#@ search function meet me in the pit you bitch

[sharkiegorath]

On Elias

[this is the third (3rd) time I’ve tried posting this since Tumblr’s mobile search/tag search keeps eating the post. because it’s perfectly fine with showing untagged personal posts and spam whenever you search for something, but randomly decides when to show Actual Content]

ok look I know people don’t always read the OP’s tags but I keep getting “I’M SURE HE’S EVIL” comments on a pair of gifsets with fairly obviously positive parallels and reblogging something just to definitively say “that mysterious character is eviiiiiiil” is Not Cool, even if it’s in the tags.

Yes, recent commentator, Elias definitely broke into the house. It's probably why he suggested that the Johnsons go out in the first place! But the common assumption is A) that he planted the books and B) that he did so for a malicious reason. It seems as obvious as it could possibly be while remaining unconfirmed. It seems so obvious in such a twisty show that I think it isn’t that straightforward.

Gosh, where to begin? Firstly, names and etymology are pretty good theory fodder and Easter eggs, e.g., ‘Hap’=haphephobia and all its ‘hap’-prefixed variants; ‘Khatun’ is both an old title of nobility and a modern word referring to any woman. 'Rahim' means ‘merciful’ or 'servant of the merciful'. 'Elias' is a cognate of 'Elijah'. Elijah was the Abrahamic prophet who sort of had a special connection with women and children; who was cared for by an angel; who resurrected the dead; who entered Heaven without dying at the end of his earthly life; who is sometimes believed to have become an angel. All of this information is available on Wikipedia! So even if Elias did plant the books, I don’t automatically assume he’s malicious.

There’s this interesting bit in an interview with The Atlantic:

Marling: [...] I think one of the original stories that was influential actually comes from Jewish mysticism. Do you know it?

Kornhaber: Is this leaving the door open for Elijah at Passover?

Marling: Yeah. It’s so beautiful. I think it’s amazing to try and use that as a reminder of trying to stay open. I struggle with that all the time. You get scared and you close the door. But I think The OA, she’s inviting them to let a new thing in.

(Principal Gilchrist's first name is another cognate of Elijah - 'Ellis' - and his surname means 'servant of Christ'. People have made the connection between Ellis and his "water under the bridge" comment to Ellis Island and the nearby Statue of Liberty, plus he has a snow globe of the latter.)

Elias’ potential connection with an ‘evil’ Rachel was probably debunked early by Zal Batmanglij on Twitter: the plants in her cell died because she refuses to water them as an act of rebellion. I'm too lazy to go through the whole thing about why her name being on the office wall in large Braille doesn't automatically mean she works there in the first place. I think she and Elias are connected (because of his car crash analogy and the “[My brother] never got to hear it”/”I’m a listener” lines), but I doubt it’s as evil agents.

Elias is shocked and defensive when he bumps into French in the house - but the scene follows French, so of course we aren't shocked and suspicious about French’s presence. Basically, the audience has had the same reaction to Elias breaking in as Elias initially has to French breaking in. Part of what makes Elias seem suspicious is his reaction. IMO Elias doesn't even imply or confirm that the OA was lying  - he just doesn't correct French. The other 'suspicious' thing he does is...move his eyes while hugging French, which isn’t incriminating on its own since the emotion is ambiguous.

There's confusing reasoning behind why Elias would place the books in the first place. The books seem tailored to match major aspects of the OA's story. The immediate assumption is that if someone planted the books, they meant for the Crestwood Five to find them and conclude that she based lies upon them. But if that's the case, Elias likely had no way of knowing that French would break in, go to her room, thoroughly search her room, and look where he did. There was no guarantee that any of the Five would find the books, jump to the conclusion that OA was lying, then share the discovery with the others.

Alternatively, you could argue that Elias planted the books intending for someone else to find them during an investigation and use it as proof that OA was making up stories, and the Five would fall for it in the process. But in that case, why did he let French leave with all of the books? And remember, Buck kept one and the rest let him. It’s possible that they submitted the other books to the FBI offscreen, or that Elias replaced the books. But I’ve never seen the theory cover what happened to the books after the reveal, so I won’t play with that hypothetical situation here.

Maybe Elias planted the books for someone else to find and didn’t know French took them. After all, we don't know what happened after the hug. But that introduces a new set of logical problems. How would French sneak a big, heavy box out of the house? He could take it if Elias had already left or wasn’t watching him...but why would Elias leave French unsupervised? Does anyone think that Elias ensured French left, then French broke in again not long afterwards and took the books, all offscreen? And couldn’t his presumably nearby car be a potential giveaway?

So, the books don't make much sense as an attempt to disillusion the Five. Some people think French's reaction stretches audience suspension of disbelief, right - I think it's an even bigger stretch that the FBI would predict a break-in and his reaction. To a lesser extent, the books also don't make sense as an attempt to frame OA, because they end up with the boys and don’t seem to play a role beyond breaking their faith. As for how French took the books while Elias was there, Elias advocates strategic passivity and avoids direct persuasion; I don't find it outlandish that French would say something like "I need to show proof to the others" then take the box, and Elias wouldn’t protest because it's not part of his agenda either way.

The next most obvious explanation for the books is if they really are OA’s. They weren’t necessarily used to construct a lie.  

In the previous episode, OA had a conversation with BBA about how cultures that suffer more loss tend to have more totems. OA knew this because of an exhibit that she loved so much as a child that she made her parents take her back twice. It made a lasting impact on her, as evidenced by the wolf hoodie that reminds her of Homer’s. BBA is not with the boys when French reveals the books, so she doesn't even have the chance to recall that conversation. We don’t know if BBA learned about the books after the boys did. And the books were specifically stored beneath the wolf hoodie. The Five may not be aware of the hoodie’s significance; Elias wouldn’t know the hoodie’s significance unless OA wore it to a session and he asked why she has a hoodie with a wolf on it, or she spontaneously told him, both of which seem a bit far-fetched. (Onscreen, at least, she never wore it to a therapy session.)

Ehh, miscellaneous notes:

It’s uncertain that OA can read English text. But the conversation with BBA says that the Thing Itself isn't as important as what it symbolises. (“Objects carry meaning in difficult times.”) She doesn't need to be able to read the books in order for them to mean something. Anyway, she might’ve been bilingual from a young age; she was 7 or 8 when she went blind and she seems fluent in English by the time we see her in the American boarding school. (There might be proof that she can write in English, since she signed the bottom of the note she left for her parents? It’s been interpreted both ways so idk.)

The Five getting discovered in the abandoned house probably wasn’t set up by Elias. BBA had previously slipped and told Principal Gilchrist about it while driving to save Steve.

I don’t strongly rule it out, but I don’t think Elias spied on the Five, because he only realises who French is when he tells him his name. Unless he’s pretending.

Why were the books under OA’s bed, under the hoodie? Maybe she hid her totems in case her parents found them, since Nancy already thought she had delusions that could easily be linked to The Oligarchs and The Iliad. It’s unclear to me, but there might be a moment in the first episode where OA shoves the video camera under her bed (starts at 29:15-ish), foreshadowing that she might’ve done the same thing with the books later.

The issues I have with my own theory are:

According to the label on the Amazon box, the books were delivered in September. That's at odds with how OA's video was posted in February 2016. But the FBI (or another organisation) ordering the books also doesn't make sense: they would’ve been planning to discredit her months before she returned or assembled the Five or told her story. Even if they knew about the experiments, Hap dumping OA on the road in February seemed entirely spontaneous; that itself was the result of a seemingly random event (getting caught by the sheriff). More importantly, I’d question why the boys didn't notice the discrepancy in dates, and why the FBI didn't realise it themselves. (Like, all they had to do was remove the label or use a different box.) How can they predict a very specific chain of events yet not be smart enough to remove a label? It’s not impossible in the broader scope of the story - maybe they have reality-warping powers, maybe there’s time travel involved - but right now it’s a big stretch just to support the basic theory that Elias planted the books. So I suspect the label is a minor production oversight. Considering exactly how briefly the date is onscreen and difficult to read even when the scene is paused, I think it wasn’t meant to be read by the audience. (Compare the length of the date’s visibility and its readability to earlier in the scene, when French looks at the newspaper clippings, or whenever a phone/computer screen takes up the frame.)

How did OA order the books? The hardest part is how she went online, but she could’ve placed the order sometime in the first episode before the router was taken away. It’s possible to order things from Amazon without a credit card and have them sent to a pickup point or post office, so that’s not a big issue if she had money somewhere (or stole it from her parents, which is 100% in-character for her). Sneaking the package into the house is another problem - but, then again, she’s cunning and her room is conveniently located so things can fairly easily go in/out of her window.

Elias suggested that the Johnsons go out for a family dinner. That somewhat complicates the timeframe he would’ve had for breaking in; if the outing had gone 'normally' they would've returned home before it was very late, yet still at an unpredictable time. (Again, he probably had no way of knowing they’d choose French's workplace, that it’d go badly, etc.) He was unable to break into the Johnsons' home on the night the OA finished her story, which is why he broke in later on, when French did. I guess Nancy and Abel went home after the incident at the Olive Garden and Elias saw the house was occupied, so he waited, and luckily for him they left the next day?

I’m not sure whether Elias lies when French asks if OA told him about Homer, the mine, and Hap’s studies. She told Elias specifics about the first and third premonitions, but it��s unclear how much she explained the second, Homer wasn’t mentioned by name onscreen, and we don’t know if she talked about the movements and angels. It’s worth noting that right after their last session, Elias does lie. OA explained her dreams, including the previous night’s. Afterwards, Nancy assumes Elias knows what happened last night...but he says no, seemingly to see how Nancy explains it. He’s capable of minor lies to Learn Things for ambiguous reasons. (Does he lie to Nancy for OA’s benefit? Or is it because he doesn’t trust OA, or is it simply an effort to hear different sides? I think the tone of the scene suggests he’s trying to help OA, but you might think it’s deliberately misleading. Anyway, they’re not all mutually exclusive motives.)

If the books really were OA’s, what was her reaction when she returned home and they were missing? She probably wouldn't tell her parents. But what would she think happened? Possibly she might be able to put two and two together since she’d previously helped Steve sneak into her room. Maybe she doesn’t seem sad right before the shooting because she deduced that the Five wanted to help her, and she didn’t know that the boys concluded she was lying.

We might be able to get general sense of where The OA is headed by examining Brit and Zal's previous work. Sound of My Voice is the most similar. One of the most common (and plausible) theories for SOMV is that Maggie was telling the truth and the 'FBI agent' wasn't actually an FBI agent. But there are other reused elements that were subverted: OA is much less intimidating and more personable than Maggie; the Five are inclined to believe her without being cult-like; the agent was trying to catch Maggie without her knowledge instead of possibly pretending to help her. I kinda hope it's a meta Red Herring planted for people who've watched both.

Elias was in the house for a reason. I think the video camera and all of the tapes might be a Chekhov's Gun. Brit Marling said something along the lines of "it’s worthy to question Elias’ motives"; he doesn’t necessarily have Good intentions. However, him planting the books isn’t a sure thing and we know nothing about whatever he did in the time gap before the shooting; there’s no indication that he helped or hindered OA in any way, if they’re still in contact, etc. So I think it’s a Bit Much to leap to "ELIAS IS EVIL" Not everyone who thinks he planted the books assumes he’s evil, which is nice. But it's Tiring seeing the evil accusation treated as if it's rare or a new theory, especially considering the depth of analysis that the rest of the show receives.

[scullydubois]

memory-bound: a revival one-shot

Set between Rm9sbG93ZXJz & My Struggle IV, Scully moves back into the Unremarkable House after her smart home burns down and returns to an age-old ritual: coloring her hair.

T, 1.8k, fluff/domestic fluff, read on ao3 here.

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

Lamp light casts shadows on the wall as Scully unpacks in a place she never thought she’d find herself again: the master bedroom she and Mulder shared for almost a decade. She lays her remaining clothes on the tribal-patterned bedspread and smirks at how little the room has changed. She expected to be put up in the guest room and was perfectly fine with that. They had rarely gotten any use out of it--she figured an inhabitant would do it some good. Imagine her shock, then, when Mulder told her he hadn’t slept in “their” room since she left. That the room was all hers.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that after a decade of a bed, he returned to what he knew upon losing what he had known. He swapped the couch he slept on for seven years for a Barcalounger. An old man needs his amenities, he joked while showing her its heat and massage functions. And she felt a gnawing in the pit of her stomach, the mark of a fool.

She salvaged what she could from the fire, but most of her Bethesda things were ruined. That soulless smart house was never worth its automated thermostat system, let alone any of its other data mines disguised as gizmos. Mulder hated it--hated it, like, wouldn’t step foot in it, and if she’s being honest, that was the only selling point for her: the shelter it offered from his incessant search for truth & his unsatisfiable conscience. This was back when she felt like that was something she needed to get away from, of course. She had wanted to settle somewhere and mean it. Now, she realizes they were settled all along.

She rests a pile of folded clothes in the crook of her arm and pulls open her old dresser. She envisioned cobwebs--maybe even a whole family of spiders--in there, but instead, a ratty New York Knicks t-shirt greets her. And a Spaceship Earth one under that, and a Wile E. Coyote one under that. Her holy trinity of Mulder t-shirts. She refused to take them when she left, though he insisted. And in protest, he hadn’t worn them. She knows this instinctively, though the lack of laundry scent confirms it. They’ve been waiting in this drawer all along, captives to Mulder’s fantasy that one day she would open it again.

Scully squeezes her eyes shut, slips the pile in next to the shirts, slams the drawer, and grabs her toiletries bag off the bed, striding into the bathroom. She can’t dwell...she can’t. She’s learned by now that regret is a state of mind that freezes her up, and there’s no being frozen, not any more.

Unzipping the bag, she lines her various products along the counter. Age-defying this, anti-aging that...sunscreen is really the only thing that’s done her any good. That, and hair dye. She keeps the others around for show.

Speaking of...she pokes at her roots, scouring the mirror for signs that yes, she could theoretically be a grandma--and she can’t say for certain that she isn’t--but to her knowledge, she’s not, and as long as no one calls her Grandma, she won’t accept the title.

She won’t accept the gray hairs, either. One day, sure, but not yet. Mulder’s not even gone gray yet, and he has years on her. She’s told him that he would look great, and that the silver fox nickname would be nothing short of perfection, but he swears that he just hasn’t lost his “natural luster” yet, that he’ll embrace the gray when (if!) it comes.

Scully’s not been so lucky, though it doesn’t show. She’s been coloring her hair every three weeks since she was twenty-eight to keep the ravishing red. She’ll never forget when Mulder realized it wasn’t her natural color...the way his eyes widened as he moved between her legs…

It’s not as if he didn’t know; her mousy auburn had been on full display when they first met, and yet he’d gotten so used to seeing her as she is that it slipped his mind that she hadn’t always been that way. And once they moved in together--in this very bathroom, actually--he loved to help her with the coloring process, was as fascinated by it as the prospect of alien-human hybrids.

She chooses the tube of Rock it Like a Redhead dye from her product line-up, looks at her reflection. It’s been five--no, six--nearing seven--years since she performed this ritual in this room. She glances down, and sure enough, the tile still bears a rust-colored stain from one of her sessions gone wrong. It makes her smile...she has a history here. They have a history here.

She sighs. For old time’s sake, she might as well...she’s found herself thinking that a lot lately.

Her old robe--her usual attire for the occasion--fell victim to the fire, but she’s got a good substitute in mind. She pads back into the bedroom and plucks the Wile E. Coyote shirt from the drawer. It’s black, hopefully that will hide any stains. Her slacks are too damn expensive to risk an accident, so she briefly considers stripping to her panties before settling on a pair of gym shorts.

Her get-up in place, she grabs a few clips from her bag and pins her hair up in four sections. This is one of the reasons she got her chop; her long hair was sexy, but it was a bitch trying to cover all those layers. Plus, Mulder is fond of “the Scully shag” as he calls it, though she corrects him every time (it’s not a shag Mulder, it’s a bob!). It reminds him of their firsts, she imagines. It’s almost as if the longer her hair got, the further apart they drifted. And once they were okay again, it was imperative that she bear her neck to him...show him the place where his lips should land.

