#sorry if you were looking forward to that I’ve just been in a weird headspace for the past couple weeks

[zeonsart]

So I’m not doing my pride art challenge this year because social media is stressing me tf out. Sorry guys. ✌🏻

#happy pride though #I will probably still post some queer characters this month #just the thought of posting every single day was making me wanna die a little bit #idk why #sorry if you were looking forward to that I’ve just been in a weird headspace for the past couple weeks

[onetuffbunny]

some people think we slipped into another universe a few years back where everything is mostly the same except a little worse and the brand names are different.

i don’t believe this. as the resident far out weirdo, i have to draw my line somewhere and it’s here. i have concrete proof that multiple dimensions are real because a groovy chick at a party confirmed it for me, as have multiple people, but i already knew about that. do i believe in astral projection? yes. my experiments into the psychedelic realm continue. remote viewing is also a yes. i knew aliens were real all along, so confirmation of their (our? do i have claim to that title? i am made of earth but i am also changed down to every molecule of my body on account of biting a dude real good.) existence was pleasant but not a shock to me because i may be dumb but i’m not a dummy. obviously ghosts and angels are real, i don’t think that was in question. i am not talking about alien ghosts, i am talking about ghost ghosts, though i guess aliens can be ghost ghosts too. i have communicated with the spirit realm, received divine messages from many different sources, cast arcane spells and hexes and things of that sort, and i take my purpose as a high priest very seriously, which is why i continue my sacred mission of getting real weird with it, so obviously i am not a stranger to things that are way far out there.

i know what people think of me and they’re probably right. i may only be right about things by coincidence and i know that even if things weren’t real, i would believe them anyway. i know right now that i believe in things that i know aren’t real. this is the crux of my magical practices. you hold two contradictory ideas in your head at the same time and you make both of them real. when i get down into that old neon funk, i forget that. i don’t remember to remember that things also aren’t real because most things aren’t real and you can’t hang onto them. i have been on here too much when i’ve went and forgotten whats what, so sorry for that, though if you ever read anything i write, that’s on you because i, for one, never read my own word-vomit if i can help it. when i’m in my semi-right mind, most of what i say is bullshit because i have word-sounds in my head and need to get them transcribed somewhere so they can stay there and not my head so i can do other things. i need the headspace. like a computer, i am running out of memory and i need to dedicate my remaining resources to cleaning and making sure my kids don’t grow up to become shinji ikari kinnies. i guess it’s okay to say i have kids here because it’s been awhile and no one’s taken them away yet. incidentally, i don’t know how computers work. i know lights are involved. they have off buttons. they have restart buttons. i need to find my own restart button so i can boot up in safe mode and run antivirus on myself. anyway, when i’m completely off my shit, i die inside when i look back on things i’ve said and done because i will let the wolves into my own house and i don’t like being reminded of that. if you’re the wolves in my house, forward me a mailing address please. people assume i’m on a lot of drugs when i’m in a cherry-colored funk but that i’m not on a lot of drugs, that’s just the side effects of having your brain all mixed up. i am making no claims to stone cold sobriety because i probably should ease up on the weekend tequila and i smoke out the bone hurting juice. my bones hurt. it is what it is. i miss my bones not hurting all the time. i was fishblessed but i am still shaped in ways i should not be shaped, werewolf transformation incomplete, either squished down into glamour shape or stretched out into Long Shape. wrong. bad. let me tell you what, if there was onlyfans for aliens, they would not want me posting pictures of my butt on there. i mean, not every part of my inglorious transformation is bad but i have scars from getting stretched too quick and i shed all over the goddamn place and i keep hitting my head on things a lot and i don’t know about you, but i do not need another concussion.

something something words words ramble ramble insert something fake deep here

anyway, the point is that i gotta draw my line somewhere. i’m a conspiracy theorist but i don’t think i’m living in another dimension just because some people can’t remember what the logo on their undies looks like. if i have ever shifted to another universe, it’s for entirely different reasons. is it possible? maybe. i think about quantum immortality a lot. however, all evidence points to the fact that i am most likely existing in the same universe as i’ve been in since i was born. i don’t know what i was doing before i was born and i guess that’s not important because most people don’t know what they were doing before they born except a few toddlers who remember being peasants in victorian england. i think there are a few points in my life where cosmic events happened but instead of going to another universe or something, i just got weirder instead. for example, the great cataclysm of 2017 left me with advanced adhd instead of only regular adhd and i forgot how to speak for three months. shit was wild. went to so many doctors and the end diagnosis was that i was a couple thousand dollars poorer and idk have you tried not being crazy, you should try it. anyway maybe it was for the best because i had to learn sign language and then it turns out my kid doesn’t verbalize easy around other people, so my brainfunk came in handy for once. he’s starting kindergarten this year and he’s going to be so much cooler than all the other small children. i made him a baby yellow submarine shirt because he doesn’t really like baby shark that much anymore but he makes me listen to the beatles like every day almost. not complaing. i mean he could be a kiss fan instead. i don’t know what i’d do if my kid was a kiss fan. listen to kiss, i guess.

i don’t know, man. i gotta lot of ideas in my head and no way to say them properlike. i’m doing my best to say what’s right and know what’s up but it’s hard. i don’t know if becoming a fledgling is making diving the secrets of the universe easier or harder. maybe it just makes it weirder. who can really say. not me. i genuinely do not know what’s happening most of the time. i’m just dancing in the dark and aren’t we all just bruce springsteening it up on the great plane called life. actually no, only bruce springsteen is doing that. man’s on fire. i’m still figuring out what becoming a baby bird means for me but i guess everyone else is too. honestly maybe it’s not that important. i’m just long and my bones hurt all the time but i was already pretty tall and in the end, everyone’s body becomes shit. i just eat other stuff now. i am saving so much money. things happen because they’re going to happen. some guy thinks you’re a ghost dog and now you drink pig blood right out of the container. could be a lot worse. this is not a great cataclysm in my life. it is just an event that happens. right now my biggest issue is whether or not it’s still okay to think megatron is hot because what if transformers are real. this is one of those sentences where i stop for a second to think that maybe i should not share that with the world but you know what, if you’re still reading this, you’ve made an active, conscious decision to continue on with my bullshit.

going to give a shoutout to the mes in other universes. i hope one day we meet up so i can learn knowledge from you and/or start a band.

[chippedaxe]

can u do a part 2 if 'hate is a strong word' maybe with some nsfw

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Title: Hate Is A Strong Word P2

Warning(s): cursing, NSFW, arguing, fighting etc.., praising, degrading, maybe a bit of humiliation? Idk. , unprotected sex

Pronouns: They/them, afab

Synopsis: You and Karl end up arguing after you get jealous, resulting in sex between the two of you.

Pairing: c!Karl X Dom! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Part 1: Hate is A Strong Word (sfw)

Note: unedited*

- If some words don't make sense or spelling is wrong than sorry, I'm too lazy to proof read and edit my fics.

- written in my notes app

╰──────────────────⋞╯

Karl put his hands up in defeat “I don’t understand why you’re so angry about this! I promise to you that nothing else happened!” Karl shouted “oh yeah? Then where’d you get that love bite from??” You pointed out a red mark on his neck “it’s a mosquito bite!” Karl argued back, you took a step towards him “oh? You’re calling Sapnap a mosquito now?”

“No! It really is just a mosquito bite! Please trust me on this!” Karl moved away from you “you know why I don’t like you seeing Sapnap!” You were on the verge of tears “holy shit- are you crying? Babe, I’m sorry I made you feel like this..” Karl approached you.

You got ready to fight and put your hands up “I’m not trying to hurt you, can I please just give you a hug? You’re not in the right headspace right now..” Karl reached his arms out to you. You lowered your defenses and looked away as you allowed Karl to embrace you.

“Why would you go out of your way to ignore my feelings? I told you to leave Sapnap alone for a reason!” You exclaimed “I know! I tried to avoid him but I couldn’t help running into him” Karl apologized “if I go to Las Nevada’s and talk with Slime boy- will he be able to truthfully tell me that nothing happened between you and Sapnap?” You started to cry.

“I wish you could just trust what I’m saying! Of course Sapnap and I did nothing!” Karl frowned “prove it! Kill him or something! Burn his house down!” You were hysterical “you know I can’t do that! Look- let me just make it up to you, do you want me to get you something to eat?” Karl caressed your cheek.

You slapped his hand away “if you want my forgiveness than you better listen good!” Karl’s ears perked up and he started listening right away “I’m gonna go to the kitchen and get a glass of water and when I come back I want you to be stripped naked on that fucking bed, alright?” You crossed your arms.

“W-what? Of course!” Karl’s cheeks heated up and he was quick to follow your instructions, struggling to pull off his clothes as you left the room. You walked down the stairs and slowly made your way to the kitchen, maybe you had just been overreacting but you wouldn’t let Karl know that he was right.

You grabbed a glass and poured yourself some water, sipping from it slowly while thinking about the whole situation. Sapnap was 100% trying to make you jealous so you knew you’d have to work harder to get him back!

You returned upstairs, opening the door and being met with Karl’s naked body spread on the bed. He opened his legs up shyly to you, revealing his hard erection he had gotten “oh baby.. look at you, you’re so gorgeous..” your lips pursed into a small smile.

“T-thank you Y/n..” Karl glanced away from you timidly, you walked over and crawled onto the bed. You began to slowly strip yourself of your clothes, pulling your blouse over your head and shimmying your pants to the floor.

Karl looked up at you, mesmerized by the way your body looked in the lighting “oh you’re so handsome..” Karl mouthed out to you quietly. Karl reached out to touch you but you slapped his hand away “no touching, this is supposed to be your punishment” you told him off for it.

You got between his legs and stared up at him intently, he looked down at you and puffed his cheeks out “well- are you gonna do anything?” He asked. “Not if my out keep being impatient, Karl!” You furrowed your eyebrows “okay okay- sorry darling..” he kept quiet and shut his mouth.

“Good boy, now stay still and keep your hips on the bed” you instructed him as you slowly leaned forward and licked a line up his shaft. He gasped and whines softly, covering his face up in embarrassment “you look so fucking pretty like this, why are you hiding from me?” You took his hands off his face.

His face was a pure red colour, sweat dripping down his forehead “I’m so embarrassed..” he mumbled. You brought your hand up and groped his balls for a moment, relishing in the way his body reacts to you “s-stop that feels weird!” Karl pleaded for a moment “do you really want me to stop?” You asked him again.

He kept quiet for a few seconds “n-no..” you smiled in delight and continued your actions. Karl bucked his hips up against your hand which resulted in you pinning his hips down “if you can’t stay still then I’m gonna have to tie you down- would you like that?” You threatened him “n-no please.. I can be good for you!” He gasped.

You nipped on the soft skin of his thighs, leaving a large bite on one of them. It started to bleed a bit so you just licked it up, Karl winced and closed his legs around your head “that feels weird!” He said out loud.

You rubbed and caressed his thighs gently “sorry baby..” you cooed, you got on top of him and straddled his lap. You grabbed the back of his head and brought him closer to you so you could have better access to his neck, kissing and sucking the light skin.

You tried not to give in to your thoughts but you couldn’t help but take a bite, ripping a loud moan from Karl’s mouth “ah!” He moaned. You pulled away and the both of you just stared at each other awkwardly for a moment “t-that felt good..” Karl admitted.

You went back to your work, marking up Karl and biting him whenever you felt like it. When you leaned back and admired him is when you saw how red his neck was now, you clenched your thighs together and gulped nervously as you realized you may have liked this more than you thought.

“P-please..” Karl begged “hm? Please what?” You asked “please ride me- or let me fuck you!” His hips rutted away against the air desperately “why should I give you anything you want? You were being so bad today!” You reminded him “please? I can be so good for you! I-if you let me touch you than I can prove it!” He pleaded.

You sighed and gave in to his demands, getting off him and laying down on the bed so he could touch you. Your skin was bare and the gust of cold air coming from the window every so often would make your nipples harden, you held onto a pillow gently as you felt Karl part your legs for you.

Karl licked his lips “this looks like the best meal I’ve ever seen in my entire life..” he commented as he stared at your wet folds, his fingers opening you up. Karl slid between your legs and stuck his tongue out, licking along your slit and moaning at the taste.

“Oh you taste so good.. how could I ever want to eat anything else?” Karl’s arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you glued against his face “a-ah! H-hey Karl, slow down!” You gasped, your hand grasping onto his hair which only encouraged him to go faster.

His tongue slid deep inside of you, exploring your fleshy wet cave. Your pussy clenched around him, your clit rubbing against his face as he worked hard to please you “I’m close..” you let Karl know. You released on Karl’s face and threw your head back, your legs shaking a bit as he continued to eat you out through your orgasm.

“Alright.. you earned it- come here big boy!” You invited him to fuck you, opening your legs wide enough so he could get buried deep in you. Karl quickly got to it, his cock sliding into your wet sheath and being surrounded by your warm walls.

Karl thrusted in and out with no pattern whatsoever, rutting into you harshly like an inexperienced teenage boy “y/n!” Karl moaned out your name as he started to go faster. Karl put his hand above your head to stabilize himself and keep him from falling over.

“P-please let me cum inside of you, please!” Karl begged “fuck- go ahead!” You arched your back and allowed Karl to cum inside of you. His load being shot deep inside of your vagina, coating your thick warm walls with his white semen.

Karl pulled out and flopped on the bed, panting heavily as he tried to rest “don’t go to sleep now! You still have a long day ahead of you, go get dressed you bum!” You sat up and encouraged him to get out of bed.

Karl groaned and got out of the bed, his legs shaking a bit as he stood up. He walked over to his dresser and began to get dressed, pulling his hoodie over his head and slipping on some pants. You felt lazy so you just threw a big shirt on and a pair of shorts, the two of you now dressed and ready to take on the world.

You finally got the idea to what your great genius plan to get Sapnap back was! You looked down at the ground and sighed, turning your head to face Karl and tell him what was on your mind.

“You know what, Karl baby? I want you to go see Sapnap right now and tell him how sorry I am for overreacting” you smirked. Karl had most likely thought you were turning a new leaf, being the bigger person when really you were just fulfilling your master plan.

Karl was littered with hickies and love bites all along his skin, you couldn’t miss them! Even his oversized hoodie couldn’t cover the marks up! Your plan was to expose his marks to Sapnap so he would finally see that Karl was yours and yours alone! Hopefully it’ll work.

#mcyt requests #mcyt x reader smut #mcyt smut #dsmp x reader smut #dsmp smut #dreamsmp x reader smut #dreamsmp smut #dream smp x reader smut #dream smp smut #c!karl smut #c!karl jacobs smut #karl jacobs smut #karl jacobs x reader smut #c!karl Jacobs x reader smut

[greymantledlady]

bad blood come and go, but you're still coming home

Michael’s grace quivers all over, his face working as he leans into the touch. ‘How am I here,’ he says. ‘Why would anyone ever bring me back – let alone you – let alone the Winchesters? I doomed us – doomed you.’ His grace is cracking open now, flowing over with pain and recrimination. ‘I knew from the moment he raised his hand. I died knowing I failed you.’

Fic for @midamweek!

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

Adam stands there, his body ready, waiting (Yes, he thinks, Yes, always Yes), and Jack – God – closes his eyes, a soft smile on his face. Dean, standing alone and off to one side, looks like he’s about to be sick. Sam and Eileen wait together by one of the walls.

Jack is still smiling, and then there’s a warm glow next to Dean, and Castiel appears, stumbling a little, eyes wide with shock. Adam hears Dean make a wet, choking sort of sound, lurching forward to catch Castiel in his arms. But his own body is still empty, still aching, and he says again to Jack, begging, ‘Please.’

Jack’s face is serene, untroubled, and for an instant Adam is so afraid that he’s changed his mind that he could choke; and then, all at once, he’s glowing from the inside out, and a presence slots back inside him as though he’d never left.

-

Michael, he thinks, mad with joy. Michael, sweetheart, Michael, and searches inside himself with frantic nudges of his soul.

He can access their shared headspace again, finally, and that’s where he finds the focus of Michael’s grace, quivering and unresponsive with shock. He wraps his soul around it, weak with relief; in the headspace, he kneels by the shuddering, foetal ball of Michael’s body and touches him, unable to stop himself from running his hands over Michael’s shoulders and face.

‘Michael,’ he says shakily, ‘Michael, hey, look at me,’ but he doesn’t give Michael the chance, crushing his arms around him and pulling him up, pulling him close. Michael’s hands are trembling fists against his chest, his eyes darting wildly.

‘Adam,’ he croaks. ‘Where - ? Adam, why am I – they’ll kill you!’ He’s frantic, panicking, hands flying up to cup Adam’s face. ‘You don’t understand what I – if you knew – they will kill you, to get to me!’

‘Michael,’ Adam says, and he’s crying, now, unable to stop.

‘I have to leave,' Michael says. He sounds agonised, but Adam grips his arms, shaking his head through the tears.

‘It’s okay,' he says. ‘Michael, we’re safe.’ He presses forward, wrapping his arms around Michael’s neck, soul around grace, rubbing their cheeks together softly. Michael is trembling all over, his grace raw and quivering against him.

‘I went back to him,' he says hoarsely. ‘I thought – if I helped him, I thought I could ask him to bring you back. I thought – and then he - ' He makes a wounded, shaky sound, hands clutching against Adam’s back.

‘I know, they told me,' Adam says, and it comes out wet and stuffy. ‘You idiot, of course he was going to do that, Michael – ’

He presses his face into Michael’s neck, folding into the familiar aura and warmth of his grace, soothing the rough hurting patches of it with little healing touches of his own soul. Michael’s face is buried into the hair above Adam’s ear, and he makes another little sound, like he’s crying, too.

‘I’ll go,' he says after a minute, in a low voice. ‘I can’t ask you to forgive - if you revoke your consent, I’ll honour it.’ His hand comes up to cup the back of Adam’s head for an instant, then reluctantly drops away.

Adam stiffens, pulling back a little to glare at him. ‘Don’t you fucking dare,' he chokes. ‘You asshole, don’t you – if you dare leave me again – Michael.’ He puts a hand on Michael’s cheek, runs his thumb under Michael’s eye, his touch immeasurably gentler than his words.

Michael’s grace quivers all over, his face working as he leans into the touch. ‘How am I here,’ he says. ‘Why would anyone ever bring me back – let alone you – let alone the Winchesters? I doomed us – doomed you.’ His grace is cracking open now, flowing over with pain and recrimination. ‘I knew from the moment he raised his hand. I died knowing I failed you.’

‘Jack’s God now,’ Adam says, stroking his face; he can’t help himself, too overcome with the utter relief of having Michael back. ‘He can do what he wants. He brought you back.’

‘To stand trial, surely,’ Michael says, and his face firms into lines of resignation. ‘I’ll submit to it, granted that you’ll be safe. Free.’ He closes his eyes, and Adam can feel his grace press softly, carefully against the edges of his soul, as though he’s memorising the shape and feeling of it before being dragged away. Adam shakes his head fiercely.

‘You’re so stupid,’ he says, and his voice cracks between a laugh and a sob. ‘I’d die before I let that happen, you stupid – stupid fucking archangel, do you hear me? They can just try.’

‘You can’t fight a god, kid,’ Michael says softly. ‘You’re just human,’ but his voice is so tender that it takes any possible sting out of the words. Adam strokes his face again, overwhelmed by the way Michael – an archangel, the mightiest warrior, the first creation – leans into his touch each time.

‘Yeah, well,’ he says with a heroic sniff. ‘They owed me, big time, and the only thing I wanted was to have you back.’ He pushes his fingers through Michael’s hair, to the back of his head, and tugs, bringing their foreheads together with a painless little thud, grace against soul against grace in every dimension of their shared existence. Michael’s hands come gently to rest on the small of his back, and they lean against each other, breathing in each other’s essence.

‘You called me sweetheart,’ Michael whispers, after a minute, ‘you – what does that mean,’ and Adam flushes.

‘I know it – probably seems stupid and small to you,’ he murmurs, looking away. ‘Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t have to change anything.’ It had been an accident, a slip of the tongue – or heart – in his joy at getting Michael back. In all the hundreds of years of his loving Michael with his whole heart, he had never intended to reveal this particular, pointless, human weakness. What they’d had together had been enough.

But – ‘I want to know,’ Michael says, and Adam wonders – can it really hurt, to simply tell him, now? Michael probably won’t understand, but he won’t judge, or mock him, either. He might even already know.

‘Okay,’ Adam agrees, quiet. ‘Okay. So – you might have already guessed it, that I’m in love with you, by human standards. Sorry. I didn’t mean to, it just – sort of happened, somewhere along the line.’

Michael is looking at his face as though he’s never seen it before, his face a picture of astonishment. Adam winces, gnaws his lower lip. ‘It really doesn’t have to change anything,’ he adds hopefully.

‘I love you more than I loved my father,’ Michael blurts out suddenly, ‘more than the universe, more than the first star, more than anything, in every possible way.’ He looks at Adam, and his cheeks are flushing. ‘I – I want to try kissing with you, I want – the other things as well, all of it. Everything. For a long time now.’

‘You what,’ Adam says blankly, and then, ‘Seriously?! Michael!’ His soul, slowly lighting up with surprise and unexpected joy, is reaching out to curl against Michael’s grace, but what?

Michael looks shifty. ‘I was – working up to suggesting it. In the Cage. As a… way to pass the time,’ he mumbles.

‘Oh my god,’ Adam says, and then starts giggling helplessly. ‘You – you! And there I was! Thinking there was no possible way an – an archangel could feel that way, and you were – you were working up to suggesting it!’ He feels giddy and light with laughter and delight, and he leans forward and shakes happily against Michael’s neck.

Michael holds him carefully, his hands splayed on the small of Adam’s back, his grace wrapping around them both like a tattered blanket. Adam can feel the way it aches, can feel Michael’s love and loss, his pain and guilt; and he presses his soul against it, hugs Michael back.

‘I don’t know what I should do now,’ Michael says shakily, against his hair. ‘Where I begin.’

Adam strokes his back, scrapes his fingers back and forth in a gentle, random pattern of comfort. There’s a lot of things they need to talk about, that Michael needs to explain and atone for and work through, but for now, he thinks that he gets to be a little selfish. ‘I know,’ he says. ‘But I think – I think you should start by kissing me.’

He turns his head against Michael’s, lets his lips skate across his ear, feels Michael shiver through the whole expanse of his grace. ‘And then,’ he says, warming to this idea, ‘then, I think we should get out of my brothers’ weird underground dungeon, and go somewhere nice – like – like New Zealand, somewhere where it’s green and there aren’t any people, and we can kiss some more. And then after that maybe we can get a hotel room, a really nice one with a spa bath, and kiss there, and – and then decide what we do next, maybe help some people, fix climate change or the hole in the ozone layer. But definitely the kissing first.’

Michael is looking at his lips, eyes hazy. His grace is shining despite the rough patches and pain it holds, lighting up and drifting forward and around them both, bright with longing. ‘I’ve never kissed anyone before,’ he says softly.

‘I’ve never kissed an archangel, but I’m about to,’ Adam says, and pulls him in, and kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him.

#midam week #midam #michael/adam #michael spn #adam milligan #my fic #supernatural

[novantinuum]

Hi, I was just wondering if you had ever thought about what would have happened in your story "Hollowed Moon" if you had continued it. I always thought it was such an interesting setup that could have gone in so many different directions. And there really aren't other stories focusing on Stevonnie and Spinel, so it was unique!

Hiya!

So, I do have some half-written, half-plotted out material to share. I gave this story some consideration the other day, and came to the decision that I don't have the desire to finish it out, alas- I have far too many other active WIPs to add it to the list. There's a few good reasons why I discontinued it, anyways... intimidation over the huge surge of attention it was getting back in 2019, some rude comments from overzealous Spinel fans, (I know everyone isn't like this, but a certain segment of the Spinel side of the SU fandom kinda burned me over time, hhh), and a future chapter containing a sensitive topic that I wasn't in a good headspace to write about at the time.

But! Anyways! Below the cut is all the existing material I have for Hollowed Moon past chapter 14, consisting of a mixture of descriptions, sketchy dialogue, and prose. It honestly feels nice to finally be able to put this story to an official rest.

__

Chapter 15

“I... I saw her.”

“Who-?”

“I saw Pink Diamond. I saw you, in this exact garden, in a dream. I- it was like I was experiencing everything through her. She explained your game, tapped your nose and told you to smile, then warped away—“

“That’s it, that’s what happened, almost exactly! But how could you even know that, I never—“

“I don’t know,” they blurt out. “I have empathic abilities, and sometimes that makes dreaming a little weird, but I have no idea how or why I saw any of this.”

[Pause for Stevonnie to think]

“Spinel, I’m so, so sorry,” they whisper brokenly. “But I think... she left you here.”

“What...?”

“She said she’d return, but before she warped away she whispered goodbye, like she didn’t actually intend to make good on that promise. She was lying to you,” they choke out, voice thick.

“No. No,” she says in clear denial, “no she’s not. She can’t be! She told me she’d come back! I can wait! I just have to wait—“

“But she’s not! She... she can’t, because Pink Diamond is gone. She- she was shattered, Spinel. Five thousand years ago, on the Earth. I- I should’ve told you this from the beginning, and I didn’t, and I- I’m so, so sorry—! But she left you behind, and now she’s never coming back.”

[Silence. Tears brim in Spinel’s eyes. Her eyes grow dark, pained, and then she glares at Stevonnie with such venom it almost knocks them backwards in alarm. ]

“NO!” she screams, tears streaming down her faded pink cheeks.

[She tears her feet up from the roots and runs away, using her arms like an orangutan to vault herself forward super fast so Stevonnie can’t catch her.]

___

Chapter 16

AN: Content warning for self-shattering attempt. Part of the reason why I had to stop writing this story at the time. I considered pushing the plot another way, but it didn't feel authentic to how I believed this scenario would play out for Spinel when she didn't have a direct target for her anger. Without someone to actively be jealous and upset AT, I could only imagine her breaking inwards instead of outwards, feeling that she's utterly failed in her life's purpose. Nothing more than a description for this chapter... and it'd be a short one.

[When Stevonnie finds her, she’s smashing her fists against her gem in her sheer anguish. She’s already cracked it. She’s glitching. It looks terribly painful. She’s about to strike her gem again when Stevonnie intervenes.]

___

Chapter 17

[Post timely intervention. Spinel is still cracked at this moment, though... her form glitching as she cries.]

“I was... her best friend,” she cries, fat, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was supposed to make her happy! Why wasn’t she happy? Why didn’t she come back?“

[Spinel reasoning that maybe if Pink came back for her, she wouldn’t have been shattered in the first place]

“What did I do wrong?” she whispers hoarsely, gazing pleadingly into Stevonnie’s eyes. “Wha- what am I doing? Why do I wanna hurt myself so badly?”

“Shh, now,” they reply, tears of their own brimming at the crease of their eyes, and pull Spinel’s head to their chest. “I’ve got you...”

___

Chapter 18

They know their throat is tight, and their voice scratchy. They know they’ve never sung this song in front of another living being, since it’s something personal they composed alone on one of their late nights back on Earth, thinking about all the difficult days Steven and Connie have had to face over the months. Pair this with their active crying, and there’s no way their singing will be anything pretty.

But pretty doesn’t matter right now.

Stevonnie opens their lips, and— clutching the broken hearted Gem close, rhythmically rocking with her back and forth— lets the wandering melody emerge from within.

“I guess I have to face That in this awful place I shouldn’t show a trace Of doubt...”

“But pulled against the grain I feel a little pain That I would rather do Without...”

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

[Hoarse, Spinel starts singing with them.]

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

“Free, free Free...”

“From here...”

[Stevonnie holds her tight while crying, their tears healing it back up.]

___

Chapter 19

AN: Don't have anything but a single bit of dialogue in this chapter note- I'm assuming I intended it as being a good few hours after the events of chapters 16-18... when Spinel has calmed down a little and has a moment to reflect on the upsetting news she's just received.

“I think... I always knew,” she says, voice hoarse. “In a way. It was so obvious how she felt about me.

___

Chapter ?

AN: From here on out, the plot hasn't been split into individual chapters.

[At some point shortly after chapter 19, Lars and his crew locate Stevonnie in the garden, and pick them and Spinel up. The next few bits of dialogue and description takes place on the ship.]

Rutile twins: “I haven’t heard of Spinels being produced in over five millennia.” “Me neither!”

Rhodonite: “Yeah, I heard they stopped making them entirely after the rebellion on Pink’s colony.”

[A bit of overwhelming conversation later, no one really noticing Spinel's conflicted emotional response to so many Gems hovering around her at once.]

Padparadscha: “I predict that you’re both going to make Spinel feel very uncomfortable aboard this ship.”

Rhodonite: “I’m sorry, we don’t exactly meet new Gems every century.”

Rutile twins: “Yes!” “It’s just been us until we met our captain!”

Fluorite: “Our new huuuuman friend helped us escape the tunnels on Homeworld. Now... we’re slooowly making our way back... to Earth.”

Spinel: “Earth?? You’re going to Pink’s world? But why? I heard she... was shattered.”

___

[Spinel feeling a sense of kinship with the idea that there’s other Gems who didn’t serve their rightful purpose and are now escaping their life on Homeworld to be free of that. Because now, without her Diamond, since she was unable to keep her happy, she’s an Off Color too. She failed her given purpose same as them.]

[Discussion of Earth, and the rebellion, and how there’s Gems living free there. And how Pink’s colony was siphoning life away, and that’s what these Gems were fighting to protect. Stevonnie points out all the plants and wildlife that used to live in the garden, and asks her if she felt happier when it was around. Spinel says yes. Stevonnie says that this is what the Diamonds are destroying, with each lifeless colony they forge. Everywhere they go, dead wildlife lies in their wake.]

Spinel: “I... guess I never thought of it that way.”

[(Stevonnie adds...) And while they’re very sorry for the personal connection there, and can’t imagine how painful that must be, that’s why Pink Diamond was shattered.]

[Spinel is given an open choice... Lars gives the invitation to stay with him and the Off Colors, and Stevonnie offers for her to come with them back to Earth. It's not a hard decision for her in the end, though. She's always dreamed of seeing what was once Pink’s planet, ever since she heard the Diamonds bequeath it to her.]

___

Stevonnie: “Okay, so… before we go, I need to be honest with you about something." [deep breath] "I’m actually a fusion of two separate people who are close friends. You... know what fusion is, right?”

Spinel: “Duh, o’course! What, d’ya think I was made yesterday?”

[...]

Stevonnie: “But even with that, I can’t be together as me all the time. Steven and Connie, the two who come together to form me... they love hanging out with each other so much, but they also have their own lives! Other friends, other hobbies, their own families. They still talk when they’re apart, but they know it’s okay to do things alone, too. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Spinel: [shakes head no] “No...?”

Stevonnie: [sighs] “I understand you’ve been left behind. Believe me, I know how bad that feels. So the last thing I wanna do is make you think I’m doing that too.”

Spinel: “Y-you— you’re going away?” Stevonnie: “Unfusing, yes.” Spinel: “But Stevonnie, you—“ Stevonnie: “Spinel. No matter what, you are my friend. Steven and Connie consider you a friend, too. And my hope is that you’ll keep making a whole bunch more on Earth, so you’ll always have people around who know and love you. But that can’t always be me, okay?“

___

[At home... on Earth. There's a bit of a close call for Pearl when Spinel arrives, and recognizes her as Pink's second pearl. This is news for Garnet and Amethyst and Steven, the first of which had somewhat suspected that Pearl used to be in the diamonds' service, but never knew for sure. Pearl, of course... can't say much on this due to her gag order... not that anyone else knows about that yet... but does manage a very concise and PD=RQ free explanation about her past in Pink's court, and her transition towards being a Crystal Gem:]

Pearl: “Rose Quartz set me free, and I’ve been a part of the rebellion ever since.”

___

[At some point between the last scene and the next, mention how Spinel had a bit of a relapse... she ended up poofing herself, and reformed differently. A little bit closer to the smudged mascara and frayed pigtails look of canon, but no rotated heart. Unlike in canon, she has a solid support system amongst the Crystal Gems, and she's working hard to recover from the heartbreak of Pink's abandonment.]

___

[Final scene is set post A Single Pale Rose. Steven and Connie fuse, and Stevonnie goes to find Spinel to check in on how she's taking the news. The final line of the fic is as follows:]

Spinel: “I know you’re not her, not really. And I know you’ll always be a better person than she ever was. But in some silly cyclical way... back in that garden... it’s almost like Pink came back for me after all.”

#su #spinel #stevonnie #su fanfiction #my fic stuff #hollowed moon #this isn't REALLY 'my fic stuff' since it's unwritten but #i think it deserves to be here. this is the full unfinished plot of a fic that got the most exposure of anything i've ever shared in fandom

[compassion-of-a-lightner]

I’ve never shared my writing like this before, but I figured since tumblr now hates links I might as well?

This is my fanfiction on Deltarune.

It’s centered around the scene in which Susie rushes into Noelle’s room during the Snowgrave route.

The first and last lines of the piece are what she says directly before and after exiting the room as it's meant to convey that short visit- with creative liberties on the time-scale obviously.

No content warnings

2,845 words

Romance | Hurt/comfort

Exists on Fanfiction dot net and Ao3, links available through my #my work tag, this is a mirror upload.

