him forward.

“Have you decided what you are going to do yet?” Azula asks.

Sokka bites down gently on his cheek. “Khozen has been teaching me to sail again. I know that you wanted me to leave Port TuiLa but I don’t think I’m ready for a change that big and I don’t really like the idea of college anyways.” He rubs the back of his head. “I was thinking of learning to fish, that way I can help bring in some seafood for La-bsters and be around for mom and dad after Katara leaves.”

Azula blinks. “That actually sounds like a good plan.”

He chuckles, albeit, a little nervously. “Yeah. I figured that, that way I could start something new but also stick to the place that makes me happy.” He pauses. “It’s just gonna be weird not having you guys around.” He gestures to she and Katara.

“You’ll have Zuko.” Katara points out.

“We’re trying to make him feel better, Katara.”

“I can still hear you guys!” Zuko calls.

Sokka gives a snorting laugh. The kind that works its way around the table and reaches the door. From its frame a sopping wet Mai remarks, “well that’s my one laugh for today.”

“What are we talking about?” TyLee asks.

“Plans for the future.” Azula pulls up a chair. “Suki and I are going to beauty school! She wants to learn to do special effects makeup. I’m going to make everyone in Port TuiLa beautiful!”

“Good luck with Long Feng.” Mai mumbles and helps herself to a french fry. “I’m going to study mortuary science. It’ll give me something to talk about at dinner.”

“What about you, Azula?” TyLee asks. “You still going to pro-surf?”

It hadn’t really taken much thought to decide, not when the path had made itself so clear. She shakes her head, “no, I have something different in mind.”

“Does father know?” Zuko asks, taking his seat.

“He will.” Azula replies. That is her only hang up, the prospect of disappointing him. But she thinks that her desired career is admirable enough. Surely it is indisputably well suited to her. “I’m going to be a coast guard. I already have experience, more than I should.”

The sea has taken a lot from her but she has taken a lot back. And she will take more back, more and more until it doesn’t hurt. More and more until she knows that she can see her mother again with the ability to inform her that her death didn’t amount to nothing. The waves may have stolen her life but they haven’t stolen the energy she put forth.

The sea will take more lives, likely it will take them right out of Azula’s hands. But it will take less than it would have if she gets her way.

“Thanks to you,” she looks at Sokka, “and all the attention that your story got, I think that my chances are very good.”

“Hey, can we stop talking about the future now and start living in the moment!?” Toph calls. “I’ve got five dollars for the jukebox and twenty for the arcade.”

“How about we spend twenty on the jukebox and five on the arcade?” Sokka asks.

Azula elbows him. “Do you even know twenty dollars worth of good songs?”

“I know plenty of amazing tracks!”

She slings her arm around him. “Your music taste is still stuck on hits from ten years ago.”

And so they listen to twenty dollars worth of songs that she hasn’t heard since they were kids. Their summer starts with the past and plays out as it always has, right until when the leaves would start to change. And just as they always have, they close the summer with an all night music festival on the beach. Sparklers, smoke bombs, and melting ice cream cones. Fireworks and kisses and the same gaggle of friends. The same group plus one, not that Jin hadn’t been an amusing addition.

.oOo.

It only makes sense that she departs on a stormy night. Her car is loaded and the remaining tents and banners of her goodbye party flap in the wind. Sokka presses his head to her forehead and gives her a rather lengthy kiss. Long enough to have her father retreating back into the house to fetch her a parting gift. She won’t open it until she reaches boot camp. It is a simple photo album that her mother had made.

She pulls out of the kiss and Ozai hands her the giftbox. “Your mother would be proud.”

“And you?”

Ozai sighs. “I think that you already know the answer to that.” He ruffles her hair. He hasn’t done that in ages. “I best see you in a uniform when you visit for the holidays.”

“You will, father.” She smiles.

“Take care of father?” Azula requests quietly to Zuko. “Keep him on track, okay?”

“I’ll keep him busy.” Zuko promise with a gesture to the lighthouse and his brand new business. “Trust me, I will.”

She doesn’t doubt it in the slightest. “Alright, well I’m getting soaked so…”

“I’ll see you later, Azula.”

She nods and gives a little wave.

Sokka puts his arm around her and leads her to her car. She buckles herself in and turns her head for one final kiss. “Call me when you get there.” It isn’t a question. “Of course I will, Sokka.” She answers anyhow. He waves again and she rolls up her window. Windshield wipers throw drops off of the window as she steers her way down the winding lighthouse driveway.

The Sea Candle rests on the cliff shining her way as it always has. And it will be there to guide her home when the day comes. She casts one final look at the town in her rearview mirror. She can swear that, in the beam of the lighthouse she can see faint sails, bobbing haphazardly in the waves.

[illfoandillfie]

The Dinner Party

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader + Rami Malek, Lucy Boynton, Joe Mazzello, Gwilym Lee 

Summery: Ben finds out about one of your fantasies and offers to help make it a reality.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ !!! it’s a big ol’ gang bang folks! unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, sensory deprivation (blindfolds), gags, restraints, choking, slapping, biting, spanking, oral (f and m receiving), a*al, orgasm denial, overstimulation/forced orgasm, nipple play, fingering, degradation, sexual objectification, handjobs, i think thats everything oh god i dont know theres a lot

Words: 11,538 (jesus)

A/N: I am so sorry I made you wait so long for this one - the last couple of months have been fucking whack as heck. Anyway, I hope she was worth waiting for! I’m gonna go have 12 cold showers in a row and scream for a while.

(its so fucking hard to find photos of all of them together jesus christ)

Taglist:  @idontbelievethiss @somekindof-cheese @dtfrogertaylor   @ezmina98  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks 

“So, uhh, that fantasy you sent me the other night,” Ben ran his fingers lightly up and down your arm, “You really got off to that?”   You could feel the sweat caught between your back and his chest, skin sticking together where you leaned against him. His hand was heavy on your stomach, moving with you as you wiggled around, trying to decrease the sticky discomfort.   “Well, yeah, otherwise I wouldn’t have sent it. Was it too much?”   It was something you did when you were away from each other. When you’d been apart for too long and you were yearning for each other's touch. You’d message each other with what you’d thought about while masturbating. Like a lot of the little traditions and patterns you and Ben developed, it had started as a joke. But now it felt weird to not do it. Sometimes it was links to porn videos or erotic stories found online. Sometimes it was reminiscences about previous nights together. And sometimes it was just one word. You.    “No, it was pretty hot actually.”   This time the distance had been caused by Ben’s filming schedule taking him overseas for three whole months. It was the longest you’d been separated in a while, and your game had turned into a bit of a competition. Trying to one up each other with wilder fantasies. You’d sent the last one, drawing on something you’d thought about a lot but never really divulged to anyone before in order to claim victory. The moment you’d hit send you’d worried it was too much. Ben knew you had a thing for exhibitionism and for being treated like an object, happy to help you indulge in them from time to time, but you’d never really exposed how deep they went. His response amounted to an oh my god and a couple of flushed face emojis. No come back, no one upping. Just three words and two little symbols. You hoped it was because he had nothing hotter to counter with and not because you’d freaked him out too much.  

Three days later he was back home, hurriedly removing your shirt within minutes of walking through the door. The sex was neither sweet nor soft, though the way Ben sat up and pulled you against him afterwards, kissing your temple in the process, was both.    “Glad you think so. It’s one I’ve thought about a lot.”   “And you’ve never mentioned it before why?”   “I don’t know, not every guy would be cool hearing about how his girlfriend dreams of being used by a bunch of strangers.”   “Okay, yeah, spose that’s fair.” He was quiet for a moment, absentmindedly stroking your skin with feather light touches, “But if you got the chance, you’d really want to do something like that?”   “I think so, yeah. Maybe not actually with strangers. Don’t think I’d feel comfortable enough to get into it if I didn’t know and trust everyone there. But in theory, yes.”   “What if... what if I could arrange for something like it to happen?”   “What?” You sat up straight and turned to face him, convinced you’d misheard him.   “If I found some people you were comfortable with who... wanted to help make this a reality would you want to do it?”   “You’re taking the piss, right?”    “I swear I’m being serious. If you wanted to actually do something like that, I’d be into it. I’d help set it up.”   “Are you feeling okay?” you pressed the back of your hand to Ben’s forehead like you were checking his temperature but he just laughed, grabbing you by the wrist so he could bring your hand to his lips.    “I feel fine, babe.” His smile hit you like a ton of bricks. Fuck you’d missed that smile.   “Can’t blame a girl for checking,”   “Look, what you described was incredibly hot and the idea of watching you be used like that...” he trailed off but you didn’t need him to say anything else, his rapidly hardening cock was proof enough. You repositioned yourself on your hands and knees, taking his cock in one hand, “You wanna watch me, blindfolded and restrained, being fucked until im crying? Wanna see me helpless and desperate and used by a whole group of people?” Your strokes along his shaft were interrupted as Ben wrapped his hand around your throat.   “I really do,” he growled as he pushed you back onto your knees, “but I think I need to fuck you again, make sure you remember who really owns your cunt.”  

Ben didn’t mention it again that week, though he barely let you out of his reach. He always got extra clingy and cuddly after you’d been reunited, surprising you with soft deep kisses and tight hugs at random. Always finding some reason to touch you, a hand on your back while you were standing at the stove, brushing fingers as you slipped past each other in the corridor, clutching your waist as he pulled you onto his lap while you played video games together. You figured he’d forgotten about your conversation now that the immediate heat and need for each other had been replaced with a softer desire to just be close. Not that you minded. You were happy to let that fantasy remain a fantasy, and if you were honest you hadn’t fully believed Ben when he suggested making it happen for real. Until he brought it up about a week and a half after his return.  

You were watching TV, resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you, when he spoke.   “So I got a call from Lucy today, turns out in a couple weeks time the whole band will be in London. We’re planning on meeting up for a few drinks, something like that.”   “Oh that’s so great Ben,” you said, pulling your eyes from the ad for bathroom cleaner you’d been mindlessly staring at and looking up at him, “Be nice to see everyone again, all at once.”   “Yeah. Actually, I thought I might suggest they all come over here for dinner one night.”   “That’s a wonderful idea.”   “And, uh, if you were still interested, we could maybe give them all a chance to fuck you.”   You choked, an exclamation of surprise catching in your throat.   “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” Ben said, almost laughing as he hurried to get you a glass of water. You glared at him through watery eyes as your coughing fit subsided, gulping down the water as soon as he’d handed it over.   “What the fuck?” you rasped out once you were back in control of your voice.   “I didn’t think you were going to choke. Just thought it’d surprise you. You alright?”   “Yeah, fine. But what the fuck?” You grabbed the remote to mute the TV, a signal that you wanted Ben to take this conversation seriously.    “It was just a suggestion,” he said with a half shrug, “You said you’d be interested in doing it.”   “I am, I just.... They’re your friends Ben, wouldn’t it be kinda weird?”   He shrugged again, “Maybe at first. But you said you’d be more comfortable if you knew the people involved. Well, you know them. And I trust them. It’s worth thinking about at least.”   You paused, chewing your lip as you took in what he was saying properly, the original shock having passed. It did kind of make sense.   “Would… would they be into it?” you said slowly.   “I mean, I’d have to talk to them. But, yeah, I think so.” he shrugged slightly.   “And you’d be okay with it?”   “Yes,” he answered matter-of-factly.   “Really? Ben it’s one thing to think about it while you get off or talk about in the abstract. It’s a whole other thing to actually watch your girlfriend having sex with other people, especially your friends.” you shifted in your seat, moving to kneel beside him and reaching out to stroke his cheek, “I don’t want you to do something you’re not fully comfortable with just to try and make me happy. It was my fantasy to begin with and I am totally okay with leaving it like that. Really think about this before you say anything else.”   He reached up, taking your hand in his and tracing lines over the back of your fingers, “But I have thought about it. A lot. Kind of non-stop actually. And I want to do it, if you do.”   “Really?”   “Yes. Look, it’s not like there’s gonna be feelings involved. This isn’t making love on a bed of roses type stuff. I’m not gonna be watching you have a romantic night with anyone. I’m gonna watch you being treated like a living sex toy by multiple people. Probably join in a bit too. And you’re not the only one who can set boundaries. If there’s anything I don’t feel comfortable seeing happen I’ll let everyone know.”   You opened your mouth to speak but Ben cut you off.   “If you ask me ‘really?’ one more time,” he laughed, pulling you off your knees and onto his lap, “Y/N, I promise you I am more than okay with this. It might have been your fantasy but it was my suggestion to actually do it. If it was strangers involved it’d be different. But the guys? None of them are going to hurt you, they’ll all respect whatever rules we put in place, and they’ll make sure it’s fun.”   Your eyes roamed over Ben’s face, looking for any sign of discomfort or unease but all you saw was a plea for trust.   “Okay. Talk to them, see how they all feel about it. But if anyone isn’t into it, the dinner stays as just a dinner. Deal?”   “Deal.” He rested his forehead against yours, “I love you.”   You hummed, kissing him softly.    “Love you too, Benny.”  

Over the next week Ben talked to everyone individually, gauging their interest in the dinner party and any extra activities that may involve. Some were a little more hesitant than others but by the end of the week everyone was a hard yes. It made your stomach tighten every time you thought about it, anticipation and excitement and nerves building as you counted down the days. You and Ben worked out the rules, where lines would be drawn and where boundaries would lie to ensure the night was safe and fun for everyone involved. You collected supplies, discussed and re-discussed how everything would work as well as planning the actual dinner party aspect – food and drink and music. As the night got closer you found yourself more and more aroused, constantly wet, unable to think about anything else for too long. Ben for his part seemed just as affected by it as you were and you found yourselves naked together much more frequently than you’d expected to. Not once was it rough though. It was like the two of you were saving all your energy for the dinner party, spending the hours in bed having lazy, gentle sex, soft kisses and gasped names and whispered ‘I love you’s. By the time the actual night rolled around you were burning for something harder and faster, looking forward to being used and bruised.   

Half an hour before everyone turned up you started to get ready. You’d been wearing your plug all day, at Ben’s suggestion, but it still made you shiver when you caught a glimpse of it as you were getting dressed, the sparkly jewel catching the light as you checked your reflection. The lingerie you’d picked out left very little to the imagination, a crotchless thong and matching sheer bra, the garter belt and stockings the most modest part of the outfit. You fixed your makeup, adding extra mascara and reapplying your lipstick knowing it would just end up smudged.   