She decides to stand in the shower (water off, of course) so any mess can be rinsed away. She wonders, suddenly, if the square mirror they used to keep is still suctioned to the glass interior. It’ll be hard to do this alone if it’s not.

She peeks in, and it’s not there, and that must be the only thing in this house Mulder has moved. Figures. She slips off her shoes and grabs the applicator and dye tube. She’ll do the best she can, then use the bathroom mirror to make any touch-ups.

Scully steps into the shower. Its characteristic lemon scent is gone, and that makes her sad. It used to be a welcome change from the antiseptic hospital smell she dealt with all day. Wielding her tools, she starts at her roots, spreading the dye along her scalp with expert precision. Surely this counts as a workout--it takes a lot of energy to hold your arms over your head for this long. Will her Fitbit calculate how many calories she’s burning, she wonders?

She’s just started a new strand when a gentle rap echoes through the wall.

“Scully?” Mulder’s voice rings from outside the bedroom. She pulled the door slightly shut when she entered.

“Come in!” she calls. “In the bathroom.”

She hears footsteps in the adjacent room, then a hesitant breath as Mulder pauses at the doorway. “Are you decent?”

Scully looks down at herself. What a picture. “I’m in a Wile E. Coyote t-shirt and gym shorts. Does that answer your question?”

Mulder shuffles in, smirking at the sight of her through the open shower door. “What are you doing?”

She points to the crown of her head--which is already well within his field of vision--so she’s not sure why he needed to ask the question.

“Well, I see that,” Mulder concedes, “but I mean, why are you hunched over in here like you’re hoping to grow a third arm?”

Scully shrugs. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

“That’s just as lame as ‘boys will be boys,’ and you know it,” he counters, remembering a spirited lecture she once gave him on the misogynist undertones of the phrase. Scully smirks. They had that conversation years ago...post-William, pre-Bahamas. She’s surprised that it stuck with him.

She tilts her chin in a way that makes Mulder certain she’d have her hands on her hips if they weren’t occupied. “What do you suggest?” she challenges.

“Let me help you,” he proposes before she can launch a protest. His sneaker’s rubber sole meets the shower tile as he slips in beside her. The wall is cold against her elbow as she scoots back to make room for him.

“I’m fine. I’ve been doing this on my own for years, and I was long before you.”

“But now you have me,” he professes. “Here. Right now,” he clarifies, not meaning to label their as-yet undefined relationship status.

Their eyes meet, and Scully’s hit with the last time the two of them were in here--her legs around his waist, his hands sliding through her hair, droplets that couldn’t be placed as shower water, sweat, or tears. Her spine straightens against the very wall where she was pinned. Times change, yet they don’t. History repeats itself in a slightly different key.

“When I was younger, I did this because I liked the color,” she tells him, finishing a section and lowering her hands. “Now, I do it out of necessity. It’s sad, Mulder.” She juts her lower lip out in a faux pout. “We’re getting old.”

He would hug her, but he’d mess up her hair and it would be a whole thing. “Hey, I’ll be pushing your wheelchair with my wheelchair, remember?” he says, taking her slip into sentimentality as permission.

Scully nods, the delicate memories of years past bringing a slight frown to her face.

“Can you do me a favor?” she asks, raising to her tiptoes, then lowering again. Her eyes twinkle.

“Of course.”

She offers him the tube of dye, looks up at him with a smile.

“Can you get right here?” She points to a spot right above her temple, one she could definitely reach herself if she wanted to.

Mulder admires her. His woman, back in his old t-shirt and all. He plants his lips on her temple, breathing her in. No matter what she says about aging or being old, he’ll never believe her. She is as she was back then: the only semblance of peace he’s ever known.

He pulls away to meet her gaze, his voice warm and smooth. “Is that about where you want it?”

Scully grins. “Yes, that’s perfect.”

[lonestarbabe]

The Definition of Good Parents

[AO3]

Carlos confronts TK about his time in the minefield + TK tells Carlos about the baby + Carlos getting protective over TK after hearing what Owen said to him = a deadly mix. I said, “Let’s just put it all into one tiny fic.”

Carlos gives T.K. a stern look as soon as he sees him coming through the door. He can’t believe the things his boyfriend does sometimes. He wouldn’t trade T.K. or any of his traits for the world, though.

“I heard you volunteered to go into a minefield,” Carlos says, eyebrows raised. He admires T.K.’s commitment to the job, but his nerves cannot take T.K. being in the hospital again. (Or worse, but he can’t think about worse).

T.K. smiles like he’s proud of his endeavors, and Carlos can’t blame him. Carlos is proud of T.K. too. That pride is mixed with a lot of fear. “Where’d you hear that from?”

“Marjan made a group chat.”

“Without me?” T.K. pouts, and Carlos has learned not to let that pout get the best of him, but he can’t help thinking how cute T.K. is as he does it.

“You can’t be part of everything. It’s called, ‘T.K. Strand is a Reckless Dumbass.’ I’m sure she’ll add you if you want.”

“She’s the one who dove into a damn steaming lava pit.”

“You went into a minefield,” Carlos emphasizes. “You’re not the bomb squad.”

“You sound like Pearce,” T.K. grins. “I’m not an asshole who puts my perfect record above saving a life.”

“Thank god I wasn’t there. I would have killed you.”

“Babe, it’s fine. Nothing bad happened to me.” T.K. pulls Carlos in for a kiss. “Mr. Perfect, couldn’t take the heat, so I stepped in.”

Carlos wraps his arm around T.K., thankful to have him there and to be able to hold him. “I thought you were trying to get out of the dog house.”

“I am,” T.K. gives him another kiss. “I think you’ll like the decision I made today.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m switching teams.” That gives Carlos pause.

“Oh, yeah? I happen to like the team you’re on,” Carlos says with a chuckle, and he wants to do unholy things to T.K. He remembers T.K. saying they made a pretty good team. He knows that’s not what T.K. is talking about, but that’s the only team he can think about.

“Not like that.” T.K. rolls his eyes. “I applied to be the new paramedic.”

“What? I didn’t even know you were a paramedic.” T.K.’s never mentioned that.

“I was a dual-function medic.”

“That’s sexy. How many tricks do you have up your sleeve, T.K. Strand?” Carlos has seen only a portion of the tricks that he’s sure T.K.’s had. They’ve only been together for a few months, but he’s sure that there’s plenty more about T.K. to learn, and he’s looking forward to discovering every square inch T.K. has to offer.

T.K. licks his lips. “So many.” He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. I had to do something while I was waiting to be eligible for the fire academy, so I figured I might as well get some of my hours in. With how many medical calls we take, medical qualifications make your resume stand out. I wanted to make it without my dad’s influence.”

“It seems like a pretty big deal.”

“I can’t do everything wrong,” T.K. jokes, and Carlos can’t laugh along because self-deprecating humor feels a little too self-deprecating when T.K. uses it. It hits Carlos in all the ways that make him concerned.

“You saved that kid in the minefield. Seems to me that you do a lot right.”

“The minefield was the best part of my day, believe it or not,” T.K. says. He looks Carlos in the eyes, “Second best.” Carlos would melt if he didn’t feel himself going into protective boyfriend mode.

“The rest of the day couldn’t have been that bad.” Carlos can’t imagine what could one-up a minefield.

“Nothing dramatic. Just tiring bullshit.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I’m overwhelmed.” Carlos knows that overwhelmed is T.K.’s codeword for not mentally okay, and he feels a chill in his bones.

Carlos leads T.K. to the couch to sit down because this conversation isn’t one that should be had hovering by the kitchen counter. When they’re comfortable, he asks,“Overwhelmed? By what?”

“Things have been weird with my dad. We’re okay, but they’re still weird.”

“Is he upset about the career change?” Because if he is, fuck that. T.K.’s worked hard to get to where he is, and if Owen can’t at least be proud of T.K.’s accomplishment, then Carlos will have to be twice as proud— one hundred times as proud.

“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s more focused on the baby.”

“The what?” Carlos feels like he’s missing something important, and he tries to search his mind for any memory of a baby.

T.K. seems to realize what he’s said, and his eyes widen. “Shit. I’m supposed to keep it on the down-low, but I’ve already confessed twice today. Once can be taken as necessary venting, but twice is bad. ”

“Wait, T.K. Slow down. What are you trying to say.”

T.K. winces. “My mom’s pregnant.”

“Oh, shit.” Carlos can hardly process what he’s hearing. He knew Gwyn and Owen were trying to work things out, but he had never expected that.

“They get to be parents.” T.K.’s voice is scratchy.

“Again,” Carlos adds. “They don’t stop being your parents no matter how old you get.”

“They’re already thinking a lot about this baby’s future, and they want to be around to raise them.  My dad even decided to go through with that surgery to get rid of his tumor.”

“That’s a good thing, right? You’ve been pushing him to do it.”

“Yeah, I have been.” T.K.’s quiet for a moment. “Want to know the reason he gave me?” T.K. doesn’t wait for Carlos to reply. “He said that he was going to be a father as if he wasn’t a father before.” Carlos feels rage spike in his core, but he’s not going to make this moment about what he is feeling. He’s not going to say how much he wants to give Owen Strand a piece of his mind. “I know it’s stupid that a comment like that bothered me, but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head.”

“Passing comment or not, what he said is shitty.”

“He didn’t mean it like that. He was talking without thinking.” T.K. grins. “It’s a family trait. I’m just being a little bitch, just like always.”

“Don’t say that. You’re entitled to your feelings.”

“My parents are so happy, and I’m the rain cloud that they can’t shake.” It’d be cheesy, but Carlos would call T.K. his sun if it made him feel any better, but Carlos knows that there are no words that he can use to take the hurt away. Just as T.K. couldn’t say anything to make the situation with Carlos’ parents better, sometimes, all you can do is be a safe place.

“Parents don’t always give us the love we want or deserve,” Carlos says, “But that isn’t because you carry too much darkness. It’s not because you aren’t bright enough. It’s not even because they don’t have enough love to give.” Carlos thinks of his parents, unable to say the word gay but throwing around the words “I love you.” “Some parents try so hard to meet the definition of good parents that they forget to be your parents.”

T.K. drops his head on Carlos’ shoulder. “Is that supposed to make me feel better.”

Carlos shakes his head, “No. It’s just a reminder.”

“I hope they’re better parents for the baby,” T.K. says with watery eyes.

Carlos kisses T.K.’s temple, “And if they’re not, that kid will have the best big brother.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone

A Tyler Rake/Established Female OC fic

Summary: A lot changes in five years. Now a family of nine, the Rakes are splitting their time between Australia and New York City. With Dhaka nothing but a distant yet still painful memory and the dirty work mostly behind him, Tyler is healthy and thriving. Not only as a husband and father, but as the acting founder and boss of his own mercenary business and co-owner of his wife's well loved and flourishing bookstore. But while love and domestic happiness abound, the past and its secrets are never far behind.

Huge thanks and tons of love to @tragiclyhip​ for never letting me give up! It’s thanks to her I ever actually finished off the last fic, or started this one.  And she also made my incredible banner! <3 <3 <3

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​

Prologue

FIVE YEARS LATER

******

The stand sits fifteen feet above ground and wraps halfway around the gnarled and twisted trunk of a centuries old Kapok tree. No hunter has made use of it in years; the stairs leading upwards weakened by harsh weather and neglect, wood cracking and bowing under the soles of well worn combat boots. Despite the added weight of gear and a kevlar utility vest, long legs and a wide stride make it easy to navigate the missing steps. His movements are purposeful and quiet; careful to avoid even the slightest snap of a twig or the rustle of dried and fallen leaves or the scratch of dirt and pebbles against the pitted and fragile wood. Any sound is a detriment in this environment; the lush and dense landscape so eerily still and silent that even a hint of noise would seem deafening. The slightest of movement has the potential to stir up the wildlife, which in turn would draw unwanted attention upwards from the banks of the Mekong River.

Even under the thick and expansive umbrella of the forest the heat is stifling. Humidity oppressive and choking. A thin layer of sweat gathers on his brow; errants droplets burning his eyes and gathering on the ends of his lashes. His shirt -long sleeved to not only provide cover in the jungle but protect from scrapes and cuts and the burn of the sun- nearly soaked right through; darkened patches under the arms and at the small of the back, the fabric clinging to dampened and slick skin. Fine beads settle around his mouth, and when he drops into a crouch at the top of the stand, he swipes his tongue over his top lip in an effort to clear away the sweat. It had been an hour hike through the jungle; moving swiftly and silently as he listened to directions being given through a transmitter he sports in his left ear. It’s sweltering and he’s thirsty; head pounding and his hands begin to tremble as the beginning stages of dehydration begin to settle in. He takes the time to remedy the situation. Shrugging off the rucksack slung over his left shoulder and dropping it onto the floor of the stand; hands shaking yet able to tear open the zipper. There’s two bottles of water packed in amongst the gear; extra pairs of socks in case of treks through swamps and marshes, two full clips of ammo that will only be used if someone on the other side is able to pinpoint his location and launch a full scale and fully armed search.

He hopes it doesn’t come to that.

Downing half a bottle of water, he uses the remains to cool himself down; splashing a handful of the liquid against his face and then dumping the rest over his head. Ten years ago, the elements wouldn’t have bothered him as much; he would have been thirty seven years old and still in relatively good shape. Physically AND mentally. And despite a consistent and punishing routine of heavy lifting, core training, and cardio, he’s definitely feeling the effects of both age and decades of hard and often dangerous living. Knees stiff and aching from the brisk hike over rough terrain and then through mud and thick brush; the arthritis that takes up residence in the small of his back and the right hip making its presence known. He’ll be sore tomorrow; every step he takes will send pain shooting through him, and for the next week he’ll wonder just why the hell he ever said ‘yes’ in the first place. Each stiff movement and slow step and aching muscle will remind him of just how things HAVE changed over the years. Gone are the days when he could skip a few days sleep; able to function on both little rest and minuscule amounts of food and drink. There’s no way he’d be able to do THAT now; push his body to the limits he’d been testing for so long. That man no longer exists. The one that would take the most dangerous and unpredictable jobs in hopes of catching a bullet. Who’d almost pray, beg and plead each and every time he went out that it would be his last; one sniper’s shot away from finally being put out of his miserable existence.

Things changed, of course. When he’d been least expecting them to. There’s way too much to lose now. It’s why every decision he makes now...every movement...matters so much. Even the smallest of mistakes can change the course of the future; one misstep potentially blowing his cover and leading to his untimely -and likely extremely brutal and bloody- demise. An hour away a helicopter waits for him; on standby to whisk him back to Vietnam and that little ‘hole in the wall’ hotel he’d been staying in. A quick shower and he’d back in the air; rushed to the nearest backwoods airport where a private jet would take him home. It’s been four days now; two spent in the planning stages before his first ‘hit’ in Laos and then the trek to Cambodia. Two for the price of one, Anil had said, although money matters very little now. These kinds of gigs are more a service; wiping out the dregs of society more of a gift to humanity than anything else.

He normally doesn’t take on jobs. A total of three in the past five years. This is the fourth AND fifth. The skills and the mindset quickly and effortlessly returning, the first kill a lot easier than he’d thought it would be. It’s like riding a bike; once the gun is in your hand and you’re peering through that scope, your finger easily finds and pulls the trigger. And this job had been impossible to turn down; the dirty and vile details hitting home and preying on his ‘human side’. Anyone in his position as a husband and father would have been enraged and disgusted. Drug runners and weapons smugglers that moonlight in abusing and torturing their wives and exploiting children. Sometimes even their own. People that evil don’t deserve to live; even a bullet between the eyes considered too kind. But it’s all he has time for. No ‘face to face’ meetings. He can’t be seen or even identified by name in order to protect his OWN family. He has to remain a ghost. An urban legend of sorts. Talked and gossiped about in drug circles and even among the local police and military who’d either been paid off by the criminals or had been hopeless and hapless when it came to stopping the activity. Nothing will be known about him. No glimpse of his appearance, no chance to hear his voice or even know his name. He’ll be known for just those ‘lucky shots’ he’d gotten in. Turned in to nothing more than rumours and speculation that will continue spreading long after he’s gone.