“Susie’s Ultimate Healing Technique”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself!” Susie growled as she whipped open the door and slammed it between them.

With a huff, she glared behind her before taking a deep breath to center herself.

‘Keep your cool. They can pay later, for whatever the hell their problem is.’

She glanced to her hand as a familiar sensation began to flood past her anger, “Fuck.” she muttered under her breath.

That door had been locked.

‘It’d hurt less to kick it to scrap.’ she grinned as she clenched her fist, looking up to the darkness around her. ‘But then I couldn’t slam it in their stupid faces, heh. Good riddance. Now if they don’t mind, I’ve got to be the hero this time around.’ she thought smugly.

The room lay dim; Most things blur into their surroundings unless you squint through the shade. While trying to discern if any of the shapes were Noelle, Susie felt another familiar sensation.

It was cold.

She exhaled and watched her breath disappear into the darkness before her.

Freezing.

Susie furrowed her brow, this didn’t make sense.

There was no one here. She expected to find the Queen’s minions surrounding Noelle or perhaps an elaborate cage trapping her, instead it was just another simple room.

As the thought left her she spotted exactly what she was looking for shifting just across the room.

In the center of the back wall sat a bed under a windowsill. Curtains drawn allowing the night sky to pour in and providing a means to see part of the room.

Sitting on the bed was a shivering pile of blankets, was it Noelle? Whoever it was sat bundled up, staring out the window.

Susie couldn’t help but smile as she took a step closer only to be interrupted by a quiet demand.

“Leave.” came a cold voice. It seemed to quake in their throat as it came, but it was more than enough to freeze Susie in her boots. It made her feel strange.

Her smile left, replaced with uncertainty and concern.

“I said LEAVE.” The voice shouted, straining itself as a piercing wind carried hail from the voice’s perch towards Susie.

Holding her arms up to shield herself from the sudden cold, Susie played off instinct. “Hey! What the hell!?” she shouted, pulling her axe out of the darkness and striking a menacing stance, “You cold bastard, where’s Noelle? Hand her over!” she snarled, showing her teeth at the opportunity to fight.

The wind billowed frantically before suddenly stopping in its tracks, hail falling to the ground with a shatter.

The figure didn’t move.

Susie stomped her foot as she took a step closer, “Do you HEAR me, asshole? Where is she?!”, her voice carried a threatening hiss.

Silence. A momentary stalemate.

The figure shifted. Susie could just barely make out that they were tightening the blankets around themselves. It was ignoring her. This pissed her off.

Her lips curled back to bare her full toothy maw once more as her patience ran thin.

Her eyes hinged on going fully rabid as she stared through the figure, “What’s wrong? Freeze your mouth shut with that attack?” She slammed the head of her axe into the ground before her and with a sinister snicker she continued, “You know what? I’m actually glad one of you assholes showed up to ambush me. I’ll show you what a real monster looks like in the dark!” she growled as the sound of snapping wood accompanied her axe being pulled out of the flooring.

She took another weighted step closer as she readied her axe for whatever their next attack would be, only to be frozen solid not by the figure’s magic but by the noise they began to hear.

She blunk, dumbfounded, before realization set in.

They were crying. They had always been crying.

Susie dropped her axe which quickly disappeared into the darkness below as she took another step forward, “Noelle?” she called to the figure, scratching the back of her head in embarrassment.

“I, uh, that wasn’t me yelling at you, I uh… So... ice magic, huh?” Susie tried to calm things down after her blunder.

‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, idiot, of course she knows magic here, we didn’t exactly knock now did we, of course this happens.’ Her mind raced.

“Susie?” Noelle asked, voice threatening to crack. She fumbled with the blankets and pulled her head out. Her face was drained of color, and her eyes looked tired, even still they widened in surprise when she managed to see her guest.

“You… You shouldn’t see me like this, after all that’s happened… Why are you here?” She was shaking. Something about the question and seeing her like this hurt Susie, it didn’t feel right.

“I’m here for you?” Susie spoke, unable to think as she walked closer and placed a hand on the bedpost. “Why wouldn’t I be? You need help, so uh, here I am. Right?”

‘Is that weird, I made it weird.’

“I mean, unless you don’t… I don’t really see anyone trying to come after you now that I mention it...” Susie was beginning to reconsider barging in.

Noelle furrowed her brow and stared harshly into the pillow beside Susie, deep in thought. “I think I see...” she said as she rubbed the tenderness of her eyes one by one.

The cold seemed to ease as Noelle relaxed ever so slightly out of her stressed headspace; As the room warmed, so did her complexion.

Susie fidgeted with the bedpost waiting on the pondering deer. “And? So are you coming along or?” she couldn’t help but sound concerned at Noelle’s tone.

Noelle didn’t seem to hear her question, instead closing her eyes and nodding hard as if to convince herself of the validity of her own thoughts. Susie raised an eyebrow in confusion as the silence pushed on a moment more.

Noelle opened her eyes with a new look of self-assurance as she confidently locked eyes with Susie.

She smiled, blushing with all the red her body could manage. Susie was mildly taken aback by this change.

“Uh… is something on my face?” Susie asked, a touch embarrassed all of a sudden.

And then, all at once, Noelle grabbed Susie’s hand off the bedpost, pursed her lips, and pulled her as hard as she could towards her.

Noelle clenched her eyes shut in excitement while Susie’s own went hide as she toppled over the side of the bed...

And directly into a painful headbutt as Susie flailed at the surprise attack.

Susie yelped in surprise, frantically rubbing at her nose and blinking away the sting.

“What the hell was that!” Susie yelled, baring her claws as she shouted all while kicking herself back up and out of the bed. Her eyes were watering from the impact which prompted her returning to rubbing her snout.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just, I thought it wouldn’t, I thought I would-” Noelle was flustered beyond reason and struggling to collect herself, all while a red mark began to become clear on her forehead.

Susie noticed and quickly pulled her hands from her still sore nose and into her pockets to hide how much that hurt, “It’s fine… just what were you trying to do.” She couldn’t help but stare, “That’s gonna leave a mark you know?”

Noelle stiffened up when she realized she was being stared at and slowly reached a hand up to her forehead before reeling back at the immediate soreness of it, “Ow.” she winced. “That’s not supposed to hurt…”

“How would headbutting someone not hurt?” Susie asked, squinting at her.

“I mean, this is all a dream, it’s not supposed to hurt!” Noelle explained like it was the most obvious thing to her.

“I mean it’s the only way you’d come to rescue me, it’s the only thing that explains this whole weird world… it’s the only thing that explains away…” Noelle frantically explained before cutting herself off, she turned towards the window as she struggled to finish what she sought to say.

Susie looked out the window alongside her. Something seemed wrong. Really wrong. And the fear in her eyes before she turned away stuck in Susie’s mind.

‘I… what do I say?... Maybe.’ Susie begged to understand.

“So… you realized it was a dream and thought you would attack me?” Susie interrupted the newfound silence, still struggling to grasp the fear she’d just caught a glimpse of.

Noelle blushed, “Well, no, I mean, usually when I dream of you it’d go… differently.” her voice became barely a whisper towards the end.

‘She liked that distraction, maybe it’s best she thinks it’s a dre- WAIT WHAT’ Susie blunk again and again as the cogs turned through every doubt she had built up inside. She nervously cleared her throat.

“You… tried to KISS me?!” she shouted in exasperation as she replayed the attempt over and over in her head.

Noelle tossed the blanket back over her head, “SHUT UP. THIS DREAM JUST ISN’T GOING RIGHT IS ALL.”

“You have to tell me, do you usually kiss me? Do you dream of me often? What’s it like?” Susie excitedly asked for details and quickly felt embarrassed as she heard what she was saying.

“No I don’t usually kiss you, are you kidding! But I thought, maybe, I’d try something special this time, to make up for all of this.” Noelle managed from under the blanket.

‘What the hell happened here...’ Susie worried with a sigh. Grabbing the edge of the blanket and softly pulling it off of her, she asked, “So, do you really think the real Susie wouldn’t come for you?”

Noelle gave a pitiful laugh, “You know as well as I do that she wouldn’t. I’m invisible to her. And how do I change that? I’m too scared to try.”

Susie gave a knowing look, “Ah. I see. She, I mean, I scare you.”

Noelle jolted up, “No! I mean, yes, but you’re a good kind of scary. I... like that about you.”

Susie rubbed the back of her head with a mix of disappointment and relief, “I... think I’m flattered?”

“Heh! If only the real Susie felt that way…” Noelle sadly chimed in.

She let out a sigh, and climbed out of bed. “This isn’t what I had in mind.”

Susie cocked her head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this is all a dream.” She took a deep breath, “That means none of this happened, that’s good. That’s good.” Everything felt a little colder all of a sudden. “But I wanted to make it better. To make something special happen. Something I’d like to remember when I wake up, something to help forget the rest and…” Noelle rubbed her forehead, “That didn’t work.”

She idly kicked her legs off the side of the bed, swaying them forward and back as she stared into the seemingly endless darkness of the floor below, “I think I just tried to push things too fast, even if just in my head... it wasn’t going to work out.”

Susie looked away, “I mean, it’s still your dream. Why not try again?”

Noelle let out a soft giggle before admitting, “Honestly? I’m petrified!” she said rather happily, “I couldn’t possibly!”

“Strange thing to be happy about.” Susie muttered, her disappointment peeking through.

“I mean I want to, but it’s just… it feels nice to be scared of something good for a change.” She more quietly explained.

Susie scratched at her cheek in thought.

“I just… wish this wasn’t so much of a nightmare. That I didn’t leave with so much regret and…so hurt.” Another cold breeze. Susie eyed the window as the pane frosted over.

“I wish more of this dream was like this… good. And with you.” She admitted, a warmth to her sincerity. Susie closed her eyes in thought.

“Noelle?” she offered, causing Noelle to perk up out of curiosity. “Would you tell me what happened tonight if I asked?”

Noelle immediately turned away, Susie following suit, sighing as she idly paced along with her thoughts. “I see.” Susie said, an understanding behind her words as she thought to herself for a moment.

“You’re just a dream.” Noelle said quietly.

“That doesn’t mean I want you to hurt. It doesn’t mean I couldn’t care.” Susie said just as quietly, a bit hurt.

Quiet. Tense, stiff, quiet.

“Maybe.” Noelle whispered. “But…”

“But not now.” Susie finished, prompting Noelle to nod in agreement.

“Maybe.. Maybe I’ll show up in another dream. If that would be better.” Susie continued.

Again, she nodded.

It fell quiet again, but it felt less tense now, if only just.

Susie took a breath. “I’ll make sure you wake up soon.” she said as confidently as she could manage. “I'll take down the Queen and get you out of this dream. You just stay here and rest, okay?” Susie placed her hand on the door and awaited a response.

Noelle locked eyes with her and tried to offer a sincere smile, but the both of them could see straight through it.

Susie took a step closer, and unable to break eye contact, so did Noelle. Once more, and again, until there were no steps to be taken. Susie silently embraced the smaller deer, and held her as tightly as she could manage. She tried to think of something to say, but all that came was the need to show she cared. That it would be okay.

Noelle stiffened at her touch at first, momentarily unsure if this was real or not.

After a moment of accepting Susie’s warmth, she decided that she didn’t care if this was real at the moment.

She murmured quietly into Susie’s arm, “Thank you.” before burying her face into Susie’s chest and squeezing her back as tightly as her shaken body could.

Susie began to idly stroke Noelle’s hair as question after question bombarded her mind. All of them left unanswered as she couldn’t focus on any of them with someone this important in her grasp.

‘Can’t this be real?’ ‘Will she even remember this?’ ‘She likes me?’ ‘Me…?’ ‘She seems so hurt.’ ‘What hurt her?’ ‘I will hurt them.’ ‘It’s going to be okay.’ ‘I’ll make it okay.’ ‘I want to… if there’s anything I can do.’

Before the moment could allow her a moment to think on any of these, she had just one concern playing loudly in her mind.

Noelle began to cry. Buried into her, with shaky breaths, she was crying. Just like when Susie first arrived.

Susie opened her mouth but no words came, again and again, nothing escaped. Uncertain of what to do and glaring into the dark, she did all that was left. She hugged with all her might and let her own tears fall where they may.

They stood like that, as two tearful, caring souls allowing themselves to feel.

Until the tears simply ran out.

Noelle hiccuped into her, causing Susie to give her a light squeeze, and things fell much more quiet.

As the moment hung on its edge Susie took to softly tracing lines along Noelle’s back. Jagged rows, small circles, occasionally a heart which she hoped Noelle didn’t mention.

Her friends were waiting. So was the Queen, the fountain, and a whole world, all waiting on this moment to draw to an end. And Susie decided they could all wait as long as it took.

“Noelle?” Susie whispered as she pushed through her now cracked voice. She ran her hand softly down her back and listened as intently as she could but there was no response beyond her quiet breathing.

She let out a hum as she traced her back once more and got her response as the smaller girl’s arm slowly slid off and to the side.

She had fallen asleep; The day had worn her down and letting it all out had drained the last of her strength. She was out of it, no longer standing at all as she was being held aloft by Susie alone.

Something inside Susie felt at peace knowing this, as she picked the sleeping deer up in her arms and began carrying her to the bed.

Gently, she laid her down and carefully laid the crumpled blanket from the floor over top of her.

Susie looked at her face and saw Noelle the tiredest she’d ever seen her. But she also saw a small, unmistakable smile that told her she’d done well.

“It was just a dream.” she whispered, half hurt that it had to be. “But it mattered to me.” she said with a nod before turning to the door.

She placed a hand on the door, took one last look at the sleeping figure behind her, then took a deep breath to confront her friends.

Remembering herself, she quickly reached up and rubbed her face frantically to hide any sign of what happened, and with all the false vigor she could manage she swung open the door.

“Alright let’s go!”

#Deltarune #Susie deltarune #Noelle deltarune #Noelle Holiday #My posts #My work

[babyangellee]

“Save People”

Summary- The Reader must make a difficult decision with the help of a familiar face

Warning- None

Word Count - 1.7k

(AN// Can we all agree to pretend that Hotch and Morgan never left and the team never changed because I imagine like season 13 Reid so let's just go with that??)

[Part 1] [Part 3]

Part Two of Four to "Please Find Me"

JJ's heels clicked down the hallway as she sped walked towards the frantic man yelling at the nurse who was trying to calm him down.

"Spence!" JJ yelled, getting his attention. He saw her and quickly rushed over to her bombarding her with questions about your current state. "She's in surgery right now. They won't tell us anything." She gently placed her hand on Spencer's shoulder in an effort to comfort him.

"How bad is it? Derek wouldn't say over the phone." Spencer asked new tears forming in his already bloodshot and puffy hazel eyes as he stared at the shorter blonde woman. She sighed and Spencer knew it was bad. He didn't need to be a profiler to know that. JJ had led him and Penelope to the waiting room where the rest of the team was.

Hotch had ordered Spencer to stay back at Quantico with Garcia because he wasn't in the right headspace to be out in the field. As soon as he got the call from Morgan, Penelope and he raced to the hospital needing to know what was going on as soon as possible.

Spencer was greeted by the rest of his team when he walked into the waiting room and they all gave him sad eyes.

"Has anyone called her mom?" Emily asked, looking around the group once everyone was sat down. They all looked at each other before Garcia finally reached into her purse for her phone. JJ, Spencer, and Garcia all had your mother's phone number for the same reason they all had a key to your apartment.

About an hour later your mom ran through the hospital hallways looking for the group of agents. She finally spotted Spencer and immediately hugged him.

"How is she? Have they told you anything yet?" She asked, running a shaky hand through her hair, worry evident all over her face and in her voice. "I'm sorry Liz they haven't said anything yet," Spencer shook his head before walking her over to a seat and sitting across from her.

"Ya know Y/N was also really weird when it came to dating." She spoke up after a few hours of silence. She leaned forward and grabbed hold of Spencer's hand and looked to your team members, they all stared back intently waiting for her to continue knowing that she was about to tell a story.

"I remember one night when she was thirteen years old, she had walked into my room late at night and curled into bed with me. She had said to me 'Mom I'm never going to say I love you if I don't mean it. I'm saving it' I chuckled softly thinking it was crazy that she thought that. That she could save those three little words for just one person. But after her dad left she built walls and never let anyone in." Liz sighed looking around at everyone and smiled before continuing.

"She stuck to it. She would go on dates with boys in high school and she'd just known after one night. She would come home from everyone and tell me that they weren't for her. She didn't want to waste those words or her time on just anyone. For a while, I thought she was going to be single forever." She paused laughing slightly and everyone else chuckled except Spencer. "Then one night she called me at like 2 AM and I could practically feel the smile through the phone. She said to me, 'Mom I found him. The one I've been saving those words for' She knew after one date that this person was worthy of those words. I remember she laughed a little before continuing on. She had said 'I know you think I'm crazy but I promise you, he's the one. His name is Spencer.'' Everyone remained silent. Like children when you've reached the middle of a book and they were waiting for you to continue. Spencer just looked down with tears in his eyes.

"The first time she brought you over to meet me I knew she was serious. I had never met any of her dates. But you weren't just a date anymore. You were her boyfriend." Your mom squeezed his hands as she looked him in the eyes. She then looked around to your entire team before finishing her little story. "I don't think I have ever seen one human love another human as much as she loves you, Spencer. She loves you so much that she is way too stubborn to die on you. She waited 25 years to find you. " With that, she stood up and hugged him again. Everyone had tears in their eyes at that point and just prayed that you were okay.

****

You shot up looking around you. You noticed the familiar blue comforter and matching pillowcase that you hadn't seen in a while. As your eyes scanned the room you looked to see the familiar lilac walls with band posters and photos everywhere. You instantly knew where you were and quickly climbed out of bed. You ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. You saw a tall, muscular man standing by the stove with his back turned to you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you swallowed thickly.

"Dad?" You asked quietly as the man slowly turned around with a smile on his face.

'Princess, how are you? I haven't seen you since your graduation." He walked towards you engulfing you in a hug. Tears pricked your eyes as you tightly hugged back. You loved your dad, he was like your best friend. After your parents got divorced you spent weekends and summers with him. After you graduated high school you moved across the country to get a psychology degree and apply for the FBI. It had been close to eleven years since you last saw him.

"Dad am I-" You couldn't bring yourself to finish the sentence. He shook his head no, understanding what you were going to ask. "But right now you need to decide what your future is going to be, baby doll. You can either stay here or go back." He said grabbing your hand and leading you out of the kitchen and towards the front door. He opened the front door and instead of being met with outside, you were met with your apartment you shared with Spencer.

You looked around and noticed Spencer on the couch staring out the window at a sunset. You looked back at your dad before he nodded and you slowly walked towards Spencer. You sat down next to him and put your hand in the empty space between you. He placed his on top of you and looked at you smiling.

"Hi" You breathed out with tears in your eyes and you leaned forward and hugged him with all of your might. You hadn't seen him in days and you thought you would never see him again. Sure this was a figment of your imagination but it was good enough for now. "I've missed you." He said quietly before releasing from the hug. You let go as well and just continued to stare at him. "Yea, I missed you too." You softly chuckled, brushing the tears away. grabbing his hand again.

Before you could say anything else your dad placed a hand on your shoulder and you looked at him. "Come on, there is someone else waiting on us." He said as Spencer stopped smiling and looked back at the window. You got up from your seat taking one last look at him before following your dad.

"If you choose to go back he'll be waiting for you. All of us will." He smiled as you continued to walk out of your apartment door and into a park. "But if you stay, he'll be waiting for you." He said pointing to a teenage boy sitting on a swing with his back to you. More tears formed in your eyes as the realization hit you of who was sitting there.

Your twin brother sat kicking his feet into the wood chips underneath the swing as you approached him.

"Liam!" You cried running towards him causing him to turn his head to see you before he got up meeting you halfway. As soon as he was an arm's length away you immediately engulfed him in a hug. "I'm so sorry! It's my fault. If I hadn't stayed home sick that day from school I would have been with you an none of this would have happened." You sobbed into his shoulder and he just held onto you.

"Y/N stop. It's not your fault. How were you supposed to know? But look at you. You save people for a living now." He tried to soothe you. "I did it for you. I wanted to help prevent what happened to us from happening to other families." You said releasing from the hug but holding his hand as you walked back to the swings that he was sitting on originally.

"I know and I am so proud of you. You have helped save so many people." He beamed looking at you with so much love in his eyes. "You can't stay. So many more people need you. And you need to save more people. Spencer, Mom, Dad, your team, they all need you." He reached over and squeezed your hand as hard as he could before standing up.

"Go live your life. Save people." He gave you one last look before walking away. You looked back to see your dad was gone as well and you were alone in the park.

******

"We're losing her!" The surgeon yelled starting chest compressions and one of the nurses placed an oxygen mask over your mouth and nose.

"Wait! We have a sinus rhythm!" Another nurse yelled watching your vitals on the monitor. The surgeon stopped chest compressions as you started breathing on your own again.

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[meltwonu]

s n a k e     |     e y e s     [chapter 5]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; possessive!jihoon, dom!jihoon, marking, choking, restraints, dirty talk, impregnation kink, cream pie w/ minor cumplay ! whew! 🤪🥴🤤 also this snake-hybrid au isn’t following any of the blurbs/drabble game posts that precede it!! I know I did some drabble posts with snake hoonie but this doesn’t follow the same timeline as those otherwise it wouldnt make sense 🤣 kfhkdh also i do be laughin that this gets posted after the svt anniversary video and gose where jihoon was chan and teasing him bc 🥴 anyway! this is a long ass chapter and almost 6k words so strap in for the ride yall! 💕💕💕💕 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - x - x - x - x - x

“Are you mad?”

“What? No, just… I mean, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

You watch Jihoon from across the table at brunch as he picks at his food quietly. Minghao had texted again asking if lunch was still on for next week and you had asked Jihoon as soon as the two of you sat down to eat.

“If you’re uncomfortable with Minghao and Chan coming, it’s okay. You can tell me, Jihoon.” He sits across from you with a pout on his lips. 

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable I’m just… shy. But it’s okay. Because I… If they’re your friends then they must be nice, right? I’m just shy around new people.”

“Okay, but like, if things feel off… Just let me know?” Jihoon nods, taking a bite of his food. It falls into a comfortable silence while the two of you eat; enjoying each other’s company after last night. The memories flood your headspace in an instant. Right, you needed to talk to Jihoon about that.

“Hey, Jihoon?”

“Hmm?”

“About last night…”

“Oh. Right. Did you hate it? I can stop if you don’t like it. It doesn’t make sense if we don’t benefit from it.” A flush covers your skin almost immediately as you place your fork down on your plate.

“I didn’t hate it… But I’m just curious… If--I mean, I don’t want you to think this is just a physical thing, I guess?” This time it’s Jihoon’s turn to blush as he meets your shy stare.

“I… I mean we’re still getting to know each other, right? And I like you. You’re nice and you care about me. We can just… think of it as the physical part of getting to know each other.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking about his words. You clearly like liked Jihoon too and you didn’t want to take things too far too fast. But you also knew that he was aware of the sexual tension floating around the air now and the two of you couldn’t really go back to ‘normal’ after last night.

“Okay, yeah, that makes sense. I just don’t want to… go too fast, y’know? You’ve only been here a few weeks...”

“That’s true. But also in fairness, this is the longest I’ve been away from the adoption center so it seems to be going well if you ask me.”

Damn. He was right and you hadn’t even realized it. Jihoon had already been with you for over a month and you hadn’t even noticed the time passing. You feel your heart swelling at the thought.

“Huh. You’re right. I guess we really do work well together, huh?”

“Ah, ngh, Ji--Jihoon w--wait, my phone’s ringing!” 

Jihoon’s grip on your thighs tighten, his blonde hair peeking from between your legs. Your hands brace yourself on the table where you calmly had brunch just 3 hours ago. Jihoon had clearly still been hungry.

“You can answer it?” He immediately laps at your clit after his comment, fingertips curling inside your pussy as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “I--I ca--can’t!” He smiles against you before applying pressure to the nub with his tongue. “Uh-kay them, dom’t?” Jihoon’s voice is muffled against your skin, a whimper escaping your lips at Jihoon’s unhelpfulness.

“Ji--Jihoon you’re so m-mean!” You whine.

You watch Minghao’s name disappear from your phone screen next to you on the table, a moan on your lips when Jihoon’s fingers curve up into your g-spot. ��Oh, f-fuck, right t-there!” You tangle one of your hands in his hair, tugging him closer as you grind yourself against his tongue and fingers.

Minghao [3:14PM]: I tried calling but you’re probably busy?

Minghao [3:14PM]: Chan and I are free on Wednesday, lmk if it works for you.

You can barely catch the words on your phone screen before Jihoon sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Ugh, fuck, Jihoon I’m--” Your eyes snap shut almost immediately; thighs clamping shut around Jihoon’s head as you cum hard. He scissors his fingers inside of you, tongue still lapping at your clit until you start to come down from your high.

Your limbs feel boneless once your orgasm fades off, shaky legs unclamping as Jihoon slides his fingers from your pussy straight to his mouth. Letting your legs down as you sit up to catch your breath, you watch him still on his knees in front of you as he cleans your wetness from his fingertips.

“God, Ji. That was Minghao!” Jihoon pops his fingers from his mouth, getting up from his kneeling position.

“What did he want?”

“They’ll be over Wednesday so we have some work to do!”

“Okay but can we cuddle first? We can figure out the rest later.”

Over the next couple of days leading up, you and Jihoon take the time to clean up the apartment and buy some ingredients for lunch. And since Chan was a bunny hybrid, he was strictly vegetarian which meant you and Jihoon had tried to cook a few recipes to decide what was best.

“Are they gonna come soon?” Jihoon munches on a stray piece of carrot, watching as you finish up in the kitchen. “Mmhmm, but knowing Minghao they might be a little late.”

You and Minghao had agreed on 12:00PM and it was currently 12:04PM; If you were lucky he’d be here by 12:45PM at the earliest. Jihoon helps you tidy up the kitchen once you’re finished, flopping onto the sofa once he’s done. And he won’t admit it but he’s nervous; eyes fixated on the ceiling as he twiddles his thumbs and sighs.

“You okay, Ji?”

“Mm? Yeah… Haven’t really met another hybrid since Mingyu and Seokmin so s’kinda weird. I’m okay though.” You start to make your way to the sofa but the doorbell rings just as you reach Jihoon. You shoot him an encouraging smile, running your fingers through his hair really quick before turning and making your way to the door.

When you swing it open, you're met with Minghao’s cheery face and Chan inquisitive one. In actuality, you’d only ever seen Chan in photos and you can’t help but immediately gush at how cute he is; completely ignoring Minghao’s presence once you take note of Chan’s cute bunny ears atop his head.

“Oh my god, you are just… So cute!”

You refrain from touching the cute caramel coloured bunny ears, noticing they match the colour of his hair.

“Come in! Jihoon’s in the living room!” Chan flashes you a sweet smile as Minghao raises an eyebrow at you. “You didn’t even say ‘hi’ to me. Rude!” You laugh at Minghao’s comment, giving them enough space to enter your apartment.

“Sorry, I’ve just never met Chan before. He’s cuter in person so I was distracted!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, just tell me you’re tired of me, you don’t have to lie!”

“‘Hao! You know you’re my best friend but Chan’s… cuter. I’m sorry.” Minghao feigns hurt, wiping invisible tears as they stand in your hallway.

Now that you think of it, you weren’t sure how Chan and Jihoon were going to get along, if at all. It’d slipped your mind but technically Jihoon was a predator animal hybrid and Chan was a prey animal hybrid. Your mind blanks at the sudden epiphany as you gulp.

“Um, shall we move to the living room?” The two nod, waiting for you to lead the way. Taking a deep breath, you lead them to the living room; eyes meeting Jihoon’s as he sits up on the sofa.

“Jihoon, I want you to meet my friend Minghao and his hybrid, Chan!” You try to put on a cheery smile but you can already sense that Jihoon’s kind of on edge.

When you’d spoken to Seungcheol about him back at the adoption home, he had said that Jihoon typically got along well with every hybrid at the home so far and that the snake hybrid hadn’t gotten into any fights or threatened any of the other hybrids there. You really had no reason to be that concerned, and plus, Jihoon had already told you he was just shy more often than not.

“Hi, I’m Jihoon. Um… I’m a snake hybrid.” You can see the flush on his face, watching as he licks his lips. It was a nervous habit that you noticed he had. And for a second you worry about if Chan’s also going to be nervous about the snake hybrid but he shoots the shorter male a beaming smile.

“Hi! I’m Chan! I’m a bunny hybrid and I like to sing! And I like to dance, too!” Chan moves forward to shake Jihoon’s hand, backing off slightly when he sees the snake hybrid flinch. “Oh, sorry. Do you not like handshakes?”

“Huh? Oh, no I--I was just surprised that’s all.” Jihoon reaches a hand out instead, a tiny smile on his lips when Chan shakes it. “Oh, whoa, your hands are cold!” Minghao scolds him slightly, giving him a warning look as Chan sheepishly scratches his head. “Sorry, hyung always gets mad at me because sometimes I talk first and don’t think.” Jihoon laughs at this and you feel your heart soaring out of your chest. Thank god!

“It’s okay, I know someone else who’s just like that and he’s a big puppy hybrid named Mingyu.”

You and Minghao fondly watch the two interact, glad that they’d gotten along well despite their differences.

“Okay guys, shall we have lunch?”

Over the course of lunch, Jihoon and Chan talk animatedly about music as you and Minghao delve into your own conversations about work, letting the two hybrids bond. Jihoon calls your name after a while, grabbing your attention.

“Chan and I are done with lunch and I was wondering if it was okay to bring my keyboard out? We were gonna do some music stuff.” Chan looks at you with pleading eyes, lips jutting out in hopes of swaying you.

“Yeah, of course! You didn’t need to ask permission for that.” They smile at you in return, Jihoon getting up to retrieve his keyboard from his work room. “I’ll be right back.”

The three of you watch Jihoon leave the dining area, watching as he disappears into the hallway.

“Jihoon is really nice, Minghao-hyung!” The smile on Chan’s face is sincere, eyes curving into crescents.

“You’re more than welcome to come over anytime you want, Chan! Ji could use the company other than myself sometimes, I think.” You laugh at your own comment, leaning over to pat his head. He leans into your touch, sighing dreamily when you start to itch behind his ears.

“That feels really nice…” You internally scream, face red as a tomato when Chan starts scenting your hand. He rubs his face against your palm, resting his cheek against it. Uh oh, Jihoon’s not gonna like that.

Sure enough, Jihoon round the corner, eyes fixated on the way Chan’s head is on your palm.

“Um…” Minghao’s eyes travel from Chan to Jihoon as he bites his nail; knowing exactly what the snake hybrid is thinking without even saying anything. “Hey, Chan?”

“Mmh?” Minghao clears his voice in a warning manner, Chan’s eyes fluttering open.

“I think Jihoon would like to go do music stuff in the living room now.”

“Oh… okay!”

In an instant, Chan gets up like nothing happened and walks up to Jihoon. “Okay! Let’s get it!” Jihoon on the other hand quietly nods, gesturing to the bunny hybrid to follow him to where he likes to set up by the window. You shoot Minghao a look as you share a sigh. “Shall we clean up?” He nods at you, getting up from his seat as he starts to collect the utensils. And once the two are properly distracted, the two of you move into the kitchen where you start on the dishes.

“I’m really sorry about Chan. He’s normally really up on skinship, I just, I didn’t think--”

“Shh, it’s okay! I don’t think… Jihoon’s mad. Just might be weird to see me around other hybrids since he’s used to it just being me and him.”

The two of you talk in whispers, not wanting the two to hear your conversation about them.

“Trust me, Jihoon is really about skinship too. I know he doesn’t seem like it, but he’s just as bad. Don’t be sorry about Chan.”

Once the two of you finish up cleaning, you make your way to the living room as well. The two hybrids sit in the sun by the window; Jihoon’s music notes out while Chan tries to sing along to one of his melodies.

You decide to sit closer, wanting to be a part of their music session as Minghao grabs a film camera from his bag. “Might as well, Chan likes keeping the photos in his scrapbook.”

“Oh yeah! I put pictures of me and all my friends in it. All the pictures are from hyung, obviously. Now I can add you and Jihoon-hyung to it!”

The four of you sit on the floor in somewhat of a circle, Minghao and Chan next to you as Jihoon sits in front of you. Chan glances at you once before he shifts closer to you.

“Can you pet me again?”

You blush for a moment, but he inches closer again and you feel sort of bad. “He never pets me when he’s “working”...” Chan draws air quotes around the word, a pout on his lips as he looks at Minghao.

“How can I pet you if I’m taking photos? Do I look like I have more than two hands?”

Sighing, you raise your palm, placing it on one of Chan’s fluffy ears as he leans into your touch. You’d have to deal with the repercussions with Jihoon later; you’d just hope he understood.

Chan decides to lay down on the floor, using your thigh as a pillow as he listens to Jihoon play the piano. The snake hybrid plays a familiar song as Chan sings along, voice stable even when he’s laying down. You check Jihoon’s face for any signs he’s mad but he seems to be okay for the most part, albeit a little quieter than usual. He still makes an effort to speak to Chan and engage in conversation, praising his singing voice as Chan blushes.