“They’ll be here in ten babe, you ready?” Ben asked as he knocked on the bedroom door. You took a deep breath, looking over yourself one last time before you left the room. The soft ‘wow’ Ben gave you made you giggle as he led you through your unit to the mixed living/dining room. You’d rearranged the furniture earlier, shifting the coffee table over to the wall which left space for you to kneel in front of anyone on the couch. The dinner table was already laid out for everyone, except you of course, a tray of champagne glasses waiting to be offered around. You headed towards the coffee table, running your hand along it as you checked all the toys were there. Some of them were things you’d used before, some were newly bought specifically for tonight. Each had been carefully considered between you and Ben, only those you were both completely comfortable with being put out.   

“Okay, let’s do this,” you said as you headed to your position in the middle of the room.    Ben grabbed the spreader bar off the coffee table, attaching the cuffs to your ankles, forcing you to stand with legs wide open. The butterflies in your stomach went wild, everything suddenly feeling more real.   “You all good?” Ben asked as he stood back up.   “I’m wonderful. You?”   “Brilliant.” He flashed you a reassuring smile and pecked you on the lips before turning to pick up the ball gag and press it into your mouth. Your lips stretched around it as he adjusted the fastening at the back of your head. You nodded to show you were comfortable and he turned once more, reaching for the black bandana that was going to be your blindfold for the night. You wanted to touch yourself, relieve some of the pressure that had been building all day but Ben grabbed your hands, pulling them in front of you, palms up. You heard him walk away and then come back with the tray of drinks, placing it carefully on your upturned hands.    “Okay, all set. I’m gonna go check the dinner but everyone should start arriving soon. See you afterwards.”    You hummed your agreement as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His touch left you but he was still close by. You felt him lean into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he growled a final warning in the voice he reserved for dominating you.   “Don’t drop the drinks, slut.”  

You were left in almost silence. Your unit wasn’t huge but the kitchen was far enough away that the noise was muffled. Or maybe you were just so aware of how much being left alone in such a vulnerable position turned you on, that outside noise just wasn’t getting through as easily. It was just you and your pounding heart and your steadily growing arousal. Nothing to do but wait and hope your arms didn’t give out under the tray of glasses. You had no idea how long it had been. You’d had about ten minutes when you’d started being set up, surely that time would have passed by now. Saliva was beginning to dribble under the gag and over your lips, trickling slowly down your chin to drip onto your chest. You heard Ben come back into the room, heading towards the speakers he’d set up and beginning to play the mix he’d created, music turned down low so it filled the background without distracting. Still you waited, trying to focus on keeping the tray of drinks balanced. Then suddenly, the buzzer, shocking you slightly and making your heart race. Ben answered, giving whoever it was access to the building and moments later you heard talking at the door, listening intently for who had arrived.   “Ben!”   “Lucy, looking lovely as always.” A pause, “Rami, great to see you buddy. Head on in, grab a drink and have a look. No touching yet though, we’ve got some rules to go through once everyone’s here.”    You heard footsteps, a pair of heels clicking over the floor and the duller noise of someone in flat shoes, getting closer. A girly giggle as two drinks were removed from your tray. You prayed it wasn’t going to change the balance and tip everything over. They were both quiet for a moment. You could feel their eyes on you, looking you up and down.   “You know I half thought Ben was joking,” Rami said quietly making Lucy laugh.   “Glad he wasn’t.” She said and you heard her heels again as she began walking around you slowly, taking in every inch of your helpless form, “She’s very pretty. Always thought Ben lucked out with her.”   “Alright, Luce, keep it in your pants,”   “Can’t help it. You know I can’t resist a helpless, restrained toy. And you have to admit she looks like she’ll be fun.”   “She definitely does. Almost can’t believe it’s Y/N. She always seemed so sweet and not one for this sort of thing.”   “Are you kidding? I knew she’d be into some kinky stuff the first time Ben introduced her to us.”   “What? No way,”   “Well okay, maybe not the instant I met her. You remember when we were at the restaurant with them, I went to the bathroom with her so I could chat to her, woman to woman, and I caught a glimpse of her wrist. There was a very clear mark that she was trying to hide, looked like it came from too tight handcuffs.”   You felt your cheeks grow warm at the memory. God, if you’d known then that Lucy had worked out what you and Ben had got up to that morning, you would have died from embarrassment. But now all it did was turn you on more, heat pooling in your stomach.   “God, see that?” Lucy suddenly exclaimed   “See what?”   “Right there, on the inside of her thigh,”   “Oh my god, you’re right, she’s dripping.”   The warmth of the oven spread through every room but you couldn’t suppress a shiver running down your spine as they both laughed, continuing to talk about you as if you weren’t there. You heard Ben walk back through the room as the buzzer rang a second time. The door opened and you said a silent thank you that Joe and Gwilym had arrived together, your arms already sore from holding them still for so long. Ben greeted them and told them the same thing he’d told Rami and Lucy – grab a drink, have a look, don’t touch. You were briefly forgotten as the two newcomers entered the room, everyone more focused on greeting each other until Joe asked where they’d got their champagne from.   “She’s got them.”   “Woah,”   “Right?”   “Is that really Y/N?”   “Go on, have a closer look. She’s absolutely loving this.”   “What d’you mean?”   “She’s wearing crotchless panties and you can see she’s completely soaked.”   “My god,”   Your tray lightened again as another two drinks were removed from it.   “Where’d Ben go?”  “He said something about giving us a chance to have a look around. I assume he meant her.”   “Hope he comes back soon, I’m itching to touch her.”   “Jeez Luce, didn’t realise you’d be so into it.”   “Well excuse me for getting into the spirit of it all.”  

They kept talking, the conversation a mix of catching up and comments about you. When Ben came back, his footsteps audible beneath the chatter, he was met by dozens of questions though he wouldn’t answer anything about you straight away. Eventually he took the last glass, leaving you to hold the empty tray despite the ache in your arms, and tapped it with his fingernail to get everyone’s attention.   “Sorry, don’t want to interrupt for too long” he said as everyone quieted down, “I just need your attention for a moment. There’s a few rules we need to cover before the fun can really start." He paused and you felt the energy of the room change, an electric current running through everyone as they focused on you and Ben.    “Firstly, just to be clear, this has all been set up with Y/N’s consent. Everyone has agreed to participate but of course you aren’t obligated to, and if anything that happens makes you uncomfortable, please talk to me about it.”   There was a brief murmur while Ben paused but once he started speaking again it stopped.   “Y/N and I can stop the scene at any time. Our safe word is red but obviously it may not be possible for Y/N to speak throughout the night so she also has a safe signal, three slaps against something. It could be the floor or a wall or her own thigh or whatever, but three slaps or the word red means everything stops instantly. There shouldn’t be any need for us to use them though, if everyone follows the rules, which are, one: you can touch or fuck Y/N just about however you want, as long as there is no anal play. You may have noticed she’s wearing a plug tonight but her arse is off limits to anyone who isn’t me.”   You whimpered softly behind the gag but Ben ignored you.   “Two: For the boys specifically I guess, you are not allowed to finish in her cunt, but down her throat or over any other part of her is fine. Three: We expect some bruises and marks, especially if you choose to use some of the toys provided,” he gestured towards the coffee table, “but please nothing that will leave permanent scars, no burns or blood. Four: Degrading names are fine but stick with things like slut and whore and bitch, nothing too personal. And finally, on a slightly different though no less serious note, five: no forehead kisses or anything that has a romantic connotation. That one is less for her sake than mine. Everyone understand?”   There was a chorus of yes’s in response before Ben spoke again.   “Good. We trust you, it’s why we were comfortable setting this up and inviting all of you, but my main concern is keeping this fun and safe for everyone, especially for Y/N.”   If it weren’t for the restraints and the desire to be good that had practically taken over your brain, you could have melted at the way he said your name. It carried the same weight as the words good girl or the ‘my’ in my slut. But before you had a chance to really appreciate it he’d moved on.   “I promise, this is the last thing I’m gonna say. Tonight this is not the Y/N you all know. This is a toy who happens to look like her. She is an object, a breathing blow up doll, here for your entertainment, for you to talk about or talk to or to use however entertains you most. Her pleasure is not the priority. Now have fun.”  

Everyone was still for a moment, not quite knowing how to start but then Lucy was coming towards you, the clacking of her heels almost ominous.   “Can we get rid of the tray now? Maybe the blindfold too?” She asked. The general chatter started up again behind her but you focused on Lucy’s voice.    “Sure thing,” Ben sounded more amused than anything, “You wanna leave her arms out or put them behind her back?” Ben took the tray and you let your arms drop, heavy with the strain of holding them up, a slight ache already in your shoulders.   “Restrained I think”   “Oi, Gwil, chuck us those handcuffs will you?” He called across the room before he turned back to Lucy, “I’ll give you the keys, Luce, let you decide how long she stays like that.”   “Ben, you’ve just made my day,”   They were both laughing as you felt your blindfold being tugged off and you blinked as your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.   “Much better,” Lucy teased, standing right in front of you, her voice low and pouty, “now we can see those pretty eyes.”   A familiar hand gripped your wrist, pulling it behind your back, followed quickly by the other one as Gwilym joined Ben behind you and handed over the cuffs, the fluffy black cover in place to make it easier on your wrists. Lucy dragged her hand down the side of your face, distracting you from the two boys behind you.   “Look at you, all dolled up for us. Don’t quite know where to start.” Her hand trailed lower, sliding along your jaw and down onto your neck. Your heart raced as the handcuffs clicked into place and Lucy opened her hand as if to choke you. Instead she lightly ran her thumb and fingers down the column of your throat, laying her hand flat once she reached your sternum. You jolted as Gwilym’s hands landed on your arse, grabbing you firmly and almost sending you toppling forward. Lucy continued to trail her hands down your body, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. You wanted to beg for more, for them to stop teasing you, but the gag prevented you. All you managed to do was let more saliva drip onto your chest.   “She’s got a nice arse, can see why you want to keep it to yourself,”   Ben laughed, “Can’t expect me to share everything mate.”    “Nice tits too,” Lucy said before she reared a hand back and brought it forward to slap one of them. You whined behind the gag, and Lucy’s face lit up.   “Let’s hear that again.” Her hand rose up into the air as Ben grabbed your arms, holding you still as she brought it down on your other breast. You whined again, partly because of the slap and partly because of the way Gwilym’s fingers were sliding along your cunt. Every noise you made only served to cover you in more of your own spit.   “You were right about how wet she is Lucy.”   “Why don’t you bend her over and fuck her,” Ben said as he let go of your arms, “that’s what she’s here for and I can promise her cunt is just as good as her arse.” He gave you a final tap on the hip as he walked off, winking at you from over Lucy’s shoulder before joining Joe and Rami in their conversation.  

The next thing you felt was Gwilym’s hand on your back pushing you to bend at the waist as he grabbed your bound arms where Ben had just let go. You looked up at Lucy as best you could, eyes wide at the sound of Gwilym’s zip being pulled down and the shuffle of his clothing. This was it. This was what you’d been secretly dreaming about for years, or close enough anyway. Lucy bent down slightly, bringing her face to your level as your hip was grasped hard by the man behind you.   “She’s gagging for it Gwil, drooling everywhere.”   That was the only encouragement Gwilym needed before he was sliding into you through the opening in your underwear, not giving you any time to adjust before he was fucking you hard and fast. The plug in your arse increased the fullness and tightness you felt and you squeezed your eyes shut as his hips snapped against you repeatedly. When you opened them Lucy was gone. Disappointment washed over you, compounded by the fact that Gwil was doing nothing to intentionally push you into an orgasm. His thrusts were forceful and made you whine around the gag but he wasn’t angled the right way to hit your g-spot and he refused to touch your clit.   “Slow down for a minute would you Gwil, wanna get that gag off her.” Lucy was back, pulling Rami along by the hand. Gwilym adjusted his pace, slowing enough for Lucy to remove the ballgag from your mouth, a long string of spit dripping from your lips as it was thrown to the side.    You gasped out, “thank you,” as Lucy ran her thumb over your chin, pushing the drool back up to your mouth.  “Liked it better when you couldn’t talk. Rami, sweetie, why don’t you put her mouth to good use.”  You whimpered as Rami released his cock and Lucy wrapped her hand around it, pumping a few times before she threaded her fingers through your hair to hold your head still.   “Good girl, keep that mouth open nice and wide for us,” she cooed as Rami eased himself inside.   He must have given Gwil some kind of signal that you’d missed, too focused on Lucy’s voice, because both of them began thrusting into you at the same time. This time Gwilym started slower, matching Rami’s pace as he worked himself down your throat, gradually speeding up again. Every noise you made in reaction to how Gwilym was fucking you was lost in a wet gag as your throat was used. Complete contrast to the slapping noises of Gwil’s hips against you and the grunts from both men. You knew they were both going to cum and that, at the rate you were going, you wouldn’t be just yet, and that only made you more desperate to touch yourself. It was very very rarely you’d been able to get off from penetration alone and though you tonight could potentially prove to be another of those times, it certainly wasn’t going to happen this quickly. Lucy must have sensed your need because she began to trail her fingertips down your back as she walked away from your head, eventually bringing her hand to your clit. You moaned as you finally felt some kind of relief, the sound muffled by the cock jammed down your throat.    “So needy,” Lucy commented to no one in particular, laughing as she removed her fingers and heard you whine. And then she was back in front of you, sucking on the fingers she’d touched you with as she watched more saliva drip off your chin.   “Oh, f-fuck,” you heard Gwilym grunt, his cock twitching as he slowed his hips and pulled out of you. You barely had time to register the sudden emptiness and increased desire before you felt him covering your lower back with his cum. He tapped your arse in appreciation and walked away. Lucy leaned in to whisper something in Rami’s ear and with another two thrust he was cumming too, making you swallow every drop before he fell from your lips and tucked himself away.   “Think I need a stiff drink after that,” he said as he headed off to find something, leaving you alone with Lucy.    You let out a breath as you stood up again, the ache between your legs stronger after Lucy’s much too brief touch.    “Think I could use a top up too actually,” Lucy said as she looked around, “I’ll be back in a minute and then we’ll find another use for your mouth.   You whimpered as Lucy walked away as well leaving you alone, unable to move properly, dripping and needy, back itchy where Gwilym’s cum had landed. You could see Lucy talking to Ben as he topped up her glass of champagne, Rami and Gwilym standing with them. Turning your head, you found Joe, standing at the table where you’d laid out the toys that you and Ben were open to people using on you. He picked up the leather paddle Ben liked to use when you needed a punishment, tapping it against his palm a few times. Your instinct was to squeeze your thighs together but the spreader bar prevented you. Instead you watched, holding your breath, as Lucy joined Joe. You could see them talking and laughing, Joe still tapping the paddle against his hand absentmindedly. And then they were both walking in your direction, still talking, Joe still holding that damn paddle. You swallowed hard.   