***

“T...you there?” Yaz’ voice through the earpiece. The reception is spotty; words broken up by heavy static.

He uses a forearm to wipe the mixture of water and sweat from his face, then lays a finger against the transmitter clipped to his vest. “I’m here.”

“Hot out there today, isn’t it.”

He smirks, then begins pulling pieces of a semi automatic rifle from the confines of the rucksack; hands moving quickly and efficiently as they snap and twist the weapon together. “I don’t want to hear your bitching. You’ve got air conditioning. I’m the one out in this shit.” His voice is low and quiet as he speaks. Even the smallest of sounds can travel great distances; echoing through the jungle and making its way down to the banks of the Mekong.

The river sits fifty yards to the south; muddy and heavily polluted and dotted with boats belonging to local fisherman. One vessel stands out from the crowd. A large and expensive houseboat; the chrome that lines the powerful motor and makes up the railings on the top deck sparkling in the sunlight. His mark is inside; meeting with some of Anil’s people acting under the guise of weapons buyers. When the time is right, the man in question will be led out onto the bottom deck and he’ll have one shot to get the job done. It’s another reason Anil had personally sought him out; his marksmanship impeccable, no other employee coming close to possessing that level of skill.

“You good?” Yaz inquires.

“Yeah…” he snaps the magazine in place and then switches off the safety. “...I’m good.”

“I’ll let you know when there’s movement. Going silent for now.”

He tears off the lid of the second bottle of water and takes a single sip before setting it down; using his sleeve to wipe both the opening and every side of the plastic. He can’t leave any trace of himself behind. Not a drop of sweat or a hint of saliva or his fingerprints. He’ll wipe the stand down before he leaves; methodically cleaning anything he may have come in contact with. IF his location is discovered, money talks. Anyone remotely related to his mark will pay to get answers, and the police will take what’s offered and collect every shred of possible evidence. He can’t take that chance. A single, unattached person may not care. Had he still been the guy living in the rundown and beaten up shack in the outback, he wouldn’t have thought twice about covering his tracks. But lives depend on him. A wife and seven beautiful little humans that count on him to protect them and keep them safe.

He CAN’T fuck this up.

Up in the stand he’s well hidden; camouflaged by the abundance of thick, lush greenery. It’ll be a tough shot through twisted and tangled branches; not even a foot of clearance between wood and leaves. Depending on exactly where his mark is led, he’ll compensate for that; pulling to the right or left in order to prevent the bullet from getting too ‘dirty’. He’s made tougher shots; mostly in his SASR days. And there’s no doubt he’ll make this one.

He bunches up the ruck sack and places it near the edge of the stand, facing the river. He’ll use it as both a ledge and a form of cushioning; balancing the long barrel of the rifle will provide stability and muffle the sound of the shot, disguising where it had originated from. He winces as he gingerly lowers himself onto his stomach; the cracking in his hip and the soreness in both knee and shoulder reminding him that he’s not as young as he used to be. Forty-seven is ancient in mercenary years. Most never make it that far. The odd few get to retire peacefully, but the majority are taken out by a bullet; one too many lapses in judgment and the smallest of errors leading to their deaths.

But most never get to have what he does either. A normal life with a family that loves him ; thousands of miles away, anxiously awaiting his return. It’s why he’s so careful; every decision he makes and every action he takes is done with them at the forefront of his mind. And he thinks about them now; warm and safe in the confines of a townhome in New York City. Four days ago they’d travelled from Australia and he’d promised to meet up with them as soon as the job was finished. It’s their third Christmas there; an eight bedroom brownstone in Gramercy Park. The kids especially enjoy spending the holidays there. Quickly falling in love with the idea of a white Christmas and enjoying all of the outdoor activities; sledding and skating and seeing the tree at Rockefeller Centre and visiting Santa and the reindeer in Central Park. And while life in the Big Apple had never appealed to him, the draw of Gramercy had been impossible to resist. Quiet and quaint; tree lined streets and a private park and neighbours that mind their own business and don’t ask too many questions. He’d initially worried about standing out like a sore thumb; tanned skinned and the array of tattoos and scars and the ‘Down Under’ accent. It turned out to be everything he HADN'T expected. The feeling of small town life within an enormous city.

The back of his hand swipes at the locusts and mosquitos that hover close to his face; their buzzing and humming both tickling and irritating his ears. The right isn’t as good as it used to be; hearing slightly muted and distorted thanks to years of both firing and coming in close contact with weapons. It’s another drawback to getting old. Along with his eyesight. Needing glasses to read or to spend anytime staring at a computer screen.

“They’re on the move.”

He blinks sweat from his eyes and wipes his lips and chin on the sleeve of his shirt. Then he settles in; bending his left leg at the knee and wriggling his stomach against the wood beneath him. The latter is mind over matter; as if the simple movement and the way he presses the toes of boots against the stand will improve both shot and stability. His finger hovers over the trigger; other hand lightly supporting the barrel of the gun, allowing the rucksack to bear the majority of the weight. Anil’s people come out first; identified by the tan linen suits he’d been told they’d be sporting. The ‘Mark’ is a middle aged man, clad in casual attire; olive green cargo shorts and a simple white golf shirt. He’s short and stocky with greying hair and a noticeable limp; a run in with a rival drug crew years ago resulting in the amputation of his leg and the acquisition of a prosthetic device.

His jaw clenches and his lips settle into a thin, pursed line. His heart hammers in his chest and both his shoulders and his chest tighten. It’s adrenaline. That unmistakable rush that comes before an imminent strike. He remembers it well. And it’s both surprising and disheartening how much he’s actually missed it.

As they chatter and laugh, one of Anil’s men places a hand on the Mark’s back and ever so slightly turns the other man in Tyler’s direction. It’s all he needs; just enough of the Mark’s forehead to ensure a ‘kill shot’. And he takes it; the sound slightly muffled but still deafening as it echoes through the jungle and stirs birds from their perches and wildlife from the safety of their nests and dens. The bullet easily tears through layers of leaves and bypasses branches; finding its target and sending the Mark sprawling backwards and then down into a pool of brain matter, fragments of skull, and quickly spreading blood.

“Target’s down.”

The words are simple. To the point. And as chaos erupts down by the river, he calmly begins his retreat; pushing himself up onto his feet and slinging the rifle over his shoulder. There’s no pressing need or rush; Anil’s people have made their quick escape and the screams and shouts are coming from startled fisherman and colleagues of the Mark that had been inside the houseboat. He has time; methodically cleaning every inch of both the stand and the stairs and making sure he’s left nothing behind.

“I’m heading back,” he says, shouldering the ruck sack and taking the stairs two at a time. He’s suddenly anxious to get on his way; feeling the relief that sets in as he begins his hour long trek.

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Not from the success of the mission or the satisfaction that comes with ridding the world of yet another monster. It’s one of happiness. One of peace.

The realization that each step he takes brings him closer to home.

[inky-imagines]

Tea-ee’s OC special

With this, I’ve completed all the OC specials, sort of.

There’s still one more, but the person never sent the info I need so I haven’t been able to write it. I could just ask them for it, but it’s been a while, and I think I bothered them enough at the time (AKA, I’m a asocial coward who doesn’t like messaging people).

Anyhoo, this one’s for @tea-ee​. Sorry it took so long. I hope you enjoy! ^^

TW: Mentions of death and violence

The attack had been brutal. All battles were, he knew that, but this kind of mindless destruction hadn’t been seen in centuries.

People milled around the shattered guard, careful not to tread on the innumerable injured member lined up on the floor. Ewelein and her team were working overtime to accommodate the many, many hurt member who’d been caught in the initial blast. Working so hard to keep anyone from joining those who’d passed.

Ezarel looked away from the sight, focusing on the slow drip of his burette. It was calming on the worst of days. The regular drops falling into the beaker, filling it slowly with vibrant colours gave him time to think. To breathe.

Now it felt like choking.

He can still remember the first explosion. How people were literally thrown through the air from the force. The bloody battle that had followed after. He’d gained new scars in that fight. Nothing to be proud about; he’d almost lost his life after all.

But those hadn’t been the worse part of the attack. No. It was the aftermath.

Names were called, people searched for. Some answered back, a few were found. Most were not.

They searched, and they saved and they hoped, but no. They’d lost more than they could’ve ever imagined in less than an hour.

The entire Eldaryan guard brought to its knees by a small group of people and some explosives.

“Pathetic.” He hissed, fist curling against the table.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Ez.” You stood in the destroyed doorway of his lab, a cheeky smile on your face. “You can’t help it.”

He snorted, turning back to the equipment, both appreciating the sudden company and wishing you’d leave him be. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

“You technically did though.” Sauntering in, you appraised the damaged lab with a raised eyebrow. “Damn, they really trashed the place, didn’t they?”

“It’s still functional. Unlike other areas.” He could feel your body heat as you stood beside him but refused to meet your gaze, choosing to continue watching the steady drips.

“Barely.” A hand delicately landed on his shoulder. At the lack of reaction, you gripped it more firmly – more reassuringly. “You hanging in there?”

He shrugged half-heartedly. “Doing better than the others.”

“The others are barely keeping their shit together.” You retort. “They’re not the best measuring stick.”

“They’re the only one I have.” He finally looked at you, forcing a half-assed smile. “And you? I heard you were pretty close to the initial blast.”

“As you can see,” You gesture to your bandages and gauzes. “I got off pretty lightly all things considered.” He nodded in agreement, returning to the apparatus once more.

Truthfully, he wasn’t strong enough for social interaction. Heavy guilt constantly weighed him down. Questions and scenarios of how he could’ve prevented all of haunted him. The past day’s events had left him lifeless; it was a miracle he was even able to work when all he wanted to do was to collapse and never wake up.

At the same time, he needed the closeness. Needed someone, something, to pull him from the whirlwind inside his head. Needed to be reminded that not everything was lost.

And you seemed to understand that, taking a seat beside him and quietly looking through the forensic results of what little evidence they’d collected. For hours, you both just sat there, in perfect quiet, the only sounds breaking the temporary peace were the sounds of rustling papers or an occasional cough from the floor below.

For the first time in what felt like years, Ezarel was at peace.

“Hey, Ez?” He glanced at you questioningly. “What’s that?”

You gestured to the brightly-coloured bottle in his hands, the finished product of his hours of titration.

“Analyser. Concentrated.” Seeing your mystified look, he explained. “We use it to [analyse and track something based on what we’ve found on the crime scene.”

“Huh. Didn’t know you guys had forensic science too.” You crossed your legs, the documents in your hands placed neatly on top. “Didn’t Nevra say there was no trace at the site though? What’s the point of that?”

“Anything leaves a trace, Y/N. It’s just a matter of finding it.” He tucked the potion on his belt, collecting a few more drafts from the table and gesturing for you to do the same.

The bottles are suspiciously examined, but you load them into your arms, following him out the door. “You've found something?”

“I suspect something. I need the analyser to confirm it.” Down the stairs he went, you jogging to keep up with his long strides.

“And what,” You ask, pausing to watch Ezarel hand the concoctions to the medical staff and injured. “Do you suspect?”

He didn’t answer for a while, continuing to pass out the medicine before pulling you to a quiet corner. “I think,” He stopped, swallowing. “I think we have a traitor amongst us.”

Your reaction wasn’t at all what he expected. Surprise, fear maybe even disbelief. But he got… nothing. Nothing at all. It was like someone had swiped you clean of everything that made you human, leaving a cold robotic shell in your place.

“Y/N?” At the sound of your name you shook your head, expression and life returning to your features but it was too late. A small pit of dread settled in his stomach.

“Sorry, sorry. You surprised me so much I zoned out for a moment.” You said, scratching your cheek. Your expression goes from bashful to serious as you return to the topic at hand. “Didn’t we deal with the traitor already? Leiftan’s gone and there’s no one else with a motive, right?”

Muttering how it’s just a theory and you should keep it yourself for now, he slunk away. He didn’t want to consider it, even hypothetically, but your reaction…

“Damn.” He growled, fingers raking through his blue locks. “They’re a suspect too.”

-

Logic was a bitch. It was unforgiving, cold and indifferent. No matter how you look at something – in the end, no matter how you wanted – objectively, the truth never changed.

Usually, he loved that. But now it made him sick.

No matter how he spun it, looked at it, broke it down and build it up, the conclusion never changed: you were the traitor.

You were the one on guard duty that night. The closest to the blast, but relatively unharmed all things considering. You had the motive, you had the skills. You didn’t have an alibi beyond your own word.

“Damn it!” The desk shook from of the force of his punch, it’s trembling slowly steadying even as his breathing did not.

He didn’t want to believe it. He couldn’t.

You were so kind, so sweet. Even with the wrongs they’d done to you, he couldn’t imagine you resort to such senseless violence.

And the others wouldn’t either. Even if the circumstantial evidence screamed that you were a danger to the guard, nobody else would believe him. He’d need physical proof of your betrayal before e could talk to anyone else about this.

But where could he find his proof? What would he do if he didn’t find anything?

A steadying breath. “One step at a time, Ezarel.”

The obvious place to search was the blast site,  a small alcove on your patrol route. It was less of an alcove now and more of a gaping hole in the wall.

There hadn’t been enough time to properly fill the void, so the hole had a few strips of flimsy tape ‘covering’ it that did nothing to block out the chill of the night.

Almost as if it was cursed, people avoided the area, some going as far as taking a longer route just be saved the walk past the painful reminder of their loss.

The lack of people and chill of the night air made the entire area far creepier than it should, and for a moment, Ezarel considered leaving the investigation until tomorrow.

But this couldn’t wait.

At first, it seemed the place was barren of anything useful. Some shrapnel here and there, a little-dried blood the clean-up crew that missed. Nothing he could use. Then he saw it.

Your knife. A once beautiful silver blade he and Valkyon had taken great pains to craft for your last birthday, now it lay on the ground blackened. And lying next to it…

“Flint.” This was worse than he thought. Before this point, he’d thought your role would be limited to a mole of sorts. The worst you could’ve done was the rest of the attackers in. But this…

“You aren’t supposed to be here.” His blood froze. Behind him, you approached. You moved too quickly for him to react, to quickly for him to comprehend what you’d done until he spied the blood-soaked blade in your hand.

He collapsed, a hand pressed against the wound in his stomach.

“_-____....” You appraised him with that same cold, robotic look from before. The blood staining your hands didn’t seem to bother you at all.

You both stared at each other, one with the pain of betrayal, the other with nothing at all.

“Why- why would you do this?” The question is spat out with his blood, the words are dripping with pain.

“The stabbing or the betrayal? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure they’re both pretty self-explanatory.” You turn away, bending to pick up your knife. A shadow of melancholy crossed your features as you stare at it, turning it in your hands.

“You betrayed us! Why?”

“Of all the- Are you serious?” You laughed – a bitter, harsh bark that sounded so wrong from your mouth – clenching the knife so hard he could see rivulets of blood run the blade. “The potion? All the times you’ve used me as bait? The way you leave me to pick up the pieces every time you’ve finished ruining my life?“

“Your grudge is against us: the captains. You shouldn’t have gotten innocents involved.” He just has to keep you talking. With such copious amounts of blood spilt,  there’s no doubt Nevra would find him soon; he just survives until then.

Your face crumples so suddenly, he’s taken back. “I didn’t want to… all those people…” Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but there’s a wet glint in your eyes. You square your shoulders, eyes narrowing. “I had no choice.”

“You always have a choice.”

“God, you sound like a bad action flick.” You snort, kneeling beside him. Let’s make something clear: I didn’t want this. Or for all those people get hurt. But-“ Gone is the soft, almost apologetic look, replaced with bitterness and anger. “If it means you suffer, even a little, I’d do it all over again. You understand? You people took everything from me. I’m repaying the favour.”

He tried to speak, to protest, but something blocks the words. He could only stare into your hateful gaze with dread. This person you’ve become… he’s afraid. Of what you can do. Of what you will do.

“_____.” You both turn to see Ashkore, standing just outside the hole, arms crossed. “We’re leaving.”

“You-! You’ve been working with him?”

“Obviously. We share an interest in your demise.”  

“You’ll never get away with this.” He managed past the pain and dread. His defiance only amused you though; a giggle just as acrid as the last escaping your lips.