You play with the soft fur of Chan’s bunny ears, admiring them as you coo.

“Your ears are just so soft! And so cute!” He nuzzles into your leg, scenting you again as Jihoon seems to flinch. “Thanks~ It feels nice when people pet them!”

He stays like that for a while longer, only getting up when he starts to feel sleepy. “Hyung, m’sleepy now…” Minghao sets his camera down, running a hand through his own hair. “Did you want to head back then? We can just come over another day.” Chan nods, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. “I’d like that. Jihoon-hyung is cool and I wanna come see him again!”

Jihoon blushes at the comment, accidentally pressing down the wrong key as he sputters. “Y-yeah, I had f-fun too…”

The four of you get up from the floor, stretching and gathering your belongings. “I’ll show you guys to the door?” Minghao and Chan nod, and to your surprise, Jihoon follows behind as you begin to walk to the doorway. “It was really nice having you guys over! And Chan, you’re always welcome here too. Maybe we can call up ‘Cheol and have him bring Mingyu along as well!” Chan talks animatedly about how much he’d like that, already asking when they could set up a date.

“Alright, slow down, bud. We gotta figure out when ‘Cheol’s got time and we still got work, y’know?”

“Yes, hyung…”

You side hug Minghao, only for Chan to launch himself at you right after. He nuzzles into your neck as he squeezes you tight. “Thank you for having us over today!”

When he lets go of you, he immediately looks to Jihoon, shooting him a smile and waving before running out the door.

“I’m really really sorry about him.”

“It’s okay, get going before he bounces off somewhere. I’ll talk to you later, ‘Hao.”

You shut the door once they leave, breathing a sigh of relief when you turn around.

Jihoon doesn’t visibly look upset, but you can see a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s thinking about it.

“Hey, Ji--”

“Mm, I’m gonna work on some music back in my work room. I got some ideas and I wanna hash them out before I lose the inspiration.” You nod, watching him as he grabs his keyboard from the living room and starts down the hallway.

“I dunno when I’ll be done but if you start on dinner, just call me.”

You leave Jihoon to his work, tidying up around the house before you plop down onto the sofa to watch some TV. You’d figured that Jihoon probably just needed some time to himself to cool off, just in case he really was mad. But at the same time, you were really proud of the snake hybrid for being so civil and kind to Chan despite Chan’s need for skinship.

Not even realizing you fell asleep at some point, you sit up on the sofa groggily. The sky is already dark outside of the windows so you’d fallen asleep for quite a white, shutting off the TV as you stretch. Turning towards the hallway, you wonder what Jihoon is even up to; if he’s even still working on his music.

Getting up from the sofa, you stretch, already walking down the hallway to Jihoon’s workroom. You don’t hear any music and you don’t hear his voice at all but you knock, calling Jihoon’s name softly.

He opens the door gently after a minute or so, sleepy eyes meeting yours. “Oh, did you end up taking a nap too?” You can hear the sleep laced in his voice, reaching up to thread your hand into his blonde locks.

“Yeah, I fell asleep on the sofa. Guess we were more tired than expected, huh? I’m gonna start on dinner, if you wanna come keep me company or something.” He nods, letting you know he’ll be out in a few minutes.

You walk to the kitchen, already grabbing the necessary items to start on dinner. Jihoon joins you a few minutes later, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“You smell like him, y’kno?” Jihoon’s voice is soft but gravelly next to your ear. There’s a certain edge to his voice that has you shuddering against his form. “Do you want to know something?”

“H-Huh?”

“They say that some snakes can smell the fear in their prey. Do you believe it?”

“I--I don’t know?” There’s a soft but warning chuckle by your ear, Jihoon’s arms tightening around your body as he presses harder into you. “I don’t know if I believe it either. But wouldn’t it be an advantage? To know your prey is… submissive.” You can’t even tell what your hands are doing anymore when Jihoon takes the moment to lick the shell of your ear. His lips travel down, nipping the skin of your neck as you let out a shaky breath. You can feel the wetness pooling between your thighs as he continues his path, digging his teeth into the junction of your neck before he sucks the skin into his mouth to soothe it. His hands begin traveling up your torso, cupping your breasts in his palms before harshly squeezing.

“Ji--Jihoon the--the dinner…”

“I think I want to eat something else right now. What do you say?”

You moan in response, grinding back against his hardening cock. “O--okay…”

“Meet me in the bedroom in 5 minutes.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when Jihoon steps back and starts walking towards the bedroom. Okay, maybe he was a tiny bit mad, if not territorial. You wash your hands, forgetting about dinner as you stand in the kitchen thinking about how potentially dominating Jihoon could be. The thoughts alone are enough to have you moaning out loud as you rub your thighs together. You don’t really know why Jihoon has you waiting but you obey his word, giving him a few minutes before heading down the hallway to your bedroom.

Not really knowing what to expect, you open the door to find Jihoon by the foot of the bed, 3 of your panties already torn and on top of the bedsheets. “Sorry, I didn’t really know what to use for restraints so I had to make some. Hope you don’t mind.” You feel a tingly sensation running all over your body; all the way down to the tips of your fingers.

“Um--Uh, no..”

“Good. I figured we could do a little learning exercise. What do you think?”

“I--Sure?” There’s no denying how wet you are just from the energy Jihoon was exuding. “I--I don’t know what to do…”

“I want you to strip and get on the bed for me. And lay back against the pillows.”

You nod, stripping your clothes off slow and quietly before getting on the bed. Jihoon follows suit, stripping himself bare before he joins you, spreading your legs and slotting himself in between. He scoffs slightly when he notices your wet folds. “You know, snakes aren’t typically known for being territorial. But when they feel threatened, they’re more likely to attack.”

Jihoon leans in, his chest meeting yours as he ghosts his lips above your own. “Chan’s a sweet kid. Such a shame he’s so blind with his actions.” You can’t help but gulp and hold your breath, shaky eyes watching Jihoon as he leans towards your neck instead. “Just to make sure we’re on the same page as he is, I guess I should let him know who really belongs to who, hmm?” He chuckles against your skin, leaving love bites blooming in his path. “Ngh, Jihoon…”

Placing your hands on his forearms, he stops and pulls away. “Oh, right. Let’s try these.” He pulls away to grab the torn material on the bed next to you. “I’m sure Seungcheol-hyung’s already told you specifically I’m a ball python hybrid right? And you must know that constrictor types like to, well, constrict their prey.” There’s a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips when he drags the torn fabric up your naked torso. It tickles your skin, a whimper escaping your lips when the soft material ghosts across your nipples.

“But before we get started, I need to know a safe word from you.”

“Um, uh… l--lightning?”

“Interesting choice, but okay. Arms up and towards the headboard.”

He takes his time tying your wrists above you, admiring his work once he deems it’s tight enough and you’re comfortable. “In theory, I’d love for you to touch me but this is a learning experience on predators and prey. You understand, don’t you?”

“Y-yes…”

Jihoon smiles at you, hands gripping your thighs hard. “You smell so good. You’re so fuckin’ wet I can smell just how bad you want me to slide my cock right into that pussy. But you know what else? I can still smell that bunny hybrid on your skin.” You moan at his rough touch, squirming when he presses the shaft of his cock against your wet folds. “I can stand it when you come home smelling like other people because of work, but not this.”

He leans into you again, lips ghosting against your sternum. “I’m just gonna have to get rid of it myself then, huh?” Licking his lips, his tongue peeks from between them, already lapping at your skin. His tongue drags across your torso, flicking at a nipple before he wraps his mouth around it. You arch your back, leaning into his touch. He repeats this on the other side, laughing softly against your skin when he feels you rolling your hips against his. “Already so desperate for my cock? C’mon now, baby.”

The way Jihoon calls you ‘baby’ has your entire body flaring up, the breath getting knocked out of you almost immediately. “I have to mark you up all nice and pretty for your friends to see.”

What you learn in the next 15 minutes is that Jihoon can be mean.

He takes the time to nip at your skin, biting and sucking at it to leave blooming red marks all over your torso and neck. Jihoon takes it even further by skimming across your lower abdomen, sucking love bites onto your hips and even on your thighs. You sob, tugging at the restraints above you as you beg him to do something more.

“I am doing something. I’m marking you.”

“B--But I want… mo--more…”

“Oh? Do predators usually pamper their prey before consuming or attacking them?”

The goosebumps rise on your skin at his comment as you quickly shut your mouth. “That’s what I thought.”

He slots himself back between your legs, wrapping them around his waist.

Jihoon runs his fingers through your folds, watching you squirm as he collects the wetness on his fingertips before inserting two fingers into your pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet, my fingers slid right in.” You sob, eyes wet with unshed tears. The urge to cum is already so strong and Jihoon had barely started. He thrusts his fingers hard and fast, curving them inside of you to hit your g-spot. You can’t help but tighten around his digits, crying out when he adds a third.

You feel impossibly full when he fingers you and you can barely wait until it’s his cock instead. He was definitely much bigger than his fingers and you were slightly worried he was almost too big for you to handle. But he works you open, thumb on your clit while he thrusts his fingers in knuckle deep.

There’s no word of warning before you’re cumming all over his fingers, wrecked sobs the only thing you can manage while he continues to rub at your clit.

“Ji--Jihoon, fuck, I--”

“Mmh, your body is so fucking warm. Your pussy is so wet and hot around my fingers. I need to fuck you now.”

Whimpering, you watch through teary eyes as he brings his fingers to his cock, spreading the precum and your wetness all over the head and shaft of it before positioning himself at your entrance. Your body is still sensitive and your orgasm is still ebbing away when Jihoon starts to push in. 

There’s a slight sting when he does; he was definitely much bigger and wider than his fingers. And without even saying anything, Jihoon caresses your skin, quietly praising you for being so good for him.

“Jihoon, ngh, fu--fuck, your cock feels so good and so big…”

He smiles at the praise, watching as his cock disappears into your pussy. There’s an incoherent babble on your lips when he finally bottoms out; the head of his cock snug against your cervix. “Fuc--Fuck! Please fuck me, please fuck me, please fuck me!”

Jihoon can also be nice.

He starts a slow pace, letting you get used to his size. “Your pussy is so tight and warm around my cock. Fuck, I could stay here forever.” His grip on your thighs tighten, grinding himself into you between thrusts. You can feel yourself start to drool a little at the feeling. If you felt full with his fingers inside of you, this was a completely different high all together. “Yes, yes, yes, fuck! Your cock is so good, I--I can’t…!”

“Yeah? Gonna let me fuck this pussy whenever I want?”

“Yes, god…!”

The sound of your moans and skin slapping are all that can be heard in the bedroom. Jihoon starts a quicker pace, leaning down until he’s nosing at your neck again. He licks at your skin, sucking on the love bites he’d already left and leaving new ones right next to them. You can feel his nails digging into the skin of your thighs, a shaky moan leaving you when you feel him raking them down your skin.

In all honesty, Jihoon never really struck you as someone that’d be into marking. But by now, you realize that it just takes a certain situation for him to really want to.

“Fuck, baby, I hope you’re c-close. I wanna cum in this tight ‘lil pussy.”

“Ngh, pl--please cum in--inside of me… I want your cum…”

He laughs against your skin, pulling away immediately after. “Oh? You want me to cum in your hot ‘lil cunt? Get you nice and full with it? Fuck… fuck! You want me to breed you, don’t you? I’ll fuck my cum into your hot ‘lil pussy and get you nice and pregnant with my babies. Bet you’d love, wouldn’t you? I’ll fill you up with my cum everytime we fuck. Everyone will know you belong to me when they smell you, when they can smell my cum trickling down your thighs. And then I’ll fuck my cum back into you and keep it inside of you ‘til you can’t take anymore of it.”

You could almost die at Jihoon’s words, clenching around his cock impossibly hard. “Yes, g-god, yes please! I want it! I want y-your cum inside of me, please!” You tug on the restraints again, just wanting to touch Jihoon as well. One of his delicate hands travels up your torso, wrapping itself around the column of your neck before pressing down on the sides slightly.

“You’re so filthy. You want me to breed you so bad, don’t you? I can feel you getting so tight around my cock.”

The lightheadedness makes you feel fuzzy, soft moans spilling from you as your eyes flutter shut.

“I want you to cum on my cock, get it nice and wet for me before I cum inside your pussy, baby.”

Jihoon grinds against you, letting the head of his cock push up against your cervix. The feeling is almost too much combined with his hand around your throat and he can see the look on your face that you’re about to cum, thrusting into you hard and fast as you sob; his hand around your throat loosening when he feels your body go rigid.

Your breath stutters and you momentarily black out when you cum, body seizing up at the intensity of your orgasm. Jihoon thumbs your clit as you cry. He continues to thrust into you, groaning at the feeling of your walls throbbing around his cock. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

He grinds against you, muttering incoherent curses under his breath the entire time.

Your head feels fuzzy but you can feel his warm cum inside of you and you can’t tell if it's a hybrid thing or just a Jihoon thing but there is a lot of it. He stays still while the two of you catch your breaths, his cum already trickling down the slides of his cock that’s still sheathed inside of you.

“J-Jihoon my… my arms p-please…” He nods tiredly after a moment, undoing the restraints and checking your wrists for any marks. The skin is red and irritated where you were tugging against them but you seem fine otherwise.

“The redness should go down in a bit.”

He kisses your wrists gently, massaging your tired arms as he brings them to your sides. And as much as he doesn’t want to, he pulls out, watching as globs of cum pour out of your hole.

“Damn, what a waste.” You tiredly laugh at him, bringing a hand up to wipe at your tear-streaked face. “Push my cum out, baby.” There’s a slight blush on your cheeks at his request, but you oblige, the warm substance dripping down onto the sheets underneath you. Jihoon watches it as it drips down, bringing a hand towards it as he scoops it up on his fingertips and presses it back into your pussy.

“Ugh, Jiho--oon~ I c-can’t anymore…”

“Sorry, must be a… hybrid thing maybe.”

“Is the amount of cum also a hybrid thing or?”

Jihoon laughs, sliding off the bed to get a clean cloth. “Dunno. Think that’s just me. I haven’t… been with anyone for a long time so… I mean, I dunno to be honest.” 

 “Oh…”

“Yeah, I dunno! Anyway, should we get cleaned up? I think the bedsheets need to… um, go.”

This time you’re so tired you can’t even begin to sit up in bed. “Ji… do you think you can carry me? I don’t think I can feel my legs.” He nods. “Oh, let me run the bath first so it can warm up.” 

You let him, watching as he disappears into the bathroom. To the best of your ability, you sit up, another gush of cum spilling out of you when you do. 

“Ugh, Ji, if you’re gonna cum this much all the time what are we gonna do about the sheets?”

He licks his lips when he walks back into the bed to come get you, scooping you up into his arms as he brings you to the bathroom with a smirk on his face. 

“I mean, we can fuck, get the sheets dirty and then fuck in the laundry room? Or fuck in the bath like I fully intend to do right now.” 

“Oh my god.” 

#snakehybrid!woozi #woozi smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios #woozi #lee jihoon

[angelisverba]

i’ll hold you so you don’t fall again

in which y/n is just really creative and harry writes erotica under a pseudonym.

pairing: interiordesing!y/n and eroticawriter!harry

word count: 21k+

note: i’m so freaking sorry this took so long. thank you for being patient with me, and i hope its what you expected :) also the formatting is all wonky i have no idea why.

Y/n wasn’t one to brag.

She knew what it felt like to sit and nod while someone else talked about their accomplishment. The itchy pull of heart strings; the yearning of wanting success, too. 

But, she also knew how awkward it was to go back and forth declining compliments. 

Which is why she never bragged about her newfound success. Or did the whole ‘oh you’re too sweet’ ordeal. She said thank you, and moved on. 

Because it definitely was one.

 A sudden change of no recognition to suddenly everyone wants her.

She had her friend, Lucy, to thank. Lucy had just opened up a coffee shop. One of those cute artsy ones on a street in West Hollywood somewhere, with money she had saved up over the years. It just so happened that her best friend was a talented painter, designer, and dabbled in all kinds of crafts. Y/n was known for always maintaining a tiny business of whatever it was she could come up with, and when her friend asked for help to decorate and set up shop, she jumped at the opportunity to go big. 

The store was a loft-y type space. A blank, grey walls and metal; an industrial room. The first time Y/n looked at it, her mind  flooded with ideas. Mirrors, art, frames, flowers, and anything that could be put up. Different themes and approaches to light up the room. But, before doing anything, she had a nice long talk with Lucy, about what she wanted to see. Had her set up a pinterest board with items for the shop. Color schemes, movies, plants, etc. From that, y/n took hold of the project, asking for Lucy’s opinion here and there, but taking most choices to her own judgement. 

The end result… well, it was the reason why Lucy was full all the damn time. Y/n had turned the lofty space into an Instagram hippie galore. Lucy’s mood board consisted of a weird mix of Madonna, pearls, and David Bowie. So, all over there were some of the most famous pop-culture posters. Streams of pearls. Mason jars lined with pearls. Velvet curtains with golden tassels; the stringy ones that tickled when you rub them all over your palm. There were light bulbs and fairy lights hanging in the wooden beams from the ceiling, that were turned on everyday 30 minutes after sunset, like the headlights on cars. Additional records were set to look through and buy in a corner, and opposite that a jukebox with records that both y/n, Lucy, and Lucy’s boyfriend, Mike, had picked. The labels were written in y/n’s writing, a mix between curly-cue and messy doctors cursive; clean enough to read, messy enough to enjoy. 

No plants. Or succulents, at least, but y/n had bought 5 dozens of roses from downtown. She’d hung them up to dry, left some where they were, and others she put in empty glass cola bottles that were in the center of each of the 10 booths. On the single, middle tables, y/n had placed leather table cloths. No flowers. 

And the menus? Oh gosh, the menus. They were y/n’s pride and joy. 

She’d closed herself in an entire day, to create the finishing look. With a copy of drinks (labeled like ‘Madonna’ and then the actual coffee order that star would’ve wanted)  and the small variety of sandwiches (& other finger foods) y/n drew portraits on blackboards, used different fonts, painting mediums, and at a certain point even incorporated glitter, to create these magnificent hand drawn chalk menus. 

Then the outside of the shop. This is what got her word out. 

A journalist of some sort had happened to stumble upon Coffee for Rockstars the day that y/n was painting the windows. 

You know, like with a brush and paint can. 

She’d blocked off her workspace with chairs and caution tape, jammed her newly bought airpods in, and pressed play to her music. 

The mural- Lucy labeled it, but to y/n it really wasn’t all that much, consisted of a the planet Saturn, with David Bowie, Elton John, Prince, Stevie Nicks, Freddie Mercury, and The Beatles prancing along the rings (all picked by Lucy). The window was a 5-or-so feet taller than her, so she had to use one of the chairs to reach the top half of the planet. 

While she painted Elton’s fluffy feather suit on, the journalist had approached her, his waist pushing through the tape y/n had put up. 

“Excuse me?” he called out to her, hands positioned on one of those Canon Rebel whatever they were called everyone seemed to be carrying around these days. 

And Wild Night by Van Morrison may have been playing a little too loud because y/n didn’t hear him the first time, and he had to call out again, leaning forward slightly to catch her attention.  

“Excuse me?” The guy says a little louder. This time, she sees him, and turns while removing her headphones, getting paint on her forehead and hair. 

“Oh!” she said, startled. “How can I help you?” Her cheeks flame a bit when he gives her a boyish smile, lips twirling up to the corner of his eyes. He’s cute, she thinks, floppy hair that’s sunbleached at the tips from the sun, and freckles in the bridge of his roman nose. 

“Yes, actually. My names’ James. I was wondering if I could take your picture for an article I’m doing. I work with the LA times, in the local business section, and there's a piece on West Hollywood’s hottest places. This one’s trending.” He lifts his camera in a ‘here it is!’ gesture. 

“Me?” she asked in disbelief. Her eyebrows raised high above their usually places, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Shouldn’t you be photographing inside? You know, like the people?” 

“You worked on this place didn’t you? That’s what Lucy told me. You’re a big part of what makes this place hot ‘n trendy. Plus, this live painting action will look wonderful…” he trailed off, his glance drifting to the window and to the picture she was painting. “It’s really good. Deserves some recognition.” 

“Uhm…” Y/n looks around. There’s people on the opposite street staring at her, some that linger as they walk by. She catches a window roll down as the car goes by. 

She’s always been small. In size, in popularity. She’s never been in demand. If she said yes, there's a possibility that that would change. A small part of her wanted that… she could finally start her business, like she’s always wanted to...

    “Okay, how do you want me?”

    He laughed, and told her to just continue with what she was doing. So, she did. She added more paint to her glass palette, and unprofessionally used her bare thigh to rid the brush of the excess paint. Momentarily, the brush found its way to the bite of her teeth, so the girl could put her earphones back in and get back into the right headspace to work. 

The journalist, chuckled as he watched her, amused by her tactics, how she leaned back to look at the bigger picture. He was done in a matter of minutes, taking pictures of everything she’d set up in her closed off area. The tarp she’s laid on the floor.  The cans of paint; red, blue, yellow, green, white, and black. An uneaten sandwich and a glass bottle filled with pink liquid (lemonade and a bit of vodka, y/n’s choice of drink when she was painting, claiming it got her ‘creative juices flowing’). 

He has to get her attention again the same way, because she’d managed to lose herself in what she was doing. 

“You’re all done?” she asked him, once again plucking the earphone out with a yank. 

“Yep, got more than enough.” James said, placing  a black cap on the lens of his camera. “Can I ask you a few questions?”     Y/n smirked a bit, thinking back to her school days when smartass teachers would respond with ‘i don’t know, can you?’ and she nearly did as well. 

She didn’t though. She just said, “Go right ahead.” 

“Well, first thing’s first,” he reached into his front pocket, and pulled out his phone. Who keeps their phone in their front pocket, she thought. “Name, age, and what you did for Rockstar’s cafe?” 

“My name is y/n, I’m 21, and I was interior and, as you can see, exterior, designer as well for Rockstar Cafe.” She’s shifting awkwardly side to side, tugging at the ends of her large,  orange Garfield shirt nervously. Flashes of her jean cut-offs peeked where her shirt lifted. 

“Tell me a little bit about the process of creating the entire ‘astro-70’s’ vibe you got going on here are the shop.” James doesn’t look up at her, because he’s furiously typing away at his phone, noting down what y/n says. 

    “Well, that was really Lucy’s doing. She provided me with pictures of things she wanted, kinda like… uhm.. that aura? I guess you could say that she wanted the place to have. I worked side by side with her, to make this happen. This was her vision, I just helped it....” she struggled for a moment, to put her thoughts into words, “come to life.” 

He looked up at her then, a small smile on  his lips. “What’s your favorite thing about it so far?” 

“I’d say, the way the menu is set up. An artist’s name, and the drink they’d get. Lucy did her reasearch, and found out like, I guess you could say, their ‘regulars’. So, what’s on the menus are what the artist actually would like.” Subconsciously, she points to the inside of the shop, referring to the menus. 

“Last question, have you ever done anything like this before?” 

Y/n stammered for a moment, then said, “No. I haven't.” She taps the tips of her shoes together, all paint splattered and scuffed. “Nothing at this level of big. I’ve always kinda, worked on crafts. In highschool I had a small business, where’d I’d sell personalized things.  I think that’s why Lucy trusted me so much. Because I have a history of reaching to the stars when it comes to paper and pencil.” 

“That was great. Thank you so much, y/n. It was interesting to hear about you, and the cafe.” James places his phone back in his front pocket, and hooks his thumbs onto the straps of his camera as if they were suspenders. “Is there a website or business card you’d like me to reference in the article, after your name and all that?”  

“I don’t have anything like that actually. Just that I worked with Lucy, I guess you could say.” She puckers her lips at the end, shaking her head slightly. 

“Okay, well then. I’ll leave you to it. It’s coming along amazing.” James nods politely. “Have a great rest of your day, y/n.” Then walks away. 

“Bye, James.” She twiddles her fingers at him her way of saying goodbye. It doesn’t take her long to get sucked back into her work. In fact, as soon as she puts the earphones back in, she’s gone off the face of the earth, and doesn't notice when a green-eyed stranger stops to stare at her, right by the tree that she’d wrapped the caution tape around. The man pinched his lip as he watched, eyebrows furrowed with the same concentration y/n had for her work.

Except that he was watching her. The way her wrist flicked, how she tilted her face to look at what she was doing. How she stood like a flamingo, with her ankle pressed against her calf. The way she blew the wisps of hair off her mouth. 

He watched her intently, wondering who she was and how did she get there and what her name was.

And then, 

Brushing those thoughts out of his mind, he walked into the shop and didn’t look back. 

.

.

“Y/N!!” Lucy yelled from the counter. 

Y/n, covered head to toe in sparkly purple fabric, rushed out with a bit of hummus on toast in her mouth still. 

It was Halloween, and Lucy had demanded they both dress up as part of the uniform at Rockstar that day. Y/n, had decided she would go as Selena Quintanilla, and had crafted herself a halter top-style romper with purple cloth she had bought at the fashion district earlier that week. She’s woken up early too, and gone to her mom’s house so she could do her hair, and make up (given she’d lived at the same time Selena had). 

Lucy, ever the creative one, teased her blonde hair, spray painted it with a cheap can of green hair dye from the dollar store, and bought a pinstripe tux. TA-da! Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice. 

“Y/n!” Lucy was hissing now, impatient and demanding. It was a busy day at Rockstar. Social media influencers had come out for photo-ops and the like. Also, Lucy had a deal going of buy one get another iced coffee half off, and a free cassette with the $20+ purchase. 

“I’m coming, Luce! I’m coming, Jesus Christ,” y/n finished off chewing, tugged on the halter top to make sure nothing would pop out of place and washed her hands in the sink to help Lucy at the register. 

After she finished, she took place along side the three baristas, Kelsey, Tilly, and Kim. Kelsey was a broke college student, Tilly an Asian girl who doubled as a pole dancer on certain nights (she wore a mask to make sure her identity stayed secret), and Kim was a 30- year old who lives in his parents house. Bit of a creep if you asked y/n. 

“Y/n, you wanna take order 48 or 50?” Asked Tilly while rinsing a measuring cup. 

“I’ll take 50 and start on 52.” Y/n responded, tying the apron straps behind her neck. She didn’t tell Tilly that she picked order 50 because she hated making espressos, and order 48 consisted of three espressos. Order 50 was only four iced coffees. 

After she finished decorating Lucy’s coffee shop a month ago, Lucy didn’t offere y/n a job, but she was always around to help, and Lucy paid her for it. After class, y/n would stop by the shop, and that would lead to her working as a barista. Which she didn’t mind, the money helped and it gave her something to go. Otherwise, she’d be at home with her nose stuck in a regency novel and a buzzing feeling of want in her crotch at the cue of poetically beautiful yet smutty words. 

“Order number 50!” She called out. She set the plastic cup on the pick-up counter and plucked a stray from the jars to place alongside the drink. Seconds later, the drink was picked up by a tall and tanned man with green eyes; nails painted black; rings adorning each finger; soft, pink lips and a scruffy jaw. Curly strands of brown hair peeked out of a green beanie. 

He smiled at y/n. The way you smile at the cashier in the market. Polite. A bit disconnected in the eyes. He said, “Good morning, Selena. May I have a cup holder please?” 

In a British accent made heavier by the morning gruffness in his voice. Scratchy, deep, manly. And incredibly sexy. 

Of course, y/n took a moment to take in and drink the image presented before her, but after she felt her cheeks heat up like the fire underneath a witches feet, she cleared her throat and responded with, “You recognized who I was! Kudos to you, sir!” with a grin on her red lips. The man chuckled, and took the carton cup holder y/n gave him. 

“Have a great rest of your day,” was the last thing he said before he walked away. Y/n stared after him, watching the way his thighs filled in the fitting yellow pants he where, and how his biceps looked deliciously muscular; bulging in a white tee. 

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, Lucy!” Y/n skipped back to her post in front of the screen,and began reading off orders for Tilly, and Kim to make, and picked one for herself. Two iced coffees, one heated croissant. She was in the middle of measuring the milk when Lucy called her name again. 

“Lucy, I’m doing it, okay?” Y/n responded, frazzled. 

Lucy sucked on her teeth. “Y/n, come over here.” When y/n looked up, she saw that not only was Lucy looking at her, but a tall skinny blond with a sharp cut bob and a long white silk dress. 

Confused, y/n dumped the milk into the mixing cup and handed the order over to Kelsy for her to finish. “Yes?”

“This is Karime, and she wants you to help her decorate her store.” Lucy held a palm out towards the woman. “Karime, this is y/n.” 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Karime said, and y/n had to restrain from cringing at her nasally, high-pitched voice. “I love what you’ve done with this place! My store could use some re-camping, and when I saw the article I just had to come and see if I could hire you.” Karime makes gestures with her manicured hands, and titles her head in ways that makes her hair shake like sheets in the wind.

“Oh! Um…” 

“Why don’t you go ahead and talk with Karime, we’re all covered back here.” said Lucy, an extra-pleased tone in her voice; the voice she used with customers to keep them happy, y/n had recognized. Oh so now you don’t want me to work? y/n thought to herself, but gave the same smile the green-eyed stranger had given her, and walked out through the waist high swinging door to meet with Karime.  

“So, I wanted to know if it was possible to hire you on a month to month basis. Ou could come in the first week of every month, decorate, redecorate, while I suggest and give you a picture of what I want, like you did for Lucy.” Karime had a bamboo handle purse, and they clacked together every time she moved her hands in ‘here’ or ‘there’ gestures.  

They’re both standing at the start of the record shelves, and Y/n is awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot and fiddling with her hands. She’s sweating, too. This was huge. Big. Is this what networking was? Getting the word out? Expanding? If she said yes, it’s possible that it’d create a cycle. Someone else would come in, asking for help, to hire, to contract. It was a rush. She was giddy, excited. But most of all, nervous. One, because she’s a bit clumsy in the social aspect, and Two, because she had a standard to meet. 

Despite all this, she said, “Of course, when do I start?” 

Then, Karime had given y/n the address of her shop (a weird mix of aromatherapy, kale smoothies with books), and they decided on a day to meet up (the second day of every month starting November, two days from that day). 

Karime left after that. She hadn’t bought anything. Lucy congratulated y/n, squealed over it even, and Lucy never squeals. Kim looked over at them when he heard Lucy, and tried to ask what all the fuss was about. Lucy demanded he go back to work, and y/n ignored him. 

When closing time came, the girls did the bare minimum, and rushed out to pregame at Mike’s apartment. Like crazy teenagers, Lucy and y/n shared three bottles of a Stella Rosa bottle that had been on sale at the grocery store at the corner of Mike’s apartment complex. Inside, Mike was 2 beers in, and claimed he wouldn’t drink anymore since he was the DD. 

“You guys go on and drink yourselves black.” he said, sitting on the couch with a water in his hand and Lucy in his lap.  Mike, a slender punk rock kid who proved his mom wrong in the fact that his like for the color black is ‘not a phase’ is the sweetest guy y/n had ever met. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for Lucy, always doting on her, and if she asked, would rip out his heart and give it to her. 

Y/n was jealous. She yearned for a relationship like theirs, and no matter how long she waited, how hard she tried, Prince Charming never showed. Instead, she was stuck with watching Mike and Lucy rub into her face what she wanted so badly. 

Affection. Love. Companionship. 

Cheers to that, y/n thought. Her bottle of Mango and whatever the heck the flavor was called, was nearly done and she could still walk in a straight line. The wine was juice in her hands. Child’s play. Water. It had no effect on her. Not until she was three bottles in. It took an entire bottle of Smirnoff vodka shots to get her going once. Only then could she completely let go. 

“A lonely soul drowns in Stella Rosa, Mike.” Lucy, her hair sticking up like Einstein from the re-teasing she’d done in the bathroom. “There it stands, taking the shape of Selena. Poor, poor, Selena.” Lucy giggled. A teasing jab that made y/n pout, and y/n heart to clench because she knew Lucy was right. A lonely soul she was. 

“That’s not very nice of you, Lucy.” Y/n pointed at her friend, bottle in her hand. “First you yell at me at work, now you make fun of my love life?” Shes joking, too, but there's a bit of truth to her words. Meaning, Intention. 

“Drink up, lonely soul, and prepare for the battle that lies ahead: the making intercourse with an attendee of the club.”

“Blah,blah, and screw you.” grumbled y/n, finally, finishing the bottle with a final drink. 

.

.

Not that y/n had anything against it, but fuck the club. She hated it. She only ever went because Lucy or Mike or whoever else begged her to go with them and promised something in return. (Lucy promised she wouldn’t ask her for help the following day). She hated the lights, how load it was, and how much she was being touched. Sweaty men and women alike, rubbing up on her in places where she didn’t want to be, it was too hot, and her toes always got stepped on. 

“The usual for you, y/n?” Mike was yelling. His mouth was at her ear, but even then, only some of what he was saying made it into her ears. She simply nodded, and lifted up to fingers. Two gin and tonics. One part water, three parts gin. 

Lucy and y/n had managed to snatch a tiny booth when they walked in, and this was the place y/n was planning to spend most of her night. Not out on the blue-lit dance floor, not standing at the bar. Sitting at the dark booth, glumly sipping at her two gin-n-tonics. 