As soon as Lucy was in front of you, she wrapped her hand around your throat again, squeezing slightly as she took a sip of her drink.    “I checked with Ben, he said this was okay,” She brought her lips to yours. Your first thought was that they were softer than Ben’s. Your second was that she tasted like champagne and strawberry lip gloss. Your third was how much it hurt when she bit your lip and pulled it.    “Had to know,” she shrugged, looking at Joe.   “Hey, no complaints here,”   “D’you want to uncuff her, or should I?”   “I’ll do it, you keep making out,”   Lucy giggled as she handed over the keys.   “Uncuffing me?” you croaked; voice rough from a mixture of not talking and how your throat had been used.   “Only because I want your fingers. Gonna use them and that pretty mouth to get me off.”   You whimpered and heard a chuckle from behind you as your wrists were finally released.   “She hasn’t even heard what I’m gonna do to her yet,”   “I was gonna let that be a surprise Joe,”   You rolled your shoulders, stretching the stiffness from them, and confessed that you’d already seen the paddle. Lucy tutted as she undid the clasp of your bra, dropping it to the floor as she turned towards the couch and fell into it gracefully, “Might have to blindfold you again after this. Can’t have you ruining any more of our surprises.” She crooked her finger at you and you awkwardly followed her, the spreader bar inhibiting your movement so that each small step drew everyone’s eye. When you were close enough to grab onto the couch for support you eased yourself to your knees and shuffled as close as you could get. Lucy raised her dress slightly, hooking her leg over your shoulder. You could feel the heel of her shoe resting on your back as you were drawn towards her still clothed pussy, a large wet patch proof of how much fun she’d had so far. You hooked your finger into her underwear, pulling it to the side, just as Joe began to speak to the room at large. Lucy’s hand in your hair kept you focused on her, kitten licking along her lips, as Joe began to take bets on how many spanks you could handle before you begged to stop. You weren't sure who said which number, everyone’s voices bleeding into each other as they argued and defended their bets. The lowest you heard was a pitiful five, the highest you were sure came from Ben who put his money on twenty. After all, he knew he’d reached that with you before. You tried to keep your tongue on Lucy as the talk died down again and the nerves rose in your chest, everyone waiting for the first strike. The was a pause, almost silent, and then the paddle came down against your arse, splitting the air with a sharp slap followed by a chorus of voices counting the first strike. You let out a small hiss as you relaxed back into Lucy, drawing a gasp from her as you circled your tongue around her clit. You were a little more prepared for the second spank now that you had an idea of how Joe moved, how forceful his first one had been. It only made you jolt forward, your hitched breath covered by everyone calling out two! The spanks with the paddle came faster and harder as they progressed, making you gasp into Lucy’s cunt as you continued to lick along her folds, gradually adding your fingers one at a time. By the time they’d reached ten spanks you were fighting back tears, three fingers pumping in and out of Lucy, trying to distract yourself from the sting in your arse by listening to the moans and sighs falling from her lips every time you curled your fingers and lapped at her wetness. You could tell she was getting close, rhythmically clenching round your fingers, her heel digging into your back as you took yet another hit. You sucked Lucy’s clit into your mouth as you pressed your fingers in deep, curling them and making her moan. It didn’t take much more than that to have her cumming, though the way you whined as Joe spanked you again probably helped push her over the edge. You let her ride the orgasm out on your fingers, licking up her release until she pushed you away and let her leg drop from your shoulder. As soon as you were free you felt another spank, this one hard enough to push a sob from your throat and tears from your eyes. Everyone yelled out the number thirteen and you braced yourself for another.  

You finally broke, crying out to stop at number twenty-two. Mascara stung your eyes and left black lines down your cheeks in the wake of tears you couldn’t stop. As chatter filled the room once more, discussing your performance and claiming Ben shouldn’t win any money since he clearly knew how long you’d last, you heard footsteps approach. Ben’s hand was warm against the back of your head and for a moment you let yourself drop out of the scene, leaning your forehead against his leg and breathing deep to control your tears.    “Hey, that wasn’t too much was it?” Joe asked, eyes flicking between you and Ben.   “No, not at all. Y/N knew how much she could take and you stopped when she said so.”   “Okay, good. Just wanted to check. You seemed a little tense towards the end there.”   “Mate, you’re fine. Just not the easiest thing to watch my girlfriend in that position when I’m not the one controlling how hard or how often she gets hit.”   “Yeah, Joe, that was great,” you said, looking up at him through watery eyes, “Broke my record.”   “And won me fifty quid,”   “Good luck getting everyone to pay up,” he chuckled.   For the briefest of moments, it felt like the three of you were just hanging out, joking around over a beer down the pub, until Ben leaned down to ask if you were alright to continue.   “Yeah, I am,” you nodded, sitting back on your heels and hissing slightly as they came into contact with your red, stinging arse. Even the pain wasn’t enough to dull the ache between your legs.   “Then why don’t you be a good whore and give Joe a proper thank you,” he turned to leave, stopping long enough to tell Joe not to be afraid to be rough.   “Well come on, thank me. Haven’t got all night,” Joe towered over you as you hurried to unzip his pants, setting his cock free as you slid them down over his hips. You wrapped your hand around him, thankful to be able to use your hands, as you leaned in to drag your tongue over his tip, collecting the precum that had already begun to accumulate. Clearly he’d enjoyed spanking you. From the way he bucked his hips as you took him between your lips, running your tongue along the underside of his cock, you’d say he enjoyed it quite a lot. He let you set your own pace, bobbing your head as you took him deeper before pulling off him entirely, pumping your hand over his length. Your own need was too much to ignore and you trailed your free hand over your thigh, desperate for some sort of relief. You didn’t get very far though before Joe noticed.   “Didn’t say you could do that,” he says as he knocks your hand away with his foot.   “Please, Joe, need to cum so bad,”   “Things like you don’t need anything. You just want it. Maybe you can convince me though.” He pushed on the back of your head and you took the hint, taking him back into your mouth. He left his hand resting lightly on your head but you could feel the weight of it, aware of how easy it would be for him to hold you down and make you choke. It did nothing to alleviate your desire.   “That’s better,” he grunted as you hollowed your cheeks. You picked up the pace, the mere possibility of an orgasm spurring you on. He let out a string of muttered curses as you let him sink deeper, reaching up with your free hand to squeeze his balls lightly. You looked up at him when he grabbed a fistful of your hair, eyes meeting as he snapped his hips towards you, making you gag. When he brought his other hand to your hair you knew you weren’t in control anymore. All you could do was brace your hands on his thighs and try to relax your throat as he thrust into you again and again, heedless of your comfort, your breath, your choked moans. You knew he was getting close by the way he sped up, grunting as he held you down. And then he was out of your throat, covering your chest with his cum while you desperately sucked air into your lungs. You were still gasping when he pulled you back to your feet. He lazily trailed his fingers down your stomach, stopping right before he reached where you wanted him most.    “Joe, please,”   “No. Didn’t convince me. But maybe someone else will take pity on you.” He withdrew his hand, walking away.  

Once again you were going to take matters into your own hands when you were stopped, this time by Ben who was clearly keeping a close eye on you.  “Uh uh uh, that’s not allowed.” he said as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your dripping cunt, “if you don’t play along properly we’ll have to stop the game, and then you definitely won’t get to cum.”   You whined as he pulled the black bandana from his pocket and tied it round your eyes again.   “Didn’t expect you to lose this so quickly, let’s see how long it lasts before Lucy takes it off again.”   You nodded, vision removed once more.   “Now, are you going to be good or should I tie your hands up again?”   “I’ll be good.”   “Good. Can’t have you misbehaving in front of everyone.” He gave your arse a swat, making you whimper, as he walked off, leaving you alone and unable to see. It didn’t last long, the being alone part at least. One of the guys, you couldn’t tell who, trailed his fingertips over your collarbone, raising goose bumps and making your breath quicken. He remained quiet, giving you no hint to his identity, as he moved up your neck, fingers coming to rest where it met your jaw. He tilted your head to the side as he leaned in to attach his lips to your skin. You could feel your pulse beating hard under his tongue, a moan dropping from your lips as he kissed his way down your throat. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder before he left chuckling at the way you’d cried out. About a minute passed and then another set of hands were on you, rougher than the last. He, whoever he was, grabbed your wrist pulling your hand out so he could spit into your palm before wrapping your fingers around his cock.   

This was exactly how your fantasies normally went – just you and a series of anonymous people using your body however they wanted, rutting into your hand, squeezing your throat as they pinched and pulled your tits, bending you over so they could shove their cock into your mouth or examine the bruises forming on your arse. You could hear snatches of conversations as you were pulled around by numerous hands, never quite sure who was touching you at any given time. On your left you could hear Joe telling someone about the road trip he went on with some friends last month. The juxtaposition of such a casual conversation while you were being fingered to within an inch of your life made your head spin. It was the third time you’d heard the story during the night. Right before he got to the part about almost being left in a truckstop bathroom you heard the familiar click of Lucy’s heels. She was the only one you were certain of when she came close. Well, her and Ben – you had no trouble picking his footsteps or scent from everyone else’s. Perhaps you could have worked out the others except that thinking was becoming harder to do. Your body was covered in splatters of cum at various stages of drying, making you itch, your arse smarted, and you felt like if you didn’t cum soon you were going to combust. You’d been close more times than you could count but never quite got there before those who were fucking you pulled out and left you with their cum straining your underwear or dripping from your lips. You moaned as the fingers still pumping into you sped up.   “C’mon Gwil, be nice and let her cum, she looks desperate,”   So that was who was tormenting you at the moment, Gwilym was the reason you’d been saying nothing but the word please for the last three minutes.   “Think you mean pathetic,” he made no move to alter his pattern  “Well if you wont, I will,” her fingers drifted down towards your clit, circling you slowly as Gwilym continued finger fucking you. It only took a few seconds for her to have you moaning out your release, coating both their hands in your juices as you rode the orgasm for as long as they let you.   “Thank you,” you said breathlessly as both of them removed their hands from you.   Gwilym tapped his fingers against your lips until you let him push them into your mouth. Leaning into your ear he softly said, “I’m going to fuck you again before the night’s done. Properly.” You heard him retreat but then Lucy was grabbing your hand, placing it between her own legs.   “Fair’s fair.”   She was wet, her cunt welcoming you with a squeeze as you let two fingers slide into her. You began to build a steady pace, searching for that spot that would make her knees buckle. She threw her arms over your shoulders for support as you added a third finger, her nails digging into you as you let your thumb land on her clit. Her moans were muffled by your neck as you pushed her closer to her release, curling your fingers and stroking until she came on shaking legs.   “I’m going to have to ask Ben if I can borrow you for a night. Chain you to my bed and play with every inch of you until I can’t cum anymore.”   You lost track of how long you’d stood there, being repositioned over and over. Sometimes you had less than a second before one cock was replaced by another, sometimes you were left alone for what felt like hours, listening for any hint of someone approaching but only hearing the conversations happening around you.   

When Ben announced that dinner was ready everyone moved toward the table, replacing chairs they’d moved around during the night, a couple of people giving you a last squeeze or slap as they passed. Ben knelt down to release your feet and you almost collapsed against him as he led you towards your designated seat. It was one of the chairs taken from the table everyone sat at, pulled off to the side so you were still within view without being the center of attention. He pulled your arms behind the chair, securing you in place with the handcuffs so you couldn’t move. You could smell the roast Ben had spent the afternoon preparing, along with all the accompanying sides that you’d helped him make.    “Is Y/N not eating with us then?” Lucy asked.   “Toys don’t need to eat,”   “She’s probably full anyway,” Joe said matter-of-factly, “y’know, from how much she’s swallowed tonight.”   There were snorts of laughter amongst the tinkling sounds of cutlery and glasses, followed by the melodic buzz of talking, sometimes discussions that involved the whole table, sometimes just kept between two or three people. Occasionally you heard your name mentioned making you jump and focus on the conversation. More often than not it was Ben mentioning you in passing as he talked about the day trip you’d taken to the beach last week or something else equally mundane. But the few less innocent comments you heard made you squirm. Hearing Rami describe how incredible your tits were was enough to have you whimpering, and hearing Gwil talk about how hot you sounded when you came had you clenching your thighs together in your chair.   “Fuck, look at her now,” Joe said, accompanied by the sound of someone shifting their chair for a better look, followed by a louder, “you alright?” directed towards you.    You whined, knowing you sounded completely desperate but beyond caring, as you tried to get some sort of relief.   “Needy whore,”   “Wants to be fucked some more,” said with an accompanying laugh.   “Someone should do it. Dinner and a show.”   “Nah, let her squirm a bit longer,”   “If you boys are quite done, I think I have an idea,”    “She’s all yours,”   You whimpered as Lucy pushed her chair back, listening as the sound of her shoes went past you and then returned a few seconds later.    You got a whiff of her perfume, floral and sweet, as she leaned down, hands resting on your thighs. You could feel something pressed between her palm and your leg but couldn’t work out what it was, not with her talking to you so softly, her breath tickling your ear and sending a shiver through you.    “You wanna cum again, don’t you? Poor thing.”   All you could do was nod, whimpering out a soft, “please.”   You were already trembling as she knelt between your legs, caressing your thighs softly before she hooked her fingers into the band of your thong and slid it off you. She lifted one of your legs onto her shoulder so she could push the unknown object into you before she let your leg drop back down and stood up again. You were panting, unsure why she’d teased you so, as she took her seat again.   “What’d you do, Luce? Nothing happened,” Rami barely finished speaking when you felt the egg vibrator come to life and a small oh slipped out of your mouth. The vibration increased sending you hurtling towards the orgasm you so badly wanted. You clenched your legs together as you moaned through your release, Lucy reducing the power of the vibrator as you came down. You had maybe five seconds to compose yourself before it was being turned back up again, pulling a string of moaned expletives from you as you fell into another orgasm much more quickly than you ever had before.    “There’s your show,” Lucy laughed over your whines as your sensitivity grew.   “Pass me the controller for a minute,” Joe said, “how do you use it?”   “Just spin that wheel, up makes it vibrate more,”   “Like this?”   You jerked in your chair as it got stronger, whimpering when he turned it down again.   “Oh, easy. Think I’m a little scared of you now Luce.”   There was laughter as you tipped over the edge again.   