“I think you’ll find I currently am.” You push yourself up, standing tall over his vulnerable body. A foot is raised, and he flinched. “Don’t worry, Ez. Nevra’ll here pretty soon I’m sure. You won’t die today.” You smiled radiating pure malice. “You don’t deserve the luxury. Goodbye.”

Then your foot came down and his world turned black.

[minheoney]

paradise | one

→ an ideal or idyllic place or state.

summary : in which you attend a formal event with your employer but the night takes a turn when you run into a familiar face...

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, references to escortism, mentions of bondage, graphic sexual content

word count : 9,044 | gif credit : mine (source)

A lost cause - that was what your last boyfriend called you when he walked out of your life. Since then, you took his words to heart and never dated again.

Braving the high octane world of corporate law, you were expected to be as ferocious as you were cunning. To be blunt, in the eyes of many you were deadly. No one could keep count of the small businesses you had destroyed to maintain your conglomerate employer at the top of the financial food chain. There was no telling how many livelihoods were ruined by your merciless marches through the courtroom.

There wasn’t an exact moment your heart ceased to function, but you inevitably accepted that turning off the center of your emotions permanently would help your career as a stone cold bitch.

You were the crown jewel of your company’s division of expansion and the uncontested team leader of the entire legal department. There was no courtroom untouched by your savagery and no client unsatisfied with your performance.

Though at the moment, your boss was quite cross with you.

“At least try to smile,” garbled Namjoon under his breath, sipping champagne at your side.

Rolling your eyes apathetically, you downed your drink and snatched another from the passing waiter. Staying buzzed was integral to getting through another dull night of playing nicely with others. Gulping a mouthful, you questioned, “I thought it was part of my job description to look menacing at all times?”

“I can have that clause added to your contract, if you wish,” Namjoon retorted, flashing a smile to another constituent as he spoke to you out of the corner of his mouth.

With a snort, you rebuffed, “I negotiate my own contract, Mr. Kim. You should know better.”

The owner and founder of Kim Enterprises scoffed in defeat and finished his drink, holding out his arm to allow yours to hook through. “Time to mingle,” he murmured with disdain.

Neither of you were keen on this fundraiser and banquet, but a man of his stature and prowess needed to keep up appearances. For the past year or two as his company rose to power, you had been the accessory at his side for functions like these. Your reputation had swelled among the world of moguls and executives, and for that reason, your employer desired nothing more than to flaunt you.

Kim Namjoon preferred to appear more powerful than he actually was, though the man was just as ruthless - if not more so - than you were. He rather enjoyed spinning you around his professional circles, giving his competitors and allies alike the chance to see the weapon he could easily use to wound them.

Part of you wanted to submit to the pride and arrogance that could be given to you in these situations, but deep down, you wanted to crawl under a rock and bury your face in the dirt. Others may be affluent with corruption and despicable deeds, but you still held enough of a conscience to despise what you did to the innocent people that got in your employer’s way.

“Had enough yet?” Namjoon teased after another pointless conversation you managed to endure with one of his business counterparts.

You groaned quietly for his ears alone and hissed, “I want twenty grand added to my budget next year.”

Though the amount could be considered mere pocket change for someone of his wealth, Namjoon gawked and asked, “What the hell for?”

“None of your damn business, sir,” you replied, grinning insincerely at the approach of one more sycophant.

Namjoon placed a hand at the lower curve of your back, pushing you forward slightly to block him like a shield, and whispered near your face, “You are the only person with the balls to talk to me like that.”

By his tone alone you could tell that fact overly pleased him. But not once in your tenure as Namjoon’s counsel had you returned his affections and you were not about to start tonight.

“Take your hand away from my ass or something very bad will happen to your balls, Mr. Kim,” you threatened, sipping your champagne blithely.

Namjoon removed his hand immediately and you smirked at the little victory. The two of you swiftly composed yourselves for the woman coming to stand before you, flashing a fake smile in your direction.

“Good to see you both again,” sang Sooyeon with a hint of monotone, brushing her waved hair behind her shoulders to expose her collarbones. The grin she was sporting never traveled to her eyes, which meant it was solely for show. You expected nothing less. “I’m starting to think you two are a couple,” she added, snide.

You and your boss released similar noises of disgust at the suggestion, which drew a very surprised reaction from Sooyeon.

“With all due respect,” Namjoon crooned, addressing her with the highest formality. “I can’t date a woman more cutthroat than myself.”

You chuckled, rather satisfied.

Sooyeon snickered, then turned and called, “Darling?”

Curious, you searched the sea of people for who Sooyeon could be summoning. Generally she carried herself alone; a woman that needed no support or company. Her bitter and very public divorce the previous year saw to that.

“I’m here, beautiful,” cooed her date in a mollifying tone, handing over a fresh glass of bubbly which she took eagerly.

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach when you recognized the man that had moved to stand at her side. Adrenaline coursed from your toes to the crown of your head at a rate beyond what was considered tolerable. Choking on air, you covered your mouth and coughed to hide it.

Namjoon glanced at you confusedly.

“This is Jackson Wang,” introduced Sooyeon, stroking his arm and giving him a glance over as if he were a sparkly new toy and not an actual person.

Namjoon and Jackson greeted each other briefly before his eyes fell on you.

Crimson flushed your cheeks, but the dim lights of the ballroom helped to conceal the shade. Blinking rapidly, you were a delayed second or two behind Jackson in observing the usual formalities. Meanwhile, he was playing along exceptionally well.

Considering you had been having sex with him for the past year.

“Very nice to meet you,” Jackson said firmly, eyes burning into yours.

You could tell by the ease in his tone he was not shaken. There was nothing for you to worry about.

Then, you remembered Jackson was no stranger to this game. He was a delicassie for wealthy, powerful women. Each time Sooyeon touched him in some way, he let her do as she pleased with him and didn’t reciprocate the affection. He knew he was a piece of meat on display, same as you.

“And what do you do, Mr. Wang?” asked Namjoon nonchalantly, calling to the waiter for another glass of alcohol. This time, something a little stronger.

You swallowed harshly as your mind filled with unclean thoughts. Jackson was an escort; someone you paid to visit you once - sometimes twice - a week to fuck any and all stress out of you. Jackson indulged your darkest fantasies, the desires you had that no man had ever been able to fulfill.

“I own a homegrown company based in Hong Kong,” Jackson replied with ease, surprising you with the new tidbit of information. “Not as large as yours, Mr. Kim.”

“And in a different country,” Namjoon replied, clearly unbothered. “It seems we won’t be competitors anytime soon.”

Your eyes met and Jackson smirked, murmuring just before he sipped his drink, “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

More heat returned to your cheeks and you were ever grateful for the darkly hued lights above. Jackson was looking at you the same way one would look at a full-course meal.

Gulping down the lump in your throat, you turned to Namjoon. “I need to visit the ladies room,” you told your date, releasing his arm and gripping your clutch.

“You know where to find me,” Namjoon deadpanned, glancing at Sooyeon and grinding his teeth at the prospect of being left alone with a bloodthirsty snake such as herself.

Scurrying into the bathroom, you approached the mirrors and took a reassuring breath. Rationale came to the forefront of your focus as you tried to preempt how the next few minutes would go. If practicing law had taught you anything it was that life was merely an endless sequence of moves and countermoves.

Jackson was a professional, you reminded yourself. He would never reveal the nature of your relationship with him. Taking out your compact, you dabbed some powder on your cheeks to smooth your makeup, hoping your reddening cheeks would remain out of sight for the remainder of the evening.

When you stepped out, you gasped in surprise.

Jackson stood by the door, his hand braced on the wall leaving his arm outstretched to bar your path.

“Hello, again,” you greeted plainly, feigning unfamiliarity.

Jackson flashed you an amused grin and whispered, “You should have seen your face. I thought you were having a stroke.”

“Very close to it, actually,” you retorted, relaxing slightly at his demeanor.

Playful, Jackson tapped a finger on your nose in an attempt of flirting and taunted, “Chill, woman. I would never out you. I’ve been at this a while.”

“Good to know,” you replied calmly, bristling. “But if you ever boop my nose again, I will bite your goddamn fingers off.”

Something in Jackson’s gaze switched and a darkness clouded into his eyes. Inching closer until your lips nearly brushed, his voice dropped when he muttered, “Are you trying to get a rise out of Daddy? That’s not like you, kitten.”

Daddy? Now, that was new. Jackson was adept at pushing your buttons, always stoking a flame in you that could join with his own fiery nature.

“Outside of the bedroom, I am an entirely different animal,” you threatened, grabbing his arm and guiding him out of your way. “Don’t you ever forget it.”

“Yes, dear,” he chirped, reverting back to his buoyant self in an instant. His gaze fell to your plump ass while you strutted away and you resisted the urge to smirk at his behavior.

Rolling your eyes at the exchange, you scurried back to Namjoon, who looked positively annoyed at being abandoned with Sooyeon.

“All is well, I hope,” Namjoon droned, perturbed.

You brushed away his sarcasm and sat dutifully at his side, crossing your legs.

Jackson joined a deliberate moment later, plopping down alongside Sooyeon and massaging her shoulder gently. She purred at the attention, sliding her hand briefly down his thigh.

Your immediate reaction was to slap her away, but then you remembered you had no right to do so. Beyond the bedroom, you had no claim to Jackson - nor he to you. When you glanced up, you noticed Jackson had been studying your face and was clearly pleased with what he saw in your expression.

Flustered, you leaned against Namjoon ever so slightly, realizing his arm draped across the back of your chair.

Sooyeon was touching Jackson as a demonstration of ownership, not out of affection, but a sour taste was set in your mouth. You knew how it felt to have Jackson’s hands all over you. The man knew where you were weakest and could make you reach the heights of ecstasy like...

“I was just discussing with Namjoon the idea of putting you on retainer,” Sooyeon spoke with belied annoyance, snapping you from your dirty thoughts. “But he says you are exclusive to his enterprise.”

Jackson bobbed his head in your direction, interested.

“Yes, I am,” you replied, patting Namjoon’s knee.

Jackson stiffened. Namjoon did, too. Though for an entirely different reason.

“You must have a strong sense of loyalty,” Sooyeon gleamed, narrowing her eyes.

Sooyeon never did like you. On every opportunity you were in her presence with Namjoon at functions such as these, she went out of her way to demean you - to make you seem beneath her in every aspect. Never did this work. You were a highly accomplished attorney. She was a trophy wife with a penchant for choosing the right men to sleep with.

From one ambitious woman to another, you had recognized what she was looking for months ago. Your years spent in the courtroom becoming an adept reader of people allowed you to seek out and exploit intentions and motivations.

Coming face-to-face with Jackson had shaken you, distracted you. Now, you finally remembered the game Sooyeon was playing. She wanted Namjoon, it was always too evident on her face, and she considered you a very persistent obstacle. Normally, you wouldn’t engage with her and play this game, but Jackson’s presence knocked you off balance.

Smirking with arrogance, you finally replied, “Yes, I am very loyal and Mr. Kim has been nothing but good to me.”

Sooyeon scowled momentarily before concealing it behind another hollow smile. She clearly had plenty of practice. Meanwhile, Jackson switched his attention from you to Sooyeon then back to you. He was starting to piece together the tension.

Turning, you tucked yourself along Namjoon’s body, brushing your lips over his ear and whispering, “She wants to swallow you whole.”

Namjoon brought an arm around you instinctively as you leaned in. Jackson desperately wanted to shove him away, but swallowed down his jealousy.

Parting from your employer, you angled back to Sooyeon and asked, “What would you need with my services, Ms. Lee?”

Sooyeon crossed her legs and sipped her drink, eventually patronizing, “You can call me Ms. Jung. I’m still keeping my married name. And to answer your question, your reputation precedes you. I’ve heard other attorneys call you ‘The Razor.’ I am very curious as to what you have done to earn such a name.”

Jackson promptly fixated his gaze on you and listened intently.

Swallowing harshly, you were reminded of all the unforgivable things you had done to garner yourself that title. You made yourself embrace the nickname lest you look weak in front of your subordinates, but behind closed doors, you had cried more than once over it.

“She cuts down anyone and anything that gets in my way,” Namjoon replied on your behalf when you fell silent. “Isn’t that right?”

“Right you are. As usual, sir,” you murmured, locking eyes with Jackson as you took a gulp of champagne.

Every time you spoke the word ‘sir,’ there was a sharp physical reaction from him. This was how you were often instructed to address him in the bedroom and having become so ingrained in your relationship, it was impossible for Jackson not to have a visceral response to hearing the three-letter word slip from your mouth.

“You have yet to cross me then,” Sooyeon interjected, haughty and shameless. “I believe I would put an end to your winning streak.”

Furrowing your brow, you took the bait. “And how would you do that?”

“Don’t think you are the only formidable woman in the world, sweetheart,” she sneered, stroking Jackson’s arm. “Some of us just have better skill sets.”

“You mean different,” you corrected, uncrossing your legs and planting both feet on the floor.

“Hm?” she hummed.

“You mean different skill sets,” you corrected again, speaking slightly slower and enunciating the word. “You don’t have better skill sets than me, in this world or any that follow.”

Jackson and Namjoon sipped their drinks with growing smirks as they leaned back, withdrawing themselves from any impending confrontation.

“You little bitch,” Sooyeon exclaimed, looking a heartbeat away from flinging her drink in your face. “Who the hell told you it was acceptable to speak to me this way?”

Angling forward, you growled, “I have had to listen to you at every one of these useless fucking functions over and over. I’ve never said a word when you drop those snide comments about me to my face because you want to make yourself look more appealing to my boss...”

Sooyeon gasped and opened her mouth to rebuttal.

You had argued over litigators and judges alike with the same tenacity and this little gold digger was not going to undermine you tonight.

“I’ve bit my tongue with you, former Mrs. Jung,” you snarled. “But you’re not going to insult me in front of him.”

Sooyeon scoffed. “Mr. Kim,” she screeched quietly, glancing to your employer as if he had the power to put a leash on your mouth.

“Don’t look at me,” your date for the night countered sternly.

“Yeah,” you trailed, voice losing a fraction of its power. “Mr. Kim...”

Jackson lowered his glass, having downed the last of its contents, and his eyes were filled to the brim with desire when he realized you meant him. You had allowed yourself to be walked all over on multiple occasions for the sake of your job, but your tolerance ended with his presence.

Meanwhile, Namjoon shrugged. He gave no shits when Sooyeon was concerned.

“You’re going to regret making an enemy of me,” Sooyeon started and by the low, dark tone of her voice, you made a short intuitive leap that she was probably right.

“I think I’ve had enough for tonight, sir,” you said, ignoring her entirely. You rose to your feet while Sooyeon lurched from her seat and stomped away, muttering under her breath all the while.

Namjoon gazed up at you in worship, impressed and beyond amused. “You can have that twenty grand added to your budget next year,” he told you a moment later. “That was one of the most satisfying things I’ve seen in months.”

Jackson stood slowly, shuffling toward you and murmuring, “I, uh...”

“You should go after your date, Mr. Wang,” you spoke roughly. “I sure hope she paid you up front.”

Jackson blanked and said nothing as you glided away. Namjoon cocked an eyebrow suspiciously.

As you left the venue and asked the valet to call your car, you shivered in the cold of the night. Part of you wished Jackson would follow you instead of her, but the other half chided yourself for being such a petulant child.

Sooyeon had been baiting you more than usual this time and you took it - hook, line, and sinker.

God knows you had wanted to rip her a new asshole for some time, but you were notorious for never losing your composure. Sooyeon would undoubtedly be on a path of vengeance toward you for quite a while, you figured.

But oh, so worth the trouble.

“Hey,” came a voice from behind you.

Resisting a smile, you turned to Jackson as your car arrived. “Yes?” you asked coyly.

Jackson licked his lip and cocked his head, whispering, “You were amazing in there.”

Feeding off of the adrenaline from a confrontation, you ran your tongue over your teeth and teased, “You should see me in a courtroom.”

“I can only imagine.”

You snickered.

Jackson smiled, then his demeanor shifted, devolving into something mischievous. “Where are you headed?”

Letting a moment pass to drag out this exchange, you eventually answered, “Back to my hotel.”