“You are not gonna sit here sippin’ glumly at your drinks, got that?” Luccy pulled at the lapels of her suit, popping her collar so the tips touched her jaw. 

“Lucy, please.” Y/n’s bangs were deflated and her lipstick was smudged, at her friends comment, she sunk into her seat and pulled her head around.  

“Let’s go.” 

Lucy tugged her onto the dancefloor just as some song by Cardi B or Nicki Minaj (y/n couldn't tell anymore) blared through the speakers, and the bass beat thrummed in her chest. They stayed for a few minutes, and in those few minutes, y/n’s toes grew numb with how much they’d been stepped on, and her hair was beginning to stick at the back of her neck. Lucy’s black and white makeup was gleaming with her sweat, and her hair dropped with condensation. 

It looked a bit funny really. Selene and Beetlejuice together on the dance floor. An odd pairing, but a parenting nonetheless. Lucy led her back to where Mike was when she got tired of dancing, and like an obedient puppy, y/n trailed behind her. When Lucy ordered y/n to chug her drink, she did it.

She couldn’t say not. Not to Lucy. Not to Karime. Not to James.

She couldn’t say no. 

And because she couldn’t say no, y/n woke up the next morning and couldn't remember a thing. She had a Katy Perry Last Friday Night moment. Sadly, there was no really hot guy next to her on her bed, and thankfully, she hasn’t wearing headgear. 

What woke her, was the pain behind her eyelids that started when the light hit her. With a groan, she hid in the crease of her elbow while she scraped her thoughts together. Y/n was still in her Selena get up. She itched, smelled, and had a headache that hurt like...well, it hurts so much that she didn’t even know what to compare it to. She felt on her nightstand, and there it was. Bless his heart. 

Mike had left her a glass of something cold, and two pills. She didn’t know for sure because she didn’t have the energy to peek and see, but the class was probably pedialyte. The hangover cure. The pills were Tylenol. They had to be, because he knew ibuprofen doesn’t do shit for her. 

“Fuck, fuck,fuck,” y/n mumbled. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the dry roof of her mouth, and when she swallowed, there was a dangerous taste of gin to her spit. Pressing her fingertips to her aching temples, she curses Lucy for making her go out last night, and Mike for letting y/n chug alcohol. 

    Unfortunately, she makes the stupid mistake of rising quickly from her potition on the bed to ‘get it over with’ and not even a full second goes by when she feels her stomach contents worming up her throat. She had to clamp her lips together and rush to the bathroom with her blanket wrapped around her ankles so she doesn’t barf all over her floor. 

    She doesn’t make it in time, and she spilled her gut on the toilet seat, before she’s made it so that her head is positioned right over the toilet bowl. She heaves and heaves until her chest hurts from the muscle contractions and her throat burns from the amount of acidity her bile holds. Tears drop from the corner of her eyes to where her thumbs grasp the seat because it fucking hurts and she’s gotten throw up in her hair. 

    The pain in her chest seems to have gone deeper, and wrapped its sharp talons into her heart. Her tears become purposeful; there’s a reason behind them not. She wishes there was someone there to hold her hair. To rub her back and tell her it was all going to be okay. To bring her the glass of pedialyte of her bedside table and coax her to drink it because she’d forgotten it. 

 Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, y/n gets up and flushes the toilet, wiping down the toilet seat with paper from the roll. The blanket, still curled around her ankles, she picks up and hoists it over her shoulders. She gurgles water from the sink before heading out, avoiding making eye-contact with the horrendous image in her mirror. 

Pedialyte goes down like the gin did last night, and she throws in the pills when she drinks, simultaneously pulling the strings so her blings flip downwards and cut off the light coming in from the outside. Quickly, she strips from the itchy Selena ensemble, and slips on a red t-shirt with the Kool-Aid man’s face on it over her head. Y/n has learned that its worse to go to bed and not eat, so she doesn't get back into bed, even though she really wants to and instead throws the blanket on top of her scattered pillows, and turns to make breakfast in her impossibly tiny kitchen. 

She lives in a little lofty space in the downtown area. The cheapest of all her options, and the best kept compared to the rest. The windows were blackened around the edges, and her air conditioner didn’t work, but hey, at least she had a roof over her head that she didn’t have to share with her parents. And she liked the window wall, too, and how the windows propped open on hinges. The way her brick walls looked during golden hour. It was very pretty. Relaxing. 

Slowly but surely, she’s built herself a little home that she feels comfortable in. In her tiny little space, her favorite thing was her radio. An absolute steal at the thrift store: a really old radio with big knobs and the red line that moved left and right when you tried to pick a station. She went to it now, and turned it on at a soft volume. The song that always feels like it's about a one winged dove by Fleetwood Mac came on, and she hums it softly while she turns on the stove. It click, click, clicks on when the gas catches flames, and she pours oil into a pan to crack an egg over it. The white edges sizzle, and bits of oil jump up and splash onto her skin. It happens so much it doesnt hurt her; she doesn't even flinch.  When the egg begins to turn golden, she turns down the knob, and goes back to her fridge in search of an avocado. Call her a trend follower, but she’d be damned if egg and avocado didn’t hit the spot. Plus, she makes an ace toast. 

Surprisingly, the smell of egg (her dad likes to say eggs smell like ass) doesn’t upset her stomach, no. Actually, her stomach grumbled when she smelled it, and the ache that had begun to spread across the lower region of her abdomen made her hurry to cut open the avocado, and pop in a slice of sourdough bread into the toaster. She fore-went mayo that time, instead just wanted to get something into her burning stomach because she was so hungry. Her eyes blearily while she does all this. 

By the time she’d spread her avocado and egg of the long slices of bread, the radio was playing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun By Cindy Lauper and y/n is doing a little happy dance on her way to her wicker table by the window, next to the bookshelf resting against her wall. Before she sat down, she reached for a novel on the shelf, and set it alongside her plate on the table. 

Biting into her toast, she opened the book. 

    Dani’s cheeks blushed a wine-pink color. She looked away.

“You confuse me so,” she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. 

“How?” He grazed her jaw with gentle fingers, enough to turn her so she’s looking at him.

“You say that what we have, this spectacle we put on, is simple only to convince the people you will be a good king, but them you look at me… like that.”

“Like what? Like I want to kiss you?” he whispered, smiling faintly. “Because I do.” 

She seemed not to know what to say, and resolutely, she turned so she sat facing forward between his spread thighs, back to him. 

He realized then, that her shyness had caught up with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder. 

“I’m no expert in etiquette, Your Highness, but I’m sure this is high;y improper.” She sait, stiffly and primly while he cuddled her.

“Proper? They call me Rafe the Rake. I’d say, my little peach, that we passed proper a long time ago.” 

“Don’t call me that,” she mumbled. 

“What do you wish I call you then?”

“Dani.” 

He chuckled at her response. “It’s a hellions name. It suits you well, all right. You can call me Rafe, if you like.”

“I do not wish to call you Rafe.” “No?”

“It’s a scoundrel’s name. I wish to call you Rafael. Like the angel.” 

“An optimist, aren’t you?” Rafael began combing his fingers through her hair, sifting through the silking

strands then massaging down her neck and shoulders.

She sank back into his chest with a sigh. “That feels wonderful.” 

“I should probably warn you,” he leans forward so that his lips are pressed against the shell of her ear. “I’m rather gifted with my hands.” She tensed again when he leaned down and nibbled on the skin of her neck, but Rafael left her melt in his arms when he continued his sensual massage on her shoulders. “Are you uneasy with this?” He paused to take her hands into his own, feeling as if he were young again with the first girl he had taken a liking towards.

“No,” she said quietly.

“Good.” With fingers still threaded through hers, he drew her hands back, and pinned her arms ever so gently behind her for a moment, gazing down her neckline at her creamy chest. Her breasts her small, but awfully perky and firm. He wondered if he could fit the entirety of one in his mouth. He bet that she’d like it if he did. 

Y/n paused for a moment, and clenched her thighs together. A buzzing feeling was starting to form on her clit, and she felt the space where her thighs touch grow warm. The Kool-aid man’s eye popped with hoe erect her nipples were. She was aroused. And she knew that the feeling would only grow more intense the longer she read, which she planned on doing. So, she picked up her plate, placed it in the sink, and took her and her book into her dark room. 

    Her novel, Our Sign of the Times by Lemus Knox was tatted and bent this way and that from all the times she’s cracked the pages open for a steamy read. A painting of a bodacious woman and handsome prince posing in front of a castle adorned the front cover (one of the main reasons why she bought it). The was was strong, with raven hair and a strong jaw that portured strongly as he kissed the brunette woman in a lilly gown that he held in his arms. The castle was cottage like, with ivy covered walls and stone hedges; complete with a moat and bridge wrapping around the area. The author, Lemus Knox, painted the image himself, as he say so in the acknowledgements. No one knows who he is, how old he is, where he lives, or anything else about him really. A pseudonym, he says. A way to keep his life private life and still do what he loves to do: write.Y/n stumbled upon his book two years ago, in the best sellers section at Barnes and Nobles, and has been slowly falling in love with him and his characters ever since.

    When she settled back into her blankets, y/n opened her book, and placed a single hand on her tummy, over the Kool-aid man’s mouth.

    “It’s getting dark,” she said rather breathlessly, “don’t you think it’s time we head back?”

    “I like being on the water at night. You can’t see. You can only hear the wares and you have to feel,” he teasingly brushed his fingers over the tops of her breasts, “your way back to shore. Feel your way through the dark.” He whispered into her ear,one of his hands splaying on her stomach and pushing back up, up, up to her breasts. “A man has to know exactly what he’s doing.” 

    She arched against him with a soft catch in her breath as he finally cupped her small breast in his large hands; her generous nipples turned hard underneath his circling thumbs. 

    “Rafael,” she moaned breathlessly, arms wrapped against his neck as she pushed her swollen mounds against his roaming hands. “We can’t. We’re not married yet.”

    “Oh, my sweet love.” Rafael’s hands slid back down against her belly and began stroking her thighs. “I don’t plan on deflowering you yet. I simply wish to learn what it is you like.”

    “But… I do not know what I like.” Her words were gasps of dreamy pleasure. 

    “Then I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?” 

    Knowingly, y/n’s hand began to follow the same path that Rafael’s had. Thumbs circling against swollen nipples, fingertips teasing the insides of her thighs.

    Her head was cushioned against his chest, and she turned her fact to him, seeking his mouth in innocent yearning. He lowered his head, and parted her lips with long strokes of his tongue into her sweet mouth, savoring the way she tasted. She reached up, and caressed his cheek as they kissed in slow, soulful agony. 

While she ran her fingers through his unbound hair, Rafael deftly inched her skirts upward over her exquisite legs. His heart pounded as she let his hands roam under the gathered layers of silk gown and muslin petticoat. He groaned into her lips when his fingers came to the edge of her white stockings, and found tenderly warm skin. His groin flooded with heat and his body turned rock hard in an instant. Unwilling to push her beyond what she was currently willing to give him, Rafael fought to keep his needs in check. 

Having been with many of the calculating damsels of the court, he knew that Dani was unlike them. She was soft, fragile, small, so precious in his arms. And while she may think herself independent, Rafael wanted nothing more than to hold her close and protect her, as much as he wanted to give her glimpses of what was in store for the night of their wedding. 

Under her dress, he took his time exploring, kneading, caressing her belly, her hips, all the while devouring her mouth. Behind closed eyelids, he smiled to himself when she began to writhe and twist in his hold, virginal madness getting the best of her. 

“Rafael, Rafael,” her voice grew drunk with urgent need. 

When he stroked her at her ore, he was more than pleased to find she was soaked with silky wetness, throbbing under his fingertips with pure female invitation. 

“Dani,” he mumbled against her earlobe, as her took her skirts with his empty hands and raised them higher and higher. “Would you like to watch?”

“NO! I couldn’t.” Her chest heaved. “Don’t make me.”

“Watch me touch you.” he murmured as his fingertips began to circle. “There’s nothing to be ashamed  of, my darling. I only want to fulfill your desires. Watch me pleasure you. Look at how beautiful you are , your sweet body. My wild, virgin love.” 

“Oh , Rafael!” she turned and kissed him ardently. A burning moisture inexplicably rose behind his eyelids, and quickly fled as their kiss ended. 

    He kissed the curve of her neck, moved by his shy uncertainty as she lowered her heat to watch as he touched her, panting slightly. She was so ready, he thought in pure agony as his hardness chafed against her back through their clothes. It would have been easy to take her then and there, on the warm glossy planks of the deck, but her repeatedly shoved that temptation aside, vowing to prove his respect for her by making their wedding night her first time.

        Y/n, too, was panting as she continued to read, her vision growing blurry with pleasure and need. 

    His thumb deftly teased her jeweled center, while his middle finger gently stroked inside her tight, fluid heat ,and as he kissed her ear and the back of her neck.

    Y/n threw the book aside, letting her own hands take the pace it needed to to bring her to her high. HEr slender fingers deftly pumped in and out of her slick hole, the hand that was holding her book now rubbing fast circles against her swollen button.  Wet mewls left her swollen lips, and her chest arched to meet hands that weren't there. The feeling of clenching in her abdomen and a squirming need something increased. 

    She left herself clenching on nothing, pinching her pert nipples with damp fingers as she rubbed faster and harder circles onto her mound. 

    “Fuck, fuck fuck,” she gasped under her breath, a long groan escaping her as she felt it instenifsy; anticipation of water nearly spilling. It hit her like a splash of cold water, her head thrown back against her pillows with her mouth open; a scream and no sound. Her body felt electrifies, her veins fueled by fire. 

    And when it died out,

    She fell back like a ragdoll, limp and tired onto her sheets. Y/n was all droopy eyelids and noodle limbs after her orgasm. 

    She fell back asleep with sticking fingers on top of her red Kool-Aid man t-shirt.

.

.

“... you know what I mean?”

“So… you don’t want a beach theme?” y/n asked. Karime, dressed in another silk dress, but this time in floral red pattern, was having a very hard time identifying the theme she wanted for her Aromatherapy cafe/library. 

“No, but I just want like, beach-y vibes. Airy? Ooopen. Yes, open.” 

“So plants,” Y/n jotted bulleted notes into her planner, in a blank section under ‘Karime’. “White and green color scheme. Open, clear room.” 

The two are standing at Karime’s shop, three streets away from Rockstar; an alarmingly vast space with plain walls and counters. Y/n has a lot of blank canvas to work with, and much to improvise because Karime wasn’t being exact with her vision. She hadn’t even set up a moodboard like she said she was because ‘an LA girl has a wild life you know, hun?’ 

Y/n truly wished she didn’t know. 

“Okay now, what’s your budget?”  she asked, her tone businesslike but full of warmth and interest. 

“Um, how much do you think you’ll need?” Karime wasn’t looking at her, no, she was picking at her cuticles, and pushing them back with her thumbs; her nails had grown and blank space separated the polish from her skin. Karime was across y/n, behind the quick-serve counter where smokey machines and masks where all lined up; one for each stool. 

“Plants are expensive. If you want big and already grown plants, they’re expensive- ranging from $20 to, I don't know… maybe $80?” Y/n taps her pen on her chin. “Furniture, and other wall decor I can craft and thrift, so that right there is maybe $200? $400 tops.” 

“Okay.” Karime said, shrugging her shoulders with a crescent moon smile on her pink lips, “I’ll write you a check for $3,000 to start. I don’t want anything from second-hand like Goodwill or anything like that. I’ll give you addresses to pre-selected antique stores and the likes. Now, you mentioned something about measurements?”

“Yes! Thanks for reminding me,” she’d forgotten all about that, and it truly is a key process in the decor department. “Do you happen to have a measuring tape?”

“Actually, yes. There’s one in the back, I’ll go get it.” Karime pushed herself off the granite table top, and turned on her heel to walk through a golden confetti curtain, leaving y/n seated at the counter.  

For a moment. She fiddled with the tubes coming from the humidifying machine in front of her, an opaque purple bowl with two tubes sticking out from opposite sides that connect to facemasks that cover your mouth. They’re cool to the touch, but warm when her fingers linger. A humming sound emits from the machine when she accidentally presses the start button, and she pushes it again in a panicked state to make it stop. She decides it’s best if she stops messing around with expensive machinery, and instead turns to looking at the small amount of people that are in the shop.  

There’s no one really up and about at 10 in the morning on a Sunday. The few that were, came with laptops to do work in the library section of the shop, with coffees on their tables, or some kind of breakfast, which had to be from somewhere else because Karime didn’t have a menu for food. Just drinks.

One of these really risers, a man who hunched over a sticker covered Mac, looked strangely familiar. Y/n was staring at his choice of clothing (a worn down Brittney Spears shirt with jeans and rolled at the ankles and pristine white vans) when he turned to look at her. It was then, looking onto his dazzling green eyes and watching his taffy pink lips curl into a smile and a hand coming up in a small wave, did y/n recognize that it was the stranger that recognized her Halloween costume a few days ago.  

Cheeks heating with clear embarrassment, y/n raised her own hand and timidly twiddles her fingers. She mouthed hello and tried to keep from cringing when he raised a finger to rub under his nose to hide the way his lips twitch upwards. His nose scrunches and wiggles, and his eyes wrinkle at the corner, a cheeky gleam in his look.

“Y/n!” Karime, reappearing, held a ruler in her hand. A ruler. “This is the best we’ve got, babe.” 

Her head snaps from the familiar stranger to Karime, who smiled as if she’d just solved all their problems when she’d really just created more because measuring with a ruler? Seriously. Y/n curses at herself for forgetting to bring her own measuring tape. 

She has no other option than to nod, smile, and take the ruler, and start taking measurements.  

Like the hand-over-hand motions of steering a car, y/n has to place the ruler, mark where it ends with her nail, and repeat the process again and again. 

The walls, the patio, window space, countertops, tables, and the one she’s dreading to do: the dimensions of the room the stranger is sitting in. Karime’s place was split in two and a half. A small outdoor patio, the man space with tables and machines, and the library lounging space. The library lounge space, a doorway cut into a small cozy room to the left when you walk in. 

    She’d yet to go in there and measure the walls and bookshelves, putting in on to last in hopes that he’d leave because measuring with a ruler is really embarrassing and it’s possible that she’d be shuffling around him. 

God.

    Getting a grip, she pulled her shoulders back and walked into the room, counting how many steps it took to walk through the door frame. She felt like fingers trapped in a Chinese finger trap, constricted. 

Walking into the room, the stranger didn’t look up, instead he looked even more immersed in his work than ever. Eyebrows furrowed and fingers tapping away on his keyboard. He was even leaning into his computer screen, like he couldn’t get whatever it was he needed to type onto the screen fast enough. 

Sure enough, staring at him, lost in whatever it was he was typing, y/n stumbled on her own two feet, and an absurd noise escapes her lips when she tried to catch herself. 

She doesn’t turn to see if he’s looked at her (he did, with a grin that showed off his bunny-like teeth) and instead hangs her head and makes her way to the opposite wall. Great way to be inconspicuous, she thought to herself. 

The wall opposite the stranger, was tall, like the others were. And even though she was sure that it was most likely the same dimensions, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Pulling up a chair so she could stand on it once her arm couldn't reach anymore; huffing because Karime had those really heavy metal chairs that screeched if you didn’t pick them off the floor. Seven feet later, y/n had to step up on the chair, wobbling on her legs while she hiked up, pressing harder on the wooden ruler to make sure it’s place didn’t move.  

Her nail pins into the wall, at the end of the ruler, before using her other hand to move up the start of the ruler where her nail left off. When the ruler reached her hip, y/n stumbled leaned forward and effectively knocked out her balance so she was left flailing, falling, fa- 

Not falling. 

No, not falling, because two hands grip her hips, and pull her back on the chair to make sure she doesn't fall flat on her face. Her eyes are pinched un closed anticipation, waiting for the smashing of knees against the cold, hard floors but it never comes. 

“Gotcha!” says a deep british voice. A warm gust of minty wind flutters in y/n’s nose, and when she opens her eyes. Glittering green eyes, wispy strands of hair, and petal pink lips.

Right. In front. Of her face. 

“Selena, you’ve really got to be more careful,” he says, chuckling as his speaks so his words are broken with sounds of laughter. He’s even lifting her up from her leaned position off of the chair, and settling her down on the floor, biceps tightening and a humming noise coming from his throat as he does so. 

She’s flabbergasted. Doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t think she’d ever been picked up before. Its ridiculous really, seconds away from eating shit on hard ass surface and all she can think about is how she was picked up. But jeez, who could blame her, the man was hot. 

    All sharp jawline, clavicles peeking out of his shirt, and the column of his throat such a nice pretty color. Quite handsome, really. 

    “Shit,” y/n finally manages to get out, her eyes wide, shoulders tense, and instinctively, her fingers are digging into his shoulders (though she’s not aware of it yet).  

    “You alright?” The man says, when he notices the way she’s gone rigid. He doesn’t say anything about the way her fingers are gripping at him.

    “Uhm, yes. I am now. Thank you…” Y/n’s voice comes out in breathy spurts, and her forehead glistens like she’s just run to catch the bus. That’s when she noticed where her fingers were placed; the way the white cloth dipped in from the amount of pressure she was exerting onto his skin. Cheeks turning a darker pink, she cleared her throat and avoided looking at him when she removed her hands. 

    “Harry” He mumbled. “My name’s Harry. Yours? Not quite sure if it’s Selena or not…”  

    “HA!” A loud exclamation, a bit too loud that it was awkward. “No. Not Selena. Y/n.” She looked into his eyes them, raising her chin the last inch to move from Brittney Spears face to his eyes. Eyes the color of light streaming through a tree leaves in a forest on a spring forest. Y/n sucks in a breath.

    “Well, wonderful to meet you, y/n.” He leans towards her, a ringed finger pointing jeeringly at the stick still in her hands. “I gotta say, measuring with a ruler?” 

    “Very efficient. As you can see,” She shakes the hand the ruler is in, and then uses the ruler to point at the seemingly innocent metal chair “You should try it sometime.”

    “Only if you catch me.” Harry grabs his own wrists behind his back, his shoulders hunching forwards and head shaking side to side a bit as his speaks. 

    It takes a moment for her to drink in what he’s said, to fully react with a scoff and a smile. “Catch you? I’ll hold you up on my shoulder’s myself.” 

“Then we’ll both end up sprawled on the floor, all roughed up and bruised.”

They both laugh at their jokes, and Harry even goes as far as to clap his jean clad knee. When it gets quiet, their laughs dying down, Harry speaks again.

“Saw you in the paper. Helped decorate Rockstar didn’t you?” 

Y/n’s jaw drops. Her lips opening and closing like a fish eating crumbs at the water’s surface. “The paper? What paper?” This was news to her. She was aware that the article James would write would be like, online or something. But a physical paper. That’s a little bigger. And him having remembered. Having identified her. 

“The local paper. WeHoVille.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, one side of his lips pulling up in a confused manner. “Was picking up a sleepy time tea and honey at the Wholefoods, and you painting was a feature next to the counter. Didn’t show your face, but I walked past that day and remembered.” 

    “The paper… wow. I didn’t know. But yes,”Y/n twirls the ruler on in circles with her fingers, putting all her weight on one hip so on of her feet could tap loosely on the floor. “I decorated Rockstar.” After a beat, “What’d you think about it?”

    “The place is amazin’!” A strand of Harry’s hair flops down to the space between his eyebrows and eyelashes, tickling his skin. He had to brush his fingers through his hair to comb it back.  “Love the feel of it. Gotta stop myself from going in everyday or might blow all my money on Stevie’s usual.”

    “That’s my favorite too! Next time you’re there, give me a wave down and I’ll have you covered.” Y/n’s offers had Harry’s eyebrows raised in seconds. “Least I could do, given you saved me from a concussion and all that.” She tried to explain, words coming out in a flurry from her mouth. 

He chuckles at her flustered stare, the same repressed smirk that he’d given her when he caught her staring. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” Silence and then, “What do you plan on doing with the place?” 

“Turn it into a greenhouse,” y/n said bluntly. The two were still standing next to the wall y/n was measuring, and Harry leaned one of his shoulders against it, moving his hands from behind his back to his front, wrapping one around the other one’s wrist.

    “That’ll be nice. Even more uh, how do you say, therapeutic? I guess more relaxing than the place already is. Karime said plants?” He asked. It didn’t quite settle with y/n that he knew Karime on a first name basis, that he was interested in knowing she picked plants, and she wanted so badly to say: Karime doesn’t know what she wants, but instead pushes that feeling away and goes with,

    “Well, she gave me a scope to work with. A color scheme. A gist. Certain decorations she wanted to see. So on and so on. Plants is just what I took from it. And it goes with her place because it has to deal with aromatherapy and all that. What do you think?”

    “I think you’ve hit it right on. Can’t wait to see what it’ll look like.” He raps a knuckle on the wall. “Did you still need wall measurements? I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again.” 

    Timidly, she responds, “Okay.”

    “Up you get, then.” Harry pointed to the chair, and y/n raises her leg to hike up, this time with Harry’s hands placed on her hips, steadying her. 

    A tiny dash on the wall where her nail slid off marks where she was at when she nearly fell off the metal chair, and this is where she places the ruler. She left off at 7 feet, the ruler at her hip. Resuming the same positions, she starts to wobble again, and Harry's hands tight, holding her straight. 

    She guesses he hears her gasp when she feels herself wobble because he says “I’ve gotcha.” 

    Y/n moved the ruler up one, two, and three more times, and then her arm can’t stretch anymore and pinches one eye closed to cry and guess how many more feet are left. She guessed four… ish. On a whim, she tries to push the ruler up once more, and her shirt rides up on the left side of her hips. Warm sequential breaths hit her skin, and a shiver drops down her spine when she realizes what’s happened. 

    Harry, ever the gentleman, doesn’t waste a second, and slides his pointer and middle finger over her skin, his warm fingers splaying over goosebumps to pinch her shirt and pull it down for her. 

    “All done,” she squeaks. “Coming back down.” 

    Harry released her, but offers her a hand and she takes it, holding on to his as she comes down, his palms warm and rings cool; a nice contrast. 

    “Thank you so much for h-”

    “Y/n?” 

    Booth Harry and y/n tun to the doorway that leads to the main room, where Karime stands with a checkbook in her hands. Y/n turns back to look at Harry. The curls behind his ears, the blonde hairs on his top lip. He turns to look at her, and gives her a closed lip smile. She smiles back and twiddles her fingers, mouthing a bye bye.

    Karime walks away when she sees that y/n is following her, and takes them both back to their position on the counter. 

   “Here’s the check. Two thousand dollars. Deposit it into your account, and use it for gas, furniture, anything that has to do with Aromareads you can pull from this.” She opens the book and tears out the slip of paper. “I will need receipts. And your name?” 

   Karime glances up at y/n, only to see that she’s busy looking back through the door frame at Harry. The manager is slightly irked at the fact that the person she’s hiring to reshape her business isn’t paying attention, but following her line of gaze, Karimer can’t blame her. Harry, a usual in her store, is a very very handsome man. Towering, with broad back and a neck Karime would love to bite into if she wasn’t gay. He sat at his laptop, thighs spread and eyes hard and stern, pondering with a pout. Karime is sure that what caught my/n’s attention is the way Harry’s thighs and crotch looked at that very moment, enticing, strong, sensual. 

    Clearing her throat, “Y/n. I need a full name to address the check.”

    Y/n’s neck snaps towards Karime, her hair getting caught on her lips at her velocity. “Uh- yes, sorry it’ll be Y/n Y/l/n.” 

    Karime repeated her name, and asked for her to spell it, which she did while stuttering mildy. 

    “Here you go.” Clicking her pen against the marble countertop, Karime handed the check to y/n. “Listen, by no means do I wanna pressure you, but if you could get this down before the holidays are in full force, I would love that.” 

    “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t take me that long.” 

    .

    .

    And it definitely didn’t. 

    On Monday, y/n spent the entire day (and part of her night) driving to most of the places Karime had sent her through a text. She spent a few minutes googling the places and looking through the pictures that came up and cursing every time it would redirect her to yelp- because really who has yelp? The antique stores were all spread out in the Los Angeles area.

    There was one in Long Beach. The pictures showed a really big warehouse with chair lying on top of each other and tables littered with little statues and the likes. Here she bought baskets. Tons of them. Gus (the owner) has dedicated an entire isle to them. When he saw y/n’s cart, the laughed then asked her “Why dolly, whadda ya need all them baskets for?” And when she told him it was for business, he offered her coupons and package deals. 

    “Tell ya what,” he scratched the scruff on his chin, the only hair he had because he was bald, “You buy all these baskets,” he pointed to her cart, “I’ll give you a twenty pa’cent discount on ya purchase, and if ya want, you can pick anathin’ ya want from over there because no one wants tuh buy them.” Then he pointed to a pile of books that lay haphazardly next to a stove and a turquoise refrigerator. She paid one hundred and fifty.

    She walked out with wicker baskets, one being a picnic basket she snatched for herself, lined nicely with red patterned cloth and a lid for it to close, and that same picnic basket full of regency novels from the 90’s.

    There was another in Laguna. A beachside thrift shop, where she paid for (very overpriced) frames of painted lighthouses and beach landscapes for that ‘beach’ factor Karime wanted. By this time, she drove back towards Hollywood to drop the items back at Aromareads because her car was getting full. She didn’t go inside, just unloaded the tings in the back and Karime took them inside. If she had, she would’ve seen Harry.

    Y/n then took to the shops in the downtown area. One being, a swapmeet type place where you walked through and looked at all the furniture. They set up different sections for different themes. Victorian, regal, animal skin themed, and a hall full of mirrors. Y/n bought a large 8x8 mirror for five hundred dollars. It would be delivered the following day.

    One of the sections was retro-themed, and she snapped a picture of a hip-height lava lamp and sent it to Lucy. Lucy then proceded to beg y/n through to text to please buy that I fucking need it. Will pay u back. So she bought it; $100 that she knew would be no big deal for Lucy given all the business she had. 

    Her final stop, were the flowers and plants district. There, she placed a large order for 30 succulents, and an assortment of nearly 100 leafy plants to fill the baskets with. She blew $1,000 there. 

    By the end of the day, she’d wasted nearly all of Karime’s check; a measly two hundred remaining after she refilled her car with gas (give or take some). Y/n met with Karime at around 6, in the back parking lot again, and left everything she’d bought. 

    “Oh! And the mirror should be delivered tomorrow before closing time.” 

    Karime was wearing a caramel turtle neck and black slacks tucked into latex ankle boots, her hair pinned back and tied into a spiky ponytail. Her ears were adorned with pearl earrings, and her fingers were jammed into golden rings. Y/n felt embarrassed in her measly purple jumper and paint splattered mom jeans.  Her accessories consisted of a fanny pack full of nails and a hammer at her waist.

    “Good, good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow-” Karime was already turning back and returning into the shop when Y/n said:

    “Actually I was hoping I could start now.” Her words lifted into a question at the end, half suggesting half stating. 

    Karime’s face morphed into one of confusion and surprise, but in the end she agreed, and told y/n to do as she pleased.

Upon first entering, y/n is disoriented. 

    She walks into a frenzy of… nothing. It’s like an industrial kitchen, but completely empty. Occupied only by the things she had brought in. She remembers that she walked into the back and not the front, and it made sense because Karime doesn’t offer anything that would require use of the kitchen. Everything she has is done at the bar by the barista outside. 

    Karime leaves y/n in the back, where she asses her items. The baskets. The frames. And well, that’s really all there is. It would be more with all the plants coming in. She realizes that she doesn’t really have much to work with and there really isn’t much to do than hang picture frames, and there’s only five of them. 

    Nonetheless, she goes outside with the first frame in hand. A soft blue painting of a lighthouse on an island with light from a hole in a cloudy sky shining on the building. When she picked this one up, she knew exactly where it would go. By the wall next to the sliding door that lead to the patio. She sauntered over to the spot then, dodging a woman on her boyfriend on her way there. It was packed, and rightfully (it was a tuesday).

    She reached the spot, and lifted the picture on the wall, lifting and tilting so it would fit naturally. Eventually, she found the sweet spot, and reached for the hammer she had stuck into her belt loop and the box of nails she’d placed into the fanny pack on her waist. 

    Without hesitation, she put the first nail on the wall, and started banging. Three taps in, and she hung the wire on the nail, balancing it so it looked the way she envisioned it. After she was done, y/n stepped back to admire her handiwork, and tilted her head to the side the way one does when their looking at a picture that’s upside down. 

    Perfect. 

    She walked around the shop then, with the purpose of noticing empty spots on the walls, anything that could be filled up with artistry. The simple tables? No they had to stay that way. Placing something on the tables would clutter them and tarnish the ‘relax’ mode people came in for. The window that faced the street? Yes. Y/n planned on lining them with hanging droopy plants on the edges, not obscuring but not leaving a clear view either. She’d have to buy shelves to place baskets on the walls. Hooks to hang them. This she would do with what was left from the check.

     Yet… something was missing. The alternative-ness she knew should be there. Something ‘hippie’ and ‘aesthetic’, off the minimalist side of things. 