They didn’t let up until they’d had their fill, finishing their dinner to the sound of your heavy panting and moaned requests to stop as you unsuccessfully tried to squirm away from the constant vibrations. The controller was passed from person to person, each one changing the settings according to their own whim. For a while you were left with a low-level buzzing as the controls sat by Gwil’s plate, untouched, giving you as much respite as you could hope for under the circumstances. But then it was back in the hands of Joe who delighted in making you scream as he turned it up high. By the time everyone had eaten their last bite and complimented the meal, the controls were in Ben’s hands. If you’d hoped for leniency, for a kind word of praise as he set you free, you’d hoped wrong. Ben did halt the vibrator, turning it off as he walked towards you and removed your blindfold again, but he also twisted his hand through your hair so he could tug your head up, forcing you to look at the table. Four pairs of eyes were fixed on you as Ben spun the controls to the highest possible setting, watching as your hips bucked and your back arched as much as your bound position would allow you. You couldn’t even scream as you came again, your voice catching in your throat as all the air was pushed from your lungs at once. When he was satisfied with your performance, Ben turned it off and reached between your legs to pull the egg from you, pocketing it as he began collecting dirty dishes with the help of an insistent Lucy, leaving you twitching in the chair. You closed your eyes for a second in an attempt to settle your pounding heart, opening them to find Rami standing in front of you.   “I know you lost count of how many orgasms you just had,” he said softly as he kneeled between your legs, “but I’m going to take another one from you.” He pushed your legs wider, probing at your entrance with two fingers as he rubbed your clit with his other hand. You didn’t think you could cum again but his unhurried movements built you up despite how sensitive you felt. He watched your every reaction as he changed the angle of his fingers until he found your gspot. You shook as you tipped over the edge again, unable to resist his steady strokes.   “Good girl, knew you had another one for me.” he said as he wiped his hands on his pants. 

“What do you think Rami?” Joe asked as he and Gwilym approached.  “What do I think about what?”   “Best way to play with a girl’s nipples,”   “Oh, I guess, like this,” Rami reached out with one hand, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers before tugging it away from your body, making you loudly whine.   “Is that really your favourite way?”   “It’s a classic. Simple. Easy to control. You can add a twist,” he twisted your nipple until you tried to jerk away, “for a little extra pain if she’s into that.”   Joe scoffed, “You cannot beat sucking on a nipple. It’s clearly the best way,” he lowered his head to your chest, his breath fanning out over your sensitive nipple as he moved closer. He took it into his mouth, tracing his tongue around it and sucking gently. Your eyes fluttered closed, releasing a soft moan at how good it felt until he suddenly clamped his teeth down, making you wince.   “See? Nothing beats a little bit of tongue and teeth. Well okay Gwil, since you clearly disagree, you wanna demonstrate for the class?”   “I don’t necessarily disagree. It just depends on what you want to achieve.”   Joe raised his eyebrows and waved his hand, inviting Gwilym to go on.   “Well if you want her to moan then yeah, either of your methods is great. But if you’re looking for something a little more painful, maybe more of a punishment, you can’t beat the flick.” Without any warning he dropped his hand towards your other nipple, flicking it quickly, making you jolt.   “It’s especially good if you surprise them with it after you’ve been fairly gentle. And the more you do it, the more it hurts.”   “Show me again?”   Gwilym repeated his flicking motion on both your nipples at once, and then again, each one sending a shock of pain through your chest. You whimpered as his fingers were replaced by Rami’s on one nipple and Joe’s on the others, both testing the flick for themselves.   “Okay, that’s pretty good.”   “I’ll expect your cheques in the mail soon,”   “Wonder what Ben thinks,” Joe said, heading off to find out, followed by Rami. Gwilym stayed behind.   “What say we get you out of those cuffs now?” Gwil said as he picked up the keys from where Ben had left them near you. You nodded, expecting there to be a catch, but he leant down behind you and unlocked your restraints without another word. You brought your arms to your front, rolling your wrists, but didn’t have time for anything else before he was dragging you from the chair to the table and pushing you down over it.   “Told you I was gonna fuck you again.”   Your nails scratched over the smooth surface of the table, looking for something to cling on to as he bottomed out. The best you could manage was to grasp the side of the table, knuckles turning white and plea for him not to stop, as he fucked you. You clenched around him, reaching your peak and falling into an underwhelming orgasm right as he pulled out of you. Before you could stand up again he was pulling you backwards and pushing you to your knees.   “Mouth,” he grunted and you had a few seconds to register the way Gwilym was pumping his fist over his cock before he was coating your lips and chin. You had just enough time to swallow what you could lick up before Rami pushed his cock between your lips. It took you by surprise, not having realised the others had returned but you tried to stay relaxed as he thrust into your mouth a couple of times before Joe replaced him. Your hands flew up to grasp their shafts as you alternated between them, sucking one as you jerked the other. Suddenly your hair was being tugged on as Lucy spun your head towards her. She used her free hand to remove her underwear and you obediently leaned in to suck her clit, still jerking Joe and Rami. Lucy pushed you closer to her, your nose nudging her clit as your tongue wandered lower, pulling a few softly spoken expletives from her. You felt like you’d just found the perfect rhythm to please the three of them when you were grabbed under your arms and pulled away. You were dropped on your feet in front of Ben, who sat on the couch. He spun you round and you squealed as he swatted your still sore arse but you bent over for him all the same, trying to relax as he carefully removed the plug he’d wiggled into you that morning. The lube was cold as he squirted a generous amount onto you, using his fingers to make sure you were ready before he pulled you backwards, spreading your cheeks as you slowly sunk down onto him.    “Breath,” he said into your ear and you realised you’d been holding your breath, “You good?”   “Mmhmm,” you tilted your head back, eyes closed as the stretch settled into a deep fullness. Ben leaned into the back of the couch, almost lying down, and you felt your legs being spread. You barely had time to react to Rami plowing into your cunt, the moan getting caught in your throat as Joe filled your mouth with his cock. Somewhere to your left you could hear Gwilym and Lucy laughing about you being sealed airtight but the joke barely registered in your brain, much too concerned with how incredibly full you were. Joe timed his thrusts to match Rami’s, the force making you rock on Ben’s cock even as he stayed relatively still. Your eyes fluttered shut, stray tears clinging to your eyelashes as you tried not to let the mix of sensations overwhelm you. You felt the couch dip a little as Lucy knelt beside you, grabbing your hand and placing your fingers at her entrance. She rocked against your hand, chasing the release she’d been close to getting from your tongue. Gwil grabbed your other hand, wrapping it around his cock, but you hardly noticed his rutting as Ben suddenly thrust up into you. Your whole body felt hot, a fire spreading through you as you were fucked from every angle, a fuzz settling in your brain as the pleasure took over. You shook as an orgasm rolled through you, Rami pulling out of you and jerking himself off onto your tits. As soon as Rami stepped back Joe took his place, pushing deep into you as Lucy brought your head to her chest. She arched her back into you as you sucked a nipple into your mouth. Joe and Ben were so in sync as they thrust in and out of you, filling you more completely than you’d ever felt before.   “Fuck,” Joe grunted as he pulled out of you, cumming over your stomach. You whined as Lucy pushed three fingers into your overly sensitive cunt, your head being pulled away from her breasts so Gwil could fuck your throat. Your own choked moans echoed in your ears as your whole body buzzed and your vision slipped in and out of focus. You felt like you were floating between them, unable to find anything real to cling on to or ground you. You were vaguely aware of Lucy’s rapidly increasing ohs as she rubbed her clit and reached her own release on your hand. She continued to pump her fingers into you, curling them until you were seeing stars. The moan you made around Gwil’s cock had him cursing as he filled your mouth with his cum, watching it drip over your lips as he pulled out. You hastily sucked in a breath of air, it going some way to making you feel less lightheaded, but the breath was quickly pushed from your lungs again as Ben grasped your hips and began to slam you down on his cock repeatedly. It didn’t take him long to reach his own climax, pulling out as he released his load so that it dripped down between your legs.   

You still felt floaty and dizzy as Ben picked you up and lay you down on the couch with a pillow under you head.   “She’s done guys,” he said to the rest of the group, nodding his head to the table as an invitation to join him. Everyone stayed a little while longer, sitting around and talking over coffee and cake like it was a regular dinner party, like they hadn’t just collectively fucked you into a different realm. You stayed curled up on the couch, dozing on and off as you gradually got the buzzing in your body to stop. Your dazed state stretched on as everyone left, snatches of goodbyes floating to you from the doorway. When you thought back a week later you could distinctly remember hearing Gwilym say he’d love to do that again if you were ever going to repeat the experience. Once the door was shut and the music stopped, Ben knelt down by your head, brushing your hair away from your face.   “Y/N?” He said softly. You blinked your eyes open and smiled up at him.   “That was fun,” you felt groggy and tired but you laughed as Ben pulled you into a tight bear hug, “You shouldn’t hug me Ben, I’m covered in cum and smudged makeup and lube and whatever else, gonna ruin your clothes.”   “Clothes shmothes. As if I’m not gonna hug you after that. You were fucking incredible.”   You buried your face in his neck, breathing deeply.   “How do you feel?”   “Like I need a shower.”   “How about a bath?”   “Even better.”   Ben kissed the top of your head before he let you go, wrapping his arm around your waist as he led you to the bathroom. You picked up a facecloth as Ben ran the bath, using it to clean the mascara tear tracks and smudged lipstick from your cheeks and chin.    “Let me help,” Ben said softly, dropping to his knees and unhooking your stockings from the garter belt, sliding both down your legs and throwing them into the laundry hamper. You ruffled his hair in gratitude, the tiredness you felt only getting more pronounced as the seconds slipped by.   The tub wasn’t full but you needed to sit down, carefully stepping over the edge and easing yourself into the hot water. Ben quickly shed his own clothes, adding them to the hamper, and climbed in behind you. You stayed sitting just long enough to turn the water off before the tub overflowed, and then leaned back against Ben.   “How do you feel?” he asked again as he picked up your soap and washcloth, “now that you’re in a bath I mean.”   “Tired and a little sore. And kinda feel like crying but I’m not sure why.”   He ran the washcloth along your shoulder and down your arm, beginning to scrub your skin clean.   “Well I’ve booked you in for a massage tomorrow afternoon, so that should help with the sore. As for the tired, I am gonna make you stay awake a little longer, but you can relax while I take care of you and you can sleep in tomorrow.”   “And the random crying?”   “Just your brain rebalancing. It was flooded with a bunch of endorphins and different emotions. Cry as much as you need to, it’s cathartic and it’ll make you feel better.”   You nodded, tilting your head back to look at him, “did you have a good time?”   “Absolutely. That was so unbelievably hot. Definitely gonna keep me going next time I’m away,”   You both laughed softly as he gently pushed you forward so he could wash your back. He pushed your hair out of the way and traced his finger over a mark on your shoulder.   “You got a few souvenirs from tonight,”   “Is that the bitemark?”   “Yeah. Do you know who left it?”   “Not really. At the time I thought it might be Rami but I’m not sure. What else have I got?”   “Couple red spots where people slapped you. Quite a few scratches.”   “Lucy,” you both said at the same time with a chuckle.   Ben kept talking to you as he shampooed and conditioned your hair and while he wrapped you in a big fluffy towel. He kissed you on the forehead again and told you to go hop into bed, that he’d be with you in a moment.   “And don’t go to sleep yet either. I’ll be quick.”   You did as he asked, having just enough energy to slip into one of his tee shirts and a fresh pair of undies before hopping under the covers. You snuggled down deep, closing your eyes as your head landed on the pillow, ignoring Ben’s request to stay awake. But, try as you might, sleep wouldn’t come. Your body was too amped up, still kind of horny despite everything, leaving you simultaneously dead tired and wide awake. Sitting up again you reached for your laptop, figuring you might as well watch some Netflix or something. And then the tears started, virtually out of nowhere. When Ben came back, in fresh pyjamas straight from the clean washing yet to be put away, he found you hunched over, clutching your knees to your chest and crying uncontrollably. He placed the items he was carrying down on his bedside table before he joined you in bed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you leaned into his chest. He rubbed your back and mumbled soft words of praise until you managed to stop.   “Sorry,” you said as you wiped at your eyes, “it just hit me,”   “Nothing to apologise for babe, I told you to let it out. Do you feel better?”   “A bit, yeah,”   “Here, brought you something,” he handed you a glass of water and a plate of food, everything from the dinner you’d been unable to eat, put aside especially for you, “wanted to make sure you ate something and drank some water before you slept,”   You nodded already biting into a warm potato.   “What d’you want to watch?”   “Don’t care, as long as I don’t have to think.”   He picked an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine at random. You’d both seen it before so it wouldn’t matter if you fell asleep while it played but it was funny enough to keep you entertained as your brain and body relaxed. After you’d finished eating Ben offered you a row from a block of chocolate claiming it’d help your body balance itself and feel more normal. You didn’t know if that was true but you ate it regardless. Finally he was ready to let you settle down. He got up to turn the light off as you packed away the laptop and once again snuggled down under the covers. You hissed slightly as he slid in behind you, coming into contact with your bum.   “Shit, I’m sorry babe, should have got a cold compress on that earlier,”   “‘s alright. Do it tomorrow, it’ll be fine.” your eyes were much too heavy to be worried about how you’d bruise. Ben agreed, pulling you against his chest carefully.   “I love you Y/N, so much,” he said softly as he leaned his head against your neck.   You were already asleep.  