Without missing a beat, he replied, “Tell me your room number.”

You narrowed your eyes playfully and said, “It’s not my night with you.”

Jackson moved closer. “My schedule is wide open. And it’s on the house.”

For a few seconds, you mulled, brow stitching pensively. This was dangerous territory, you knew that all too well. But you couldn’t resist.

“Three... one... four,” you purred, smoothing the lapel of his suit and bidding him farewell.

Jackson watched you slide into the backseat, tucking his hands into his pockets as his gaze followed the car. You instructed the driver to return you to your hotel and once in the clear, you kicked off your shoes and relaxed against the leather cushions.

The lavish suite was a sight for sore eyes as you trudged inside, dropping your shoes near the door and dragging yourself toward the nearby bed. Once close enough, you flung yourself on to the mattress and grumbled into the comforter over your aching soles.

After discarding your pantyhose, you suddenly remembered to anticipate a visitor. Racing into the bathroom, you brushed your teeth and combed through your hair. Adding a fresh spritz of perfume, you gave yourself a smile of approval in the mirror before calling for wine to be brought up to your suite.

When there was a knock at the door, you opened without a care, expecting the attendant with your bottle of red. You gasped in surprise when you saw Jackson, down to his dress shirt with his suit coat folded in the bend of his arm. He also sported a very familiar backpack, but you failed to recognize it right away.

“That was fast,” you commented, noting his smoothed-back hair had become somewhat disheveled since you last saw him.

Jackson smirked and retorted, “I was highly motivated to get here.”

You stepped aside to let him in, teasing, “Did you get out unscathed? I imagine she has very long claws.”

Jackson whipped around as you closed the door and said, “I can’t talk about her. She’s a client.”

Stepping toward him, you swallowed and asked, “Do you fuck her?”

Jackson flinched, but replied calmly, “She’s a new client. She just wanted a pretty accessory on her arm. But that doesn’t mean she won’t want me to fuck her in the future.”

Bristling slightly, you shifted your weight and murmured, “You don’t sugar coat things, do you?”

Jackson sighed, gazing at you with affection, and replied, “I’m not here to lie to you.”

“I appreciate that.”

A knock at the door broke the tension, but before you could answer, Jackson grabbed your elbow and steered you aside. “I’ll get it,” he told you, withdrawing some cash from his pocket to tip the attendant.

Seeing him take initiative over you always sent a shiver up your spine. Your eyes lingered on his muscular back, the dress shirt hugging the curves of his shoulders. It took all of your restraint to keep your hands to yourself.

“You ordered wine,” Jackson stated, setting the bottle down on the nearby table.

You nodded and mused, “It seemed appropriate for the mood.”

“Do you always celebrate with wine after you’ve humiliated someone?” Jackson joked playfully.

You snorted, then frowned and you were quick to ramble, “I shouldn’t have gotten carried away like that. She won half of her ex-husband’s company in the divorce and Kim Enterprises considers them to be close allies. I’m sure he’s angry with me for what I did.”

Jackson lilted his head, amused by your conflicted response, and interjected, “He wants to fuck you, you know.”

Clueless, you questioned, “Who?”

“Your boss.”

With a roll of your eyes, you groaned, “Ugh, guys like him would fuck a chair if it had a warm hole.”

Jackson chuckled, but didn’t argue. His face softened when he sighed, “You may be little, but you are fierce.”

You simpered, feeling the tension returning again.

“So, you’re a lawyer,” said Jackson, unbuttoning his shirt and steering you toward the sofa.

“I am,” you replied, lowering your head sheepishly when his hands gravitated to your hips.

“For a massive corporation,” Jackson added, pushing your chest gently and causing you to land on the couch with a sharp intake of air.

“Gigantic,” you crooned, staring up at him with bated breath.

Jackson stroked your cheek with his palm tenderly, running a thumb over your bottom lip to encourage you to release the flesh from your teeth. “Do you like it?” he asked after letting a brief silence pass.

Without missing a beat, you answered, “I hate it.”

Jackson blinked in surprise, but it wasn’t your response that shocked him. He already had his suspicions that you were in a loveless relationship with your career, but he expected you would deny this to the death. Instead, you admitted it to him immediately.

“Then, why do you do it?” Jackson pressed.

The next words tasted sour on your tongue, “I’m very, very good at it.”

Jackson smirked and crooned, “I’m sure you are.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, your heart rate accelerated as Jackson held your ankle and began kissing his way up your bare shin.

“Already?” you rasped.

Jackson glanced up and teased, “Do you wanna chat some more?”

“Since when do you give a shit what I want... sir?” you mumbled, hoping he would rise to the challenge.

He always did.

Your partner cocked an eyebrow and ran his tongue across his teeth. “Do you need to be put back in your place, baby?” Jackson asked devilishly.

“Yes,” you purred, licking your lips. “I think I do.”

“I had every intention of rewarding you, being so territorial over me like that,” Jackson persisted, stroking his palms up your smooth calf. “But I see you would rather be punished for such behavior.”

“Reward me or punish me,” you sighed, trembling at his touch. “I will take whatever you give me.”

“You make me so hard,” Jackson hissed through his teeth. “Do you like hearing that?”

“Yes.”

Jackson pecked a single, affectionate kiss to the inside of your knee before standing between your legs, slinking away to his discarded backpack. “I’m gonna tie you up and fuck you,” he said a moment later, fishing through his bag.

Humming under your breath, you coaxed, “Please do.”

You bit your lip as he approached you with the blindfold on his palms. Closing your eyes, you let him slip the silky material over your face, tying it snugly behind your head.

“No peeking, beautiful,” Jackson muttered softly, pulling you by your arms from the couch and steering you toward the nearby bed.

All the while his feet moved between yours, his lips attacked your neck, nipping and sucking at your flesh. You giggled at his energy and with the way you relied on him completely to guide you. The moment your legs brushed the mattress, Jackson pressed a hand between your breasts and shoved you back.

“Don’t move,” he ordered quietly.

Obedient, you stayed there, arms splayed, and swallowed to dampen your dry throat.

With your eyes covered, you listened to his footsteps around the room, fixated to his movements. When you heard some shuffling in his bag, your heart throbbed. You licked your lips with anticipation, resisting the urge to shake your head in disapproval at your rapidly fluttering heart rate. Your body was well-trained by now, but even though you had a good idea of what would be happening over the following minutes, you never failed to heat up with excitement.

Jackson returned and straddled your thighs without a word, grabbing your dress and hiking the material up your frame. You lifted yourself slightly to allow the garment to be pulled over your head. Down to your bra and panties, you shuddered atop the bed and could feel a pair of eyes lingering on your breasts.

Hovering above you, Jackson lowered and kissed his way down your chest, trailing over your arm and settling on your knuckles. When rope sharply circled your hand, you trembled with arousal. His kisses stopped and instead were replaced with the rough, abrasive sensation of rope on your flesh. You wet your lips with a pass of your tongue and hummed lowly in your throat when the bonds were teased along your breasts, tracing the lines of your cleavage.

The rope snared your free hand and pulled you taut across the mattress, but the knots themselves were not severe. If you struggled, they would tighten, but when you relaxed so did the knots. As you normally did, you spun your arms, testing the hold of your binds and feeling them tense with restraint in response. Satisfied, you went slack and waited.

Watching you test the hold, Jackson smirked his approval when your body relaxed. “Such a powerful woman, huh?” he questioned darkly, grabbing your legs and pushing to bend your knees.

This was a tactic he often used. Jackson would force you to wallow in the silence, letting you only hear what he was doing as he prepared your body for what it would endure at his hands. Then, he would occasionally taunt you to bring you back to attention.

A few minutes later, you were restrained to his liking; a position you were all too familiar with. Knots were looped around your ankles and knees and connected to the headboard or frame, keeping your legs suspended in the air with very little wiggle room.

“Okay?” Jackson asked a moment later, stripping down to his pants and taking a long, lascivious look at your supple body ready for him to ravage for as long as you both desired. Something primal came over him each and every time you submitted to him. You were an alpha female in every sense of the term, but in the bedroom, you wanted desperately to be dominated and Jackson was all too pleased to oblige you.

You nodded, spinning your wrists to feel the tautness of your binds once more.

When you failed to give him an audible answer, Jackson reeled his hand back and smacked the inside of your thigh before making himself comfortable between your legs. You squeaked at the sting on your flesh while your innermost walls tightened with need on nothing.

Feeling a dampness in your panties, you hummed softly as the muscles in your legs began to burn from the position, but you knew the sensation would pass. Jackson swiftly grabbed your hips and dragged you downward, bringing your ass to the edge of the bed. The ropes protested, bending your knees even more.

“Too hard?” Jackson asked calmly, though he didn’t sound inclined to alleviate your knots.

Shaking your head, you whispered, “I can handle it.”

“I know you can,” he replied, proud of your supplicant response. Then, he gripped your underwear and tore the material free, tucking what was left in the back pocket of his pants.

You gulped loudly and sucked in a harsh breath when you felt his fingers against your slit. Slowly but surely, he teased your lower lips with his long digits, stroking alongside your entrance and smirking at the way your hips moved involuntarily.

“So wet, baby,” Jackson crooned, leaning down to bite your fleshy inner thigh. “Getting tied up always makes you ready for me, doesn’t it?”

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, rolling your pelvis into his playful hand.

A palm suddenly collided with your thigh. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir,” you panted, a blush creeping across your cheeks when you felt your arousal running down your skin to the sheets.

“Good girl, Jackson purred, nipping at your hip before exhaling his hot breath on your core.

Blinded, you focused on regulating your own breaths, spurned by your erratic heartbeat. Jackson slipped his thumb between your folds and stroked upward, finding your clit and flicking the bundle mercilessly. The tiniest of mewls fell from your mouth and you sighed his name.

“You are making a mess for my cock,” Jackson teased, rolling your clit painfully slow.

“I’m sorry,” you replied demurely.

Jackson stood up, reaching to hold your suspended legs and pushing his clothed crotch to your entrance. You moaned on instinct when you felt the rock hard erection inside his pants and flexed your legs when he rubbed his bulge against your cunt, putting pressure on your bundle of nerves.

“I’m gonna slide so easy inside this tight pussy,” Jackson continued, rutting his trapped cock against your folds and chuckling when he saw your hips trying to match his movements.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please, what?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for which response would hopefully get you what you wanted. “Please, fuck me,” you blurted out, bouncing your body toward his greedily.

Jackson snickered darkly and placed a hand on your lower stomach, pushing himself harder against your wet entrance, noting your juices were staining his pants. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he retorted.

You nodded rapidly, picturing the smug look that must be on his face at the moment if not for the blindfold keeping you from enjoying the view.

Jackson let his hands slip from your body slowly. Then, he was gone.

With the silk over your eyes, the rest of your senses heightened to compensate. You could hear Jackson drifting to the other side of the suite, following by the opening and closing of the mini refrigerator in the corner. When you recognized the familiar clinking of ice cubes in a glass, your mouth watered.

Jackson leaned against the wall and merely stared at you tied to the bed. Your chest was lifting rhythmically fast for breath, your breasts shuddering. Crimson flushed your face and beads of sweat were forming on your neck. He knew adrenaline and arousal were doing a number on you and for a few seconds, he let you melt in the silence of his absence.

“Goddamn,” he eventually murmured under his breath, wanting nothing more than to fuck you five ways to Sunday. “You are officially the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your head turned toward the sound of his voice, now primed to the general direction he could be lurking. Gulping loudly, you whined, “Why are you torturing me?”

Jackson wiggled the glass of ice back and forth, letting you hear what was undoubtedly going to be used on you, and retorted, “Because I know how much you like it.”

You fought a bashful smile. He wasn’t wrong.

His footsteps echoed through the room, bringing him closer to you. When you felt the heat of his body near your core again, you tensed on the mattress and blinked rapidly behind the blindfold.

Jackson lifted the cup to his lips and sipped the small trickle of water that had formed from the melting ice. A moment later, you whimpered softly when you felt the cold of a cube on your inner thigh. Jackson left senseless patterns on your flesh, watching the heat of your skin melt the ice with ease.

You sighed through the brief reprieve, jolting when you heard the deliberate clinking of cubes in the glass again. Jackson withdrew another and pressed just above the apex of your thighs, tracing the cold up your body and over your navel. You hummed slightly as the ice was circled to your breasts, landing squarely on a nipple.

Hissing through your teeth, you whined, “Please, touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“Down there,” you insisted. The aching was becoming unbearable. Your core was tightening and you could feel your arousal dripping from your entrance.

Jackson switched the last bit of the ice cube to your other nipple, gulping the saliva in his mouth at the sight of your perking buds. “Don’t make me gag you,” he warned sternly. “Because I will, but I would much rather listen to the noises I know you’re gonna make for me.”

You shivered at his poignant words coupled with the cool water now running down your sides. Jackson shuffled on the bed, making the mattress groan under his weight. You listened to the clanging glass as Jackson removed another cube and put it to his mouth.

Holding the ice between his teeth, Jackson dropped to his knees and smacked his hands on your hips, gripping your flesh tightly as he maneuvered the cube to your lower lips. A visceral cry rang from your throat and your legs flexed at the sharp, bitter cold.

Jackson teased the ice against your entrance, snickering darkly with how fast your scorching heat melted the cube held by his mouth. You heard the glass jingle again and braced yourself for the same torment again.

Ice gripped between his bared teeth, Jackson raked the cube up your slit and to your bundle of nerves, earning a high-pitched squeak from your mouth. You pulled at the binds, feeling the knots tighten on your wrists as you struggled. Jackson chuckled at your reaction and when the ice melted, he swirled his tongue around your clit and gave the nub a gentle kiss, rewarding you for your endurance.

This time, Jackson put two cubes in his mouth, resisting the urge to groan at the way his tongue began to numb. When you felt his wet muscle sliding into your entrance, you were convinced winter had taken up residence between your legs. Despite the cold, your walls pulsed with arousal and your desire for him only grew.

“Hngh, please,” you whimpered, hips aching as your pelvis tried to pull away from the sting of such an icy touch. Jackson buried his face in your heat, moving his head back and forth to pump his tongue in your pussy. In seconds, you warmed him back up and he kissed your core with approval.

“You think you’re wet enough for me?” Jackson teased coyly, licking your clit with affection. Your entire body was shaking with overflowing energy and tension. He loved torturing you. You were responsive - sensitive, and by that alone, he knew he was the only one fulfilling you.

You could feel your breasts shuddering as your chest lifted up and down for breath. Your heart was racing and the fire in your veins was no better. Your innermost walls were tightening on nothing, desperate for something to soothe the ache after all the stimulation you had endured.

Panting, you whimpered, “Yes, please.”

“You’re too tense,” Jackson cooed, stroking his palms up and down your smooth thighs.

You nodded an agreement, suspended in a head space of waiting and wanting until he deemed it time to give you what you needed.

Discarding his pants patiently, Jackson gripped his cock and pumped the shaft a few times with his fist before positioning at your entrance. Your body immediately reacted, at undivided attention, and your hips bucked eagerly. Instead of rewarding your insatiable hunger for him, Jackson resorted to raking his dick through your folds, teasing the head on your engorged clit.

You cried out at the motion, biting harshly into your lip to keep from begging.

“I hope you know you’ve worked too hard to be paraded around like a favorite pet,” Jackson chided, seemingly annoyed.

You would have been surprised by the change in tone if not for how desperately your body was craving some semblance of friction.

Jackson pushed the head of his length into your opening, immediately withdrawing and bringing the tip to swirl around your clit, soaked with your need.

“Fuck, Jackson, please,” you choked. “Please, just put it in.”

Abandoning his cock, Jackson reeled his hand back and slapped your bare thigh, smoothing his palm over the inflamed skin and sighing your name firmly to settle you down.

You heard the sudden rush of air a split-second before his hand collided with your hip in another firm smack. Squeaking in surprise, you grit your teeth and tried to keep still. You wanted to be embarrassed at how much you enjoyed this.

“Why do you let people treat you like that, baby?” he persisted.

Swallowing nervously, you were primed to find what would appease him - to hopefully satisfy him enough to finally fuck you. Jackson employed wicked games on occasion as part of the roleplay your relationship with him entailed and he knew better than anyone how much stake your career held on your life.