    Looking into a corner where the walls met, a light bulb went off. She knew exactly what was missing. Letters. Y/n had seen an image on Pinterest not even less than a month ago. A picture of a string of letters. Or rather, a message. It said something along the lines of  ‘You are my light’ or something edgy like that. Each word had been hand cut and strung onto a piece of- she didn’t know, string? Tweed? A wire?- and hung in a corner of a room where walls met. It knocked off every box on the checklist. Minimalist. Crafty. Aesthetic. And cheap, considering how low the money was.

She knew she’d have to brainstorm phrases and pass them by Karime, but she’d worry about that later.

    .

    .

    It was Friday. One day after the plants had been delivered, and y/n was set to work full force. Sure, she’d have to work amongst customers, but no matter. It would get done. 

    She started in the back. With the plants. 

    Y/n had bought a plastic-type lining at the Home Depot to place soil in the baskets. She lined then all first, securing the material with tape around the edges. After, came the transfer and placement. She decided this would be a better method, and if there were extras she could have Karime sell them. This way, she wouldn’t overcrowd the place and stop when she saw an adequate fill of green. 

    The first, a circular basket with no handle the color of a waffle cone. Because it was one that would go on a shelf, she placed one of the droopiest plants in it, a green stream of vines and shrubby leaves.

    Last night, y/n had given Karime the benefit of the doubt, and allowed her to place shelves where she’d liked them So, before she opened at 7, Karime had decorated her store with wooden slabs for y/n to decorate. Taking the first plant, she walked out. 

   As expected, Aromareads was bustling with energy.     Women with mojitos in their hands, burnt out college kids hooked up to masks, older men and women laughing like tinkling bells. 

   She’s walking towards the first row of shelves she sees on the wall across from her, besides the sliding doors, basket held gingerly with both hands, when she hears:

   “Y/n!” 

   Looking to her left, she sees a sleepy, just-rolled-out-of-bed looking Harry. He’s wearing a black hoodie with the words ‘Treat people with kindness’ in a gradient rainbow color, and… and grey sweatpants. Grey. Sweatpants. 

   Grey sweatpants. 

   Y/n tries not to visibly swallow him whole as he walks towards her with an innocent smile on his face because god if she isn’t all hot and bothered right now. Her eyes seem to be magnetically attracted to his crotch, trying but failing to grasp and image of what may be lying underneath. 

“H-hey, Harry,” she smiles at him meekly, her voice cracking when she speaks. She cleared her throat and said again, “hey, Harry. S’nice to see you.” 

   “Nice to see you too.” He bows his head towards her, and endearing mannerism that has y/n’s heart pooling down to her ribcage. “I see you’ve brought out the green guns today.” A teasing grin on his extra red and shiny lips. Perhaps it was chapstick. It was rather windy outside.

   “You see correctly.” She giggles at his joke, at the same time, rolling her eyes at how cheesy he was being. “Today’s the day it all comes together.” 

“I’m excited to see how it all turns out. Don’t go falling on any chairs today alright?” He wags his finger at her, mocking a mother shunning her child.

“I’ll try not to. But if I do-” she said, coquettishly. 

“I’ll catch you.” 

“You better.” Laughing at him, she repeats his actions and lifts her finger up to point at him. 

   With a final laugh and a shake of his head, Harry walks away and into the working room. 

   Y/n watches him walk off, and walks off her own way as well, resting the basket against her hip as she went. When she reached the wall with shelves arranged in a checkered pattern, she placed the basket on top of the wooden plank, and tufted leaves so they look naturally messily placed. Unintentionally intentional; they way one teases their hair so it looks nice. 

   She went back to her work station: the now full kitchen, and repeated the process. Picked a basket, filled it with a plant, and took it outside. She left the hooks for last, wanting to leave of being in the way of people until she had too. Almost effortlessly, y/n filled Karime’s space with greenery. Cacti on shelves, large leaves and vines on walls, frames of beach paintings on nails. Once, she pricked her finger because her it had accidentally slipped inside the glass globe in which the succulent was in. 

    When the time finally came to walk into the room Harry was in, the outside was looking rather… forest-y. She liked the way it looked; a calm type of chaos. One that showed relaxation and no care for anything. Which was the point of the entire place. Come in. Relax. Breathe in from diffusers to get that extra push to decompress.

   Harry sat in his usual spot, directly in spot of the doorway, in one of the middle tables. Hunched over his computer with fingers flying over his keyboard. He had earphones in this time, white buds tucked right into his ears, stray strands of hair looping and covering them. His lips were placed in a puckered pout, the scrunched pink skin twitching from left to right.

    Humming to herself, y/n forces herself to walk past him, forces herself to not turn back and glance at Harry even if she can feel his gaze burning into her back. She makes it seem like the hook and plant in her hand are the most interesting things in the world. Turning it over in her fingers, and even going as far as to lift the basket (this on with a handle and curved bowl bottom) to her nose and smell it. 

    “Need a hand with that?” Harry says from behind her. She feels his presence from behind her, standing close enough that she can feel when he reaches to her front and takes the basket from her hands.  Y/n’s heart starts beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Closing her eyes to get a hold of herself, all she sees is green. Green, the color of his eyes.

   “Yes, please.” Her voice is small, shy.

    Harry, feeling bold, nudged the tip of his nose on the hair behind her ear. Enough to make her notice, but not enough to make her completely sure that it was there. “Where do you want it?” He says, breath hot on the shell of her ears. Her eyes widen, and her body goes on full alert. She’s suddenly aware of the closeness of his hips on hers, the brushing of the fabric on her the back of her hand.

    “Up…” Y/n steps forward, towards the wall. She places her finger on the smooth surface, and traces it over to where she wants it, doing loopty-loops to her desired spot. “...here.”

  He places the nail on the wall, hits it with the hammer that y/n gives him and hooks the basket as well. He turns to her when he’s done.

  “Got any more?” He asks, placing a hand on his hip.

  “Yeah, in the back. Wanna come help me?” Y/n points with a thumb to the doorway, half of her body turning as well.   

    “Lead the way.” 

    So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

    “S’very nice back here.” 

    “Wanna grab a few baskets? Place ‘em in the lounge?” 

    “Sure thing.” Harry wraps his hand around the handle of three baskets at the same time, and with the other, he grabs the still-packaged hooks and wait for y/n by the doorway. She hurried to grab two succulents, and met Harry at the doorway. They had an awkward moment of deciding who’s going first. A huffle of backwards and forwards until eventually, Harry held his palm out to allow her to go through while biting his lip. Y/n ducked her head and felt the tips of her ears go warm. 

    “So, I tried Elton John yesterday.” He said, trailing behind y/n into the lounge like a little puppy. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging. 

    “Oh? How was it?” She replied, juggling the two glass casings in her hand, and then pricking herself again. She flinches, but doesn’t make any noises. 

    “Think I might have a new favorite,” he said, bashfully ducking his own head and peeking at her through his hair. Her heart fluttered, and if it could, she was sure it would bust out with the dreamy sighs she suppressed.

    “It’s that serious?” She asked. 

    “It’s that serious.” They reach the lounge, and y/n sets the succulents she carries in her hands down on a table.  “Have you had it yet?” Her stretches her hands out to Harry, signaling for him to give her his items. 

    “No, not yet. Should probably give it a try if its changed your mind. Can you pass me a hook?”  Harry gives her all four packages he holds in his one hand. When she wraps her hand around them, her finger brushes against the chubby part of his hand. 

    “Here you go- I only drank it ‘coz like, I’m on this diet thing and needed a drink with oat milk in it. Elton’s was the first one I saw. Woke me right up, too.” 

    “Diet you say?” y/n took the hammer and walked over to her desired stop, a few feet away from the one Harry had put in. 

    “Some altered version of keto. Had a really bad bug, had me feeling icky and ‘just decided it was the best.” He takes place next to her, watching as she positioned the nail and hit it a few times with the hammer. He held out a basket on his finger when she was done. She was a whirlwind, he thought. Busy little bee, never stopping. Harry nearly feels bad because she’s so full of energy, bouncing back from the table to the wall and arranging plants before he could even blink. “S’not fair. Not letting me do any work.” A pout appears on his lips, eyes teasing.

    “You just stand there and look pretty. I’ve-” she points to herself, finger at her chin. “Got this.” 

    Harry grumbles something that she doesn’t catch with his chin tucked into his neck. 

“What was that?’ she hums. 

    “‘Said, can’t exactly be pretty ‘coz you took that job too.” 

    Y/n’s hands still. Immediately, she feels her chest grow red roses blooming on her cheeks. She’s not exactly… embarrassed, per say. No. The familiar feeling of ants running wildly in her lower stomach began to burn, her ribcage tickling as butterflies try to creep out with beating wings. Pretty. He had called her pretty. 

    “Uhm, thank you?” 

    “You’re very welcome, darling.” His tone of voice is smug. And when she looks over at him with eyebrows raised, he’s biting his lip and his looking at her through his eyelashes like he had before, but there was no childish play in it this time. 

    “Say,” she picks up a succulent. “What’s it with you?” 

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugs.

“Lovin’ all up on me.”  She puts the succulent back down.

“S’nothing wrong with lovin’ all up on a pretty girl.”

There it is again. Pretty girl. Y/n is on fire her entire face pink, color concentrated on her cheeks and nose as if she had taken a walk in the brisk wind. 

“Stop it,” she said. 

Harry’s face turns concerned, brows kissing and lines appearing on his forehead. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” All work is forgotten, and instead they stand facing each other. 

“No! No, no,” Y/n’s eyes widen and her hands waving back and forth to eradicate the thought of her being disturbed by him. “S’just,” she sighs. “Not used to it, is all.”

Upon hearing this, Harry’s face breaks into a smile. “Well then,” he starts. “Better get used to it.” 

“Oh, you.” She playfully slaps his shoulder and picks up the succulent again, this time actually going to put it on a shelf adjacent to the window; a little alcove Karime has placed in a weird spot.

“When do you get a break?” 

“I think I get to take it whenever I want, why?”     “Wanna head down to Rockstar? Craving a Madonna right about now.”

“Never pegged you as a Madonna guy,” (the Madonna was a sweet caramel iced coffee with whipped cream and chocolate chips; not actually what Madonna would drink, and the beverage itself being one of the few inaccurate ones). “Let me finish with this, and I’ll let Karime know.”

So she did, much faster with Harry’s help. He handed her nails, hooks, and the plants she asked for. He asked if he could leave his stuff in the back, and he followed her back there once again, ticking his bag into an empty cupboard next to y/n’s things. On her way out, she said a quick goodbye to Karime who she was sure didn’t even hear what she said. 

Harry and her walked the short block side by side, with him playfully knocking his shoulder into hers and smiling like a mushy schoolboy when she pushed him back. They made small talk about drinks and the weather, shoulders hunched up and chins tucked in because it was a little cold.   Y/n’s frayed highschool sweater wasn’t doing much to keep her warm, and she had half the wind to pull her hood up the way Harry had his. 

Looking over at his, his nose was going a bit raw. Pink and the skin around it a little pale. By the time he noticed she was looking at him, they’d reached Rockstar, and he was opening the door for her. Murmuring a small thank you she walked through, and stepped to the side to wait for him to step inn as well, given he’d held the door open for the few people that had been walking behind him as well. From inside, she could see him nodding and smiling at everyone who stepped in. 

“You wanna grab a table and I’ll get the drinks?” she says to him when he appears next to her with hands in his hoodie pocket; she’s craning her neck to meet his eyes.

    “Sure. I’ll be in the records?” He takes one hand out to point over to where the records are.

    “Okay.” Y/n nods and head to the counter, where Lucy is busy taking someone’s order. She only see y/n when she walks behind the person and makes a silly face at her. Lucy laughs, but continues taking the order, and y/n pushes through the doors to put on an apron and make her and Harry’s drink. 

“Well if it isn’t y/n!” Says Kim.

“Y/n! Girly its been forever,” Kelsey bumps her hip when y/n get to work alongside her at the steaming machine.  

“Yes, yes, I know. Missed my favorite baristas.” she giggles, bumping her hip a little harder and making Kelsey gasp in faint shock. “Where’s Tilly?”

“Called in sick. Poor think could barely speak.” replied Kelsey. Y/n hummed a response, and made her drink first, a hot chocolate, and set it to the side to allow it to cool down meanwhile she made Harry’s. When Kelsey noticed her reaching for another measuring cup after just making her own she says,

“Two drinks?”

“Got a friend waiting for me in the records.” Y/n explained, pumping an extra pump of caramel into the cup. She puts in less ice too, and extra chocolate chips and whipped cream. 

    “The records…” Kelsey craned her neck out of where customers pick of their drinks to peek tp the records section. “Wait, wait, the one in the hood?”     “Yep,” said y/n, unbothered as she capped Harry’s drink.

    “Y/n!” Kelsey hissed, “He’s hot!” 

    “Yes, Kelsey, I am aware.” Y/n rolls her eyes and picked up both drinks, turning on her heels to walk out but nearly bumps into Kim, who stood not even an inch away from her. She backs up instantly.

    “So are you and he a thing?” He asked, leaning in closer to y/n’s face,his breath smelling on the ramen he always ate during his lunch break. 

    Y/n, uncomfortable by his closeness, tried walking around him but he stepped to the side. “It’s none of your business Kim.”

    “You never accept my dates, but you’ll accept his?” Kim’s tone is angry, and when he takes a step towards her, Kelsey steps in front of her.

    “Kim, leave her alone.” Kelsey says, turning back to y/n and nodding her head in the direction y/n was heading. When she pushes past the swinging doors, she catches a bits of what Kelsey says to him in a harsh whisper, “just wait until Lucy hears about this.” 

    “Haarryy,” Y/n says in a sing-song voice, dodging people as she makes her way to the records. Harry’s standing with  a record in his hand, legs spread apart and leaning back a bit with  his other hand tucked into his opposite armpit. “Here’s your John.” 

    Harry takes the plastic cup from her, giggling as he looks at her. 

    “What’s so funny?” she asks, genuinely confused.

    “Still wearing your apron,” Harry wraps his lips around the straw, tongue poking out to lap at it and take it into his mouth as y/n tries really hard not to stare.

    Looking down at herself, y/n shrugs, and leaves it on, taking a seat on the nearest loveseat and wrapping her now empty hand around the warm cup. 

    “What did you get?” He asked her. 

    “Willy wonka.” She brings the cup to her lips, tilting it up slowly and her mouth waters when she catches the scent of the foaming chocolate. Harry takes a seat next to her, his thigh touching her jean-clad one. He sits with them spread, leaning back in an eased position, and y/n eyes jump down to the bunched grey fabric at his crotch. And… well, there’s a larger than normal bulge through the fabric, drawstrings bending over the imprint, and y/n chokes on her drink. Some of it sputters out onto her apron. 

    “Still hot?” She nods. “ Gotta be careful, love. Who picked the names?”

    Y/n looks over at him, head tilting to the side with eyes squinting. “Picked what?”

    The cloudy skylight streamed in softly, casting a soft grey glow on Harry’s side profile. “The names for the drinks. Who picked them?” He holds his drink in one hand, straw near his face so all he had to do was maneuver his wrist to the plastic tube was in his mouth. 

    “Lucy did. Well, for most of them. I picked Andre 3000, Madonna, Willy Wonka and made the drinks myself. They’re not accurate though.” She sipped from her drink. “The rest of them are.” 

    “How much of this decor did you do? Like, concepts and stuff.” Harry takes out the tucked hand to wave around, and then tucks it back in. 

    “Concepts? Hmm…” she trails off for a moment. “All of them. I don’t want to say that I made this place myself, because I wouldn’t have done it without Lucy’s guidelines, but I went out, bought the furniture. Everything you see me doing at Karime's, I did here… ‘cept Karime’s is just plants and this,” she waves around her in a gesture and leaves it at that.

    “Do you decorate apartments?” He asked.

    “W-what?” Y/n, in the middle of a sip, and very surprised at his question, stuttered at his 

    “‘Coz mine’s looking kinda bland right now, was thinking maybe you could help me put some life into it.” 

    “Harry, I-”

    “Kinda like the Rockstar vibes, but like, a little less on the trendy side? I dunn-” Harry isn’t looking at her, his eyes wandering and landing on everything but her. 

    “Harry.” she said a little more sternly, putting a stop to his little rant. He looked at her then, his expression  unreadable. “I’m not sure you want me to help you decorate your home.”

    “Why not? You’d be helping me is all, and I love the way you’ve made Aromatherapy and Rockstar look.” He licks his lips, moving his head to the side and bringing the straw into his mouth with his tongue (that y/n stare at for longer than necessary).

    “But it’s your home.”

    “I am aware. Help me make it more me.” He shifts his body towards her then, his knee bending so he chest is to her. “Please?” He makes the face Puss in Boots made in that one movie, y/n couldn’t remember then because Harry looked much cuter than that dumb cat did.

    Y/n tosses this idea around in her head. Helping Harry decorate his home. She was scared, not only because Harry was cute, but because home was a personal and private space to be calm and safe. What if she screwed it all up and then Harry was uncomfortable in his own home? What is she did such a shit job that, that- well such a bad job that a horrible result came out of it again. This thing with Harry, a budding friendship? She barely knew the guy, just that he had an affinity for showering her with compliments and he made her turn more red than that really bad sunburn she got in the 10th grade after she refused to put on sunblock on a trip to a pool resort. What her point was, is that decorating someone’s home- a place where the heart is pure- is a really big job. 

    “Of course, this would be after you’re done with Karime’s place. Don’t wanna stress you out or anything like that.” A nike shoe, white and crisp looking like it had come straight out of the box, pressed into his thigh when he wrapped a hand around his ankle and pulled his bent leg in tighter.  “Whadda ya say?”

After hemming and hawing a few times, y/n finally says, “Okay. But you’re gonna have to be one million times more specific okay?” She elbows him, his position causing her elbow to poke at his pec instead of his bicep, and y/n elbows into hard muscle. 

    “Heyyy, can’t go hurting the girls now,” He rubs over where he poked her, and pouts childishly, even going as far as sticking his tongue out at her. “Do you need to head back? I don’t wanna get you into any trouble, y/n.”     The use of her name makes her heart skip a beat. “Yes, we should probably get going.” She moves to get up, and accidentally places her hand on Harry’s thigh. Before she would say sorry for touching him, he says,

    “Alway using me to hold yourself, huh? Sneaky thing, I see what you’re doin.” 

    “You offered! Said it yourself, I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again,” she deepened her voice, and faked a british lilt as best she could. 

    “I do not sound like that,” He whined. 

    He got up right after her, grabbing her hand to ‘pull’ himself back up, but he was really just holding it. His hand was cooler than hers (because he’d used the hand that had been holding his iced coffee) and enormous around hers. If he tried, he could close his finger tips and they’d be overlapping. When he was fully stood up, he reached around her neck, and lifted the black strap over her head, transfering the cloth over to the hand that held his cup, and then reaching again, this time around her waist to undo the knot. His front, not even a full step away from hers, and y/n got a whiff of detergent and something else she could only describe as ‘clean man’. If she were a shark, this would’ve been the moment her eyes turned black and rolled to the back of her head. 

    “There you go, no longer look like a little barista.” He hung the apron over he shoulder, and walked alongside her to the exit. Y/n split from him for a short second to return the apron, but then resumed her place next to him and they walked out together. She was hyper alert the entire way, taking notice of when their hands brushed, or when he pressed his bicep against hers. They walked a little stumbly, walking against each other almost. Had it been Lucy, she would’ve already yelled at y/n, and y/n would’ve walked near the sidewalk to avoid bumping into her again. But Harry?

Harry takes it like a champ. Giggling and pressing back against her, and he even placed her on the inside of the sidewalk when she walked to the side closest to the passing cars. 

    “So, tell me.” He starts, tossing his empty cup at a recycling bin as they waited for the light. “What kind of premeditated preparations should I take to be- as you said- extra specific?”

    Y/n still nurtures her cup in her hands, the coffee lid resting on her bottom lip. “Moodboards. Magazine scraps. Room inspiration on pinterest. Make a list of things you like. Anything really.  Anything that you like and would like to see in your apartment. Also, you need a budget.” 

    “Don’t worry ‘bout a budget. I’ll work on everything else. You want it done by a certain day?” He asked, gallantly placing a hand on the small of her back as they crossed the street.

    “Preferably within the next week or two. I’m pretty much done with Karime.” She straightens up when she feels Harry’s hand on her, a warm feeling spreading from where he pressed, unlike the nastiness Kim made her feel. 

    They’re three shops down when he said, “Gotta give me your number so I can send you everything then. You can keep me updated and I’ll keep you updated.” They pass by a tree whose branch is just low enough to graze Harry’s head, and it hooks onto the hood on his head, effectively pulling it back as he walks through. His hair looks incredibly soft. Wispy strands the color of the drink in her hands, billowing up and around his face, a ringlet falling in front of his right eye. 

    He licks his lips, using his fingers to push his hair back and raise the hoodie over his hair again. HE looks over at her as he does, waiting for her response. 

    “Oh, oh, yes. Sure thing. Got your phone on you?” Harry jams his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, the latest model, sleek and looking incredibly small in his hands. He placed it into her outstretched palm, unlocked but not on the contact app. Y/n has to swipe through shamefully, scared he’s gonna think that she’s snooping. She puts her number under ‘y/n :)’. 

    “Thanks, love.” He took the phone from her, his fingers sliding against the back of her hand. He hisses when he does so, saying, “Y/n your hands are so cold,” and then proceeds to take her hand and squeeze it between his own two. 

    She giggles sweetly, “Aye! Trynna hold my hand now?” she teased. 

    “No, trying to hold your hand would be this,” He grabs her hand with one, and lets it wall between them. They walk into AromaReads like that, with him holding her hand and the both of them laughing like they’d heard the funniest thing in the world. 

    Karime, standing at the counter and welcoming everyone as they come in, catches y/n’s eye and she smiles at herself knowingly. Y/n shakes her head while still laughing with Harry, and they both head to the back. Harry to get his stuff, and y/n to continue her job. Just when he’s walking between the isle and cabinets, his phone dings and he takes it out, his jaw dropping and palm slapping his forehead. 

    “SHIT! I completely forgot. I have a lunch meeting with my friend today. Fuck,” Y/n, this being the first time she hears swear words coming out of his mouth, rases her eybrow at him and chuckles. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to keep helping you, but-”

    She raises her hand, silencing him. “You do what you have to do. This is my job anyway. Just don’t forget to text me.” Basket handles fill her hands, wicker patterns pressing into her pals, and she tucks one of the last two frames under her hand too. 

    “I won’t. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He types into the phone that’s still in his hand, and a few seconds later Y/n’s back pocket buzzes and chimes. She doesn’t pull it out to check. “Now you can text me if I forget.” He says finally, swinging his satchel over his shoulder.

“Bye, sweetheart!” He called out, turning back over to smile at her. Y/n’s  lips pulled up at the corners, gazing at him with a certain look in her eye as he walked out. 

    “Sweetheart, huh?” Karime stepped into her direct line of vision, snapping y/n out of the daydream in her head where she’s the housewife and Harry her husband leaving to work, calling out bye, sweetheart! as he walked out the door. 

    Karime’s looking at her with a smirk and a single pointy eyebrow raise. 

    God, what had she gotten herself into?

    .

    .

    Y/n had saved Harry under “H.”

   And received a text from him that same night.

    She’d been in her bathtub with cucumbers on her eyes when she heard her phone chime. Chin pointed upwards and wrists perched on the edges of her porcelain basin, she lay unbothered and unmotivated to even move. Arms aching and the soles of her feet tired from walking from place to place and lifting she did at Karime’s earlier that day. Tealight candles were the only source of light in the tiny bathroom, a soft yellow glow cascading on the skin of her neck.  The valley of her breast peaked out everytime she took a breath, her mind drifting off into thoughts of green eyes and warm hands, all she’d been able to think about that day.

    She planned on staying there 30 more minutes, but her phone dinged again. After she thought it was the two minute thing the phone does after receiving a message, but when it dinged again, she huffed from her nose and removed the soggy cucumber sliced off of her eyes. Should’ve turned off my phone, she thought to herself, grabbing the towel she left on the toilet seat across from the tub, and wrapping it around her torso. The phone screen a blaring white light in contrast to the dimness of the candles. 

    Y/n, eyes cloudy with sleep and limbs saggy with fatigue, is very much surprised to see that next to the app icon on the display screen, is ‘H.’ Hey eyes pop out of her head at the realization, and her heart shakes up the fatigue to beat up a storm for the boy she’d been thinking about all day since he’d left her. 

Standing in her bathroom, on bare tiles with water still dripping on her, it hit her full force. She liked Harry. Liked the way his cheek squished against his shoulder when he shrugged. They way he looked at her through his eyelashes, and they way he made sure that she was walking on the inside of the street. Liked how he smiled at her and said her name. She was obsessed with him. 

So i think i know what i wanna go for

Was thinking maybe italy in the 70’s 

What do you think :D ??

    And attached were varying pictures of vast rooms with big windows during golden hour and white flowy curtains with art pieces on the wall. It was minimal Even more minimal that what Karime asked for. This is what he wanted help with? Not to mention, the pictures he sent were of rooms far bigger than she’d ever seen for an LA apartment. Hell, those rooms might as well have been in Italy, one of the windows had a view of a pretty pink sunset and orange tree branches littering the way. 

    However, she couldn’t argue that they were very pretty rooms. Sweet and plain, easy for the eye to absorb and just the place you’d be able to melt on the floor with a book. 

    Or the kind in which you have slow, hazy afternoon sex, but who was she to say what harry would use his rooms for right?

    Disclaimer: if this is the look you’re going for

    Like

    This exact look? You’re gonna have 2 have a really big apartment   

        Not even a full minute goes by until the grey delivered letters turns into ‘Read at 10:15pm’ and the grey typing bubble appears at the bottom of her screen. Her palms begin to sweat and her breath hitches. She doesn’t realize she’s been holding in her breath until she releases it after his message comes through. 

        are you doing anything this weekend? 

        Y/n is confused, brows furrowed as she reads his message. Why does he want to know?

    No. why? she responded.

    so you can come and take measurements of my apartments. that way i know how to tweak what i want

  and I have a measuring tape don’t worry

Y/n rolled her eyes and giggled at her phone screen, turning and resting her bum on the edge of her sink. 

    Saturday? 

        Seconds later,

see you Saturday

sweet dreams. H.x

The idiot. Of course he’d sign off a text message. Scoffing, y/n let the towel drop to the floor, and reached into the tub to unclog the drain. As soon as she felt the pop of water flowing down the pipes, she took out her arm and walked out. 

.

.

On Wednesday, y/n laid in bed until 12. When she got up, it was only to brush her teeth, pee, and eat ramen with rice and egg like the asian lady in the liquor store had taught her to make. When she finished, she went back to bed. Maybe she masturbated to get herself to fall asleep again.

Maybe.

.

.

On Thursday, she went took Our Sign Of The Times and took it out to read in her car on signal hill. She finished it. 

She cried. 

When she went home, she started another one. Rogue Lover. This one with a really pretty purple flower on the front, and the first page when you open it is a raven haired man with shoulder length hair who’s propped up next to a busty redhead. Her nipple is in his mouth, and her head is thrown back in pleasure. Y/n fell a little more in love with 

Lemus Knox upon finding the dedication was a note rather than a name. 

It said:

Whoever reads this, I’ll be waiting for you where the stars and clouds meet. My heart is yours. Lemus.

.

.

Friday. 

She helped Lucy at Rockstar. A bald man with a blue beard came in asking for her. He has a boutique in Long Beach. Doesn’t want to come off overbearing. Will he help her? 

She said yes.They were set to meet next week. 

Also, Harry texted her asking if they were still on for tomorrow and come ready to eat because I made Italian food for a few friends I had over and there’s leftovers. 

.

.

Saturday. 

Y/n woke up with an appetite for Italian food. She didn’t have to be at Harry’s house until 12-ish. They hadn’t really clarified. And with it being 8 am and all that, y/n decided to take some time to shower and prep herself all nice and delicate. She spent 15 minutes lathering herself in her tub, letting her skin absorb berry scented bubbles that made her mouth water, and if she didn’t know any better she’d scoop up the bubbles and eat them.When her skin shriveled, she stood and drained the water, letting the stream from the overhead wash her off, and stepped out onto her heart shaped mat, the kind with little stubs that felt really nice against the bottom of her feet.

A little while back, she’d bought a lemon face scrub from a really expensive skincare place that had a sale, and meanwhile she put on her clothes, she put some on her cheekbones and forehead to sit for 15 minutes.  It required extra care when slipping her floral dress over her head. Once she managed to poke her head through, and the material rested all bunched up on her neck, the rest was a breeze. With a careful yank, the light material cascaded down her body, dropping just below her bum. Checking herself in her mirror, she smiled at the way she looked when she swayed her hips side to side. Cheeky flashes of her bum glint at her teasingly. Humming contently, she took off to wash off her face in the restroom. She was eager to find out how Harry liked the way she looked; her dress a low neckline, and she wasn’t wearing a bra because it was one of those dress in which the fabric bunched at the breasts to create a makeshift cup. The patter was a nice pink that looked nice against her skin, dainty little bows at the sleeves and in between her breasts accentuating her features.

Y/n opted for nothing other than a dark shade of lipstick, and let her hair flow down her back. As she was putting on her shoes, a pair of those recycled shoes that sent some of the proceeds to charity, she noticed that much of what she was doing felt like what she would have done if she were getting ready for a date. 

And… and Harry had food waiting for her at his place (apartment? Loft? She didn’t know specifically). Was this a date? She definitely wouldn't mind if it was.

She finished, and grabbed nothing other than her keys and shoulder bag, hesitating at her door whether she should grab the measuring tape, but deciding against it after remembering that Harry, quite teasingly, had said he had one at his house. 

In her car, she scrolled up her and Harry’s text to find the one which contained his address, tapped on it when she found it, and set in on the small mount on the headboard of her cart. Huffing, she set off to Harry’s house.

It didn’t take her long to get there, about ten minutes, and she parked in front of a much nicer version of her own apartment complex, but in Beverly hills.  A beige building that have the similar structure of a hotel, with turquoise patios and green roofing. Palm trees making a walkway to the entrance, which guarded by a security guard who asked who she was there to see.  

“I’m here to see Harry…” she falters, realizing she doesn’t know his name. 

The security, an old man with a limp and scrutinizing eyes, looked her up and down and said, “Ya one of dem girls das always botherin’ him ain’tcha? I suggest you turn back and go home. Mr. Styles won’t see you.” 

Y/n, with her jaw dropped, stood stunned in the middle of the pathway, not sure what to respond. Surely, he was confused. And whichever “girls that came around bothering Mr. Styles” she wasn’t one of them. 

“Go on and git,” he said, crossing his arms and standing possessively in front of a keypad. 

She hurried to reach into her bag for her phone, walking back to her car while she punched Harry’s “call” because she didn’t want to stand while an agitated security man watched her. 

He picks up the phone, and doesn’t even give her a chance to talk before he says, “is Felix giving you a hard time?” His voice gravelly and knowing. 

“The security guard? He said that you won’t see me.” She whines into the receiver. 

“Ah yes, the strict old man. Gimme a second.” He hangs up on her, leaving y/n clutching the strap of her bag so hard her knuckles turn white. 

“Ms. Y/n?!” Felix calls from behind her. She turns around, surprised to see that his face was completely transformed with a smile. His front tooth is gold and he’s missing a molar. “You can go on ahead, dolly. Mr. Styles just called and said you was a nice ‘un.”  He said, punching a thumb into the keypad behind him. “Sorry, bout that Miss. Enjoy the rest ‘ur dey!” He touches the tips of his fore and middle finger to his gleaming forehead and salutes her as she passes him, giggling and blushing. 

“Thank you, Felix. You too.” 

She walks through, and is greeted with a fine lobby. It really does look like a hotel lobby. Carpeted floors, a receptionist, and a door leading to a pool just outside the elevator. Before she can even wonder where to go, she hears her name being called by a familiar voice, 

“Y/n, over here!” Harry calls out, standing in front of open doors to the elevator to her right. He’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck and black slacks that are cuffed at the ankles. Yellow tortoise shell glasses and his hair is parted down the middle making him look like MiloThatch. A lavender towelette is in the grasp of his right hand, and he’s waving it at her like soldier girlfriends saying goodbye on the platforms. 

Stunned at his etherealness, y/n felt the roof of her mouth go dry. Staring at the way he filled out his clothing, she walked to him hypnotized, transfixed by his appearance. His chiseled features, boyish grin. She gravitated towards him. Enchanted.

“H-hi, Harry.” she said dreamily. Harry’s eyes raked her up and down when she came to a stop in front of him. 

“Why, hello. You look exceptionally lovely right now, darling.” He rasped, looking down at her sternly, all traces of a sweet smile gone and replaced by something a little more serious. A little more sinister.  His light green eyes turning a darker shade, y/n’s lips parting and knees weakening. 

She musters the words to say, “so do you,” and Harry’s lips turn up at the corners. 

“Shall we head up. Pasta and salad is waiting for you.” He turns away from her and presses the circular button that goes red when he pushes it. 

“How was-”

“So, you-” 

They both say at the same time, laughing and stopping to let the other speak and Harry says, “You go first.” 

“I see you’ve a few fans that bother you, and Mr. Felix has taken to guarding them off,” y/n commented. Her eyebrow quirked at him. 

Harry laughs, a single loud ha! “Felix just takes his job very seriously. That’s all.” 