[lestvt]

wasn’t tagged or anything, i just felt like doing one of these lol

rules: tag people you wanna get to know better!

your name and then what you would have named yourself: j.j.; what those j’s stand for is none of your concern. if i was going to name myself it would be something sick, like godkiller or edward  

astrological sign (sun/moon/rising if you know): im a pisces and i do not believe in this shit at all because its literally never right about me

when did you join tumblr and why?: 2010-11ish, i was like 15 so no further explanation needed

top 5 fandoms: the vampire chronicles, hannibal (really the only two im active in currently), harry potter, tolkien, stranger things, etc.   

top 5 favorite films: alien (1979), aliens (1986), silence of the lambs (1991),  interview with the vampire (1994), and the descent (2005) ((this list was honestly so hard to narrow down lol))  

go to song when you want to Feel something: this changes a lot, but right now it’s seven wonders by fleetwood mac or alt. i wanna get better by bleachers 

what’s your religion or faith if you have one?: im agnostic and my faith is in the fact that i will always despise organized religion lmaooo 

a song that makes you feel seen: gold rush by death cab for cutie or fast talk by houses

if you could have any career: archaeologist, AKA that thing im majoring in lol also a writer but im already that (unpaid) 

do you have a type: yeah, smart people who care about their future 

what does your heart/soul yearn for: to be left the fuck alone so i can write/make art in peace, but also to study dead people  

if you had to describe yourself in 5 words to someone who doesn’t know you: overbearing, passionate, nerdy, loud, outre 

favorite subject in school: history and lit. 

where does your soul feel most at home: walking along a large body of water at night by myself 

top 5 fictional characters: this is also extremely hard lol... lestat de lioncourt (the vampire chronicles), louis de pointe du lac (the vampire chronicles), brian kinney (queer as folk), haruhara haruko (flcl), hannibal lecter    

top 3 moments in a show that made you ugly cry: the ending of the anime code geass, the ending of season 2 of hannibal, and ...........idk i dont cry at TV very often unless its queer eye or a show about dog rehabilitation   

the earth, the sun, the moon or the stars: the stars, so unattainable-y beautiful and shrouded in mystery 

favorite kind of weather: summer thunderstorms (as long as im not working)

top 3 characters you kin with: louis de pointe du lac (oof), will graham (harder oof), bulma from DBZ (nice!) 

favorite medium of art: does writing count? unless you mean visual, in which case i prefer pencil or digital 

introvert/extrovert/ambivert: im an introvert with extroverted tendencies when im in a manic mood 

a favorite literary quote: im literally not about to go looking for quotes, its not like i have a pocket book of them on hand or something wtf 

some of your favorite books: interview with the vampire (my favorite book of all time), the vampire lestat, the harry potter series, macbeth, and nonfiction, but honestly i mostly read fanfiction and comics/manga these days

if you could live anywhere in the world where would it be?: somewhere secluded but within driving distance of a big city, possibly near the ocean and/or mountains 

if you could live in any time in history when would it be?: the present, because im mentally ill and also queer and id prefer not to be killed and/or institutionalized lmaooo... but purely for the aesthetics? the victorian era

if you could play any instrument masterfully it would be: i play piano, clarinet, and bari saxophone (and a lil guitar), but if i could actually be good at any of those that would be cool lol. otherwise... violin (i used to play it but stopped at age 14ish) 

if you have one, what mythological god or goddess do you feel a connection to?: artemis and/or anubis  

oh my god this is so long but LASTLY, favorite recent selfie in your camera roll: me in my casual will graham cosplay for halloween this year: [REDACTED]

tagging: @murdoc , @wicked-felina , @i-want-my-iwtv , @hidethesilverwaresblog , @chietozier , @lucaroyale , @freshsunberries

idk if any of y'all do this kind of thing, but just in case... ;)

feel free to omit the selfie one if it makes you uncomfortable

[iwriteficsandmore]

|Feb 6. Compassion|

Pairing: Hawks x Reader

Notes: Did this fit into the prompt? I hope so xD

_____

You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the sneers and chides from the crowd that passed you, and stared at one particular store.

A toy store.

One that looked quite festive with all the colorful decorations and bright lights. It was hard to forget about it. You'd seen it when you were little, back during your homeless days. Barely a child, your parents hadn't done much for themselves or for you. And with those harsh winter months, their weak, malnourished bodies succumbed to the cold. Yours barely managed to live through it since they focused more on feeding you that themselves. That kept you alive to live on alone, to fend for yourself.

And through hunger pangs and cold, hard ground to sleep on, this bright toy store was the only solace you had. It showed you a world bright and warm that you never got to live. One you yearned for.

It was there that you met a young boy with red wings. He was older but it wasn’t something anybody would’ve noticed from the way he looked. He was just as small as you had been back then; skinny, but a little cleaner. Like he actually had someplace to sleep, to rest, to clean up, unlike you. Your eyes met the day that the store owner came out with a box he’d intended for donations. The owner knew you from the many times you stared through the window of his shop, but he also seemed to know the boy. 

The owner offered to let you both sift through the box and grab something you liked. You two scoured through the box trying to find something that you would love. Every toy looked more fun than the last to you, something you chalked up now to being a kid that seldom had toys to play with and found them all curious and entertaining. But the one you saw that caught your eye most was the plush doll of a hero. One you remembered seeing in the display TVs through shop windows. 

Liking its colors and the odd noise it made you pushed its belly, you took it, and when you did, you heard the boy next to you pout. 

“Oh shoot.” 

Just from the sound of his voice you understood. You’ve heard it too many times from yourself when you passed food stands that smelled like heaven. He wanted the toy. 

You don’t know what compelled you to do it, but without thinking you extended your hands forward to him with the plush in hand. 

“Here.”

His amber eyes strayed to the toy and then to you. “Are you sure?”

You nodded. “I don’t know who’s it is really. I just liked the noise it made.”

Those eyes turned gold from how bright they became as he took the plush gingerly in his hands and smiled at you.

“Thank you!” 

You smiled back and intended to go back to looking through the box when your stomach churned. At first, it growling that loudly struck you as odd but that the red-winged boy was also embarrassed, cheeks flushing, that you understood what the noise had been so loud. It hadn’t just been your stomach that growled. 

“How about I get you two something to eat?”

You knew you liked the store owner for a reason. He ordered up something from the nearby deli and gave it to you both but since you didn’t want to bother him anymore than you already had, you decided to take the food out with you. It had been one big sandwich for the two of you but you were at a loss as to where you’d eat it. You had nowhere to after all.

“Hey, wanna go eat at my house?”

More elated than shocked, you accepted, and he took you down the streets of town. He bounced from time to time as he talked on and on, almost as if wanting to avoid the awkward silence that would settle otherwise. You didn’t mind. It was nice having someone to talk to after being alone for so long. But the further you followed him home the odder it felt. Not odd, familiar. These streets—slums. You’d lived in a place like this before with your parents. 

Finally, he led you inside his home, the creaking door that he opened into the small abode being the only noise made. He made a point to hush you, putting a finger against his lips and leading you inside. You copied his movements as he tiptoed past the first door and led you to the farthest part of the small apartment where a couple of blankets were laid on top of each other. Once past the door, he hovered over to the blankets and plopped down there, patting the space next to him for you. Gladly taking it, both of you took to eating giggling as you played together with the toys you’d gotten. 

When dark came and you had to leave though, you were hesitant to do that. You didn’t want to leave. It was cold outside. Lonely. Here, you had warmth. You had him. 

“Keigo?” 

“Mm?”

“You think...I could stay here. Just for tonight?”

His eyes widened for a moment before he got to thinking. He was clearly hesitating, thinking his answer through. It was clear by the look on his face that he was scared of something. Maybe of the person you could hear rummaging in the only room of the small apartment and never came out, you thought. Finally, though, he turned up and nodded.

“But we’ll have to be real careful. Mom will be real angry if she sees you here.”

“I’ll be gone by morning.”

“Alright.”

So you stayed there with him, sleeping again in relative warmth next to him. And liked promised, you were gone the next morning before his mother ever noticed you were there. And that next day you met again at that same toy store. That became your norm.

You would meet at the toy store, spend time outside playing or getting something to eat wherever and however you could, coming to his home to sleep, and leaving before the sun came out. It wasn’t perfect. You were still without a home. And he was still in an awful place where the one that was supposed to take care of him didn’t care about him at all. But at least you had each other. 

Until one day he never came to meet you at the toy store. You waited for days on end for him to come but he never did. You cried every night after that first one, thinking that you’d been abandoned again. And even after government officials found you in the streets, took you away and put in a foster home, you never knew what happened to that boy you met at this very toy store.

Well, not until recently. 

“Hey, stranger.”

At first, it took you a moment to draw away from your recollection of the past, but when the voice that had just called your way sank in, you smiled. Turning, you met a pair of amber eyes with a smug smirked on his handsome face, red wings curling closer to you to keep away the nippy breeze. 

“Hey, you. Running late for dinner again?”

“Sorry,” he said with a light chuckle. Hawks motioned down the street with a nod of his head. “Got held up at work but was flying there when I spotted you just standing here.”

That perplexed you after giving it some thought. “Why did you go this way?”

“Like I said, I was heading to the restaurant for dinner—”

“No, I mean, this is out of the way of the restaurant. Why would this be on your way?”

Hawks pursed his lips, the smug smirk disappearing to be replaced by a much smaller and more sincere smile. “I got worried when you weren’t at the restaurant when on time.”

Your brow furrowed. You checked you wristwatch and grimaced at noticing the time. Shit, you were more than an hour late already yourself. 

“S-Sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“I know,” he said. “You’re very air headed like that.”

“Gee thanks.”

“It’s cute though.”

You chuckled at his definition of ‘cute’ but was distracted when you saw the owner of the shop walking through the windowpane of the shop, turning the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. 

“Brings back memories, huh.”

“Yeah,” you murmured. Taking one last look at the toy store and one last breath, you turn to Hawks. “Should we go get dinner?”

“Only if you want to.”

Just as you were leaving though a surprised gasp took your attention as both of you turned to face the owner that had come out of the shop and spotted you. He was certainly older than you remembered. Then again so were the both of you. Which is why you found it surprising that he seemed to remember you.

“Well, if it isn’t those two children from way back then.”

You smiled and bowed your head when he called you by name after taking a couple of seconds to recall it. Hawks only grinned and nodded when he easily remembered his.

“Pretty amazing that you still remember us after all this time,” Hawks pointed out. “Especially by name.”

“Hers was a struggle for sure.” He emphasized this with a nod at at which got a chuckle out of you. “But I couldn’t forget yours if I wanted, young man. Kind of hard when your face is plastered every, Mister No.2 hero.”

“Isn’t it?” You played along which only flustered Hawks a bit more than the owner’s teasing alone.

“What brings you young folk around here?” he asked.

“Nostalgia,” you freely admitted. “He and I met here. That time you came out to donate toys, remember?”

“Ah, yes. I believe I do.”

“Thanks again for the meal, mister,” Hawks added. “Gotta say that I’ve liked chicken ever since.”

The owner let out a hearty laugh. “Good to know that you too know better lives now. You kids out for a friendly lunch?”

One could say so. But before you could even tell him, Hawks got ahead of you. He took your hand in his, interlacing your fingers with his, and hoisting your hands up together. The silver bands on your ring fingers glimmered in the afternoon light and were clear for the him to see.

You could only smile at his antics and Hawks only grinned as he held tightly onto you.

“Little more like our anniversary dinner.” 

[jjkmagic]

Chained Heart  Ch. 1 - NeroV Fic

Title: Chained Heart

Pairing: V/Nero Rating: M (will change in later chapters)

Word Count: 7707 Summary: "Devil May Cry" is the name of a bar located in a remote part of the town. Not many know of its existence, and even less are aware what "kind" of bar it is. Nero, too, only learns of its existence by talking to a regular online. At said regular's insistence, and admittedly his own curiosity, Nero decides to check it out. Tags: Human AU, BDSM, Dom/Sub, Collars, Light Bondage A/N: This is actually the first DMC fic I wrote, but of course I had to start a multi-chapter xD So, to celebrate the 2nd chapter that I’ll finally post tomorrow, I decided to post it here on tumblr as well^^ Can also be read on AO3.

Chained Heart Chapter 1: Of Angels and Demons

It was well past ten when Nero arrived at his destination. The night was quiet in this remote part of town, far-off from the popular club scene. He had been told that the location was intentional, to avoid unknowing stragglers stumbling into a place they had no business being.

Nero, however, had business being here, of that he was sure. With the lingering bitter taste of disappointment on his tongue, he hoped—no, yearned— to finally find what he was looking for.

Though he had left home when the night was still young, his nervousness had made him idle in a common bar down the road until the hour grew late. He knew what he wanted, and yet, the mere idea of finding it sent his mind into a jittery mess. There was always the possibility of him screwing up this last chance as well. 

So he had taken a detour to borrow just the faintest flush of liquid courage. Nothing to impede him, but enough to heighten his senses, to eliminate the "What if?" and strengthen the "I can do it. I want this!"

With that thought guiding his hands, Nero pushed open the bar’s door in front of him. There was no bouncer present and no line. With each step, he left behind the quiet of night and the neon sign of the bar that had guided him, the letters glowing a deep red against the darkened stone of the building.

At first glance, there was nothing of interest to see: only a small set of stairs that led up into a bigger—presumably the bar's— main room. It was surprisingly quiet, Nero only catching a faint bass reverberating in the background, the actual music practically inaudible from where he stood. 

The bar was lit up in a warm, but not overly bright light, the dark—possibly black but he couldn't be quite sure—walls absorbing part of the illumination. It wasn't unpleasant; he might even call it cozy, but he didn't want to start praising the establishment before he had seen what he was really here for. He made his way up the well-worn stairs and took a first look at the room that lay beyond.

It was longer than it was wide, with a well-stocked bar to the right and an alcove equipped with tables and comfortable-looking sofas on the left. Nero barely noticed the man behind the bar, who looked up at his arrival; his attention was caught by one of the sofas instead, or rather, the people occupying it.

Reclining comfortably on the couch was a light haired man: tall, broad-shouldered and the epitome of relaxation. He wasn't who caught Nero's attention though; no, his gaze was drawn to the second man sitting to his right, if sitting could even be used to describe his position. He was practically sprawled across the other man's lap, head lowered to rest on the man's shoulder, eyes closed in bliss as the other’s hand carded slow strokes through his hair. The collar on his neck glimmered even in the muted light of the room.

Nero swallowed, for a moment overwhelmed by want, but he could feel the man behind the bar watching him stare, so he forced himself to look away and approach the counter. As Nero did so, his eyes caught light spilling out from what, at first glance, he had thought to be a wall, but turned out to be a room divider consisting of broad straps of what looked like leather, if the way they glinted in the light was anything to go by.

He had the sudden feeling that the actual bar was beyond there, seeing as except for the couple on the couch, the room was devoid of customers. The music, that had only grown faintly louder, also seemed to be originating from the other side.

He was distracted by imagining just what he might find behind that wall, until his gaze met that of the man behind the bar, and suddenly he couldn't look away anymore. There was just something about him, an almost palpable aura of confidence. It was as if the man's gaze alone demanded that Nero look at him.

The man was smiling, but it did not quite reach his eyes. His expression wasn't unwelcoming, but guarded in a way.

"A new face," he said in lieu of greeting. "What brings you here?"

At that point, Nero couldn't shake the feeling that the man was somehow skeptical of him. Maybe he suspected that Nero was unaware of what kind of bar he had just entered, even though Nero knew all too well.