“I deserve it,” you replied morosely, knowing Jackson probably had an idea of the answer already.

Jackson cocked his head, stroking your thighs with affection. “Why do you deserve that?”

“I’m a bad person,” you confessed.

His brows lifted. “Because of the work you do?”

You sighed, “Yes.”

“I see,” he mulled.

You gulped down your nerves. Discussing anything remotely emotional always elicited some anxiety out of you.

Jackson grabbed you with both hands, spreading your folds apart to see your desire and arousal glistening down your entrance. He smoothed his palms up your body, settling on your breasts and caressing his fingers over your perky nipples. “Do you like being tied up and fucked because you think you’re a bad person?” he asked, returning his hold to your thighs.

“I like not having control,” you murmured. “For a little while.”

Jackson clenched his hands into fists as he propped his arms on either side of you, gazing down at your nude form bathed in the dim light of the suite. For fuck’s sake, you were beautiful when breathless and wholly at his mercy.

But more importantly, Jackson was pleased when you bore your soul to him. Even if just a few glimpses here and there, he liked that you had grown to trust him in some way.

“You’re a goddess,” Jackson whispered.

Your eyes fluttered underneath the blindfold and your cheeks flushed even more.

Jackson was careful to make sure no part of his body touched yours as he hovered into position above you. You could feel the warmth of his presence, but never the brush of skin against skin.

When Jackson finally coaxed his length into your folds, you howled his name in the back of your throat. God, that fucked him up good, listening to you cry out for him from the brink of losing your mind. The moment he slid into you down to the base, he drew back and did it again without a moment’s pause.

Your head was swimming from the eroticism of it all. Tied to the bed with limited movement, the only place he touched you was where your bodies connected. All you could feel were the binds around your limbs, the firm mattress at your back, and his cock rocking deeply back and forth in your heat.

Jackson grunted and released a shaky breath. The overwhelming urge was to pound into you until he heard his name chanted through the room, but Jackson focused on every long, lingering stroke of his cock within your velvet walls. He could feel your body gripping his length tightly each time he slid out only to thrust back inside.

A short, wet smack echoed without fail when his hips collided with yours and you shuddered at the sensation of feeling so full. Jackson licked his lips at the sight of your bouncing breasts and gripped the sheets in his fists a little harsher to keep from grabbing your mounds. Sweat festered around his neck and finally began to fall onto your body beneath him, blending with the moisture already coating your skin.

His slow, deliberate movements were the hardest torture you had endured thus far. Your body craved satisfaction after all of the foreplay and you twisted your wrists in the ropes impatiently, drawing your partner’s attention.

“Mm-hm,” Jackson hummed like the arrogant bastard he was, his cock twitching at the tense look of pleasure on your face. “You like feeling every inch of that dick stretch you open, don’t you?”

With a heavy whine, you mewled, “Yes, please give me more.”

Jackson brought a hand to your shoulder, pushing you down to meet his steady thrusts. Despite your pleas, he continued to take his sweet time.

“Fuck me,” you groaned, bouncing your hips to entice him to pick up the pace.

Jackson gave you a hard stroke and came to a dead stop, growling at the way you sharply flexed your thighs to clamp your pussy on him. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he warned, pressing a delicate kiss squarely between your breasts.

“You’re being too gentle,” you whined, panting for breath as if you had run a marathon. He was teetering you on the edge of a knife, pushing you toward a release before dragging you back.

Jackson rebuffed your complaints by lecturing, “It’s not too gentle. You’re just not used to it. If I wanna take my time with you, than that’s what I’m gonna do.”

That was true. You were accustomed to rough and hard since that was what you always requested.

You opened your mouth to complain, but released a cry instead when suddenly Jackson dropped his weight on you. The sound was cut short as he crashed his lips on yours, kissing you with abandon and pumping his cock into you at a deep, leisurely pace.

Jackson didn’t kiss you on the mouth often during sex. Not when he had restrained you and was either fucking you into oblivion or spanking you for misbehaving. This felt different, more intimate. You couldn’t put your finger on what he was after, but the entire tone of this tryst was foreign to you.

“What do you want from me, Jackson?” you asked shakily, sucking in a hard breath when he rewarded your submissiveness with a few rough thrusts of his cock. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to make you happy,” he replied, kissing a path to your neck, tonguing over your rapid pulse. “I’m sick of you being so miserable every time I see you.”

Lost behind the blindfold, you could tell this had ventured out of roleplay and into bitter reality. Swallowing nervously, you confessed, “You make me happy.”

Jackson sat up, pushing his cock in and out of your soaked pussy without pause. As he did, he held your leg and unfastened the ropes, following suit until both of your thighs were free to clamp on his waist.

At first, you let your tense limbs fall to the mattress, but Jackson was quick to take back his earlier position of his chest on yours and he hauled your thighs over his hips. Instincts took over and you locked your ankles behind his back, purring when his fingertips set their marks to your flesh.

You were losing yourself to the heat he created inside you, kissing him back with fervor when his tongue came to play in your mouth. A tiny moan escaped on your exhale as your nipples rubbed against his muscled chest and you spun your wrists in the binds, wishing you could dig your nails into his shoulders.

Jackson broke from your mouth and lifted his head to release a shaky groan, swearing through clenched teeth how good you felt and the words stoked the flames of your pride. You tightened your legs on his hips, rocking your pelvis in rhythm with his own to match his thrusts.

Feeling you break from the usual pattern, Jackson glanced down your body to see you rising to meet his pace and he set out to scorch his lips and tongue across your chest, lingering on your nipples before sucking bruises over your collarbones.

“Jackson,” you moaned his name, tipping your head back as the burning of an orgasm came to the forefront of your attention.

Your heart was uncontrollable, unquenchable in the desire to be sated this way, but your brain took a sudden hold and reminded you what was at stake. This was intimate - too intimate with someone you paid to fuck you and nothing more.

Jackson cupped your face and kissed you tenderly, taking your lip between his teeth. You whimpered at his gentle caresses, his affectionate kisses. It had been so long since someone touched you this way.

The ropes groaned as you pulled at them. The bed creaked when Jackson smacked his hips into yours; the wet collision of skin slapping skin echoing through the hotel suite.

“Jackson, please let me cum,” you murmured, biting your lip as you staved off the urge to scream his name at the top of your lungs for all to hear.

What he did next shocked you to the very core.

Jackson grabbed the blindfold and ripped the silk from your head. You gasped in surprise and blinked rapidly, waiting for your vision to adjust. And that was when you felt the few stray tears escape through your lashes.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me,” Jackson whispered, kissing you briefly.

There was never eye contact when Jackson was inside you. Even the first few times you employed his services and weren’t inclined to be tied up and blinded yet, he took you from behind. This was uncharted territory and while your heart may have been overjoyed, your brain was already set to panic mode.

But you couldn’t heed any of the warnings as your orgasm began. It was all too much; Jackson’s hands roaming your thighs and his chest rubbing your nipples, his mouth colliding hungrily with yours in loud kisses, his length steadily stroking the sweet spot inside you, and the way he raspily whispered your name.

You stiffened beneath him as the tension in your body unraveled. Your lips parted to moan, but no sound left your throat. Chest heaving and legs trembling, you surrendered to the heady feeling of bliss that washed over you, tipping your head back into the mattress.

Jackson slowed only slightly to coax the climax out of you, listening to your release as it gripped and soaked his cock. He kissed your jaw and sucked on your neck, picking up speed the moment you jolted in aftershocks.

Now, you could no longer hold back the sounds he tore from your body. Sensitive, you moaned over and over in harmony with his thrusts and pulled at the ties around your wrists. After a few more hard strokes that thumped you on the bed, Jackson pressed his parted lips to yours and moaned in ecstasy, grabbing hold of your hips at the last second as he emptied his pleasure into you.

“Shit, fuck,” Jackson groaned, coming to his senses and lifting to balance on his hands and knees. Tossing the straying damp hair out of his eyes with a fast tilt of his head, he released a long exhale of satisfaction.

You shuddered uncontrollably when Jackson rubbed his palm down your chest, between the valley of your breasts and down to the apex of your thighs. He pinched your clit between two fingers and the howl of his name that followed made him grin with satisfaction.

“Good girl” he whispered, delighted how responsive you were to every touch. In his eyes, you were glowing, but that may have just been from the sheen of sweat covering your skin.

His lips found your cheek, peppering kisses across your face, even on the tip of your nose. You blushed at the affection but curled your body away, even though your first instinct was to lean in for more.

“I wanted to scream,” you murmured, basking in the satisfaction of a much needed release.

“Let it all out, baby,” Jackson urged, stroking your chest with tenderness. “No one here to listen but you and me.”

Turning to look squarely into his eyes, you marveled how he stared at you, as if he had never seen someone so beautiful. “Why do you care so much?” you asked bitterly.

“Would you rather I not care about you?”

“Yes.” Shaking, you sobbed, “You can just leave me now.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jackson replied firmly, cradling your head.

You sighed, closing your eyes and relaxing in his hold. He felt secure and constant, and you needed that. But you hated to admit such a thing to yourself.

“Maybe you should give it up,” Jackson murmured.

“Give what up?”

“Your job.”

Bristling with offense, your eyes flashed open and you hissed, “Untie me.”

Jackson noticed your shift in tone and rose slowly, taking his time in releasing the binds around your wrists. The moment you were free, you sat up in the bed and watched him return the ropes to his bag.

“Why should I give up my job?” you asked sharply, agitated.

Jackson turned back to face you, releasing a heavy exhale, and explained, “It clearly weighs on you. I don’t think it’s healthy for you to stay in a job that makes you hate yourself.”

“Careful,” you warned darkly.

Defiant, he folded his arms and said, “I’m allowed to give you my opinion. You didn’t pay me.”

“Wait a goddamn minute,” you growled lowly, rising to your feet and feeling his release slipping through your folds. “Did you fuck me for free so you would be entitled to an opinion?”

Jackson said nothing and that was answer enough.

Your body reacted as if it were in the familiarity of a courtroom and you argued with vehemence, “You’re not my boyfriend. You’re not even a friend. You’re the whore that sleeps with me for money.”

Jackson felt his chest deflate and he replied gently, “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m a human being capable of feeling things toward you and right now I feel worried.”

Slowed by the soreness between your thighs, you stomped to your purse, withdrawing an envelope of cash and rifling through a couple thousand dollars. Holding out the wad of money in his direction, you ordered, “Here, take it.”

“I told you, I don’t want…”

“I pay you to fuck my brains out, not give a damn about me,” you shouted, storming up to him and slamming the bills on his chest.

Jackson made no move to accept them, but he did whisper your name sadly.

You recoiled with fury, throwing the cash at him and yelling, “I’ve paid you. Now, get out.”

The pain on his face was evident and made your heart twist violently. He didn't deserve this and you knew that.

But in that moment, you needed to take control back and you continued, “There’s a reason I chose to pay a man to fuck me and not get into bed with any guy willing to have a fuck buddy. I was counting on you not to complicate things and just like the rest of them, you screwed it up.”

“I’m not him,” Jackson interjected.

“What?” you questioned, confused.

Jackson scowled and said, “You’re punishing me for another man’s bullshit. Or should I say men? It sounds like there’s been quite a few.”

Your hands shook with rage as you seethed, “Get the hell out or I’ll call security.”

Jackson stared, mulling over what he could possibly say to diffuse the situation after he had poured gasoline on an open flame. With a weighted sigh, he accepted defeat and grabbed his bag, trudging toward the door and leaving without another word. And without the money.

Finally alone, you allowed the tears to fall from your eyes.

[hopeishappinessff]

Holding Onto Hope: Chapter 16

Chris

“I don’t know what to do. It’s been almost a full week and I haven’t heard from her. I call, but her phone goes straight to voicemail. I text, but get no reply. I’ve even gone to her room, but somehow Destani always opens the door and she’s never there… I forced my way in three days in a row so that Destani could prove to me that she wasn’t just hiding, but she just… she wasn’t there. I don’t know where she is… I don’t know what to do.” I could feel myself getting light headed by the lack of oxygen entering my lungs as I rambled on without a breath in between.

My therapy session couldn’t have come at a better time this week. After the day that Hope had come to my room and found Tawny in there with my half naked ass, she’d literally disappeared from the face of the earth and I could feel myself losing my mind with each minute that ticked by without hearing from her. I knew she would avoid my calls and texts… I wasn’t expecting her to happily wanna engage in a casual conversation about what she saw, but I also wasn’t expecting her to just dip the fuck out either.

“Christopher, you’re very frantic today… you’re talking a mile a minute,” Dr. Yates spoke gently from where she sat behind her desk, “You’re overwhelmed, I know, but you’ve got to calm down.”

“I can’t!” I nearly screamed right in this woman’s face, “That girl means everything to me and I fucked up! I fucked up and now I don’t… I don’t even know if she’s still in a relationship with me or not.”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself Christopher. Don’t allow the lack of communication between the two of you to force you into any assumptions. It’ll only get you further worked up and you know that one of our goals here is to learn how to respond to any situation, whether it is one provoked by your anger or one provoked by your sadness, in a calm and reasonable manner.”

I shut my eyes abruptly in the middle of her sentence. I needed to start up a slow count to perhaps forty to avoid lashing out and jumping over the desk at Dr. Yates. As much as I was beginning to warm up to her and her gentle demeanor, no one and I mean no one should ever tell me to calm down in any situation involving Hope. I wouldn’t even calm down if President Obama stood at my side and threatened me with hard time in Guantanamo Bay… Hope was my entire heart and without her, I literally felt like I couldn’t function. Sure we’d gone a few days recently without talking because I was being a dick and completely ignoring her, but in the back of my mind I always knew she was there. Now though, I knew there was a possibility that things had gone awry in the relationship and the thought alone made me wanna slit my throat.  

“You’re improving significantly with your counting strategies, I see. Though it is unfortunate that I am indeed the target for your anger right now, your progress is wonderful Christopher.” I wouldn’t say it to her, but I was amazed that this lady could remain seated so serenely as I sat there boiling over like a hot pot on a stove. I could feel the inflammation of anger in my face and I’m sure she could clearly see it, but she simply sat there staring at me like a proud mother as I remained in my stance and finished my count.

Slowly prying open the eyes that no longer felt like my own, I glared across the desk at Dr. Yates. I was over the emotional stint, just that quick. He had grown tired of all the rambling of how emotionally distraught I was and he was about ready to cut this whole therapy session short.

“Chris…”

“You know, I think I’m gonna head out now and get some… fresh air.” I muttered with a smirk. Dr. Yates stared at me for a prolonged moment before calmly jotting something down in her infamous little notebook and raising her curious gaze to meet mine.

“Do you feel as though you’re… restrained and composed enough to leave this office right now?” She asked.

With my eyes still on the little notebook, I slowly nodded my head and finally locked eyes with her “Yeah… I feel restrained… and composed.”

“And you don’t feel the urge to leave this office and go searching for Sy’Diyah again?”

“I’m not gonna look for that bi… girl,” I quickly corrected myself as I felt irritation rising in the pit of my stomach, “I’m good, Doc.”

Her brows rose briefly with surprise, but Dr. Yates maintained her composure as she always does and simply sat back in her seat, scribbled a few more things in her notebook, then slid it shut and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Very well Christopher. We had about another fifteen minutes left in our session today, but if you feel as though you’ve had enough for the day I cannot force you to stay.”

“Right,” I smoothly rose from the black leather chair across from her desk and adjusted the snapback atop my head, “Thanks for the sesh. See you soon.”

And with that I turned and quickly made my way to the exit and didn’t bother sticking around to hear her dismissal. Oh how I loathed going to those fucking sessions, specifically when she was the topic of discussion. I didn’t understand what the damn obsession was with her, but that sensitive and bitch ass emotional side of me was just head over heels for the girl. Sure she was probably the most beautiful girl I’d ever been with and had by far the best pussy I’d ever slipped into, but there was no need to have my head stuck so far up her ass. Like it almost sickened me how much we were wrapped around her little finger and I was determined now more than ever to change that completely.