“Doesn’t change the fact that you have women-” the elevator rings and the doors open, “lined up on your doorstep.” Harry steps in first, and uses his hand to stop the elevator doors from closing in on y/n. 

She steps through, and they both stand side by side in the metal encasing. Glancing up, she sees the ceiling is covered in mirror panels. 

“Well,” Harry shifts his body so his front is facing her, and takes a step, shoulders taking turns on tilting forward with every slow, torturous step he takes. “Does it,” Y/n takes a step back, breath hitching in her chest, “ bother,” her back collides with the cool wall, the floors on the meter above the doors keep going, 5, 6, “ you?” 

He’s a needle away from her nose, his mouth ghosting over her own and his chest rising up and down slowly while hers is an erratic mess. She’s breathing out of her mouth, her eyes shifting between his own two that are fixed and straight on hers. 7, 8,  Harry’s hand comes to rest on the right side of her face, caging her between the elevator wall and his bicep, his palm cupped her jaw and running a thumb tenderly over her cheekbone. 

“I-I,” she stutters. 

“Cat got your tongue, petal?” His breath smells like mint and coffee. The tips of the curls that hang in front of his eyes tickle y/n’s forehead and down the side of her temple and eventually her cheek when he leans in to put his lips at her ear. “Look so pretty right now, y'know?” HIs british drawl is heavy because his tone of voice is low. 

8, 9, “Harry,” she gasped, involuntarily tilting her head to the side when he noses at the back of her ear. “What are you doing?” 

The elevator comes to a stop at 10, and Harry retracts, leaving her a red, heated mess  and slightly panting. He takes the few steps to stand in front of the elevator doors, and clasps his hands behind his back. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled at her sweetly, his demeanor innocent as if we weren't just going to ravish her in an elevator like Robet Patterson for that one Dior commercial.

The doors open to a long hallway that turns sharply at the end to the right, a door where it would’ve turned on the left side. The right wall is a window that looks out onto the middle of the building, where y/n could see the pool that had been behind door. The flooring is a green colored tile, the same as the roofing, and the walls are a flattering soft yellow bordering on white.

Harry’s shoes, expensive looking-black heeled boots that have a rainbow pattern on the, making clacking noises against the floor with every step he takes. Y/n can’t help but feel awkward while walking alongside him, but  Harry, humming along to the tune of Maneater, by Hall and Oates, doesn’t seem to share her opinions. At the end of the hall, he makes a sharp turn to left, and she bumps into him. Mumbling a sorry she steps back to allow him to open the door. 

It’s not locked, and with a quick turn of the brass knob, the door opens and the smell of tomato and basil hits them both in the face. 

Y/n’s stomach grumbles, and she places her hand over her bell and looks over at Harry with wide eyes, embarrassed. 

“I take it you’re hungry?” He steps through, holding the door open for her.

“...yes…” she mumbled, stepping through. 

“Just in time then because I…” Whatever Harry says is drowned out. Y/n is amazed. Harry doesn’t have an apartment. He has a goddamn penthouse suite. His living room wall is a window, his kitchen open and blending in with the rest of the space. There are no walls, just turns where the building walls connect. Tall and wide walls painted with angles of shadows and lights that stream in. No furniture other than a long, wooden dinner table and three white chairs, and his bed. A mattress and a white comforter messily strewn over pillows. Before the walls turn to the streetside view, Y/n catches glimpses of cedar wood bookshelves arranged in the middle of the room; just like in a library. 

“Y/n?”  Harry appears in her line of peripheral vision, a knowing look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry. What was it?” 

“Said, do you want spaghetti and meatballs or fettuccine?”

“Mmm,” She scrunches her face like she’s thinking real hard, “fettuccine.” Then she adds, “please.” 

“You got it.” He said, walking away while playing with the collar of his turtleneck. Y/n follows after him, to the kitchen isle and utilities placed in a little alcove underneath the stairs that lead upstairs. To what, y/n didn’t know. 

Then she sees the pots and pans that are still steaming, the cutting boards with chopped lettuce and other vegetables and realizes that-

“Hey! You said you had takeout,”

“I did.” He picks up the knife next to the tomato, and continues chopping the lettuce.  “But I left it out, and it went bad. I promised you Italian so I made it myself instead. Much better than Olive Garden, anyways.” He shrugs, looking up at her and pointing with the knife to a chair across from him. “Sit.”

“NO!” She said, exasperated. “Let me chop something, too.”

“Darling, this is finished. I’ve got it. Sit, the fettuccine is almost finished. Just,” he twists his neck to look behind him, at the clock above the stove, a cat with a swinging tail. “Five more minutes.” 

Y/n slides the bag she carried off her shoulder and hooks it in the back of the chair he had told her to sit on, which she still wasn’t.

“Harry, that’s not fair.” she stomped her foot, a flat slapping noise of her sole against his wooden floors.

“Oh sit, or I won’t give you any food.” He tuts his tongue at her, shaking his knife and turning to turn down one of the knobs on the stove.

Pouting like a child, y/n sits down with a plop and a screech of the chair sliding against the floor.

She sat and watched Harry as he took plates out of his cupboards and placed food on them. The only noises being the quiet bubbling of pasta sauce, the tapping of his heels, clinks of plates against each other, and y/n’s grumbling stomach. Her face was still puckered in a pout because Harry hadn’t let her help him, but it slowly eased off as she focused more and more on the way he looked in his fitting black pants. The way the fabric was tighter on his ass, how his thighs flexed with each stride. Suddenly, y/n got the urge to bite into them, and she felt herself blush at her own thoughts, especially when Harry turned to her with a sweet smile of his lips.

He placed a plate in front of her, complete with salad and garlic knots. 

“Would you like some wine? Got this really nice one the other day and I haven’t opened it yet. Figured since we’re having Italian, it fits.” Harry was holding a dark wine bottle in his hand, that he had just pulled out of his silver fridge. 

“Harry, I would love some, but-” Y/n tried to explain that she felt bad because she came here for take out and had cooked her a meal.

“NO buts. Have some.” And instantly, there was a cup of red wine next to her plate.

Even though he had a table for eating, he placed his own plate next to her, and sat down to eat. Y/n looked at him, deflated and with a pained look on her face, while he forked spaghetti into his mouth and raised his glass for a drink. 

He froze when he saw she was looking at him. Looking her up and down, he said, “Moppet, eat your food. We have work to do.” 

Y/n rubbed her palm down her face, her lips pulled down. With a groan, she picked up her fork, sulking, and twirled it in her pasta.

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but definitely not the mini piece of heaven that was in her mouth. Harry had managed to create the perfect blend of cheese and cream that glazed her tongue like silk. It was so good, she moaned, her fingers pressing against her mouth and head tilted back. 

“S’good,? Harry questioned, wiping his mouth with a napkin to hide his laugh.

“Very,” she said, shoving more of the pasta into her mouth.

“Good.”

They eat quietly, Harry snickering at her whenever inhumane noises of pleasure left her mouth.Y/n practically cleaned her plate with the garlic knots. She only remembered about the glass of wine when Harry set his down empty, lips stained, and eyes droopy if she looked at him hard enough. After she’d cleaned her plate, she reached for the thin stem of the g;ass and drank it like it was grape juice, only slightly wincing after it had gone down, the tart acidity washing down the sweeter tones of cream. 

“Slow down, Moppet. Don’t want you to get a tummy ache.” Harry said, patting her hand tenderly and pushing himself off the seat to place her plate in the sink. At this, y/n jumped from her chair and took the plates from Harry. 

“You cooked, not I wash the dishes.” She stuck her tongue out at him, the tip red from the wine.

“But-” Harry protested.

“No buts. Go,” she bumped her hip against his, and walked the last few steps to the sink, picking up the sponge and turning on the water. She washed the dishes, and like always, got the front of her dress wet, water splattering onto her chest. Sucking on her teeth, y/n used the towel hanging on the handle of the oven to pat off the water. Harry watched this from where he leaned against the isle across from the stove; a new glass of wine half empty.

Returning to the table, she grabbed her now full- no thanks to Harry- glass of wine and sipped from it. It settled nicely in her stomach, warming down the path it took to settle.

Clasping her hands, she said, “Okay, Harry. Let’s talk decor.”

Harry untucked his hand from underneath his armpit, and smacked his lips together, “Follow me.”

He started walking out to the living room area, and into the bookshelves y/n had seen. Up close, they were actually taller than her, just about Harry’s height. He walked past them, and stopped again at a corner where one building face meets the other. Here, he had pictures upon pictures laid out on the floor. He even had scraps of fabric.

Y/n stared, and nodded approvingly. “You did your research. Good job.” Looking closer, she saw what the images were. Albums (David Bowie, Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, The Beatles, Prince). Pop culture pieces (Andy Narwhal, Pulp Fiction, Sixteen Candles). Fabric patterns, colors, and a lot of velvet. About half of the pictures were shots of other room like the pictures he’d shown her. 

To her left, Harry tapped onto his phone, and seconds later, that song he’d been humming in the hallway, Maneater, played with clarity on speakers hidden from the eye. When he was satisfied with his queue choices, he knee and sat next to his big circle of inspiration, legs splayed out in front of him looking infinitely long.  Y/n noticed he had taken off his boots, and his feet, knobby and lanky, had toes painted blue and pink. He had black markings on his big toe, but she couldn’t see what it was.

“Look, sit sit, I was thinking…” Harry began, patting the area next to him and grabbing a few of the papers he had spewed on the floor. Y/n, inexplicably endeared, sat with her legs crossed to the side next to him, feeling her butt press onto the cold floor, and listened to him go on and on about his vision. 

Hours passed with them just talking about images, why Fleetwood Mac would go better than Prince (because Fleetwood Mac is more of an afternoon in the meadows, and Prince is a night going down the highway in Malibu) and fabric choices for the windows (i’m sorry Harry, y/n had argued, but unless you can find a near translucent velvet its not gonna work. If you want the summer in italy during the 70’s look, you need transparent curtains).

They sat long enough that the way the light filtered in at an angle according to the sun, changed completely (it was at a harsh slant with the morning light, now its at a soft bend with golden light). When the light made Harry’s face look a golden pink, he fell back onto the wooden floors with a groan and said,

“How do you do this, y/n?” He blew hair out of his lips to move the few strands that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Dunno, its just second natur- heeyy,”

A midst the mess, she guesses they missed it. Underneath a picture of a fruit bowl and flowers, was a picture of a naked woman, with birds eye view from the bot of her head, so you could see the tips of her breasts with they way she arched her back, and the head of hair in between her thighs. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pleasure, eyes closed and a hand fisting her own hair like she was doing to the man in between her thighs.

Her cheeks burn upon her discovery, and she feels a familiar buzz in the place where the woman in the picture had a tongue pressed against her. 

When he heard her little gasp, Harry shot straight up and when he saw the image in her hands he said, “Ah, I see you’ve finally found it. Was wonderin’ when it would come out.” Reaching across her, his chest smushed againt her shoulder, he plucks it from her hands and look at it, smirking.

“You didn’t tell me we’d be doing x-rated work.” 

She says it teasingly.

But maybe it was the way she was looking at him then. She couldn’t help it. The roots of his hair looked blonde in the light, and his eyes were clear, almost see through as light passed them. His lips looked particularly tasty, having been tinted red from the wine, glinting from his own spit, and swollen from how he’d plucked at them while he was thinking about her suggestions. The juncture of his throat was partly hidden, but she could still see every time he swallowed, hos his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. And… and it wasn’t her fault that black pants looked good on him either. The material stretching taught over his muscles, flexing with every, single movement he made, no matter how small.  

So, maybe she had been looking at his provocatively, and her comment had… fueled Harry. Tuned him in on what had been on her mind.

He lifts himself with one arm from his indian-style position on the floor, up to his knees, and crawls to her. Eyes looking with hers, y/n’s chest starts to heave, her breaths growing bated; shorter; faster. 

“Do you want to do x-rated work?” He said, his voice dangerously low. His rings clink against the wooden planks, and brush against her thighs when he comes close, hands bracketing her hips, his nose nudging hers.

She’s gupping, like a little guppy fish, her lips opening and close, but nothing comes out of them.

Harry’s nose moves to her cheek, pushing back her hair. “It’s okay, pet. I can ask you again. Do you want,” his lips are at her ear for the second time that day, except that she thinks maybe they’ll actually gets somewhere this time. All she has to do is say,

“Yes.” Her voice is small, an airy squeak when Harry presses a kiss to the back of her ear. Her hands, sitting dumbly on her lap, move tentatively to his chest, searching from something to hold onto. She clenches the soft fabric in her hands just as Harry starts to lean back, his palm falling into her naval, and pushing her back, back, back, until she has to stretch her legs out to lay comfortable on her back, staring up at him with bleary eyes, glossed over.

“Yes? Course you do, pet.” He moves his knees to straddle her hips, leaning down close so he’s almost talking into her mouth, and one of his hands smooths down the shape of her waist. Y/n feels herself grow wet when Harry dips his thumb into her belly button, and she’s whining because she hasn’t done anything with anybody in so long and she wants him to do something.

But, if he’s not gonna do anything, that she might as well. She stretched her neck the last of the way, flattening her lips against Harry’s. The relief is instant, she quells her desire of being closer to him, and Harry responds almost immediately, swiping his tongue on her bottom lip and licking into her when she lets him. Harry groans, because she still tastes like wine and a sweetness he can only credit to her. His kiss becomes urgent, smashing his against her soft, malleable mouth.

Y/n whimpers, hips jutting upwards when Harry takes her lower lip between his teeth, and bites down on it,hard enough to where the pain was pleasure. Although her mind is swimming, she knows that the bulge she feels through the flimsy cloth of her dress is Harry’s cock. Elated and driven mad by her need, she arches up into him, needing any friction she could.

Harry pulls away from her, their lips separating with a wet noise, and tuts his tongue at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You’re not getting my cock tonight, y/n. Not yet.”

She mewls, her eyebrows dipping and red, puffy lips pouting, “Harry, don’t be a tease. S’not fair.” She doesn’t care is she sounds pathetic, the space between her thighs aches, and she’d like him to very much sate it “Do something, please.”

He coos at her, pressing wet kisses along her neck, his hand sneaking past her waist, to the start of her dress, and slipping underneath it. “Whining like a little puppy, aren’t you?” His hand glides of her thigh, the shill of his rings sending a violent shiver up her spine. His nail scratches a path near the place where she’s most warm. Most needy, and she moans when he feels how close he is to touching her, the splotch on her panties expanding every time he spoke. “You’re alright puppy, I’ll take care of you.”

Y/n’s breath hitches when his finger hooks onto the strap of her underwear, snapping the material twice with a chuckle at the cries he elicited from her. 

“Harry, harry, harry,” she’s half mad with need, her eyes squeezed shut with anticipation, and when Harry sees the desperation in her slack mouth, his own features go soft, and he takes out his hand from underneath her dress to cup her cheek. 

“Puppy,” he said, and when she didn’t open her eyes, he said again, “Puppy, look at me.” his thumb rubs over her cheek, ignoring the imploring whines that leave her lips, and instead leaning down and kissing her to shut her up. “It’s okay, its okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” She shouted, eyes going wide, amazed that he’d even ask that. “Do something.” She ruts up again, the head of Harry’s cock nudging against her hood. Harry groans, noticing how fucking hard he is. He’s leaked through his pants, a darker splotch where his head it.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, more to himself than to her.

His hand makes the same trail it had before, flipping up her dress this time to see her clothed center. Her panties make him want to cum on the spot. Baby pink cotton with a bow on the center of the band. Biting his lip, he uses a knee to spread her thighs, and then he sees just how much she needs him. 

“Oh puppy. We’ve made a mess of your panties haven’t we?” He looks at her with amusement, “Guess they have to go, don’t they?” 

Y/n hums desperately, her hips writhing up to meet his fingers. Pressing a last kiss to her lips, Harry scoots back so his knees are by her feet, and he and slip off the material all the way off. Suddenly aware of how bare she is, he clasps her thighs sht, obscuring Harry’s view of her pussy. 

“C’mon now, honey. Don’t be shy,” with a strong hand, he pries her knees apart and lays himself down in front of her, his breath hot on her swollen clit. From that angle, he can see how much she glistens, and how her juices spill out of her every time she clenched her hole around nothing. “Look at you, just begging to be stuffed.”

With a single finger, he slides up and down her slit, collecting her wetness, and then slipping into her. 

Y/n bleats, his intrusion stirring her heat up more; she wanted more. Wanted to be filled than more with just his finger, but was scared to say. Instead she said, “another,”

Harry slid his middle finger inside her, scissoring his fingers and leaning down to lick a stripe on her clit. Y/n arched her back, and moaned loudly, her eyes squeezing shut and hands touching at the area around her, looking for something to hold on to and settling to clenching at her own dress.

He hears the sound of her hands colliding with the floor, and looks up to see her knuckles going white with hoe hands she was fondling her dress.

“Y’can pull my hair, puppy.” he said against her slit, the vibrations of his words sending prickled of pleasure to the building orgasm she feels in the pit of her stomach. The second her muddled brain comprehends what Harry said, her fingers jam themselves into her his hair, just as he suckles on her. Y/n’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and her gasps come out in staccatos.

Harry’s fingers are still pumping in an out of her, twisting every time he pushed them back into her. He’s looking for the spongy spot inside of her, when he hears her say something incoherently.

“What was that?” he asked her,his fingers stilling inside her.

“Said, what about you?”

Her voice is faint and weak, her voice and comment sending pin-pricks of satisfaction to his throbbing member. His heart clenches at her considerations, so touched by the fact that she’s so lost in her own heat but she’s still worried about him.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Y’gonna cum for me, puppy?” He feels the pad of his middle finger slide against something that has a different texture that the rest of her, and when her breathing hitches and she lets out a long moan, he knows hes found what he’s looking for. Y/n’s pussy clenches around, her fingers tighten in his hair, so hard it makes Harry yelp. “Clenching m’fingers, puppy, I know you’re there.” 

Y/n feels the familiar slow burn of her orgasm twisting in the pit of her stomach, her entire body hyper aware of Harry and what he was doing to her. How he pressed a hand on her navel to keep her from lifting her hips, the harsh sucking of her clit, and then finally the flick of his pointer finger curling inside her.  The build-up unravels, and her mouth opens up in a silent scream like the women in the picture, her body going taught, and then falling limp when the wave calms.

“That’s it, love. All better now isn’t it?” Harry slowly takes his fingers out of her, reveling in the way she’s still squeezing around him. She’s sensitive and jerking from her orgasm when He lick his fingers clean, kissing his path up her body. Her thighs, her exposed navel, her clothed valley of her breasts, her collarbones, and up her throat, behind her ear where he’s taken a liking to kissing.

“Jesus, Harry. Where’d you learn to talk like that?” She titters sleepily.

“S’my job, puppy.” He nibbles at her earlobe and down her jawline.

Alarmed, y/n’s eyes pop open, and she sits up, pushing Harry’s chest and holding him at arms length. “What do you mean, it’s your job?” She’s scared she’s just been used or something along those lines.

“I mean it’s my job. Learned a few skills from writing erotica, pet.” He responses calmly, diving back in to continue his assault on the skin of her jaw. His voice warped against her, he adds, “write under a pseudonym. Lemus Knox.” 

Lemus Knox. 

Harry was Lemus Knox. Harry was Lemus fucking Knox.

“You’re…” she’s still. Almost like that fight or flight instinct. 

Harry stills when he realizes she has. He knows, simply by the tone of her voice that she knows who he is. Who Lemus Knox is.He withdraws to look at her, grinning fro  ear to ear.

“You know who I am?” he said slowly.

“Harry, I’d even go as far as saying I’m in love with Lemus,” she blurts, reddening as soon as the words leave her mouth, but Harry just smiles fondly at her.

“That’s okay, puppy. Lemus and I aren’t the same person. You have a right to love him,” he nuzzles into her neck, kissing down her shoulder, “Just as long as you save some love for me.”

And lying there, completely stunned ant with Harry’s hard cock pressing into her hip, y/n bursts out laughing. She laughs because she’s happy. Because she likes Harry. Because she loves Lemus Knox.

She laughs because for the first time in a long time, someone is laughing along with her, kissing her, holding her.

She laughs because she can’t wait to see where Harry will lead her.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles blog #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fic #harry edward styles #one direction fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #hazza styles #hazza blurbs #daddy harry

[logical-little-lies]

Coloring and Close Bonds- Agere!AU (part 42)

A/N: Hi! This is a shorter no-little-side chapter to help advance the plot. It is like, necessary to the overarching plot so...but it is cute! Platonic Virgil and Emile Rights. Anyways, the next chapter will be a filler probably focusing around little!Emile and cg!Remy, so y'all can see how I write them.

--

Of course, Emile suggested that they should hang out outside of work so that they could possibly be friends again. And the core sides didn't want to say no, so here they were, watching Disney.

They had to choose the thing that could trigger any of their headspace. It's like they knew and were purposely making it worse for them. It was a million times harder to repress your headspace when you were used to regressing whenever.

Roman silently cuddled into Virgil's side, Virgil wrapping his arm around him. "Not to be rude or anything, but are you two dating?" Remy asked. Virgil nodded, as if this fact was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Have been for a while," Roman scoffed.

"Sorry, we haven't been around to know..." Emile let Remy wrap his arm around him.

"Oh my god, you two are dating!" Patton realized.

"Obviously," Remy turned his head, kissing Emile's cheek softly. "And I'm assuming you and the nerd are too?"

"That nerd is my boyfriend," Patton defended.

This whole interaction heavily shifted the vibe from tense to romantic. They avoided regressing by constantly talking to their partner and being cute. It was just a coincidence that most of the sides paired off when the Neutral Sides weren't speaking with them.

They'd soon find out that there was one other similarity between the three of their relationships, and it wasn't a romantic one.

--

Virgil was scrolling on his phone when he heard a knock at his door. He knew that Remy and Emile were there, but he assumed they were still having their meetings. But he was proven wrong when he swung open the door to see Emile.

"Hey?" he sounded confused, subtly attempting to block his view into the bedroom due to all the baby stuff practically lying around.

"Hey! Um, I was only needed for part of the meeting...my job is a shared one, after all. Mostly there to fix conflict but there wasn't any. I was wondering if I could hang out with you until it was over?"

"Uh, sure," Virgil shrugged. He didn't dislike Emile, at all. It was just awkward, because he knew there was a point where Emile disliked him, and some part of him brain told him that those feelings were still there, and that he was only being nice because he had too.

Like he could read his anxious thoughts, Emile started to reassure him. "Me and Remy owe you a huge apology. I'm sorry that we treated you so badly when you were a dark side...we should've known to just wait until you adjusted-"

"When I first came to live here, I pushed everyone away. Including you. I treated you badly, and you got away from that." Virgil interrupted him. "But you're right, once I adjusted, everything got better. Things changed and we changed, right?"

Emile smiled. "Yeah, exactly. Apology accepted?"

"Yeah, apology accepted." Virgil smiled back at him.

"Can I come in?" Emile asked, trying to look around him.

"We can't hang out in here!" Virgil denied quickly, stepping forward and shutting his door behind him. Emile seemed shocked, and a bit hurt that he wasn't allowed, but he nodded slowly.

"You deserve privacy. We can go to the living room and do something."

Virgil nodded, following him to the commons. They both took a seat, sitting in an awkward silence until Emile attempted to start a conversation. "So...what do you like doing, Virgil?" Emile asked. Virgil thought about how to phrase his response, trying to avoid mentioning his more childish hobbies.

"I go online a lot, and I watch movies and stuff. I don't know, I just spend a lot of time with the others..." he mumbled. "You?"

"Same, mostly. I'm the therapist in the village so that's what I've been busying myself with, keeping all of Thomas's characters and figments happy and healthy. I also just spend a lot of time with Remy." Emile shrugged.

"When did you and Remy start dating? Has that been like, a long term thing or is it new?"

"Long term, I guess. We've been together for a few months," Emile tried not to go into detail here. Remy was his caregiver, and he was his, and in order to avoid mentioning that, he'd have to stick to the romantic parts of their relationship. "What about you and Roman? How did that happen?"

"Things were complicated between everyone due to the dark sides getting involved with everything, so all of us were stressed. I started spending more time with Roman and then it just kinda...happened? Logan and Patton got together just before we did..." Virgil explained. Emile smiled.

"I'm glad you guys are so happy. It's nice knowing that you guys are closer then you were before. You guys also made friends with the Dark Sides, which is cool." Emile seemed kinda tense at that, biting his lip.

"Are you- are you scared of the dark sides?" Virgil questioned.

Emile shrugged. "They're kinda mean, or at least...they were."

"They're getting better about that. I won't let them treat you or Remy badly, just don't assume that they haven't changed."

Emile nodded quickly, the two falling into silence. How come this was so awkward? "Do you have crayons and coloring books?" Emile asked.

Coloring always helped him calm down. Remy would often sit him down and have him color after throwing a fit or getting frustrated while little. It seemed like an odd punishment, but he'd calm down after a few minutes and would be able to talk to Remy about whatever happened.

He thought that maybe, if he distracted himself with coloring, talking to Virgil might be easier.

"I mean- yeah, but why?" Virgil immediately seemed skeptical, not knowing what he was planning.

"I thought it'd give us something to do besides sit in silence when we run out of things to talk about..." Emile explained. Virgil didn't know how to object that, nodding a bit.

"Okay, I'll go find them." he agreed.

He came back a few minutes later with a stack of coloring books and a box of crayons. "You guys have a lot of coloring books," Emile chuckled, moving down from the couch to the floor as Virgil cleared the coffee table, spreading out the books and setting down the box of crayons.

"There's definitely more." Virgil assured, moving to sit next to Emile on the floor.

"Why do you have so many?" he claimed a Lilo and Stitch book, flipping through it. Virgil paused, not being able to come up with words.

"Is it an anxiety thing? Because coloring helps me too," Emile suggested, after a few moments of Virgil trying to come up with an excuse. Emile realized that his question might've been a little personal.

"Y-yeah, something like that." Virgil laughed it off, picking out a book.

As they colored and gossiped, they both somewhat repressed a headspace that felt so easy to slip into. Coloring really did help the awkwardness though.

If they ran out of things to say, Emile would compliment Virgil's crayon skills and that would fade into another train of conversation. When they fell into silence, it was because they were focused on drawing, and it didn't feel weird. They remained big by talking about anything and everything. Their boyfriends, their jobs, things that have happened.

They both had to avoid any stories that involved themselves or another side being little. Little did they know, they were both hiding the same thing. Eventually they'd figure everything out, but for now, they were stuck in a loop of keeping secrets uselessly.

--

It was frustrating hiding the little part of their lives, but they eventually got used to Remy and Emile being around. The Dark Sides even hung out with them. For the first time in a long time, it really felt like all the sides were united. There were some tensions, sure.

Like Janus being jealous of Roman, due to the prince replacing him in his only sacred spot of being Virgil's caregiver.

Like Remus trying to adjust to his regression without Remy and Emile finding out,

Like everyone trying to hide this 'secret' from each other.

But overall, they were getting along well. Thomas was doing much better managing his love life when the whole Romance Committee was there to help. Virgil attended meetings now, he deserved to have a say in that too. Everyone sort of apologized to each other about the sides previously being so divided.

It was almost like the labels of Core, Dark, and Neutral didn't matter anymore. They were just technicalities, not barriers. Everything seemed to flow better when they worked together. How did they manage separately for so long?

Besides the working aspect, it just generally felt like everyone was getting closer. Awkwardness faded as they laughed and joked.

Patton almost felt like his family was getting bigger. It was getting bigger.

And after just a few more issues are resolved, and a few secrets are shared, that statement will become more and more true.

Let's see how those loose ends are tied up before we get to the end of the story...

#ts agere #ts littlespace #sanders sides agere #sanders sides littlespace #no little sides in this one yall

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles)

“Hmm...Hey, Doctor?” Gummy was looking through the kitchen access logs during a break in her shift as the Doctor was stopping by for a very late lunch/very early dinner. “Can you think of a reason someone would be coming in here around 22-2300 every night?”

“I’d say midnight snacks, but it’s a little early for that. At that time regularly, or just a general question?” He was sitting at the cash register table with Jessica, the accountant for the week.

The chef took the tablet with her and showed him. “See here? Someone has come in at exactly the same time for the past two and a half weeks. That’s kinda weird, isn’t it?”

“Two and a half weeks?” A string of neurons fired together, and he had a sudden revelation. “That would be Cutter trying to skirt around the kitchen ban. I’ll have to talk to her.”

“Cutter? Wait, the one who chopped through a cutting board? But the appliances are working as good as ever, and I haven’t noticed any food or utensils damaged.”

The Doctor sighed. “Still, we shouldn’t encourage this kind of thing.”

“Then I’ll talk to her,” the Ursus resolved. “If she’s not hurting anything, and she really wants to use the kitchen this much, there’s gotta be a reason, right?”

“True...Jessie-Cat, what do you think?” He fished around in his ramen for the last piece of pork.

The Feline looked between the two of them. “I, um, think Miss Gummy is right. Whatever Miss Cutter’s reason is, it’s more important than following the restriction you gave her, and she’s normally good about following those, from what I’ve heard.”

“Well, that’s all three votes accounted for.” The Doctor found the piece at last. “Gummy, you’ve got my permission; talk to Cutter tonight and find out what’s going on. Report your findings tomorrow, which I’ll make sure to tell Matt you’ll be taking off as compensation for the late hour.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Doctor. I’ll still be up bright and early for breakfast!”

He smirked. “Actually, I need you to eat into some of your PTO so you don’t lose days. I’m doing the same next month, as a matter of fact. Isn’t that right, dear?”

“That’s right,” Jessica confirmed with a smile. “You’re sure you can’t tell me where we’re going? I’m not good with surprises.”

“Heh. We’ll talk about that later tonight...” The Doctor looked at the Ursus, who was innocently whistling and drying a cup she’d finished washing. She totally wasn’t imagining what it must be like to have something like the two of them had, no way! That’d be silly. She was just, you know, doing dishes like normal.

Not that that would fool the Doctor, of course.

Fast forward to after the dinner rush, and the kitchen had been mostly closed up except for a single workstation meant for the nocturnal and peckish Operators to be able to make their own food. The chef was in the pantry on her phone, scrolling through her feed and seeing pictures of the rest of the USSGG doing their thing - Rosa catching Istina falling asleep with a book in her hands, Zima and Shaw at karaoke, Leto and Beehunter at an underground brawling ring (which they’ll probably get scolded by Dobermann for) - which in combination with the conversation from earlier had her in kind of a dark headspace. (Yes, of course the light was on in her pantry right now.) Just as she put her phone away to properly mope, there was a beep as the door from the outside opened. ‘She’s here,’ Gummy determined, which was enough to break her out of her funk...for the moment at least.

“Tonight is the night.” A recognizable voice, but not one she’d heard often. Probably her. “After I make this right, the Doctor will let me back into the kitchen during normal hours...I hope.”

‘She really is determined, huh?...Wait, that smell. Is that honey?’ Something began to stir within her. Oh no; it was happening again.

As Cutter peeled the seal off the bottle of honey she’d brought for the baklava she planned to make, there was a strange sound from the pantry. The Vulpo grabbed a cleaver, brandishing it like she would one of her throwing knives. “Come out where I can see you.”

“Honey...Gummy bear likes honey~” The Ursus staggered out of the pantry, tongue hanging from her mouth like a dog cooling off from a run. “Must...drink...the honey...”

“You can’t have all of it, but I don’t need all of it.” The chef-to-be grabbed her measuring cup, filled it with what she needed, and handed the chef the bottle.

In seconds, it was drained, but the almost zombified state Gummy had been put in remained. “More.”

“I need that much.” Cutter set aside the knife, but continued to stare the Ursus down. “That was all I could give you.”

“Mooooore!” The chef sniffed the air with a deep inhale.

The Vulpo’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Give to Gummy bear!” She charged.

“I need it for my mission.” The merc muttered an apology under her breath before winding back and punching the Ursus in the mouth as she came within range. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you there.”

That did stun her for a moment, but all Gummy did was lick her lips as they began to bleed. “Mmm...Red honey.”

“...You’re scary.”

“Give Gummy bear more, please?” The chef grabbed the arm the Vulpo had punched her with and pulled the fist towards her. “Give to Gummy bear?”

Surprisingly to her, Cutter found herself unable to extricate her arm from the Ursus’ grip. “Are you...going to eat me?”

“Gummy bear not hungry.” Despite this, she used her other hand to unclench the fist - admittedly with some help, as the merc didn’t want her fingers broken on a mission like this (too many questions).

“Then why-” Gummy began licking the Vulpo’s fingers. “...Why?”

There was no answer for some time, as the Ursus was busy removing the blood and miniscule amount of honey Cutter had gotten on her fist from punching her in the lips just after drinking the bottle. This also took long enough that the chef came back to, hand in her mouth until she immediately pulled it out. “Um...Did I hurt you just now?”

“No. I punched you in the mouth, and you licked my hand for awhile, but you didn’t hurt me.”

“That’s, um, good.” She still had the aftertaste of iron and honey in the back of her mouth. “You’re making baklava?”

The merc nodded. “Were you waiting for me?”

“I noticed you were sneaking in, and I wanted to know why.”