"I was told this place might fit my... expectations, so I came to take a look," Nero told him, watching the man's face somehow grow more guarded.

"Do you have a name?"

At that, Nero paused, a sense of dread growing in him. Was this place possibly invitation-only? If so, the guy who had almost exuberantly encouraged him to check it out had clearly neglected to tell him that tidbit of important information.

Ignoring the dread settling firmly in his gut, he decided to answer honestly. What else could he do? 

“The name's Nero.”

And just like that the man's expression changed, his smile growing wide and earnest. "Nero! Glad you could make it! You didn't sound too sure about coming when we wrote the other day.”

Oh. Apparently this was the very man he had thought about just a second ago. Nero hadn't expected to actually meet him when he had decided to take him up on his offer.  Not wanting to seem rude, he wracked his brain to remember his name. "...Dante, right?"

"The one and only!" the man proclaimed with a grin. "I apologize for the rough greeting. I take full responsibility for everything that happens in this here establishment, so I like to know who I’m letting in beforehand." Dante sounded genuinely apologetic, even as he gave Nero an obvious once over, making the younger man take just the tiniest step backward. Dante just kept grinning, leaning on the top of the bar in a display of nonchalance. "So, you're looking for someone to show you the reins, yeah?"

Heat rushed through Nero's body at the implication. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that included his face as well. He cleared his throat, lowering his head slightly in an attempt to make his sudden flush less noticeable. "You could say that."

Dante laughed, somehow managing to sound earnestly amused instead of degrading, prompting Nero to meet his eyes again.

"Don't worry, only decent folk around here, that I can guarantee," he vowed. "You got any experience, kid?"

Nero couldn't suppress the groan that slipped from his lips at the question, unfortunately still remembering said “experience” all too clearly. "Only ah... calls and such." Horrible, horrible calls he very much wanted to forget, thank you very much.

The pity that shone from Dante's eyes at his words told him the man understood exactly what he was talking about. "Sorry about that kid, lots of black sheep hanging about on those kinds of websites." He looked visibly chagrined by that fact.

"Yeah, I figured. But I didn't want to meet anybody when I couldn't be sure—” Nero stopped himself there, suddenly feeling unsure about his own reasoning. “It... just seemed like the better option at the time."

"No, no, no, you did the right thing, kid. Well, the best thing would have been coming here right from the start, but you can't help what you don't know, right?"

Nero thought that he was trying to be supportive, but the grin that seemed almost etched onto Dante's face at this point didn't exactly help the matter.

After a moment of silence, Nero received what he figured was supposed to be a pat on the shoulder, but Dante's hand lingered, and Nero wasn't entirely sure what to make of that.

"But now that you are here, well, welcome to Devil May Cry," Dante said, the hand not resting on Nero's shoulder moving with great flourish toward the admittedly unimpressive bar interior. Then he leaned in, suddenly very close to Nero. "Also, I don't wanna hear any comments about the name, okay? I, too, was young once, you know? Anyway."

At that, Dante stood up straight again and his hand, thankfully, left Nero's shoulder.

Don't get him wrong. Dante didn't seem like a bad guy. Nero just couldn't read him at all, and the nerves he had tried to drown with a few cheap beers earlier were already starting to resurface. He didn't like it. Dante probably meant well, but at the moment it was just a little too much.

"You can probably already tell, but this here area is the lounge bar,” Dante told him, drawing Nero from his own thoughts. “People come out here when they just wanna sit back and relax, or talk to little ol' me. Just kidding. I'm usually in the back myself, just keeping an eye on things, you know?" he asked, as if Nero actually could know, leaving him to nod along as Dante continued talking. "But V's back there right now so I figured I could take a little break,” Dante went on, but Nero honestly wasn't even listening anymore. His attention was drawn to the black leather separating Dante's so-called "lounge bar" from... well, what exactly Nero didn't know, but he knew that he very much wanted to.

"Yeah," Dante said suddenly, a knowing smile on his lips, "that's where the real music plays, not just literally, if you know what I mean.” But suddenly his smile faltered, as if he had just remembered something."It's a little late though, so most folks will already have found their playmate for the night."

"No, I know," Nero assured him quickly. After all, it had been partially intentional on his part. "I don't–"

"No, it's fine," Dante interrupted him. "Feel free to talk and mingle. Or, you know, if it's a little much, it's okay if you just take a look for now, too."

Nero's eyes widened in surprise, wondering if he was that obvious or if the other man was just that good at reading people. If Dante's grin was anything to go by it was probably the former.

"Look, I got this Dom here, practically a local celebrity at this point, so it's difficult to get a hold of him, but I’ll see if I can get him to talk to you. Not making any promises though. It's still up to you to convince him.” Dante winked at him, so quickly that Nero wasn’t sure if he hadn’t just imagined it. “He’s not a bad guy though, definitely qualified for the job.”

Job? Nero hadn’t been aware that he was suddenly considered a “job” now.

Dante just shot him another grin, which Nero quickly came to recognize was one of the man's trademarks. Was Nero really that easy to read?

“Don’t worry, darling. Go on, take a look. But–” Dante paused once more, looking at him. “Dress code’s black, I'm afraid.”

Nero blinked, needing a moment to process that statement after everything he had just been told.

“Oh, right,” he said, a little dumbly, when he finally caught up, unzipping his favorite blue jacket and letting it slip off of his shoulders.

He hadn't known if any specific dress code was in place, but black was always a safe option, so he had chosen pants and a plain tank top both of which he happened to own in that color.

“Is there anywhere I can put this?” Nero asked, jacket now in his hands.

Dante seemed almost surprised for a moment, before smiling again and reaching for the garment. “Sure, you can leave it with me. I promise I'll take good care of it.”

Nero handed the jacket over and Dante put it somewhere behind the bar, out of sight. Then he turned around, looking at Nero once more, and that grin, well, Nero tried to ignore it. But it was impossible to ignore Dante's comment. “Looking good there, honey, go have some fun.”

Nero was about to do just that, when he paused once more, against his better judgment. 

“What about you?” he asked, and Dante's eyes widened in confusion. For a moment Nero felt proud at having caught the man off-guard, but it didn't last long. “You're a Dom, aren't you?”

He honestly wasn't sure why he was asking. It was obvious in the way Dante held himself, the way he seemed able to tell Nero what to do without needing words. Yet, he hadn’t even mentioned it, immediately suggesting Nero find someone else, in fact going so far as to offer to find someone for him. Nero just didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

Dante just stared at him for a moment, and then he started laughing. “Me? No, no, no, kid. I'm not taking on any new Subs. I’m getting old, you see? It's difficult enough to entertain my own Subs at times,” Dante told him, adding a secretive wink that, again, didn't really tell Nero anything.

Dante was clearly exaggerating. He was in no way older than 40, but Nero let it go. 

“If you say so…”

“I do. Now, shoo, I've got a business to run here,” Dante said, thusly ending the conversation, and proceeded to… sit down and grab some magazine that he had apparently lying around behind the counter.

‘Business my ass…’ Nero thought to himself, turning his back on the other man, and finally stepping through into the adjoined room.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he found there. It was too much to take in all at once, and not just because of the sudden change in color scheme; Nero suddenly found his world dipped into a dark red hue. 

The room was surprisingly massive in size, especially compared to the little lounge area he had just left. Nero saw the red hue of the room changing somewhere further in, turning a dark shade of purple towards the middle and a dark blue at the other end of the room. But most of all, the room was full; men and women, dressed from top to bottom in black leather or hardly dressed at all, were spread all across the room. Some were only sitting and talking, some openly engaged in noticeably different activities, but most noticeable of all was a small crowd a little further into the room to his right that seemed to have gathered around a man being tied to the wall.

All of it combined had Nero overwhelmed with conflicting feelings. He was completely out of his element and yet… he also felt like he had finally come home.

One thing was for certain: whether or not he fit in right now, he would make sure he did so as soon as possible. He was fed up with having to consider who he could and couldn't trust with his preferences. Apparently there was nothing quite as eye-opening as seeing a room full of people engaging in exactly what he had been repeatedly ridiculed for in his past to realize that it really wasn't much of an issue at all, not among the right people at least.

He had always figured that at least Kyrie wouldn't judge him if he ever were to tell her, but that still didn't mean he was eager to do so. Seeing this, though,  it seemed almost… easy, like it wasn't even particularly worth mentioning at all.

And just like that, Nero was excited, eager. He regretted that he had wasted so much time, had all but lost his chance to delve deeper into the world that had just opened up before him. 

The more realistic part of his mind reminded him that he would have had no idea where to start either way, and that coming earlier wouldn't have equaled knowing what he should do with the gained time. So he figured it was fine, no harm done. Now that he knew, he could always come back.

With that, his shoulders, that had grown tense without him noticing, finally relaxed, and he stepped further into the room to continue his exploration.

The walls were lined with the occasional sofa, each one probably big enough for a person to sleep on. The rest of the room was filled with small tables and chairs arranged in no discernible order, which led Nero to the conclusion that the visitors probably moved them themselves, to suit their respective needs.

Nero stopped for a moment where the apparent bondage show continued to draw an even bigger crowd. The man was fully tied at this point, the black ropes around his arms and upper body offering a stark contrast to his skin, which appeared almost red in the light of the room. The man responsible for the display seemed to be in the process of checking the ropes, and Nero could see him talk quietly to his partner, though he was unable to discern what was being said.

As curious as Nero was to see what would happen next, that was not what he was here for. In fact, his interest in bondage specifically was limited, and he couldn't imagine ever having the patience for all the knots to be tied and secured, let alone a full harness. They were nice to look at, he supposed, but ultimately not worth the hassle. There was no point in denying that Nero tended to be rather impatient.

He left the show behind him, even, unhurried steps leading him deeper into the room until the surrounding red hue faded to purple. Nero wondered for a moment if it was caused by the red and blue lights mixing or if there were additional purple lights to emphasize the effect, but he didn't care enough to check. After all, there were much more interesting things to see and find out.

There didn't seem to be too many people in the immediate vicinity, most of them drawn to the attraction going on somewhere behind him most likely. Nero almost dismissed the sitting area entirely until he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t say what it was exactly that drew his attention, but once he turned to look, he found himself completely blindsided by what he saw. 

One of the large sofas on the wall was occupied by a man that put everyone else in the room to shame. A dark curtain of hair hid most of his features from view. His skin seemed almost ghostly pale in the room’s light, highlighting every jet black line of ink running across his body—and there were so many of them. The man was reclined, somehow both seeming relaxed and overly aware. There was a book held open in his hand that Nero couldn't imagine could be easy to read in the limited lighting, and yet it seemed like that was exactly what he was doing.

His behavior was both surreal and so ordinary that Nero really couldn't be blamed for missing the other two people with him at first. And yet there was a woman quite obviously resting on the man's lap, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he was paying more attention to his book than to her, if the content smile on her lips was anything to go by. And then there was a man, not so much on the sofa as kneeling in front of it, with merely his head resting on the dark-haired man's knee. The hand not busy holding the book open rested on the kneeling man’s head, stroking in even, soothing patterns, not unlike one would do for a pet.

The kneeling blond wore a collar while the woman didn't, and yet in this moment there was no doubt that both of them belonged to him, though to what extent Nero couldn't even begin to fathom. Were they together or just “playmates”? The only certain thing was that both seemed perfectly content right where they were.

It was clear that the dark-haired man was in complete control, but it seemed so effortless, so easy, that Nero couldn’t help but compare him to the “Doms” that he had the misfortune of getting to know. They had never made Nero feel at ease, so intent on trying to get him to listen to their every word that it was obvious that even the tiniest bit of back talking completely threw them off.

It seemed like Dante had been right: Nero really never should have bothered with those “BDSM” websites. There was no way he ever would have found a man like the one right in front of him there.

Nero's gaze was transfixed; it didn't even occur to him to look away. The dark-haired man alone seemed otherworldly, an aura not unlike Dante's, yet so much more intense, surrounding him. But the whole scene in front of him was simply surreal, and Nero… really wouldn't mind being a part of it.

Nero swallowed, an almost feral longing hitting him full force, and he finally made himself look away and continue walking. The moment he did, Nero thought he saw the man look up at him, but when Nero glanced back the man hadn't moved, still engrossed in his book. Nero sighed. He could really use a moment to calm his suddenly racing heart.

The room turned a cool blue towards the back, and Nero had to admit that the calming color was really appreciated. As if sharing his sentiment, the people back here were engaged in quiet conversation amongst themselves, and Nero just stopped to look around. He had just started to do so when a sudden touch on his shoulder startled him, and not a moment later he came face to face with a woman practically clinging onto him without warning.

“Hey, pretty thing,” a sultry voice purred into his ear as pretty, delicate fingers ran down his arm, “you look lonely. Is there maybe something I could do for you?”

Nero was caught so off-guard by the situation that he needed a moment to process what was happening, and even longer to realize that the woman, despite being obtrusive, held her head lowered, pointedly looking up at him from below with half-lidded eyes in an obvious display. Nero balked when he finally realized what was happening.

The woman seemed to realize her mistake at almost the same time, her eyes widening and her lips forming a perfect O in surprise. She straightened a moment later, her grip loosening, though she didn't let go entirely.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry. That was presumptuous of me,” she breathed, finally letting her arm slip off of him, as well. She didn't seem too bothered though, since in the next moment she was smiling conspiratorially at him. “You're on the hunt yourself, huh?”

“Uh…” Nero uttered stupidly, having no idea how he was supposed to react to the sudden turn of events. Her eyes widened once more as her smile turned soft. Oh God, he really was that easy to read, wasn't he?

“Oh my. I thought you must be new, but it's really your first time, huh honey?”

“Uhm, I guess…” Nero replied vaguely, not sure if he wanted to continue this conversation at all, but the woman just laughed softly.

“Oh honey, no need to be ashamed! The beginning’s always difficult but, believe me, it's worth it,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Something must have shown on his face again because she was suddenly leaning closer, like she was about to tell him a secret. “Let me just give you a tip: just because we like following orders doesn't mean we're weak, quite the opposite in fact.” 

Nero had to admit at this point he was curious, especially when she continued, “Just think of the lengths your Dom goes to to make sure you're satisfied. All you have to do is behave and you'll be treated like royalty.”

Was that how it really was? Nero couldn't quite imagine it; not when his memory was filled with raised voices and slurs when he did not obey immediately (but of course he hadn't, he had no interest in obeying just anybody, after all.)