I had finally exited that depressing ass building and I had already made up my mind that within the next ten minutes, I was gonna find my next nut for the day. If I really wanted to, I could just stand my ass outside the building and the pussy would just waltz right up to me, but I’d left my patience back up in that stuffy ass office and I didn’t wanna wait. I moved swiftly toward the Tate Student Center where I knew nearly all the ethnic community would be hanging out. It was midday, so rather than going somewhere to grab lunch between classes niggas would often just hang out in there like it was the parking lot of a club.

I’d barely even made it within a ten-foot radius of the building before I spotted my target… only because her wide chocolate eyes were locked on me like I was her prey. The girl stood between two other chicks just outside the building where several other people lingered about. I knew I should be more careful with doing this sort of thing smack dab in the middle of the day in the public eye because word had quickly spread that I had a girlfriend and I knew it wouldn’t take people long to piece together exactly who she was, but let’s just be honest right now… who gives a fuck?

This girl kept her eyes locked on me the entire time I walked straight toward her and I couldn’t ignore the sexy smirk plastered on her cute little lips. She was bad, no lie. Her hips were the first things to catch my eye and I shook my head discreetly as thoughts of how much fun I could have gripping those thick things coursed through my mind. I could tell just by the way she stood that her ass had to be fat, but what had me nearly salivating was just how tiny her waist was in comparison to those hips. She wore her hair in these intricate little Janet Jackson braids that fell all the way to her waist line and again, I imagined just how fun they were gonna be to play with… and pull on.

“What’s up?” I said with one quick nod once I was finally up close and personal with her. Her two friends stared at me with just as much lust in their eyes as her, but I’d already made up my mind that she was who I wanted to walk away from this campus with.

“How you doing gorgeous?” She asked with the cutest giggle. With my good ole charming smirk locked into place on my already moist lips, I quickly swiped my tongue out over my lips just for the effect and glanced at both of her friends before locking eyes with her.

“Well, I’m good sweetheart… but I think I would be better if you took a ride with me.”

And just like that, I’d hooked her and reeled her in. Before I knew it, she held a firm grip on my hand and together we made our way to the student parking lot to my truck and I listened closely as she gave me seductive directions back to her apartment.

 Hope

I sat on the floor in the living room with my back pressed against the couch and an assembly of books and papers all around me on the floor. I had a big exam coming up within the next week and I’d been doing nothing but burying my head in my books and notes lately to make sure I was prepared for it. Lately I’d also been swamped with assignments from several of my classes and to make matters worse… I couldn’t deny that I was dealing with a crumbling relationship. With every day that passed, I could feel myself losing the firm grip that I once had on my beautiful relationship. I didn’t know what was going on with Chris. He was drifting, that much was for sure, and I had no idea why or how to even reel him back in. I tried not to focus so much on the reality of my unfortunate situation and instead chose to immerse myself as deeply as possible into my studies.

My brows remained furrowed as I nibbled into the corner of my bottom lip and glared at the paper in my hand. I was reviewing notes for the upcoming exam and my focus was strong… so strong that I failed to notice the front door of the apartment opening and closing softly. As I lowered the paper back to the floor with my eyes still glued to it, I nearly jumped right out of my skin at the feeling of a hand against my left shoulder. Abruptly swinging around to my left, I spotted Cammie falling back into the cushions of the couch clutching at her stomach as she cackled loudly at my expense. After snatching out my ear buds, I glared at her and held a hand over my chest in an attempt to catch my breath.

“Girl,” She wheezed as she continued to laugh, “That shit was fucking hilarious! You alright?”

With a roll of my squinted eyes, I huffed and quickly reached down to pause the music still blaring from my phone “Yes I’m fine, but you scared the crap out of me Cammie.”

“Man I’m sorry, but you were looking so damn focused… I knew I would be able to get your ass good.”

I rolled my eyes once more, this time playfully as I failed to contain my own small fit of giggles. I couldn’t help but shake my head at the thought of how at ease my mind had been for the past few days around Cammie and Angel. After showing up at my own dorm room in a completely angered daze immediately following the incident with Chris and the girl in his room, Destani called an ‘emergency girls time meeting’ where she proceeded to explain what’d happened to Cammie and Angel. And after making them aware of exactly what would happen if I stuck around in my dorm room for too long, they quickly swooped in like my personal saviors and offered to take me in until I left for my dad’s for the weekend.

“Every time I see you in here, all you doing is sticking your head in some book… what are you working on anyway?” She inquired as she sat upright on the couch and curled her legs beneath her comfortably.

With a deep sigh, I glanced down at the stack of papers and books scattered in front of me on the floor and eased a hand up through my wild mane of hair “I have a test coming up in my biology class that I’ve been trying to study for.”

“Oh shit, my bad girl… I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She said.

“No, it’s okay,” I muttered as I shut my book and placed it strategically over the notes on the floor so as to not tempt myself to bury my face right back in it, “I need to take a break anyway.”

Resting my head back against the seat of the couch, I shut my eyes and crossed my arms loosely in my lap.

“Are you okay Sy?” Cammie asked in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, I’m fine… just a little tired.”

“No… I mean are you really, okay?”

Slowly easing my lids open, my eyes locked on the ceiling as my head remained back on the couch and I took a moment to truly absorb her question… was I really okay? It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out exactly what she meant at this point, but the question was more complex than she would probably ever understand.

“I don’t know Cammie.” My voice came out in less than a whisper and I didn’t know if she’d even heard me. I could feel her tugging lightly on one of my many loose curls. She curled it gently around her finger in a comforting manner and I willed myself not to fall asleep from the gesture.

“Listen Sy’Diyah, I don’t know the whole story of your relationship or what’s really going on with you and your dude, but I want you to know that you can stay here as long as you need to.” “Thanks Cammie… that really means a lot.” I said.

“Hey, maybe you can even hit up Destani and tell her to pack up some shit and come over so we can have a girls night in tonight.”

“That sounds like it would be fun, but I actually need to pack up my stuff here and head back to my dorm in a bit. Destani and I are going to my dad’s tomorrow and I need to go get ready for that.”

“Oh, well that’s good… maybe some time with your pops will make you feel a little better too. And whenever ya’ll get back we can still plan a girls night… in or out, it’s up to ya’ll.” She suggested.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely take you up on that and I’ll let Destani know,” I said with a closed lip smile, “If you’re not too busy though, would you mind taking me back to my dorm?”

“You know I got you boo. Come on, I can take you now.”

Within the next few minutes she helped me get all my belongings packed up and down to her car and eventually, we were on our way back to campus.

--

“My little love muffin, I missed you!” Destani screeched the moment I set foot in the room. I couldn’t contain my laughter as she bombarded me at the door and snatched me into her grasp, squeezing me tight against her chest as though she hadn’t seen me in years.

“Okay, Destani… okay, let go!” I huffed through merriment and lack of oxygen.

“My bad, I just really missed my roomie and bff!” She exclaimed as she finally released me and swiftly stepped out into the hall to help me lug the few bags I had back into the room, “How was your stay with the girls?” “It was really good. I got a lot of work and studying done and they were both so helpful and welcoming.” I said as I finally shut and locked the door.

“Well that’s good baby girl. You know the squad wasn’t about to leave you hanging while Mr. Crazy Man was running around like a chicken with its head cut off looking for your ass.” Her face had contorted into a deep scowl and she rolled her eyes as if ‘Mr. Crazy Man’ himself stood there in front of her.

With a giggle, I shook my head and made sure all of my belongings were shifted over to my side of the room before I began to gather the necessary items to take a quick shower “Was he really Dez? Did he come here?”

“Tuh, did he girl? From the night we got you outta here up until last night, the nigga has been by here banging on this door like crazy looking for you. The only reason I even opened the door for his ass was so he wouldn’t draw attention and have the RA down here investigating all the noise. And he wouldn’t just knock then ask where you were… ole boy would literally barge his way into this room every time demanding that I prove you weren’t here.”

“Wow,” I muttered, barely surprised by Chris’s obsessive behavior toward me, “That really doesn’t surprise me much though… that’s just unfortunately how he’s always been with me, since before we even got together. I even had to shut my phone off for most of the time I was at Cammie and Angel’s because he constantly called and sent me text messages.”

“Sy’Diyah what the fuck did you do to that nigga that’s got him so fucking sprung like that? Yo pussy must me molded with pure gold and topped with the world’s rarest diamond honey… shit!”  

We both burst into a fit of giggles and I could even feel my cheeks warming from her blatant comment. Once I scooped up the last of my bath items, I grabbed a large towel then turned and made my way toward the restroom.

“Well I’m about to hop in the shower really quick. Hopefully he doesn’t show up.” I chuckled, with complete doubt in my mind that he would be foolish enough to come back to the room searching for me for the fifth day in a row.

“You know what, I’m not even gonna tell you not to jinx yourself on this one because I’m almost positive he’ll be here as scheduled shortly.”

I continued to laugh as I stepped into the quant restroom and shut the door behind myself, not bothering to lock the door since neither Destani or I ever saw a need to. I placed my things neatly atop the closed toilet seat and moved over to the shower to turn on the water and adjust it to my liking.

Once I was stripped down to my bare skin, I stepped into the shower and immediately shut my eyes as the warm water cascaded over the top of my head and down over my shoulders. After basking in the steamy oasis for nearly twenty minutes, I opened my eyes and swore that I could hear commotion on the other side of the door. I didn’t think much of it though and continued to wash the conditioner out of my hair. Just as I turned around to shut off the water, I nearly slipped and plopped down right on my butt when the unlocked bathroom door flew open.

“Nigga get the fuck out or I’m calling the RA and telling him to call fucking security on your ass!” Destani hollered.

A loud gasp rolled from my lips the moment the shower curtain was yanked aside, revealing a flustered Chris who stood there with wide eyes and bright rosy cheeks. His nostrils were flared and his brows were furrowed with frustration, but the moment he zoned in on my cowering naked body his entire demeanor calmed within seconds.

“Hope…” He whispered, flinching suddenly when a small fist collided with the back of his broad shoulders.

“Damnit Chris get outta here, now!!” Destani was putting up as much fight as her petite body would allow, but she was no match against the athletic build of Chris who simply turned and gently pushed her out of the doorway and shut and locked the door right in her face.

“Chris… wha… what are you doing?” I stammered as I quickly crossed my arms up over my chest, leaving no hope for my completely exposed lower half.

His eyes remained locked directly on mine though and it was only then that I noticed just how red and swollen they were… had he been crying recently?

“Hope, I’m sorry… please listen to me.” He spoke so urgently, I nearly stopped completely to actually hear him out, but I smoothly remembered that we were indeed still wedged together in this not so large bathroom space and I was indeed still standing beneath the streaming shower completely naked and soaked from head to toe.

“Chris, let me get out of here and put on some clothes…” “No, you can’t… Destani’s only gonna freak out and attack me if we leave this bathroom.” He spoke quickly and quietly just as Destani slammed a hand down against the locked door.

“Sy’Diyah, I called the RA… he’s in the café right now, but he’s on his way!” She hollered.

I couldn’t peel my eyes from Chris’s sad and exhausted stare. Without him having to utter a single word, I understood that he was hurting more than I could fully comprehend and even after what he’d done to me, as his girlfriend and the missing link to his puzzle of chaos… I knew that we couldn’t afford any additional attention in his moment of need. He needed time to break down right there in the small square of a bathroom and I needed to be all ears for him.

“Destani call him back,” I shouted over the steady pound of the water around me as I continued to stare into those distressed yet stunning pools of copper, “Tell him you were mistaken and that everything is fine.” “Sy…” She started.

“Destani… please.”

There was silence on her end and I didn’t even bother considering whether she’d taken what I said seriously and moved away from the door to call the RA back, but I didn’t care. All that mattered in that moment was my boyfriend that stood there, emotionally crumbling before my very eyes. Silently I reached forward and latched my hands onto the hem of his black hoodie and I made sure to catch the t-shirt beneath it as I began to pull it up. He didn’t ask a single question or make an attempt to stop me… he simply complied by lifting his arms while I raised the articles of clothing up over his head. I moved on to his sweats and slipped them as well as his boxer briefs down as he stepped out of his shoes until he too stood there completely naked. Gently grasping his left hand, I silently assured him that it was okay to step forward and enter the hot shower with me. And he did, slowly but surely until we finally stood face to face and the water doused his back and rained down over his shoulders.

Though he spoke volumes with his eyes alone, I knew I needed to get him to speak up soon. I eased the tips of my fingers up along his perfectly chiseled chest until I reached his neck then I stopped just below his jawline and cupped each side of his face.

“Talk to me.” I said.

“I’m sorry Hope…” He muttered and I simply nodded my head, encouraging him to continue on, “I didn’t mean to hurt you… I don’t ever mean to hurt you.” “Then why do you?”

“I…” I could sense his hesitation to go on, but I knew he harbored an answer to that question… an answer that I had no idea would eventually impact our relationship immensely.

“Talk to me… please.” I pleaded as I caressed his cheeks with the pads of my thumbs.

“You’ll judge me. I can’t handle your judgement… I can’t.” He said as he raised his hands and latched them onto my wrists.

“Stop it Charlie, that’s not true… I would never judge you.” I fussed quietly as I gently shook his head in my grasp. I shut my eyes as he suddenly tugged me forward and leaned down to mesh his forehead against my own.

“You will judge me…and I’m afraid that you’ll leave me too. I don’t want you to leave me… I can’t handle that… there is no more me if there is no you.”

The depth of his words startled me, but I maintained my composure as he held me there in his grasp. Lord, what was happening to him? This wasn’t the Chris I knew. This wasn’t the young handsome next door neighbor who I subtly fell in love with at the age of eight years old.

“I love you with everything I got Hope,” He whispered, easing his head down to my shoulder where he placed the gentlest of kisses just before dropping his face into the crook of my neck, “Promise me you’ll never leave me. Promise me that no matter what, you’ll always be by my side.”

I couldn’t ignore his light sniffles as he begged me to make him a promise that I’d vowed to keep from the moment he asked me to be his girlfriend. I pulled my hands away from his cheeks as he shifted and moved them to the back of his head. His hands had found their way down to my hips and he buried the tips of his fingers there as if holding me in place, afraid that I’d leave him again. Because we were in the shower and the water continued to drizzle down over the back of his head, I couldn’t actually feel his tears against the skin of my neck but I knew they were there.

With a sigh, I slithered the tips of my fingers through his fine hair and pulled him so close to me, my breasts meshed against his chest uncomfortably “I’m not going anywhere Charlie.”

“Promise me…” He begged urgently.

“I… I promise. I’m not going anywhere.” And there we remained… him holding onto me desperately as though I was the only piece of sanity left in his muddled life, and me gripping onto him just as tight praying that somehow if I squeezed him tight enough, I could simply take some of his pain away.

[chessthorpe]

bloom / decay

@wicked-malia​

The black vortex Chess had been sucked through, the piercingly white room, then the meeting with the devil himself (lord, why could she only think about how dashing he was even in such a terrifying moment?) were all quickly forgotten. How could they not be, when she suddenly found herself back on earth? What had happened? Did the powers that be realize they had stuck her in Hell mistakenly and now she was to live again? Oh, she would never take anything for granted as long as she breathed, if that was the case.

She was in a bathroom. Her reflection stared back at her from an ornate mirror. Chess was in a tight, sequinned black dress, hair up in a ponytail, her face baked to perfection— in short, her usual glam self when she had still been alive. She touched her face, her tits. All felt real and very much ‘there’. She pinched her arm. Pain. Real pain. Could this be? Was she really back like she had never left?! What of her death? 

Outside the loo, a drum n’ bass song reverberated. A party. Chels took a few moments longer admiring herself, before gathering the black clutch that lay on the marble countertop, and stepped outside the bathroom. It was a party, alright. Bass beats moved through her, purple and pink mood lighting illuminated familiar faces dancing, drinking, instagramming picture perfect moments. She moved through the crowd, some people parting for her, some pushing, most not taking notice of her. And at the far end, perched on the back of a sofa with his impossibly sleek hair— Harry Crawley. One of her oldest friends and member of her posse. 