“I’m not very good at cooking, and I can’t control my strength,” the Vulpo replied, “but learning to cook and bake has been the best way to learn to control my strength, too. The Doctor forbade me to practice, but if I don’t, I can’t improve.”

The Ursus nodded. “Okay, that makes sense. I’ll, um, be sure to tell him when I talk to him tomorrow. Are we, um...You won’t tell anyone what happened with the honey, will you?”

“Only if you tell me. I’m still confused.” Cutter was looking over her hand for any marks. Surprisingly, there weren’t any.

“Oh, right.” She scratched the back of her neck. “You know how a lot of people call heavy drinkers boozehounds? I’m kind of a honey-hound. Like, once that smell hits, I kind of just black out and wake up sometime later...usually somewhere or doing something I never would have done.”

The Vulpo was still looking her hand over. “That happens to me sometimes after sitting in the sun for a long time...Do you want to sun-bathe with me sometime?”

“Eh? But didn’t weird you out just now with that hand-licking thing?”

“It was weird,” the merc agreed, “but...” She dipped a finger in the measuring cup of honey.

Gummy’s eyes flared open. “You want me to do it again?”

“I liked how it felt.”

“...I shouldn’t have any more though.” The Ursus maintained control. “No, that’d be really bad.”

Cutter shrugged and licked her finger clean. “Hmm. That does taste good, I guess, but- Gummy?”

“Sorry.” Her tongue had snuck free again.

“It’s okay.” The merc began unpacking her supplies. “I’m going to make this, and then I’ll leave the kitchen. Do you want to stay and watch?”

She nodded. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Stay as long as you want.”

“Cool.” The chef suddenly found something to fix about her hair. “And I’ll take you up on that other offer.”

The Vulpo blinked. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Huh? Yeah, you did...I think.” It occurred to her they might now be talking about different things.

“Hmm. Okay.” Cutter stopped unpacking, closed the distance between them, gave her a still honey-sweetened kiss, and would have gone back to work if she didn’t immediately register Gummy’s reaction. “That wasn’t it.”

The Ursus shook her head before making a strange giggle-hiccup sound. “Nope...It was better~”

#arknights #arknights fic #cutter (arknights) #gummy (arknights) #it got weird again #at least i feel like it got weird #the vulpo feels like a cloudcuckoolander #but i don't think she is #and gummy's honey madness is already somewhat established #just in a different form here...

[spaceskam]

Psst. Would you write something where Alex has a really bad day at work and Forrest comes over and takes care of him? Alex protests but Forrest insists and cooks for him and runs him a bath. With some heavy flirting while he uses a loofah lol. Thanks Alyssa!!!!

(okay so it’s a LITTLE different than you asked, but I don’t think you’ll be disappointed!)(also I've tried to add a read more like 7 times and it won't work I'm sorry)

Forrest❤️️: are you home love?

Alex’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard as he stared at the text. The night before they’d agreed that they would get someone to eat after Alex got off work, but that was before his day had gone to shit.

He woke up with his leg too swollen to fit in his prosthetic which meant he had to bring crutches to the base until it went down enough that he could put it on because “you sit behind a desk anyway, Captain”. Then it seemed to be followed by a never-ending stream of just people getting on his nerves, bringing him shit that he already had copies of, sending him memos like they were in an office building, showing off the base to new recruits like it was summer camp, and everyone in the building seemed to be walking with 50lb boots and speaking with bullhorns that distracted him from getting any work done. It was all stuff that he was used to but had chosen today to be annoying.

Alex: raincheck?

Alex: I won’t be good company tonight

Alex barely had time to put his phone away before it lit up again.

Forrest❤️️: will you be mad at me if I came over anyway?

Forrest❤️️: i’ll make you food

Forrest❤️️: tuck you in and read you a bedtime story

Forrest❤️️: I’ll perform an entire John Mulaney routine from memory (radio city bb)

Alex found himself smiling and he shook his head, typing an agreement. He’d made a promise to himself that when this whole thing with Forrest started he was going to really try to make it work. Be honest and open, let himself be vulnerable to get hurt by someone fucking normal. Or, better, not hurt at all. So far there was no pain.

Well, not connected to him. They were good. Alex by himself, on the other hand... Well, he was trying. He felt very grown-up for admitting he wasn’t in a good headspace to go out, but he felt even more grown-up for accepting company when he felt that way. It was a fine line to walk, though, he just couldn’t tip it over into being horrible towards him when he was being nice.

Forrest came barreling into his house in a suspiciously quick fashion, the fact that he was clearly already almost there when he texted Alex in the first place went unspoken. He had a cloth bag of groceries hanging from the crook of his arm, looking something out of a movie.

“No wonder you're in a shitty mood,” Forrest said, walking by him as loud as everyone else had been that day and dropping a kiss to the top of his head. Alex tried not to be affected by the noise even if it made him on edge. “You’re still in that stupid uniform.”

“It’s supposed to a prideful thing.”

“Anarchy, love,” Forrest said instead of an actual response, pushing his hair out of the way and pressing another kiss to his forehead. Alex closed his eyes at the sensation, taking a deep breath. “You gonna be okay while I go cook?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, looking up at him as he stayed leaning over the back of the couch to comb his hair with his fingers. It took a few seconds of him trying to find the right words, but he remembered he was trying to be adult and communicate. “If you’re cooking, um, could you maybe try to be a little quiet? I don’t wanna make you feel bad or anything, it’s just been...”

“A bad brain day,” Forrest filled in and Alex nodded. He gave him another kiss on the face. “I got you.”

Forrest kissed his temple once more and then he took off his shoes. Alex barely heard him, aside from the soft cracks that his ankles made when he walked, as he went into the kitchen.

With a heavy sigh and knowing he wanted to play his part in making himself feel better, he sat up straight and shrugged off the bulky jacket. Then he removed his belt and felt a little bit better. His heart still felt heavy though, that ever present feeling of being three seconds away from crying sitting comfortably in his stomach. He’d gotten quite used to the feeling, but, on days like this, it was palpable.

His legs were heavy, but he slowly bent over to untie his boots. Frustration overwhelmed him when it took more effort than he was willing to give and he closed his eyes tight, taking deep breaths. He just needed to get through his not-quite-a-date with Forrest and then he could go to sleep. He’d be better the next morning.

He was still bent over trying to work up the courage to take off his shoe when Forrest slid back into the room on his multi-colored socks. Alex could feel each vertebra in his spine as he sat up, trying not took look pathetic. Forrest just smiled and sat down beside him, one large low bowl in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

“It’s spaghetti with tofu instead of beef. I think it’s technically tofu bolognese, but I hate saying that word so spaghetti with tofu,” he said with a fond smile, “We can share.”

Alex rested back into his couch, staring at him with an almost sad look that he couldn’t seem to wipe away. How come no matter how much he tried to be good for him, Forrest was still way too good to him?

“Hey, stop it,” Forrest told him, leaning over to put the things in his hands on the coffee table before scooting closer, “Stop looking at me like you’re already preparing for me to leave. I’m not going anywhere, you’re just stuck with me.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Alex argued, but he knew that was a lie. He was sad and he did feel unworthy. Still, Forrest leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips that lingered until Alex felt more at ease.

“Eat, you’ll feel better,” Forrest told him against his lips, pulling away enough to grab the bowl again.

Forrest sat close and they shared. Alex could’ve cried at the careful way he made sure not to eat too loud or scrape his fork against the bottom of the bowl. It was so stupid, but those noises could make him so angry when he felt like this. It wasn’t fair to Forrest and yet he didn’t even seem to mind.

“You wanna tell me about your day?” Forrest asked once he was done. Alex took over the bowl, using the fork to pick out the chunks of tofu once he got tired of the noodles.

“Not really,” Alex sighed. He closed his eyes and breathed a steady breath as he tried to ignore any sense of guilt. But a hand pushed through his hair.

“Okay, you don’t have to,” Forrest said, “What do you need though?”

“What?” Alex asked, voice sharper than it should be. He felt like a body full of pins and needles, yet Forrest didn’t even flinch.

“What do you need? Cuddling? Sex? Me to go? A bath? Talk to me, tell me what I can do,” he urged. But the problem was Alex had never actually been asked that before, never been asked what he needed. He didn’t know. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” Alex answered softly. Forrest nodded and leaned in for another kiss, pulling away all slow.

“I’ll run you a bath and we’ll see if that helps then we’ll know for next time,” he said, getting up and making his way down the hall towards the bathroom. Alex stared in that direction, feeling kind of dumbfounded as he tried to piece together what was going on.

With a sigh, Alex decided to just go along with it. He downed the rest of the wine glass and then dragged himself to his feet. His stump ached in his prosthetic and his other leg felt overworked and he just wanted to go the fuck to sleep, but Forrest seemed determined to try, so Alex would at least meet him halfway.

He put the bowl and the glass in the sink, filling them both with water before starting to drag himself back into the living room. Forrest came back in at the same time, giving him a warm smile.

“Let me help,” Forrest said, gesturing towards the couch. Alex eyed him and wondered if he understood that he probably wasn’t going to be able to get back up if he sat down again. “I got you, love, sit down.”

Alex did as he said. Forrest knelt in front of him and starting taking off his heavy boots, not seeming bothered at all. Guilt burned in Alex’s bloodstream and he wanted to tell him to stop doing all of this, but he stayed silent. He’d learned pretty quickly that all of this was Forrest just trying to baby him for no reason. The guilt just needed to be pushed to the side.

Forrest pulled off the sock from his foot and tucked it in his boot before standing up and holding his hands out for him. Alex reluctantly grabbed them and Forrest helped him to his feet, rewarding him with a kiss that lingered.

“C’mon,” Forrest whispered against his lips, tugging on his hands a little as he put more space between them. Alex was helpless to do anything but follow him down the hall to the bathroom.

He’d started running a bubble bath in his relatively large tub and had lit the one candle Alex had in his house to try to set the mood. Alex huffed a laugh and shook his head, trying not to feel too weird as Forrest turned to him with a proud little smile.

“Lift up your arms,” he urged, grabbing the hem of his shirt and tugging it up and over Alex’s head. Alex leaned forward a bit after that, their foreheads meeting in the middle as Forrest’s hands went to undo the buttons of his pants. He pushed him to the floor and Alex swallowed, staring into his eyes as his thumbs hooked into his boxers and shoved them down as well.

“No shame,” Alex commented.

“With you? Never.”

It was all fine until Forrest had him sit down on his stool and got on his knees to remove his prosthetic. That was when it quickly went from endearing to embarrassing.

“Stop,” Alex said. Forrest froze and looked up to him, waiting for his direction. “I’ll do it.”

He nodded understandingly and untangled his pants and his boxers from both his feet before getting back up and letting Alex do the rest himself. Alex silently thanked him as he busied himself with checked the water instead of staring. Once the prosthetic was off and the sleeve was placed on the sink, Alex pushed himself to his foot.

“You want help?” Forrest asked innocently. Alex shot him a look that was probably a lot meaner than he intended, but Forrest just held up his hands and got out of his way. All that did was make Alex feel worse.

Still, he was trying to go along with it. He grabbed onto the bars installed by his tub and sat down on the edge before turning to put his leg in the water. After that, he braced both arms on the sides of the tub and lowered himself. Then he leaned forward to shut off the water before the bubbles go so high they’d be a choking hazard. When he looked over to Forrest, he saw him safely putting his prosthetic outside of the bathroom so it didn’t risk getting wet.

Alex sighed, shaking his head and looking down at the bubbles. He didn’t deserve someone so nice. He was far too ungrateful for all of this. He put so much thought and effort into making Alex feel better and he still wasn’t relaxed.

“Love,” Forrest called, smiling as he sat on the edge of the tub still fully clothed. Alex just stared at him and waited for whatever was supposed to happen next. Then he cupped water in his hands and poured it over Alex’s head.

“Okay,” Alex said, trying to laugh but it felt like there wasn’t enough room in his chest. Forrest entertained it anyway, cocking his head to the side. “This is embarrassing.”

“How is it embarrassing?”

“I-I know you like babying me and stuff,” Alex said, trying his best to word it without being offensive, “But it makes me uncomfortable. It’s not that you make me uncomfortable, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do and it kinda reminds me of when I had to stay with my brother before I got fitted for my prosthetic and he literally treated me like I was helpless. I don’t like feeling helpless.”

“Toxic masculinity,” Forrest shot back. Alex raised an eyebrow at him and he shook his head. “It’s okay to be taken care of sometimes. I’m not trying to make you feel less than, I’m trying to make you feel pampered.” Alex snorted and rolled his eyes. “Look, I know you were raised in a strict ass military home and no one ever, like, babied you without making you feel bad about it, but I’m not your brother. I want to baby you. I know that you’re extremely capable of taking care of yourself, but sometimes it’s okay to pass the reigns, you know?”

“And I appreciate that,” Alex said honestly, “I really do, but... It’s just too much, okay? Like I genuinely feel uncomfortable.”

Forrest stared at him for a minute and a lot of that confidence he’d been carrying since he’d walked in faded from his eyes. Instead, concern filled it’s place. It sufficiently made Alex feel even more like shit.

“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I’ll leave and you can–”

“Forrest,” Alex sighed, reaching for his hand, “Compromise?”

“How?”

“Get in with me,” Alex suggested, tugging on his hand a little, “Be my equal, not my caretaker.”

“That’ll make you feel better?” Forrest clarified. Alex nodded. His shirt was off before he could finish nodding.

Alex let out a soft laugh as Forrest scrambled to strip as fast as he could. He made space for him in the tub and Forrest carefully sat across from him. It took a second, but they got comfortable and both leaned back a little as their legs overlapped and intertwined.

Finally, Alex was able to relax.

“I just thought about how much you probably sweat today and I’m now just bathing in your sweat,” Forrest whispered into the quietness. Alex huffed a laugh, nudging him slightly. “Don’t worry, you’re still hot.”

After a little while of just relaxing with each other, Forrest was able to coax him to turn his back to him so he could wash his hair. Alex admittedly liked that and basked in it. He did have full intention to return the favor, but by the time Forrest was combing conditioner through his hair and pressing kisses to his shoulder, he found himself forgetting all about it and relaxing against him completely.

“See? All relaxed,” Forrest hummed, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his throat.

“You tryin’ to get me to get up and leave?” Alex asked. Forrest tightened his arms around him, holding him in place.

“No,” he said, kissing him again before using the water to slowly comb the conditioner out, “No, stay right here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alex promised. He didn’t say that all of his muscles felt like jelly and he really didn’t think he was capable of going anywhere, but that wasn’t important.

“Now we know how to get you to calm down next time,” Forrest said, voice still soft as he continued to kiss on him, “Baby you, but in a sexually charged way so you still feel like a man.” Alex’s lips split into a smile and he shook his head.

“You’re such an ass.”

“That’s why you like me.”

“Mm, I don’t know about that,” Alex said, shifting just enough to get his lips on some part of his skin. It landed on his chin. “I like you because you’re kind to me even when I’m being bitchy. No one’s ever really done that.”

“Yeah, well,” Forrest breathed, craning his neck until his lips hovered over Alex’s, “When you’re feeling good, it makes up for every ounce of accidental bitchiness and more.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Alex tilted his head back to meet his lips in a kiss, reaching his arm around to hold onto the back of his head. It should’ve been awkward, should’ve been an uncomfortable angle, but Alex felt more at ease than he had all day. Forrest’s palm pressed against his lower stomach, holding him close and firm.

It was strange. That was the first time Forrest’s ever really put any umph into touching him. He was always so soft and careful and Alex liked that, but that subtle touch that was a little rougher and little stronger broke open a door in his mind that he’d forgotten he’d boarded up. When exactly was the last time he’d gotten anything even a little rough? When was the last time he’d asked to be manhandled and got it?

Maybe that’s what they both needed. Forrest would be getting him to stop playing angry, masculine soldier; Alex would get that old itch scratched.

“Hey,” Alex whispered against his lips, “Wanna know what’ll really calm me down?”

“What?” Forrest asked.

And Alex told him. And Forrest happily agreed.

And Alex finally let go of that tension he’d been holding in all day.

#forlex #forlex fic #forrest long #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #prompts

[silverypurple-rosedlions]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐔𝐧𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 : 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 - 𝐈'𝐦 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 (𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐤𝐦𝐢𝐧)

Lee Seokmin has authorized you access to Chapter One of Chapter Unlock, Lee Seokmin.

There was always one thing I always said, no matter what I did or said, I said it. But it was one phrase containing two words. I relied on two words, saying them after every little thing I did. They were my rock, holding me down to the ground, and giving me false belief. I believed that without those two words, my world would crumble. I believed that if I never said those two words, a phrase we all use time and time again, that no one would look at me, talk to me, or even spare me a glance of pity. I always believed that if I never said them, I was the bad guy. I was the one people ignored because of me, and my personality. I forced myself into a headspace I didn't want, believing that I was what everyone hated. And so I thought saying it would fix everything, enabling them to see that I wasn't a bad person. I thought saying "I'm sorry," would help me survive in such a cruel and frightful world.

I remember the times when I was a people-pleaser, although, I can't deny that I still do that. But I was naive and younger, afraid of being abandoned, and afraid of judgement for who I was. Back then, I was easy to manipulate and persuade, making me the target for bullying, and to be used. And what was a bigger struggle was the low dopamine in my brain, making me feel sluggish, constantly pushing myself to receive energy from the people and things around me. And it always frustrated me when I couldn't do that, slowly seeping into a conscious that frightened me.

At first, it started with two phrases that forever remain engrained in my head: You're useless, and you're lazy.

During the days I was lacking in energy, I was stuck sitting there, staring blankly as my mind slowed, but everything revolved around me. It never waited, and never waited for anyone. And when I sat there, shoulders sagging, eyes drooping, and my mind's gears slowed, I would look up to find a person looming over me. They'd look down at me, brows furrowed as they shook their head, and I'd see that familiar look they always gave me. That look that ate me from the inside out, destroying only bits and pieces of me.

It was the look of disappointment, and they were disappointed with me. No one, but me.

They'd tsk, others scoffing, and others rolled their eyes as the words they said became big and bold, hovering about my head: You are lazy.

"But I'm not lazy!"

I would always exclaim, but they'd shake their heads at me, doing the very thing I feared. They'd turn their backs to me, head high, and began to walk away, abandoning me. I would always reach forward, calling and begging for them, trying to push myself to stand and run to them, but never could. "Don't leave me! I'm not lazy! I'm not lazy!" But they'd never look back, not until I was too weak, glued to where I sat, unwillingly, as a heartbreaking cry crawled out of my lungs in desperation. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry for being lazy!" And what did they do?

They'd turn to face me with bright, devilish smiles, and say, "That's a good boy. You finally admit it,"

And from it, I'd crumble, falling into despair as I scolded myself. I resented my health, attacking and scolding myself for being "lazy," but I wasn't. I wasn't lazy, not by choice. I wasn't doing it deliberately, but I believed that I was. I believed that I was lazy, and the minute I believed so, walking into the clutches of vulnerability, it worsened.

The next time it happened was during group projects in school, at home, and even when I was around people that I believed were my friends. Perhaps I'm truly not the brightest tool in the shed, but when I was unable to be present with anyone, my mind obscured and struggling, I couldn't do it. I couldn't do the projects, the chores, or even understand how to play certain games with my friends and misinterpreted things they said or have me do. And you want to know what their response was?

"You're useless!" It was large and bold, taking place and hovering above my head, just like the other phrase. Those two phrases already felt so heavy, and I hadn't even made it into High School when it started. And yet, I still replied. I still attempted to defend myself.

"I'm not useless! I'm struggling! It's not easy with ADHD!"

But no, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to convince them as they'd scoff, some laughing in response, or screaming in my face.

"Must be great using the, "I've got ADHD," excuse, right? Very funny, Seok,"

"Really? Then if you got ADHD, how the hell did you do everything else just fine today, but not this simple task I give to you?! You know it's hard for me, don't you?!"

"You seem useless. It's just a simple task to do, and we only have so much time to complete this. Your ADHD won't act up on it. Your probably stressed, or think you can dump all the work on me. Hmph!"

And I didn't want to be viewed like that, useless or lazy, or someone who took advantage of their struggles, neither the person who made others do it all without my help. I didn't want to be the horrible person because of this, and I was so scared. My friends would turn on me, students would turn on me, teachers shaking their heads in disapproval, and even my parents were ashamed of me. But I couldn't help it. I couldn't . . .

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry for being useless. I-I'll try harder,"

It kept building, becoming bigger as I got older. And soon, it became a habit of saying sorry whenever someone looked at me weird or with judgement, or if I did something. Anything.

"Why are you so loud?"

"I'm sorry. I'll lower my voice."

"Why are you so hyper?"

"I'm just happy, but I'm sorry if I'm irritating you..."

"Can't you smile more?"

"Of course. I'm sorry if I seem odd."

"Be careful! Why are you so clumsy?"

"I-I'm sorry for being clusmy... I didn't mean to make a mess.

"Why can't you be normal? Why can't you just have been like a normal kid?"

"I'm sorry I'm not the son you wanted..."

"No! I can't believe I lost!"

"I'm sorry for winning the game. I know you'll do better next time."

"Why do you always hurt in silence, Seok?"

"I'm sorry I can't say it out loud..."

"Stop saying sorry all the time! I'm sick of hearing you say that all the time!"

"I'm s-sorry... I didn't mean to upset you... I-I'll just stop..."

"Why can't you focus? Why do you always get distracted?"

"I'm sorry, Miss. I'll focus. I swear..."

Over and over again, I was stuck in this cycle of fear. I didn't want to be rejected. I didn't want to always feel guilty for every single thing I said or did, or be ashamed for who I was. But it was so hard. It was so hard because I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want to be the outcast, always pushed around, constantly receiving a punch after another. It hurt. Everything and everyone wounded me, stripping all my pride, my joy, my achievements, and leaving behind a weak boy that even I turned away in repulse.

I despised myself because I thought everyone despised me. I thought that I wasn't needed.

But I kept going for no reason. I did as everyone told me to do, thinking that if I did it, they wouldn't leave. Even if they were horrible, just don't leave me alone.

Stop smiling.

Okay.

Do my homework.

Sure.

Stop moving.

Sorry.

Act normal.

I'll try.

But then, something new happened.

"Do what you want, Seok," A boy, not just any boy, said to me one day. It was during Physical Fitness, and I was sitting on the bleachers, knees pulled to my chest.

"What?" I replied.

"What you want. Do it." The boy grinned softly. "Be loud if you want. Be chaotic. Hop around all you want! Be messy if you want to!"

What I want?...

"Be a kid, Seok. Don't do what everyone wants you to do, or expects from you. They don't understand how much you're struggling. And it hurts me seeing you get put down." The boy said.

"I'm okay... Don't worry about it," I lied. But he knew.

"You don't want to sit here on the bleachers, right?"

"No... But the teacher said-"

"The teacher? Ha! You don't want to be on the bleachers, and there's no reason for you to be here all alone," The boy hopped off, then reached forward, taking my hand and pulling me off to stand on the ground.

"B-But I'll get in trouble! You'll get in trouble because of me!" I protested, but he snorted.

"Who cares! You want to have friends and play, right?"

"Of course but-"

"Consider me your friend from now on, and let's play volleyball,"

"You-... You're serious? You'd be my friend? Play with me?... But don't you think I'm obnoxious or weird?..."

The boy tilted his head, then shook his head. "Nope!" He replied, guiding me towards the volleyball net where there were other students playing. "I think you're a good kid. You just haven't met the right people yet," He winked.

And I never understood what he saw in me, and I was skeptical. I did as usual, saying sorry, and doing what others told me to do, trying to be energized. But when he got into my life, entering into my small, depressing world, he changed everything.

I didn't say sorry that often anymore. I didn't feel insecure because he made me feel comfortable and accepted. No matter what I did, he smiled and joked, making me laugh. He saved me from embarrassment, from bullying I received for years, and he became the older brother I could always turn to. But things changed over time, and . . .

Make it stop.

Make it stop.

Stop.

StOp.

STOP.

STOP!

MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP!

Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔Į̸͙̪̝͈̹̜̈́̂̿͂́͑͌̈́̕͜'̴̱͎̟̭̈́͋̄̆̓͌̚̚͝M̸̢̢̖̺̦͓̪͇͓̉̑͘͝ ̵̡͍͕̞͍̬̭͌͆͜ͅͅS̵̗̦͍̙̓͆̐̈͝͝Ȯ̵̻̘̫̯͋̇́̕͜͜Ȑ̵̟͋̆̈́̇Ŗ̶̼̤̹͈̭͗Y̸̨̛̞͙͊́̀̋̂̕ ̶̱̖̿̓̍̓́͝͝I̴̱͊͒̌̈́̊͌́͐̀'̷̡̣̳̦͇͙̜̭͑M̴̧̜͎̖̳̊̽͊̎ ̶̨͎̉͗̈̓̉̾̆̍͑͘S̴̢̱̦̀̒O̶͔̙̺͇̱̽͒̊́͐̀͘͘R̶̗̤͎͖̦͊͆̀͊R̶̠̘͖̞̤͖̭̜̋̄̾͂̂̄͊͝͝Y̶̙͔̘̔͘̕ͅͅ ̶̖̲̫͔̜̋͂̅͗́̚͜͝I̵̫̭̹͑'̴͙̬̦̤͇͛̋̐͜M̶̜̄̍̄͝ ̵̨̳̈̌̾̍͑S̴̼͈͋̀̾͝͝O̶̮͑͆̿̊͛̋̉͠R̶̘̯̩̪̔͋̀̂̚̚̚Ŗ̴̢̛̤̦̣͓̺̗̪͇̏̒̇̓̈́̔̃̂͝Y̵̬̲̗͎̳̼͕̻͛̑̐̔

A section has been deleted on request of Admin Moon, claiming it is to protect Seokmin, and contains sensitive information of said person.

Instead . . . I'll make everyone else beg and say to me, that they're sorry.

They'll feel what it was like to be in my position, desperate and helpless, feeling as if no one was there for them.

They'll feel MY pain.

Next Chapter: Chapter Two - Intoxicated

🥀// @yourlocal-babybear @aikihades @sophie-svt-13 @waitingwhispers60 @seventeen-chatbot @kpop-shelter @yangomangos @m00n-nim96 @ghoulxbaekhyun @moonlit-jaemin @empress-jiaqi @time-for-confession @xash-axx @fnafnctdream-chatbot @split-jiu @artsydahyun @softdommechungha @princess-yeji [DM for +/-]

#insane!seokmin #the purple rose #seokmin's chapter #chapter unlock #im sorry #the purple rose past #svt imagines #svt au #seventeen dk #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen mafia au

[jj-lives]

Misfit Inktober Bmblb

Sorry I had to take a few days off to get into the writing headspace again. Here we go.

——————————————————————————————-

With the end of their first set of exams out of the way Pyrrha suggested they let off some steam. Friday afternoons, where Pyrrha had two hours downtime between her Advanced Physiology and Neuroscience classes and Yang had to wait for Ruby’s last class to finish, recently had them barricaded in the Library behind a pile of homework. Haphazardly thrown papers strew around them, filled with hasty jotted notes in chicken scratch Yang didn’t even think was her own some days. The invitation to take a break from exercising her already overexerted brain in favour of a more enjoyable workout of her increasingly neglected body was very welcome. Yang agreed readily as they exited the Sciences building, both squinting in the midday sun shining down from above.  

“I almost forgot what the sun feels like.” Yang commented which pulled a humoured noise from Pyrrha.

“I suppose we have been studying late recently, but at least we have another month before having to worry about finals.”

Agreeing whilst still reminding Yang of the six long weeks left in the semester was something only Pyrrha seemed able to do; raising her spirits at the same time as grounding her.

“Let’s enjoy the next few weeks and forget about exams for a short while?” Yang voiced.

Pyrrha nodded her agreement. "Weights?" She asked, leading the way to the Leisure center on campus.

“It’s so nice out,” Yang commented. “I’d hate to spend it indoors.”

Nodding Pyrrha suggested they shoot some hoops on one of the outdoor basketball courts. Yang agreed, exclaiming how it had been forever since she’d had a ball in her hands.

“I’m sure.” Pyrrha snorted and Yang elbowed her. She’d not meant to make the innuendo.

It was exactly what Yang needed. All the tension of the past two weeks of exams washed away with her sweat as they took turns challenging one another. With a quick cross over between her legs Pyrrha changed directions on her. Too late to recover, Yang could only groan as she felt Pyrrha brush passed and heard her cry of victory as the backboard clanged and the sound of the ball swishing in the net accompanied Pyrrha’s mockery of her skill.

“Weren’t you like some kind of B-ball legend back in the day?”

Her taunting wasn’t vicious and only spurred Yang to try harder. She loved Pyrrha all the more for how she was able to push her to her limits, all while knowing what lines not to cross. Yang had exactly zero friends that seemed as intuitive as Pyrrha in that regard. Looking back, it was that exact reason she never counted her past acquaintances as true friends. They took what they saw and rolled with it. They never tried to get to know her, to push her into the semi-uncomfortable space between polite human kinship and the vulnerability of baring oneself to another. Pyrrha was the only person to breach her outer barriers and even Yang herself sat astounded at how she’d accomplished it.

“I wasn’t a legend.” She gritted.

Pyrrha threw her a cheeky, challenging look. “Obviously not.”

Yang responded only with a narrowing of her eyes as she took up dribbling at the top of the key. She sidled to the left of the key, bent protectively over the ball, throwing her arm out as wide as she could to separate Pyrrha from her goal. Knowing Pyrrha favoured the right side, Yang took up the habit of pressing her to the left where she had the highest likelihood of finding an opening to the net.

Yang knew she wasn’t a Legend but she had been quite good in high school. Not able to fully blame the score where Pyrrha was four points ahead of her on her lack of practice. Yang realized she’d used her height as an advantage back in school. Being taller than most other girls allowed her to take open shots as she could jump above their heads where they were unable to block. But Pyrrha was taller than her, and quick, so Yang was reliant on her not noticeably lacking dribbling skills.

Knowing Pyrrha expected her to take the route that was her weakness Yang spun, quickly changing directions to skirt around Pyrrha’s back, jumping up she let the ball fly, smiling at her victory. That was until Pyrrha’s shoulder came into view. Again Yang cursed Pyrrha’s agile reflexes and height as the ball was smacked away from the net, bouncing with dull thuds on the court, echoing Yang’s disappointment.

Pyrrha laughed, light and airy, relishing in Yang’s misery.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this so much.” Yang

“I really am.” She replied, chasing after the ball. She picked it up and returned to the top of the key. “I can’t compete with you in the weight room, but I’m liking this.”

She readied herself, bending her knees, arms out. Pyrrha moved and Yang felt her limbs grow stiff and heavy. She knew before Pyrrha made her move that she’d already lost. Pyrrha faked to the right and Yang’s body followed as Pyrrha shifted, laughing as she went in for a lay-up.

“You didn’t tell me you could play,” Yang mumbled as she caught the ball Pyrrha tossed her way.

“You never asked.” There was a glint in Pyrrha’s eyes and Yang stood there observing her as she lowered into the defensive position. Pyrrha saw the question in her look and her mouth lifted in a wide cheshire grin. “Three time Mystral champions.”

Yang scoffed, tasting defeat once again. She may have been decent even quite good on her island of Patch, but Pyrrha hd all the best training and coaches at her disposal in the larger continent. Competing with that seemed fruitless.

“Don’t tell me,” Pyrrha cut through her thoughts, “that just because there’s a slim chance of succeeding you’ll give up so quickly.” Her tongue clucked, disappointed with her lack of drive. “I wasn’t aware the thought of defeat scared you so easily.”

Heat pooled in her stomach at the words. Yang hated being associated with anything resembling fearful, scared, or weak. She’d made the move from the small island to the big city. She’d proven all the hot headed asshole’s wrong when they whispered, or when brave enough to speak to her face, that she was a dumb blonde incapable of succeeding in University. The last thing Yang was going to do was back down from what seemed like impossible odds.

Dropping the ball Pyrrha shrank, keeping low. Sinking low herself, Yang leaned forward. Pyrrha backed up two steps in anticipation, not wanting Yang to be able to step around her. Her earlier taunts made her cautious, knowing they would be driving Yang to press harder than before. Instead of choosing left or right Yang took two quick steps back and before Pyrrha could react she was flying, ball slipping from the tips of her fingers. A perfect three point shot.

“Nice one,” Pyrrha acknowledged, always one to compliment when due. “A couple more like that and you might catch up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yang chuckled.

The anger and frustration at her previous failed attempts washing away. Determination remained as she bounced the ball back to Pyrrha and sank into her own previous position.

She’d heard once that someone’s eyes could tell you where your opponent would go. This was a lie; eyes could lie just as well if not better than a pair of lips. Yang learned long ago that it was someone’s heart that gave them away. People couldn’t live without their hearts. Hearts couldn’t lie. So that’s where she learned to to focus on years ago. She took it up again, staring at the spot to the just left of Pyrrha’s protruding collarbone. She could almost see the rhythmic thump-thump, thump-thunp as Pyrrha stepped to her right. Yang followed, blocking Pyrrha’s dominant side of choice. She tried to fake Yang out by stepping the way Yang wanted her to go but though her body shifted and her foot shot out in that direction her heart remained directly in Yang’s line of sight. She blocked her again.