Nero was snapped out of his thoughts when the woman, whose name he still didn't know, was suddenly right back in his face. “Oh honey, you look traumatized already. Don't worry, everyone around here knows how to treat a Sub with respect. We deserve it, don’t let anybody tell you any different!” The glint in her eyes was fierce, as if she was about to jump up and prove what she had just said, and Nero couldn't help but smile.

That was the second time today that he had met someone who, despite being a little much, was unconditionally kind to him. It felt good not to be judged, and made him infinitely more sure that this was indeed the right place to be.

“Thanks,” he said a little belatedly. “I didn't realize it before, but I think I needed to hear that, so...  yeah, thank you,” he added and was rewarded with an arm around his shoulder pulling him into a one-armed hug.

“Anytime, honey!”

It was then, when he was practically close enough to touch, that he noticed her collar for the first time, and ended up staring at it probably longer than was necessary, and definitely long enough for her to notice.

“What?” she asked before following his eyes. “Oh yeah, I have a partner but he is busy, so I have to find someone else to play with in the meantime,” she sighed. “I seem to have lost my touch though, when I'm even jumping Subs now. Sorry about that again.”

But Nero stopped listening after the first sentence, a little floored by the implication. “Your partner doesn't mind?” he asked.

“Of course he doesn't. He knows he's the only one for me, and this,” she said pointing at her collar, “ensures others know, too. He doesn't want me to grow bored in his absence though, so it's fine. A little playtime here on the main floor is usually enough to get my spirits up,” she explained with a smirk.

Nero believed her, basically, but it was still a foreign concept to him. There was a differentiation between “partner” and “playmate” for a reason he supposed, and he was a little embarrassed at how little he really knew.

“Hey,” she said to get his attention again. “Let me give you one more piece of advice right away: doesn't matter if you're going steady with a Dom or just playing around, basically everything is possible if you communicate it beforehand. Tell them what you want and don't want, listen to what they want in return and everything will work out just fine, believe me. But—” and there, she paused to look at him meaningfully, “find the right Dom first, before you worry your pretty little head about everything else.”

She actually ruffled his hair at that, but Nero was quick to escape her grasp. She merely laughed.

They continued talking for a while longer after that, until she eventually looked at her watch, and, declaring she'd given up for the night, said her goodbyes.

Nero took a deep breath once she was gone, realizing that he, too, didn't have much to do at this point. The room was slowly but surely growing more empty, and so he eventually returned to the lounge.

Dante was still there, but he had stopped reading and looked up when Nero came in. “Hey,” he greeted him with a grin, “did ya have fun?”

Nero shot him a wry look. “Not like that,” he said as he sat down on one of the chairs lining the counter.

“Oh, and what might that be?” Dante asked, his grin turning challenging. Nero just sighed and didn't honor that with a reply at all. “Okay, okay, but did you like it? It’s totally fine if you didn't. There are other bars I can recommend to you in that case. Though they're not actually as good as mine, of course.”

“No, no, it's fine. It's great, just—”

“Not the right time?” Dante finished for him. “As I said, it's late. V should leave soon, too, so now would be the only time to talk to him.” 

Nero had honestly almost forgotten about that. He remembered Dante mentioning the same name before, and, really, what kinda name was “V”? But it was late, and it was his own fault, so he really didn't want Dante to go and annoy one of his customers for Nero.

“That's really not necessary. I'll just—” But Dante cut him off with a stern look that brightened again the moment Nero stopped talking.

“No,” Dante said once he was sure he had Nero’s attention, “I said I'd help, and since you didn't find anyone on your own, as I suspected, I'll do just that. Now, before that, though, I have just one question.”

“And that would be?” Nero asked skeptically, seeing the man's expression turn unusually serious for a change.

“Do you want to play or do you want to get off?” Dante asked him, “V's very... thorough in his sessions, so I need to know if that's what you want. No point in introducing you two if it's obvious you're not compatible.”

Nero was a second away from choking on air. Really, what was it with people and their sudden, intimate questions? He had the feeling he would need to stop blushing like a damn virgin if he ever wanted to be taken seriously around here. “N-no, that's fine…” he said eventually.

“That's fine?” Dante repeated incredulously, and Nero wanted to hit himself, remembering an all-too-recent conversation about the importance of communication. Nero was aware that he wasn't exactly stellar in that regard. It was about time he started working on that as well.

“No, I mean—” he stopped himself before he could start saying something dumb again and started over, facing Dante. “I want that, so it's fine.”

Dante's eyebrows rose further before his lips split into a grin again. “Learning quickly, eh? Keep that up and you'll fit right in in no time,” he said with hardly hidden praise, and Nero couldn't help the flush that formed on his cheeks at that. “If that's settled,” Dante spoke up again, lifting a part of the counter so he could get out, “why don't you wait in my office while I go fetch V.”

Fetch? Nero couldn't help the feeling that this might be a bad idea after all, particularly if Dante was involved.

Dante merely pointed at a door behind the bar, that Nero hadn't noticed until now, not even waiting to see if his instructions were being followed, before stepping into the other room.

Doms, right? There was nothing else Nero could do, except maybe walk away and ruin not only his slowly budding—dare he say friendship?—with Dante but also every chance at ever coming back here again. 

Nero sighed, before moving behind the counter, closing the latch behind him, and entering the indicated room.

It took only a moment for Nero to realize that Dante most likely didn't enter his “office” on a daily basis, if ever. The room was illuminated when Nero walked in, but it was bare save for a suspiciously empty desk and a shelf propped against the wall that contained a few folders, each covered in a thick layer of dust. Dante presumably wasn't a big fan of paperwork. It seemed like a miracle that he managed to run an establishment at all.

There wasn't even anywhere to sit in the “office” except for a single chair behind the desk. Nero wasn't that presumptuous, so he opted to keep standing, preparing himself for a both mentally and physically stressful wait.

It was as if the present was just catching up to him. He was about to be introduced to a Dom, with the very real possibility that he might just become Nero's first Dom.

Strictly speaking, he had talked to Doms before, or at least people who claimed to be, but Nero was willing to wipe the slate clean, start over, open up that spot for someone who actually knew what they were doing. Dante, at least, seemed certain of that, and Nero's heart started beating faster without his say-so. It was too late to freak out now. God, why was he suddenly so anxious again?

It turned out he didn't have to wait long at all before he caught the deepest, most sonorous voice Nero had ever heard in his life approaching the room, threatening to make Nero's knees weak from the sound alone. Unfortunately it didn't sound exactly amused, and so the first thing Nero heard that voice say when the door opened was: "I don't have time to babysit."

Nero felt red hot indignation rising within him, forgetting all about how that voice sounded as he turned towards the source to tell them exactly where they could shove their—!

But instead he froze mid-motion, eyes widening and heart suddenly painfully still.

It was him, the dark-haired artwork of a man he had seen earlier, and up close the man's choice in attire offered a splendid view of exactly how far those tattoos spread. It was quite possible that there was more ink than skin on display and Nero couldn't breathe.

The man looked exactly like before, just as breathtakingly beautiful—quite literally so—despite the frown marring his features. There was a silver cane in his hand that Nero hadn't noticed before, and the man's grip on it tightened, turning his knuckles white, as he turned to Dante, who was following him into the room, saying something that Nero almost didn't catch.

"Don't be too harsh, V. You haven't even talked to the guy."

"I don't have to," V said in response, “I have Subs.”

“Yeah, and last I heard they were out of town, so you should have some time to spare, right?” Dante replied, wearing that same unapologetic grin that Nero had faced earlier. 

This was turning into a straight up nightmare.

Nero was entirely unprepared when the man's— V's— attention suddenly turned to him, not even deigning to respond to Dante’s words.

Nero had the strong feeling that V was someone who didn't show his emotions openly. Considering that it was quite obvious to Nero that he wasn't happy to be here, at all, probably meant that he was really pissed off.

Nero had never felt smaller in his life than at that very moment, with that judging gaze resting on him. He barely even had the time to swallow, though, before V seemed to lose all interest, and turned around again.

And Nero knew V was likely just about to tell Dante once more exactly what he thought about “babysitting”, but at that moment it just looked so much like he was about to leave. Nero's heart plummeted and he was overcome with the sudden need to act, now, before it was too late!

"Please wait!"

The words left his mouth before he had any chance to think of a follow-up.

The truth was there was nothing he could say. What could he possibly offer to a Dom like V? Nero couldn't even really call himself a Sub yet, at least not with any confidence. He had Sub tendencies, that he had been sure of for years, but that was a far cry from having any real experience, or even understanding the full extent of the expectations that came with the term.

But that was why was here. He wanted to know. He wanted someone to teach him, and right now he wanted V to teach him, the man who commanded all of Nero's attention so effortlessly, who had both the beauty of an angel and a voice as sinful as the devil’s. 

And those eyes, jade green and striking; Nero knew he wanted those eyes on him, preferably always. But for that to happen he needed to succeed, needed some way to prove he was serious.

He saw V reacting to his sudden outburst, but before the man could even finish turning towards him, Nero took a step forward and fluidly dropped to his knees.

When Nero lowered his head, all he could see was V's feet, black leather sandals clinging to flawless skin. They were pointed towards him, the only indication Nero had that the man had indeed turned. Nero only hoped that it was also proof that V was at least willing to listen to him. 

It still didn't change the fact that there was literally nothing he could offer the man, though, nothing but his desire to prove himself.

"Please,” he implored, lowering his head all the way to the floor, “all I want is a chance. I won't waste your time."

His request was met with silence.

It probably only lasted a few seconds, a few unbearable seconds, that ended with a soft sound from V, the meaning of which Nero couldn't even begin to fathom. He could only hope it was good.

Those leather clad legs took a step forward, so close that Nero felt tempted to lean in just to know what they would feel like against his skin.

"I suppose he has a certain charm," V said, and with the prior disdain gone, the sound of his voice was sweet and smooth like honey. "Look at me."

Nero was quick to follow the request—no, command —raising his upper body to look at V. A moment later, a single digit placed under his chin lifted his head even higher until he had no choice but to gaze straight into the other's eyes. Nero knew he was being examined, those green eyes seemingly piercing his very soul.

For a while nothing happened, and eventually that single point of contact between them disappeared, but Nero didn't dare move yet as V straightened from where he had leaned down to examine him.

There was scrutiny in that gaze, even now, but eventually V spoke, though his words were anything but what Nero had expected.

“I don't fuck my Subs. I have toys to do that for me. Do you have any objections to that?”

Nero blinked, unable to process all the implications in that statement at once, but he forced himself to respond quickly lest the man lose his patience. “N-No, none.”

Those eyes remained fixed on him, as if trying to discern the truth behind that statement. Nero didn't know if V found what he was looking for when he rose to his full height again.

V lifted a hand, and Nero couldn't help but track its path upwards, past intricately inked skin and one pink, rosy nipple—he really wasn't wearing much at all, was he?— to reach inside his coat and procure a single slip of paper.

Nero almost fell over in his haste to take it as V held it in his general direction.

“Tomorrow, 5 PM. If you have any other appointments you'd better tell me now.”

As Nero examined it, he saw that the note contained a single address and nothing else.

“I'm available,” he replied, almost without thinking. He knew it to be true, and even if not, he would find a way to clear his schedule. 

He didn't need to know V any better than he did right now to know that, for him, Nero would do almost anything.

There was the faintest upturn to V's lips when Nero’s attention returned to him. Unfortunately, he had no idea what had caused it to appear.

“It's a business meeting. Dress accordingly, black, but show your neck,” V instructed curtly, and Nero tried to keep up, the sudden dawning realisation that this was actually happening slowing down all other thought. “Being late is the same as not showing at all. You might as well not bother then.”

“N-no, I'll come,” Nero assured quickly. The mere thought of missing this was making his skin crawl.

“Of course you will,” V replied and, if Nero wasn't imagining things, there was just a hint of amusement in his voice. “Otherwise you'd be wasting my time. And I don't believe in second chances.”

“I only need one. I'll be there,” Nero said with all the conviction he could muster.

V's gaze remained unmoving, and Nero couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness under such intense scrutiny.

“Hm,” V voiced wordlessly, before turning around, apparently having nothing left to add to the conversation. Instead, he turned to Dante, who Nero had all but forgotten was there as well. “I'll be taking my leave now.”

“Sure. Later, V,” Dante replied so casually that Nero almost balked, but V neither reacted nor turned before he left the room.

The moment the door closed behind him Nero all but collapsed, all tension leaving his body at once.

He had made it, somehow. He had a date—an appointment?—with a Dom. And not just any Dom, but one so beautiful and awe-inspiring that it was hard to believe he was even real.

“You okay there, kid?” Dante's question pulled him back to reality and Nero sat up properly, not yet daring to stand lest his knees fail him.

“Yeah... I'm good.”

Dante grinned at him, looking unfairly amused at the whole situation. “Got quite a presence, huh? Don't be ashamed, he's brought tougher men to their knees.”

Dante winked at that, and Nero really didn't need Dante to tell him for him to believe it. To Nero, it was hardly surprising, and exactly the reason he was so jittery in the first place.

“Even you?” he asked instead, trying to distract Dante as much as himself.

Dante laughed. “Not my style, kid. If I ever felt like trying though… why not?”

“Really?” he asked in surprise. That was not the response Nero had expected.

“Listen, kid. I mean what I said, okay? He knows what he’s doing. As long as you don't act like a complete dick, which I don't think you will, I'm sure you two will get along just fine.”

And again, Dante proved to be way more insightful than he let on. Nero sighed.

Could it really be that easy, though? V didn't seem overly patient and Nero feared that the smallest slight on his part might ruin everything. God, and here he had no real clue what he was doing to begin with.

He heard Dante mirror his sigh and soon after a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him softly. “Relax, kid. He knows you're an amateur and he still accepted. He's not going to suddenly expect that you won't mess up ever. As long as he can see you're trying, you'll find a solution that you're both satisfied with.” Dante sounded so sure of every word that it was hard not to believe him.

“You really think highly of him,” Nero said, as that realization finally sunk in.

“Sure I do, and I'm by far not the only one. He's not as popular as he is because he's an asshole, that's for sure.”

It made sense. But there was something else, a recent memory that still buzzed around in Nero’s mind. “Is it true though?”

Dante looked at him, and, sensing that Nero had calmed down somewhat, removed his hand from his shoulder. “Is what true?”

Nero looked to the side, promising himself that sometime soon he'd stop acting like a virgin whenever the topic came up—the result of growing up in an environment where it was very much considered normal to have sex but very much abnormal to talk about it. But that time had not yet come.