Pyrrha took a step back and Yang followed, not wanting her to try what had worked for Yang moments before. Pyrrha shuffled her feet back another step, but Yang stayed where she was dancing rhythmically between each foot, always remaining on her toes. She new the instant Pyrrha was making her move as her body, her heart swayed in the same direction.

Yang took one step with her when something caught her eye over Pyrrha’s shoulder. Her left foot hooked on her right in her distraction, forgetting all her training she tumbled sideways. Red and white sneakers soared over her head to not become entangled with Yang’s limbs. Yang heard the swish of the net before Pyrrha’s laughter reached her ears.

“You had me actually working for it for a moment.” She smiled down on her. Yang took the proffered hand and let Pyrrha pull her upright.

Yang’s face grew hot.

“What had you so distracted?”

The question embarrassed her even more but not as much as the voice that spoke up behind Pyrrha.

“Are you okay?”

Pyrrha turned on her heel. “Blake?”

“Sorry, do I know you?” Blake asked, turning her worried expression for Yang to dubiously take in Pyrrha’s form.

Pyrrha smiled genuinely and it surprised Blake enough for her to blink back her consternation. “We haven’t officially been introduced, no.”

Yang held her breath, hoping if she clamped her jaw tightly closed Pyrrha would too. But that was not her friend’s style

“I’ve heard plenty about you though. I’m Pyrrha” Pyrrha finished taking the half a dozen steps towards Blake with an outstretched hand.

Blake took it reservedly. “You’ve heard about me? From who?” She trailed off at the end and shot a surprised eye in Yang’s direction.

This is the last thing Yang wanted. Now Blake would think her some sort of weird stalker. With a few words did Pyrrha realize she’d doomed her in her pursuits? Blake was reserved and Yang needed to tread carefully, gain her trust, get to know her and have Blake maybe get to know her in return; if she wanted. But now she was cursed.

“Oh, nothing but good things.” Pyrrha provided. “I mean she couldn’t shut up when we went to look for a pair of proper running shoes the other d-.”

“Thank you, Pyrrha.” Yang spoke almost harshly.

Pyrrha hadn’t said who the shoes were for but the way Blake retreated her hand slowly and her brow creased all confirmed she knew they were for Yang. It was easy enough for a smart girl like Blake to make the connection on why Yang would be in need of some running shoes.

Taking the hint Pyrrha stepped back, running to retrieve the basketball that had rolled onto the next court. “I am sorry for her.” Yang sheepishly met Blake’s eye. “She can be be…” Yang trailed off not sure how to describe Pyrrha’s character in a few words. And Yang really didn’t want to be talking about Pyrrha right now.

“She seems nice.” Blake supplied when Yang didn’t seem forthcoming with anything else.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “How are you?”

“I asked you first.” The surreptitious quirk of her brow caught Yang’s eye.

“So you did. I’m fine. I scraped my palm.” Yang looked down at the broken skin of her left hand; it was red and raw but no blood actually broke the surface. “I’ll heal.”

“Good.” Blake looked quickly at the injury before agreeing. “To answer your question, I’ve been okay.”

“No more police raids?” Yang quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, and I’m quite grateful for that. It’s been unusually quiet since the party. I think we’ll be watched closely for the next few weeks so everyone is on their best behaviour.”

Knowing how lonely the quiet could be, Yang offered her and Ruby’s apartment once again to her. “It wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I like the quiet.”

Blake’s simple answer seemed to stall their conversation. Yang quickly took in everything about what Blake was wearing to see if she could use any of the information to start up another thread of conversation. She didn’t want the interaction to end. The only thing Yang could find was to ask after her classes, but Blake answered that in another single sentence before silence fell over them once again.

“I should-“ Blake shot a thumb behind her, hugging her binder closer to her chest.

Only able to nod in her shame as Blake turned to leave. How could she believe Blake wanted anything more than the acquaintance they’d already shared?

Sure they’d gone running that once, but Blake was a fast runner and Yang needed her lungs for breathing to keep up rather than for talking. Though they’d spoken some and it wasn’t painful. In fact, Yang enjoyed the hour and a half they’d spent together, even if it was a quiet kind of interaction. And Blake hadn’t ever been rude to Yang when they crossed paths at school or with Ruby and Weiss. None of those things meant Blake wanted to even be friends, let alone anything more.

Even so, Pyrrha’s words echoed back at her. ‘I wasn’t aware the thought of defeat scared you so easily.’

“Blake, wait.” Yang spoke up, gaining her confidence. “Would you like to join Pyrrha and I? I could really use some help to wipe that smug look off her face.”

Blake looked back over her shoulder but didn’t turn. It was not a good sign.

“I’m more of a misfit,” she spoke lowly, “if you haven’t noticed. I don’t do group sports stuff. I prefer the solitude of running.” She took two more steps in retreat but Yang had to try once more. “Can I join you again sometime then? I had fun last time.”

Blake’s body jerked to a halt at the last confession. “I run Saturday’s and Sunday’s at ten.”

“So can I join you tomorrow?” Yang asked again, more hopeful this time.

“If you’d like,” was her simple reply.  

Yang swore one day she’d pull more sentences from her. She wasn’t sure why there seemed to be two different Blake’s. One she was now faced with and the one she’d spent time with in the mall that fateful morning Yang planned the run in. Why did Blake seem more open with her then? Why shut down since? Yang had been so hopeful after that day.

“I’ll be there.” Yang answered. Maybe simple answers were the way to get through to Blake. But she couldn't help adding "we can be misfits together."

Blake did turn then. She smiled which was a rare sight when not in Ruby or Weiss' company. “Don’t forget your new runners.”

Yang watched Blake walk away, that was until she was jostled from the pleasant recap going on in her head by the basketball colliding with her shoulder.

“Done daydreaming?” Pyrrha teased in her airy way.

“You are going to pay.”

Yang tossed the ball back to her with more force than needed. Pyrrha laughed, catching it easily.

“You don’t scare me Xiao Long.”

Pyrrha won the match but they made plans to meet up again Sunday to play again. Yang was determined to beat her the next time, though she knew realistically that she would need more than one embarrassment of getting her ass kicked to rise to her level. She just needed to learn more about her game so Yang could learn how to play it. She thought of the many lessons she could learn from Pyrrha. In the few years they’d been friends Yang had changed, learning much from her.

Thinking of her meeting with Blake the next day made Yang smile. If Blake saw her game as a lonely misfit, Yang had no issues with that. She’d lived her life a a secret misfit, lonely in her own way. It would be almost natural to fall into that role with her.

#bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #inktober #misfit #my writing

[artificialqueens]

Nostalgia, Part 4 (Rujubee) - Dartmouth420

nostalgia is a series that follows the re-ignition of raven/jujubee’s friendship (with benefits) while jujubee competes on all stars five and raven is working on set. there will be one chapter for every episode of AS5 where jujubee appears. drag names used with male pronouns.

summary: Jujubee is not going to be in the bottom this week due to a damn curse, thank you very much. But messing with other people’s feelings is never a good idea… because his own tend to get caught up in it too.

a/n: i had writers block but then i recovered by listening to hit the back by king princess like twenty times in a row lmao. enjoy the side mizbee (crackjubee?) also this is not how negotiating a dom/sub relationship should go in real life my friends, this is one hundred percent pure fantasy.

tw: dom/sub dynamics, mild daddy kink, mild choking, jealousy, smut

The day wasn’t going particularly well. 

Jujubee was very much not appreciating the ‘challenge winner one week, bottom two the next’ curse that loomed over him. The challenge was improv and while Jujubee was confident in his improv skills he was feeling a little chagrined at the production’s decision to group together the queens with the most conflict. But whatever, this wasn’t RuPaul’s Best Friend’s Race, after all. Ha. 

But Cracker decided that once again he needed to make a speech about however the hell he was feeling towards Blair. Blair took it in stride and Jujubee watched the whole thing like a tennis match. These little white boys needed to get their damn selves under control. Jujubee re-focused on the task at hand. 

Luckily they broke from filming for lunch soon afterwards. Everyone ate and bitched and complained.

Movement caught Jujubee’s eye, and of course, there was Raven sauntering into the break room like he owned the place. He made a beeline to Jujubee, who nodded and opened his mouth to say hello. But with an extra little swing of his hips, Raven changed direction at the last moment and went over to Mayhem, whom he gave a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“I’ve been missing you bitch, it’s been too long!” said Raven, an arm around Mayhem, radiating charm.

The two of them were friends, considered Jujubee, shutting his mouth and taking in the surprised and pleased look on Mayhem’s face. They chatted back and forth for a couple minutes until Raven glanced over his shoulder at Jujubee, and then went over to speak to Shea.

“What you’re doing on the runway is everything,” complimented Raven, with a flirtatious little shake of his shoulders.

Jujubee raised an eyebrow. Raven was laying it on a bit thick. 

“Thanks?” responded Shea, slightly confused, flashing Raven a smile, “Can I expect good reviews on FPR?”

“I’ll see how I feel in eight months, honey.” That stupid little tilt of Raven’s head. Shea’s wonderful laugh.

Raven gave Jujubee a knowing side-eyed look and then went over to Blair. Mayhem and Shea, Jujubee could understand, but he knew that Raven did not have an established rapport with Blair. Blair seemed surprised and vaguely taken aback by Raven, who asked him how filming was going and nodded understandingly to his answer and delicately touched the younger man’s back.

Well, now Jujubee was disgruntled. And pissed off about being disgruntled, because Jujubee did not lose his gruntle easily, thank you very much. 

But two could play at this game. Jujubee glanced over to Cracker and India.

“… I just don’t know, I’m feeling fucking weird-” continued Cracker to India, who was nodding. Jujubee had to do something about this because he was not going to lose the challenge. Cracker needed to calm the fuck down, stat, and Jujubee could certainly manage that if he played his cards right. Succeeding in the competition was way more important than whatever the hell Raven was playing at. 

“Hey,” said Jujubee, going over to Cracker, who was anxiously running his hands through his already-greasy hair again, “Come here for a minute, I need to talk to you.”

Jujubee glanced over at Raven who was watching him, a slight frown on his face as he half-nodded to what Blair was saying. Then Jujubee turned and left, Cracker in tow, feeling Raven’s eyes on his back all the way out.

Jujubee quickly made his way through the backstage area to the hallway where Raven had led him during that first week of filming. A PA stopped him and asked what he was doing but Jujubee waved her off with the excuse that they were heading outside for a smoke break. Cracker followed him silently.

“You need to calm the fuck down,” said Jujubee, opening the door to the disused equipment room where he and Raven had had such a lovely time, and motioned with his head. Cracker went in ahead of him, a suspicious look on his face. Jujubee flicked the light and shut the door. 

Cracker looked around, “I’m trying, alright? I don’t know why I have all this drama out of the blue, but the challenge-”

“Look I’ve been doing this for a long time, it’s not that complicated,” stated Jujubee, “You’re funny. I’m funny. Blair’s a baby with a billion Instagram followers. We’re professionals, we can do this, and at the end of the day it’s just a damn TV show, so relax.”

“Yeah, I- okay,” said Cracker, nodding to him, gritting his teeth, “I can relax.”

That was just about the least relaxed statement Jujubee had ever heard in his life. 

But perhaps words weren’t the best way to go about this. Perhaps Cracker just needed someone else to take charge. Bizarrely deciding to trust Raven’s statement from the other night in his hotel room, Jujubee went for it.

“That doesn’t sound very relaxed, girl!” laughed Jujubee, comfortable, “But maybe I can help you out with that…”

Now Cracker looked confused, and glanced around the room again, before his brown eyes landed back on Jujubee’s. And there was a little bit of intrigue, wasn’t there?

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying…?” said Cracker, inclining his chin.

“Stay quiet and don’t be a little bitch about it,” said Jujubee, allowing the dominant tone to slip into his voice. Clear, expectant, authoritative.

Cracker quirked an eyebrow in response, an interested smile growing.

Very pleased that things were going his way, Jujubee stepped forward and knelt in front of Cracker. Cracker took in a breath and gave Jujubee a quick nod of confirmation and Jujubee unbuckled Cracker’s belt, pulling his pants them down around his thighs and made straight for the rapidly hardening cock in his briefs. Interesting. 

Aiming for efficiency, Jujubee got Cracker’s cock out, gave it an appreciative look and swirled his tongue around the tip, earning a very aroused noise from Cracker. Jujubee took it in his mouth and went to work.

“Oh, fuck,” muttered Cracker, the muscles in his thighs tensing. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Jujubee didn’t particularly like being touched while he gave head, but Cracker didn’t seem like the type to touch without asking, and he refrained from doing so, keeping his hands to himself.

Jujubee worked Cracker’s cock enthusiastically, and gripped his ass with his left hand and a little thrill grew in his gut. This was fun, quick and dirty and hopefully it would lead him to his end goal, which was getting Cracker to chill the fuck out so they could win this challenge together.

It wasn’t quite as much fun as face-fucking Raven in drag, but he really shouldn’t be comparing… 

Soon enough Cracker’s breath was ragged, and he whispered, “I’m gonna come-”

Jujubee briefly considered the fact that he hadn’t properly prepared for this, and there weren’t any great options other than to just swallow. It wasn’t his favourite thing, but it would have to do for today.

Cracker let out a filthy groan, and Jujubee took it and swallowed, and then he moved back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood. Cracker was still recovering, tucking his cock back into his briefs, and re-buckling his belt with a shaking hand. 

“Woah,” said Cracker, with a quick shake of his head, “That was good.”

“You feeling more relaxed, baby?” teased Jujubee.

“Yeah, actually,” murmured Cracker, “Maybe I was just pent up…”

Jujubee gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder and then opened the door and glanced outside. There was no one in the hallway, so they left together.

That had been pretty fun, considered Jujubee as he followed Cracker back down the hallway to their break area, and he’d heard rumours of Cracker’s other talents in the bedroom. This could become a sensible arrangement. It wasn’t like Jujubee needed Raven, after all. Raven was chaotic, and he wasn’t even on the show this season. He was in an entirely different headspace than Jujubee and his fellow contestants. 

Just as they were rounding the corner back to the break room, movement caught Jujubee’s eye again. He glanced through an open doorway into the makeup studio to see Raven look up, and give him a very pointed glare before returning to furiously brushing out a big blonde wig. 

Jujubee didn’t say anything, nor did he stop. Raven’s feelings were his own problem, and Jujubee couldn’t let this nonsense get to him. But he did feel sorry for that poor wig.

-

Jujubee’s team performed excellently in the challenge and Jujubee felt pretty damn good about it. Almost having a little in-drag make out session with Cracker was pretty fun too, and Jujubee found he liked Cracker a lot better when his confidence was up.

The next day was the runway. Jujubee realized while watching everyone else get ready that perhaps his outfit was a bit minimal in comparison. Nonetheless, he thought it looked sleek and expensive, and the matching nails, clutch and shoes were a nice touch. But whatever. 

Cracker won the challenge. Jujubee placed high as well and privately allowed himself a sigh of relief. He’d broken the curse, at least for tonight.

After the critiques they all trooped off the runway, and Jujubee affectionately touched Cracker’s back on the way out. 

“Congratulations on the win, bitch,” whispered Jujubee into Cracker’s ear. 

“Thanks,” he replied, “I think you’re owed it too.”

“Ah, I barely did anything.”

Cracker snorted, “You got me to relax, do you know how hard that is? I’ve led several doctors to burnout.”

“Looks like all you needed to be prescribed was a decent blowjob.”

Cracker chuckled and Jujubee followed him, last in line. The queens moved through to the backstage, going past where they filmed Untucked for the regular season into the area with the moveable walls that made up the hallway. There was a stretch where the crew was sparse, the cameras guys going ahead. A gap between two walls was ahead on Jujubee’s left. The PA behind him turned, pressing his headset, summoned back to the runway area.

A hand closed around Jujubee’s wrist and yanked him into the gap between the walls. Jujubee yelped in shock and then recovered his balance as he saw Raven before him in the dark alcove, six feet of petulant anger. 

“Why are you flirting with him?” demanded Raven. 

“The fuck?” managed Jujubee, yanking his wrist out of Raven’s grip, “Why are you pulling me out of the end of the line like some girl who’s the first to die in a horror movie?”

Raven ignored his question and asked another, “What was that, yesterday?”

Jujubee took a moment before answering. This seemed to be developing in a way that wasn’t ideal. First of all, he was in the middle of filming. Second of all, Raven’s behaviour had impulsive, chaotic, bratty bitch written all over it.

“You’re acting crazy,” stated Jujubee.

“Cracker’s the most annoying one of the lot-”

“I’m not gonna dignify this bullshit with an answer-” replied Jujubee, making to head back between the halls into the hallway. Usually there’d be a camera person or somebody in this little alcove, but-

“No, wait,” said Raven, and his tone had changed. No longer whiny and entitled, but serious.

“What?” demanded Jujubee, turning back to him, irritated. Just when Jujubee was fed up with Raven’s bullshit, he would change his tune. And it worked every time. He should really just leave-

“If we’re going to do this then I don’t want you fucking around with anybody else like, here,” stated Raven, crossing his arms, expression serious.

“What do you mean, this?”

“You know what I mean, this, this thing that always happens between us.”

Jujubee straightened and gazed at Raven imperiously, “You’re the one who suggested I fuck around with Cracker in the first place, and now you’re jealous?”

Raven rolled his eyes. 

“Because I remember yesterday,” continued Jujubee, “When you were all over everybody at the lunch break, glancing over your shoulder making sure I was noticing you. You were trying to make me jealous, or some nonsense?”

“Well, it obviously backfired…” said Raven, giving Jujubee a self-deprecating half-smile, “I just wanted to get you riled up. You know why.”

Ah, of course that had been Raven’s angle. To be behave badly, to make Jujubee jealous and riled up so that he’d want to punish him the next time they interacted. Oh, it had worked on All Stars One, that’s for sure, and even way back on Season Two. They’d both been exhausted, stressed out messes, but still, Raven had always wanted to play. They were repeating some very old patterns here, Jujubee couldn’t do anything but shake his head.

“Bitch, you could’ve just said that.”

“Well-”

“No, seriously,” said Jujubee, gesticulating with frustration at the ridiculousness of it all, “Why the fuck are we standing in this hole in the hall talking about it? We’ve been doing this on and off for years, just admit that you want it. You want me to get dominant and possessive over you, and I want to punish you and fuck you silly. It’s not that complicated!”

Raven paused for a moment. Then he nodded and shrugged, leaning back against the wall and looking at Jujubee with a lazy, inviting expression, “Yes ma'am, you’re right. That’s exactly what I want.”

A thrill went down Jujubee’s spine, cutting through his irritation. Here they were, right in the middle of filming, between some fucking movable walls, sliding back into this dynamic. It was so easy, every time. Fuck, he should really just go, but-

Instead of leaving like a sensible human, Jujubee stepped froward and traced his long red nails down the side of Raven’s face. Raven practically shivered under his touch. Jujubee traced his jaw and then caressed Raven’s neck. A little sweat under his fingers, some stubble just beginning to grow back in.

Jujubee dug his sharp nails into Raven’s throat. Raven flinched, and let out an absolutely shameless moan under his breath.

“You have to give me respect,” ordered Jujubee, standing straight, holding eye contact, gaze steady, “When we’re in the same room you don’t even so much as look at anyone else.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“When I’m around you’re mine. You’re my bitch.”

“Yes, daddy,” replied Raven, running his tongue over his teeth. 

“That’s right.”

Jujubee tightened his grip for a split second and then stepped back with a laugh and the moment was broken. Raven blinked a couple times, and stepped forward, picking a speck of fluff off Jujubee’s wig.

“Right, okay,” said Raven, smoothing out Jujubee’s camo-lined cape on his shoulders and looking him over approvingly, “Mmm, you look sleek. I love doing this when you’re in drag.”

“Why do I put up with you?” asked Jujubee, raising an eyebrow.

Raven leaned forward and whispered into Jujubee’s ear, with a tickle of warm breath, “Because I’m the best you’ve ever had, Cracker doesn’t hold up and you know it.”

“He has a real nice ass, actually-”

“Ugh, stop it!” replied Raven, bratty demeanour returning as he pulled back. The pink marks from Jujubee’s nails were apparent on his neck, but Jujubee hadn’t pressed hard enough to actually hurt him, let alone break the skin. It was satisfying to see them there nonetheless. They had a tendency to leave marks on each other, both visible and invisible.

“Get over yourself.”

Raven whined in response, and then he laughed, “Fuck. It’s always like this, isn’t it? Who was it I was trying to make you jealous with last time around? Manila?”

Jujubee laughed and the nostalgia tugged at him, but he held off indulging in the memory. There had been many petty disagreements all those years ago, but they were either jokes or water under the bridge now. They’d have time to reminisce later, if it came up.

“Come up to my hotel room in a couple days.”

“I’d love that.”

A voice from the hallway, “Anybody got eyes on Jujubee?”

It must be a producer. Uh oh. Jujubee craned his neck, glancing into the hallway.

“Ah shit, sorry-” murmured Raven, finally seeming embarrassed.

“I’ve gotta get back out there now, before they notice us,” whispered Jujubee.

Raven gently pushed Jujubee’s arm, “Go. I’ll hide out for a minute.”

Jujubee slipped back out into the hallway and made himself known, and was hustled away by some stressed-out crew member. Raven stayed hidden, presumably until the hallway was empty, and Jujubee didn’t bother looking back. Instead he reflected on what they’d both just admitted to, and seemed to have established between them.

Later on Morgan wiped the floor with Cracker during the lip-sync, and somehow they both won (that would have to be made up later in the editing, considered Jujubee) and Mayhem was sent home. Jujubee would miss him. The queens were dropping like flies, but he fully intended to be the last one standing. 

The special little arrangement he had with Raven on the side would only add to his fun.

#rpdr fanfiction #rujubee #jujubee #raven #miz cracker #smut #canon compliant #jealousy #nostalgia #dartmouth420 #tw dom/sub dynamics #tw mild daddy kink #tw mild choking #submission #on set fic #as5 #s2

[dead-inside-mcgee]

Beyond that Door Chapter 4

A ladder

Yes I do write stuffs

Summary: On one hand, free clothing sounded great. On the other hand, Chase’s growing romantic feelings did not muffle his paranoia at all. On the third hand, this sounded kind of like charity, and Chase didn’t need or want any of that, nor did he really feel like he deserved it. And on the fourth hand, which at this point there are far too many hands, if this man could just offer to do something like that, without a hint of anxiety, then that probably meant he was fairly financially stable. And financial stability was on Chase’s top ten for most attractive traits.

Warnings: implied sexual content, mentions of murder

Taglist: @rabbitsartcorner @caori-azarath @murder-schmurder

Chase blinked his eyes open, trying to remember where he was. He was watching a movie, the parents were looking over old pictures and discovered that their daughter's ghost was actually in some of the pictures, other than the ones the son photoshopped her in.

  Chase smiled to himself. He’d have to watch that movie again when he wasn’t on a not-date with a criminal. What happened after that? 

  The credits rolled. He was about to make some excuse to leave. Anti was talking about something. He started pouring a glass of wine....

  The bathroom door opened, flooding the room with light and steam as Anti stepped out in just a towel. 

  ”Oh!” he said with a bright smile. “I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up. I suppose I can’t blame you considering the work out you gave me.” He chuckles lightheartedly.

  Chase blushed, suddenly aware of the fact that he didn’t have a shirt on. Last night came flashing back to him in a series of images, like someone made a shitty PowerPoint presentation about it. He covers his face in the blanket in embarrassment, earning another light chuckle from Anti. 

  Chase couldn’t help but peak out while Anti was dressing. Despite all the paranoia and suspension he had surrounding the man, he did find him quite attractive. And if last night was anything to go off of, the feeling was mutual. 

  Maybe Anti wasn’t the weird supervillain in Chase’s mind. Maybe the strange man he saw at the building was someone else, he only really got a glimpse...

  Chase’s wandering thoughts of possible romance were torn from him by the malicious hands of capitalism. 

  “Oh fuck I’m late for work!” 

  “Actually-” Anti started, grabbing Chase’s arm before he could bolt out the door in just his slipping pants “-a pipe burst, flooding a large part of the first few floors in sewage. Work is closed for a few days for repairs.” He led him over to his laptop, showing him the email explaining that in forty times the word count. 

  Chase sighed in relief. “Oh, thank god.” 

  “So. Since we have a couple of days free, how would you like to go shopping with me? I will pay for everything, and not to be rude, but you really need more clothing. I’ve noticed you’ve worn the same grey shirt ten times in a row.” 

  “Actually, I bought a pack of twelve grey shirts.” He said, putting grey shirt number eleven back on. “It was on sale.” 

  “I honestly feel like that makes it worse.” 

  On one hand, free clothing sounded great. On the other hand, Chase’s growing romantic feelings did not muffle his paranoia at all. On the third hand, this sounded kind of like charity, and Chase didn’t need or want any of that, nor did he really feel like he deserved it. And on the fourth hand, which at this point there are far too many hands, if this man could just offer to do something like that, without a hint of anxiety, then that probably meant he was fairly financially stable. And financial stability was on Chase’s top ten for most attractive traits. 

  He whimpered, talking a step back. It felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, and Chase’s claustrophobia made him want to panic. And then a fifth hand popped up to ask a question. What about Marvin?

  In the pure anxiety of last night and the confusing morning, Marvin had completely slipped his mind. The poor witch was probably worried sick.

  “I’m sorry!” He made his way for the front door. “I promised a friend I would hang out with them last night and they’re probably worried sick that I never showed up.” He didn’t wait for a response from Anti, simply running out.

  Panic set in. He should turn around. No, keep running. He didn’t think he could even face Marvin in this state. 

  He ran into his apartment, not even wondering why his front door was unlocked. 

***

Under every town there are tunnels. Whether they are made by animals like worms, moles, or crawfish. Or they’re made by time, like undiscovered caves. Or they’re made by secret organizations that use them to get around fast and to watch our every move. There are tunnels.

  Marvin discovered his own set of tunnels when he first came to this town, and later sealed off a certain part of it later to act as his base. 

  He used to enjoy wandering through the tunnels, drawing graffiti on the walls, and listening in to private conversations. He felt free in the tunnels. But tonight the tunnels felt suffocating. 

  “Where are we going?” Henrik asked timidly. He stumbled every few steps.

  “If they’ve captured Chase, then they probably know we’re looking into this conspiracy, which means my home isn’t safe.”

  “That does not quite answer my question.”

  Marvin didn’t have a good answer. 

  After an hour of walking and quietly swearing from Henrik, Marvin stopped and squeezed him through a small space that opened up into a large, musty room. It looked like a church. There were rows of pews, and the walls were lined with stained glass, which was odd because behind the stained glass windows was layers upon layers of dirt and rock. Like someone built a church in a giant pit, buried it, and forgot about it. 

  Neither of them could quite tell what the windows were depicting, and there were no recognizable religious symbols.

  “This place feels less safe.” Henrik squeaked. 

  “Don’t worry. I’ve never seen or heard anyone here. I’m not sure what this place is, but it’s abandoned.” Marvin laid down on a pew and curled up. 

  “How long do you plan on staying here?” 

  “A week at least. If they check my home, that might see I’m not there and it’ll be safe to return.” 

  There were holes in that plan, but Henrik wasn’t in the right headspace to nitpick it. He did not like it here. He really didn’t like it here. This place felt familiar, and that scared him more than anything.

  Exhaustion hit him hard. He curled up on the ground, which was only slightly more uncomfortable than the pews, and slept. 

  He had a dream. No not a dream. He remembered something.

 ***

It was Tuesday. He remembered that fact cearly. Tuesday the sixteenth, in September. Yesterday was his birthday. He was twenty-four now. 

  He was going shopping. He bought a new lab coat for work. He was a doctor, both of medical and of science. He also still struggled with English despite living in America for several years by now. 

  He meets a man with bright green hair and a smile that felt like the sun on earth. He introduces himself as Sèan, but tells him he goes by Jack.

  “How do you get Jack from Sèan?” he remembers asking. 

  “You don’t!” Jack said, patting him on the back. 

  Then it was evening, they were snuggled up on Jack’s couch, both wasted.

  “I wanna be someone someday!” Jack said loudly. “I want to be the person whose face appears on a billboard, and people can point at my face and say, “‘Hey, I know that guy!’”

  “You could be a model. You’ve got the face for it.” 

  “There’s no honor in being a model, though. I want to save people, not kill their self esteem.”

  “A cop then.”

  “No one likes cops, Henrik.” Jack said firmly, sounding sober for a moment. 

  “True…” He yawned, starting to feel tired. 

  “I want to be something bigger than that. Like a superhero. Maybe I could get into witchcraft.” 

  “You know witchcraft is illegal right?” 

  “Being a vigilante is illegal too, and people love vigilantes. Hey, maybe if I’m big enough and loud enough, I can get rid of the ban on witchcraft!” 

  Henrik giggled, nuzzling his hand. “I believe in you.”

  Jack nodded happily. Suddenly he jolted upright and almost knocked Henrik onto the floor. “Hey! Want to see something cool!”

  Jack led him to a manhole cover that had a thick numerical padlock on it. Jack put in the code 1010 and it popped off. 

  “Not a very secure code.” Henrik commented as Jack dragged him into the sewer. 

  “It’s so dumb that no one would guess it.” 

  “It smells like shit down here.” Henrik groaned. 

  “Yeah, that’d be the shit.” 

  Jack led him to an area where part of the wall seemed to be slightly broken. 

  “Look through the crack in the wall.” 

  Henik did so and he could faintly see a ladder going down. 

  Jack pulled on the wall slightly, making enough space for someone to squeeze in if they really tried. “I’ve never been brave enough to go see where it leads.” 

  Henrik was amazed. This was super cool. It may have been the alcohol clouding his judgement, but he squeezed past the wall and looked down. “Want to find out?” 

  Climbing a ladder drunk is not a smart thing to do, especially if you had no idea where said ladder leads. 

  After a few minutes of climbing, somehow Henrik and Jack made it to the ground without dying. The ladder led to a pair of large doors that looked like the entrance to a church. 

  The two glanced at each other before working together to push open the doors. Inside was eerily like a church. 

  “I don’t like it here.” Jack said, but continued walking into the church anyway. 

  Henrik stepped in and a wave of nausea washed over him. He fell forward, blacking out. That was the last thing Henrik remembered, but the dream continued. 

  Jack spun around, running to go check on him, but some invisible wall seemed to block him from getting any closer. 

  A voice cackled. It was raspy and sounded broken almost. A man appeared. He looked exactly like Jack but wrong. Like someone tried to draw him from memory. There was also a giant cut on this person’s neck. 

  Jack stumbled back and leaned on the invisible wall. “Don't come any closer!” 

  “I won’t, I won’t.” The demon, Jack decided it was a demon, said calmly. “I want to help you friend.” 

  “Help me!? What could you possibly do to help me?” 

  “You want to be a hero, am I correct? I seem to remember that.” 

  “How could you possibly know that?”

  “Well who doesn’t want to be a hero!? I can help you, for a small price.” 

  “What price?”

  “It’s only something small. I wish the feast on the blood of the wicked. That shouldn’t be much trouble. What’s the lives of millions of good people compared to a few assholes?” 

  Jack thought it over. “How much blood?” 

  “A body every two weeks. If you choose the right people, no one will miss them anyway.” 

  The worst part is that, that sounded like an amazing deal. He glanced back at Henrik. There was a little pool of blood by his face from where he hit his head on the floor. 

  “Is there any other catch to this thing you’re offering me?” 

  “Yes.” The demon waved his hand up and Henrik stood, except it wasn’t Henrik exactly. Something about his eyes was off. 

  “Every superhero needs a villain to defeat, and your boyfriend here will do the trick nicely.”

  Jack grimaced, backing away from “Henrik.” 

  “That doesn’t even have to be a catch. I can erase any memories and feelings you have connected to him. Just shake my hand.” He held a hand out with a big, toothy smile. 

  Jack glanced at the demon, and then at Henrik, and he decided to take his hand. There was a bright flash of light and Henrik woke up. 

  He was about to get up to tell Marvin what he had remembered, but he found himself and Marvin tied up. 

***

Chase fidgeted with part of his robotic arm. It made a nice clicking noise when he twisted one of the fingers in the right way. 

  The mask was starting to wear off, he had enough of the potion left to last him a while, but it still made him kind of sad. 

  There was a knock at the door. Chase groaned and hid under the blanket. It was probably Mrs. Wood, asking if Chase had seen her missing cat.  

  The knocking continued for a few more minutes and then Chase heard a soft creak like someone opened his front door. His stomach dropped. 

  He grabbed a large flashlight, prepared to whack someone. He slowly walked out of his room only to see Anti in his living room. 

  Anti held up his hands. “Hey. You left your keys at my place.” He dropped the keys on the counter. “I know I shouldn’t have busted in, but I assumed you weren’t here.” 

  Chase sighed, putting the flashlight down. Anything Chase wanted to say got caught in his throat. He sat down and covered his face. “Just go away please.” 

  “I also wanted to say I’m sorry. I came on too strongly and I should’ve checked to see if I was crossing any boundaries. I just want this to work.” 

   Anti’s heart shattered. He stepped out into the hallway and got a phone call. 

  “What is it?” He growled. 

  “Fresh blood is here.” Jackie said on the other end.

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