“That he doesn't fuck his Subs? You said—”

But Dante made a quick “hold up" gesture that Nero saw even from the corner of his eyes, so he stopped, turning to the other man again.

“I said he is thorough. What exactly other Doms get up to during their sessions is not something I pry into. For now, you should just take his word for it.”

Nero just blinked. No closer to a satisfying answer in that regard, he settled for trying to make sense of everything else that had happened so far. At least that was his plan, until Dante suddenly stepped in front of him, forcing Nero to look up.

“What you should also do is stop looking like a wet rag,” he proclaimed and proceeded to grab Nero's arms to pull him onto his feet. Nero could do nothing but make sure he didn't lose his balance at the sudden movement and stumble into Dante. 

“Much better.” Dante grinned, and Nero was suddenly aware of how exhausted he was that he didn't even have it in him to be annoyed at the other man. “Go home and get some rest. You want to be fit for your date tomorrow, right?” Dante gave him a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Nero could only roll his eyes and hold onto his jacket as it was suddenly thrust at him from God knows where.

“You're welcome, by the way,” Dante added, and Nero’s grip went slack for a moment.

“Yeah. Thank you, Dante,” he said honestly.

He hadn't expected anything like this to happen when he came here, but now he was really fucking glad he did.

“Now don't get all mushy on me. Shoo, shoo.”

“I won't,” Nero promised as he pulled his jacket over his shoulders, “but thank you anyway. I'll be back.”

Dante was smiling when Nero looked back at him one last time, more honest than his usual grins, and Nero gave a quick salute before leaving.

Once back outside in the cool night air, Nero took a deep breath.

Well, so much for not being successful tonight.

With a single slip of paper grasped securely in his hand where it rested inside his pocket, he started his way back home. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

If you liked it, please like and/or reblog, and feel free to yell at me via asks or messages if you want^^The second chapter will be up tomorrow, so stay tuned!

[hexenmeisterer]

listen up hermits

if you’re ever in the situation where you’re staring at netflix wondering what to watch next, FEAR NOT BECAUSE I HAVE THE UNEQUIVOCALLY CORRECT ANSWER FOR YOU. 

do me and yourself and your dad a favor and watch the two-part due South episode “Mountie on the Bounty.” (invite your dad to watch it with you, because he will like it too. its appeal is universal.)

This fuckin episode of a Canadian ‘90s buddy cop show’s got everything anyone could possibly want:

Pirates? yep. Sea shanties? check!!! Fake ghosts? Oh yeah Real ghosts? you kNOW IT Bars of gold? IN PYRAMIDS. An all-permeating sense of absurdist humor? y e a h Fascinating real-life backstory? check nautical derring-do action choreography? … .. i don’t answer stupid questions And, of course, that heavy-duty slash fodder our hearts all still yearn for after all these years.

The emotional heart of this silly, silly episode is the relationship-defining moment between the two main characters on this show. And like.. .. oh boy.. You’re going to have a fucking field day man

“bUDDY BREATHING”

(It’s easy to see how this was The Ship in slash circles in the late 90s. fun fact: due South was one of the first fandoms to find its way onto the internet from fanzines! [major sidebar: and as such was the host to one of the first online fandom wars, which was a fucking doozy and also hilarious: the Due South Religious Wars of ‘96.]) Anyways, the action, comedy, and relationship arc all work together seamlessly— it’s an episode that really knows it’s a big one, and it’s not afraid to spend a fuckton of both the show’s financial budget and like budget of emotional currency on unbridled, tropey, silly JOY at every turn.

(Alright, you’ve watched the episode. And you are wondering what’s going on with that fascinating real-life backstory I promised. Both of these two parts involve actual real tragic shipwrecks. Well here we go)

Part One: The Real-Life Robert Mackenzie

OK so you know that absolute banger of a song that carries the whole two-part episode from start to finish? Here’s the music video:

That guy look familiar? YEah, that’s because the song was written and performed specifically for the episode by Paul Gross, the guy who... wrote and starred in the episode. He originally intended the episode to revolve around the legendary Canadian folk song by Gordon Lightfoot, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” It is a true-to-life account of an actual shipwreck that killed 29 people in 1975 on Lake Superior. When Paul Gross asked for permission to use the song in the episode, Gordon Lightfoot said he wouldn’t allow it unless they got permission from the families of all the men who had died. So, instead of calling up those 29 grieving families to ask if he could use their loved ones’ death story as a plot device for Canadian action-adventure-comedy hijinks (which like… I’m not sure what you were thinking would happen there buddy), he decided to change the story slightly and write his own song. Epilogue: Once upon a time Paul Gross said, "My ambition is to one day be driving a truck out on my parents' ranch and hear one of my songs on the radio. My life could be complete."

His dream (sort of) came true sometime between then and now:

"I was driving to the dump and the Robert Mackenzie came on. Very exciting. Much more exciting than the dump."

Part Two: The Real-Life Bounty

That ship that really makes the episode shine in all its Pirates of the Caribbean realness was a sized-up replica of the HMS Bounty, originally built in 1960 in Nova Scotia for the Marlon Brando movie “Mutiny on the Bounty.” It was originally supposed to get burned for the final scene, but Marlon Brando threatened to quit the movie if the ship was really destroyed, so it survived! The Bounty went on to do lots of tours and movies and educational programs in the next 50 years. But alas, tall ships are expensive as fuck to maintain, and it was kind of falling apart. It had a tentative, if shaky, plan to become funded by a Down Syndrome awareness foundation and, with people with Down syndrome on the crew, attempt to become the first tall ship to sail the Northwest Passage.

Tragically though, in 2012, the Bounty sailed into Hurricane Sandy and capsized, killing the captain and one crew member. There were a lot of real questionable and inexplicable choices that went into that— if you’re curious to read more about the Bounty’s story, here’s an engaging article exploring how it all went so wrong.

Before she went down in Hurricane Sandy though, she was a filming location, not only to Pirates of the Carribean movies, but also to Pirates, the high-budget porn version of Pirates of the Carribean. (which, sidenote, got a bunch of AVN awards and a 2-paragraph mention in the New York Times?) In conclusion, 

a) ring a bell for all who have died at sea and 

b) watch Mounty on the Bounty. Thank you and good night 

[vtheobscurial]

Imprinted

Rain, The Alpha

“Another round for us dogs!” Rain yelled to the bartender across the room with a thundering liveliness to the demand as he took his final shot of whiskey and downed it faster than the bartender could nod, the loud collide of the glass meeting the wooden table causing heads to turn and look. Across the table were the first few members of his pack, his MC and his family – Milo, Steph and their baby sister, Gal though she wasn't part of the pact, least not yet. They were out celebrating a victorious and quite dangerous gamble, their first legitimate theft gone right. Away they’ve walked with over $50,000 cash and that wasn’t including any jewelry that may have made its way out the door. It was a good night to celebrate it and what better way than to get shitfaced and create more of a ruckus than initially planned. After all, they were a pack of dogs with the inability to be civil.

Drinks after drinks, song after song, the pack managed to calm down. The town folk in the bar were starting to scatter as the night continued its extensive growth in darkness and coldness, a feeling that Rain had anticipated and quite didn’t give a shit. It was their night even as it winded down, yet, there was an odd feeling starting to creep through Rain’s spine, over his head and even at times, out his throat but he knew that the amount of alcohol he so willingly consumed had nothing to do with it. No, something was coming, and he couldn’t put his finger to it, at least not yet as it had not arrived. His nose was to the air, sniffing the very particles in which surrounded them all as the sweetness and tangy smell came closer with each inhale. His ears were listening beyond the confined walls of the musty old bar and the loudness vibrating from all the beating hearts inside, but none were of any interest to the Alpha. Every hair in his body stood at its tallest, skin prickling, and it mattered not how many times he ran his palm over his arm, the hairs remained on edge just as much as all the senses he owned were as now he set in full alert and a dragging feeling of anxiety beginning to take rise and settle at the pit of his stomach.

“Brother, you okay?” Asked the grizzly blonde with blue eyes staring back at Rain’s emerald orbs with a tint of concern, Milo, still very much awake and remaining strong by his side. Milo was the first one that Rain hadn’t needed to bribe in one form or another for company and there were probably times when Rain tried to shake him off and couldn’t. His best friend even if they couldn’t say it aloud.

“Yeah, must have drank to much,” responded Rain with a sigh, his eyes scanning through the crowd to see if anything had changed. It was a lie, Rain could outdrink just about any of his pack mates and being Alpha had nothing to do with it. He had spent many nights devouring through hours of liquor and not a hint of tipsy running through his thick veins, not even a stumble, blurred vision or even slurred speech. Something was still very off as he sniffed the contents in his glass but that wasn’t it.

It was the moment that Rain decided to march over to the bartender and demand answers, perhaps there was something in his drink and it was now taking affect or even the top of the bottle in which he’d tasted just moments before the feeling took residence within him. He pushed his stool with full intent to cause some trouble when the door opened. Usually he wouldn’t had given a shit as to who had walked in, it was a bar and people were in and out throughout the entirety of the night, but the scent drew his eyes towards the new person. Every single of his senses was on a heat wave when his eyes met the brunette with silky porcelain-like skin.

His eyes were glued on her figure and as much as he wanted to look away, he couldn’t, afraid that if he looked away or even blinked for that matter, she would disappear into the crowd despite the burning of his eyes from the dryness caused by the lack of lubrication. He’d never felt this damn compelled to watch someone unless they were a target in one of his heists. But this stranger, the woman, he’d never even seen her, never came across her in his many years of traveling and to be frank, wasn’t the kind of woman he would find interest in. Not because she wasn’t good looking – matter of fact, she was a beauty amid many, but she was young, he could sense it in her. Too young. Among the many things he could smell on her, she was like him, like his pack, a werewolf but also not like them, she was broken, and it didn’t take a genius to see it in her eyes as her eyes met with Rain even if it were just for a second. The curiosity only seemed to grow within him as he began to wonder what it had been that had tainted her, that hurt her and just as his thoughts raced, he could feel himself growing protective over her and it shook him back into semi-reality with a confused expression clear on his features as he muttered something inaudible, even to Milo whom had just a good hearing as Rain did. He didn’t even know this girl!

Rain’s heart began to speed faster than he’d ever felt it, a loud pounding that he could feel vibrate to the top of his skull and cause a deafening thump in his very brain with a frantic outburst of need, causing the scar at the back of his head feel as if it were reopening in which, Rain took his hand and felt around to make sure that it wasn’t the case. It was not but it was also producing just as much heat and pulse as he had felt the night, he’d been given it.

His palms were sweaty as he looked down upon them, quickly taking them and rubbing it against his pant leg but only seeming to produce more, the more he wiped away. His throat was on pure fire as he tugged at his shirt to allow for more air to make its way down his chest. He wanted to roar it all out, but the choking made its way slowly consuming just his throat and then taking a hold on the entirety of his body. Then the shaking started from the bones in his leg and then his arms all the meanwhile, he couldn’t describe what the Hell was going on with him as he’d never felt this awful and terrifying sensation before. The very beast crawling inside of him was beginning to claw its way out from him, wanting to leap over to the dark-haired woman and make her, his. Was he dying? Had his time finally come, here, in the bar as he watched some girl take her seat in the corner of the building?

“I hate to be the one saying this, Rain, but I think you’re officially cut off drinking for the night,” spoke his friend with a chuckle as his eyes followed Rain’ and landed on the same girl. Rain however, had blocked everything out and hadn’t realized that Milo had spoken to him. Milo raised an eyebrow at the situation, he to could smell the familiarity in the young woman but nothing more than just that, they’d come across rogue wolves before, it wasn’t anything new or out of the ordinary but Rain’s reaction to her was a definite new, something he’d never witnessed before. Taking his very hand and waving it in front of Rain to see if he could snap the bastard out of whatever trance he’d lost himself in.

Finally, a movement other than the very, obvious staring on Rain’s behalf seemed to erupt from him as he caught Milo’s hand in mid-air. Followed by his light shade of green hues meeting with Milo’s blues. “I’m good, brother,” were his only words as he released the younger wolf’s hand. Rain wasn’t intending to come out so aggressive and was thankful to his Beta for snapping that shitty feeling away.

“If you say so, thought I’d finally lost you to whatever demons had taken claim of your mind just now,” Milo’s tone was lower than usual, still very full of playfulness as his mind wandered to what other things he would’ve been forced to do if the old man hadn’t come to his senses with the waving of his hands. Such opportunities now lost to him.

“Someday but not today,” replied Rain with a crooked smile only for his eyes to go back to the one that had stolen all his attention and quite possibly, his heart. Things he’d been told before from Ray were coming into mind as to their new nature the longer, he continued his stare. The aching feeling of wanting to protect, the beating heart which felt as if it were being summoned out of his chest cavity, the choking of his throat and body, the nervous feeling in which mixed with pure excitement, the yearning for nothing more than that person. <i>Imprint</i> and once it all settled in at full throttle, Rain swallowed a big gulp as his eyes sifted to the bottle on the table in front of him. He hadn’t a clue about what to do with this new situation, it wasn’t one he knew he could shrug off, not one to ignore or let go but surely one that was dangerous for all parties involved because he damn well knew that he wasn’t about to let it go over some bullshit ass stories of imprints gone wild.

“I’m so fucked,” he broke out with as he grabbed the bottle, pressing it to his lips and finishing the rest of the contents and the burning sensation of the alcohol meeting the walls in his mouth and esophagus compared nothing to what this woman had done to him. He was fucked but all he wanted to do was know this woman, anything to hear her voice, to have her eyes look back at his or even feel her touch against his skin even if just for a moment but he couldn’t quite go up to her and say “Hey, I think I’ve imprinted on you so now you’re mine and if you try to run away, I might kill ya on accident.” No, he wasn’t foolish enough, but he could damn well start with getting her name.

Balls dropping as his confidence reached an all high. “Be right back, man,” Rain spoke as he stood up at his full height and began making his journey over to the woman, each step of the way he wanted to turn back but he’d look foolish as all Hell if he did so. “I’m buying you a drink, Rain is the name.” His first words to the woman and he hadn’t a clue what the fuck it was that he did but after a few snark comments back and forth he got her name and not just that, he was gifted a smile that shot straight to the bastard’s heart and made it all worth it.

“Katara.” And thus, the story between these wolves begin...

I’m personally a sucker for how these two met and continued on their friendship. He never told her that he imprinted and even now that they married, he has yet to mention it. Maybe he will one day, but as for right now, he’s just enjoying life.