“Harry!” She calls out, waving her hand frantically. Harry looks up, but doesn’t seem happy to see her. How could he not be happy to see her?! Chess totters over on her stilettos, wanting to pull him into a hug, but he’s perched on the back of the sofa and against the wall, making no motion to move. He looks rather confused. “Oh my god, it’s been so long!” Before she died, she’d seen him a mere weeks ago, but after her whole Hell journey, it had felt like ten years or more had elapsed. Harry, with his angular features and Greek chiseled face, still looks nonplussed.  

“I’m sorry, who are you?” he finally asks.

“Are you taking the piss, Harry? It’s me, Chess, you idiot.” 

Nothing. No flash of recognition on his face.  

“Chess?” He’s almost amused. “What sort of name is that?” 

“Oh fuck off, Harry, I don’t have time for these games. Where’s Laura?” 

“She’s at the bar. Do I know you from somewhere?” He’s still perplexed, but not for long, his attention has shifted and he’s on his phone now, scrolling instagram.

“Give me that.” She snatches the phone out of his hand to a cry in protest, but Chess moves out of his reach before he can reach for it. She enters the search function and searches for her instagram handle, @chessthorpe​. No results come up. She tries her name, first ‘Chess Thorpe’ and then the full ‘Francesca Thorpe’, but again, only one result comes up, and it’s some girl who isn’t her. Where have all her fan accounts gone? There’s absolutely nothing. This must be some sort of glitch, and Francesca is already looking up towards the bar, spotting her other best friend, Laura. 

She’s unsettled now and makes a beeline towards Laura, pursued by Harry because she still has his phone in her hand. 

She slides between the people at the bar to stand face to face with the pretty blonde, grabbing her attention. “Do you know who I am?” she demands.

The girl looks confused, the same blank stare Harry had given her, albeit more polite. “I’m sorry, I don’t,” she says with a perfectly polite smile. “You a friend of Jessica’s?” 

Chess’s heart sinks, but before she has time to ruminate on what’s happening the phone is being snatched out of her hands. 

“Gimme that. Psycho,” Harry sneers, taking back his phone. Laura looks at Harry confused, and as Chess spaces out in deep thought, they carry a conversation unbeknownst to her.

“Who even is that?” 

“No bloody idea, she just came up to me and snatched my phone.” 

“Fucking weird. She one of Tom’s friends?" 

“Probably on something. Batty bitch.”

***

She’s suddenly out of the club and in her home. Her family’s manor in Sussex, to be precise. They’re opening presents on Christmas Day, a tradition her father has kept as long as Chess could remember. 

“Open it,” Daniella, her older sister, encourages her bother, James. Neither of them acknowledge Chess on the sofa between them. 

James tears open the packaging to an ugly jumper. “Fuck, not again,” he laughs, holding it open. It’s got a knitted picture of Santa mooning a reindeer. “At least it’s creative.” 

Her mother and father sit opposite, equally amused by the present. None of them look Chess in the eye; she’s there, but she’s not. Her mouth feels dry, her head is spinning.

She opens her mouth to speak, carefully planning her words this time. “Mum, Dad? Are there any presents for me?”

Her mother and father both turn their heads to look at her. For a second her heart skips with a grasped sliver of hope, but it’s stolen away just as quickly when she recognizes the same glassy look in their eyes as the one in Harry’s and Laura’s. They don’t know her. She might as well be a fucking ghost.

***

She’s in a limo, driving through a city at night. Chess isn’t sure what city it is, but it’s big and there’s neon lights and billboards everywhere. Sings in Chinese. Must be Hong Kong, she’s been here before. They pass a backlit billboard, a Lancôme ad with a toned, glossy girl looking back at her. She recognizes the girl. It’s Aluna Preston, her rival if she ever had one. Why is she on a Lancôme billboard?! Chess was the Lancôme girl! It was Chess’s face that was supposed to be up there, her face beaming down at travellers from every airport duty free poster and sign. This wasn’t right. This couldn’t be right.

***

The limo pulls up to a hotel. Somehow, Chess knows which button to press once inside the lift, and a card key materializes in her hand as she’s going up the floors. A middle aged businessman gets in on the next floor. They exchange looks, the man sizing her up and down. He smiles. 

“You know, you look like someone,” he comments, before getting off on a floor. The lift continues up and opens onto the 16th floor. 

Somehow, guided by a force that’s pushing her towards this, she knows which corridor to go down, which door to slot the card key in. There is a strange numbness washed over her as the light clicks green, with an undercurrent of dread. No matter what she’s done tonight, the dread is there. Chess opens the door of the dimly lit hotel room, and the sounds of moaning and groaning assault her ears. 

“Ohhh. Fuck yes. Fuck me!” 

She’s walked in on a couple fucking, a girl on all fours on the bed and a guy fucking her doggy. As her eyes adjust to the dimness of the mood lights, she recognizes the faces, to her horror. It’s Hunter, her boyfriend. Everything he’s done to her is forgotten, and in that one heart-breaking, gut sinking moment, she has to witness the love of her life balls deep in...the hate of her life. Aluna Preston is on all fours, moaning, screaming his name and begging for him to go harder. If there was lack of evidence that Chess ever had a heart, here was the counter-evidence, right here. She could physically hear her heart cracking and splintering into little pieces, her face etched with terror. Munch’s Scream pales in comparison. 

“Oh, fuck,” Hunter moans, throwing his head back, hands dug into her ass. “Shit, you’re so much better than...” 

Better than? Yes, Hunter? Finish the sentence. Chess knew what name was coming next, expected it already with a lead weight at the pit of her stomach.

“..better than...” he continues, half panting, half speaking, “shit...whatever her name is. You’re much better than her. Fuuuuck, Aluna!” He slams into her once, and a final time, doubling over at the peak of ecstasy as he’s cumming. Chess knew that face so well, the way his right shoulder would twitch a little as he’d orgasm, then fall on top of her with a happy, contented sigh. She’d spent all her happy memories wrapped around him like that, finally having found the guy who could both keep up with her wild celebrity life and her insatiable sex drive. Her one. 

And he couldn’t even remember her name. 

So this was what it felt like to be nothing, absolutely nothing. It was beyond the worst feeling she’d ever felt, because she felt nothing; was nothing. She didn’t exist, not to anyone who mattered to her, she wasn’t in this world at all, nothing but a speck of dust. They could see her, but they saw right through her. A ghost. A nonentity.

A fate worse than death.

[aowanders-blog]

My First RV Camper

I approached buying an RV for the first time in all the wrong ways because I was your typical RV newbie.   Full of assumptions & misguided information.  After buying my first RV camper I dreamed of endless adventures, but instead, I made one frustrating RV mistake after another.  Frustration is an expected part of long-term travel, but I was easy prey who was distracted by the camper inside instead of the overall functionality and reasons I was buying an RV in the first place.  I’ve always accepted frustration as my travel companion who distracts my focus by poking me with a metaphorical stick.  In hopes of guiding me away from my travel goals while placing one travel hurdle after another in my path, but in the end, I’ve always viewed travel frustration to be there to teach me lessons about life; provide new vantage points and ultimately help to shape my own self.

Unfortunately,  I found it impossible to embrace the lessons my RV was trying to teach me because buying my first RV camper cost me thousands of dollars in time, effort and frustration because I bought the wrong RV for the wrong reasons.  My dream of full time RVing freedom got shattered before it even got started because my first RV camper amounted to more hours of frustration than creating adventurous memories with my fellow travelers on the open road.  If I would have done any research I would have known what to avoid when buying an RV for the first time. Instead of filling my “frustration” jar with one RV mistake after another like a total RV newbie.  My first RV presented travel challenges I had never encountered before because I shot from the hip, and didn’t prepare myself for RV ownership.

Hopefully, this post will help you learn from buying my first RV camper mistakes–and other RV mistakes I’ve seen along my travels.  To keep you and your camper in better working order so that you can pursue the adventures that RV life is known for.

RV Mistake #1 – RV Community

The first RV mistake I ever made was not doing any research.  The RV community is a friendly bunch of supportive individuals full of beneficial information.  Don’t be afraid to admit you don’t know.  Ask questions.  Find a forum or a facebook group.  Here are 11 Facebook groups focused on full-time RV life, camper design, free camping/boondocking, camper travel income and of course RV camper adventures.

Facebook Search Results of all the different RV Groups

FB’s Boondocking & FreeCamping Group

FB’s Low Income Rv Living Group

FB Vanlifers Groups

The RV Bunch FB Group

RV Tips FB Group

? Simply Full Time Rving ?⛽ FB Group

FB’s RV interior ideas group

Fun RV Stuff FB Group

FB’s RV Newbies Group

HOW TO RV FOR NEWBIES FB Group

  RV Lesson #1 Learned-  Always reach out.  There is always someone out there who has been in your position before and can help solve your problems easier.  Reach out.  Plus its a great way to meet other travelers & full-time RVers.  

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RV Mistake #2 – How to buy your first RV Camper

My next RV mistake was that I grew up in America.  Where bigger is always better.  It’s that materialistic attitude that got me in trouble when buying an RV for the first time.  I bought a 38 foot Class C motorhome thinking I was going to use it as a commuter vehicle and boondock in downtown Minneapolis wherever I felt like it.  A couple of parking tickets later reality began to set in, but after filling the tanks a few times reality just bitch slapped me.  As it should have.

RV Lesson #2 – Be honest with yourself when buying an RV for the first time.  How do you plan on using your RV camper?  Where do you plan on using your new RV camper?  Who do you plan on using your new RV camper with?  Click Here to Check out My Complete Guide to Buying an RV 

Before I bought my 38-foot mobile wrecking ball the biggest thing I had driven was a Mitsubishi Eclipse.  How long do you think it took for me to get comfortable driving a 40-foot camper around downtown Minneapolis?

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RV Mistake #3 – Project RV

I bought my first RV knowing it was a project RV.  It was going to be an educational adventure, but my first RV camper turned out to be a used RV nightmare.  My first camper turned out to be a massive money pit that required professional expertise, and all I had was a naïve dream that relied on a shoestring budget and skills I didn’t have to bring my RV back to life.  Every project RV budget will require 25%-35% more money & 200% more time.  Restoring a camper or an RV can be a wonderful undertaking if you have the time, money & space.

However, what ends most camper restoration projects is merging today’s technology with yesterday’s technology, and the hidden costs that come with that.  For example, when I tried replacing the broken window in the entryway door I assumed my only expense was glass and time.  It turned out I needed to buy special glass, a new inset frame and had to cut the hole bigger because they didn’t make that frame or that type of glass anymore.

Another frustrating hurdle came up with the generator.  It would instantly turn on from the switch inside the camper, but wouldn’t produce any power for the RV.  After weeks of calling shop after shop, I finally found a small engine repair shop that would take a look at it.  When they took it apart they found it needed a new copper coil to produce power.  What should have been an easy replacement turned into a complete nightmare.  When I went to put it back into the camper the bottom of the storage compartment broke and was too rusted to weld back on.  Not that I knew how to weld anyways.  Took me a month to afford that fix, but wiggling the corroded wires every day eventually caused them to break off up inside the camper walls.  Took two months to track down and fix that issue. Great I learned how to weld & become an electrician, but what should have been a couple hundred dollar fix in one afternoon turned out to be a 3 month project of trial and error.

  RV Lesson #3 – When it comes to used campers and inside RVs the rule is you’ll find two things for every one thing you intend to fix.  Every wall you open up will reveal two problems you didn’t know about, and every budget is only 10% accurate.  If you’re thinking about buying a project RV or camper restoration the best approach is to completely gut it and start from scratch.  This will save you time, money and headache!

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RV Mistake #4 – RV Tires

Just because the RV is new to you doesn’t mean its components are.  After buying my first RV the alternator broke its mounting bolt from not being secured properly, and the transmission required a new gasket to keep it from leaking tranny fluid at every stop.  The real frustration was the tires.  They were over 10 years old and started to peel back on themselves 2 months after I bought my new RV camper.  Besides tire size — wheels have a ton of information on them, including the date they were manufactured.  Before buying an RV, especially from a dealership, its a good idea to check the date of your tires.  Which is a four digit number usually found on the back sidewall of your tire.  To find out more than you ever cared to know about RV tires including how to find the date of your tires check out my Cheap RV tires article.

RV Lesson #4 – Check the dates, tread & wear on your tires.  RV tires can cost as much as $500 a piece.  Travel Trailers, Motorhomes, Campers & 5th wheels can have as many as 8 tires that need replacing.  Cheap RV tires can still cost as much as $150 after taxes, mounting, balancing and disposal fees.  Check your tires, and if your buying a used camper from a dealer this is an easy negotiating tactic because the information is right on the tire for both of you to see.

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RV Mistake #5 – Changing an RV Tire

Speaking of tires that reminds me of another RV mistake I made.  When you get a flat tire on your car you know there is a jack and a lug nut wrench somewhere in your car.  Whether it’s in a hidden compartment in the trunk or tucked away under your seat its there somewhere.  Did you know that RVs & travel trailers don’t come with a lug nut wrench or a jack? No seriously, they don’t!  Something I found out while sitting on the side of the road in nowheresville Arizona, and another time in the middle of a blizzard in remote Wyoming.

What else did I find out while squinting my eyes to protect from the piercing wind driven snowflakes?  Lugnuts are not a universal size, and the lug nuts on my travel trailer & RV camper tires aren’t the same size as the ones on my truck.  Trust me I tried my vehicles lugnut wrench multiple times, and when your fingers are on the brink of falling off because it’s so cold outside.  You wonder why there is no government oversight to enforce universal lug nut sizes while cursing manufacturers for not even providing the proper wrench size or even a jack!

To add insult to injury your vehicles tiny bottle jack isn’t big enough to get your travel trailer or RV camper off the ground enough to change a tire either.  You will need to stack some wood or something underneath it to get the tires off the ground.  I was lucky enough to have a socket big enough to get the tire nuts off the first couple of times I got a flat, but you will want to buy a 4-way lugnut wrench or at least a socket set that is large enough for your tire nuts.  I also recommend you buy a bottle jack that will lift your travel trailer off the ground or buy some easy tandem axel ramps that will allow you to change a tire quickly and safely with no jack needed.  They only cost $30 or so, and a 4-way lugnut wrench also fits your hot water heater bolt when it comes time to winterize your RV.

But the best advice I can give you to avoid this awful scenario is to monitor your tires along your journey directly from your cab using a TPMS system.   Pretty cool, right?  You can purchase a solar-powered display monitor or even a cigarette lighter powered display monitor for your RV tires for less than a couple of cases of beer.  Checking your tires along your journey is essential.  Whether you use a TPMS system or a digital tire gauge or even a Laser Infrared Thermometer set yourself up for a worry-free adventure.

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RV Lesson #5 – Don’t wait until an emergency to find out what you don’t have.  Be prepared.  Buy a 4-way lug nut wrench, tandem axel ramps, a bottle jack and a TPMS Tire Monitoring System.  A few dollars now will save you money & hours of frustration later.  I promise. 

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RV Mistake #6 – RV Life Rush

The dog ran away while raining with gale force winds.  Finally retrieving the family pet in drenched clothes you open the door to screaming kids inside the RV camper.  Before you dive into the shouting match you hit your head on the cupboard you left open to grab a dry shirt in hurry.  Then you stumble and step on one of the kids lego’s sending a shooting pain up your leg.  Wrapped in dry warm clothes your wife begins to lecture you for throwing your wet clothes on the dry couch.  Its one of those mornings that you just want to go back to bed.  Restart the day, but you’re on a time crunch because you have to be somewhere in an hour, and now the campground host wants to get know you better before taking final payment.  Frustrated, cold & annoyed you have 45 minutes to pack, map your route and drive 50 miles.

You never planned for this morning, but these days happen more than people like to admit.  And when they do people tend to make a lot of RV mistakes they otherwise wouldn’t of.  Forget to disconnect the sewer hose or electrical cord before driving off.  Forget to put down the awning before driving an RV is never a good idea.  Left your favorite chair next to the still smoldering campfire.  Kids left their goggles and water toys in the pool house.  Maybe you left your phone plugged into the charger in the laundry room while waiting for your clothes to finish.  I’ve seen and heard it all.  The worst “forgotten” thing I saw?  Someone left behind a brand new Jeep.  On the trailer with the keys in the ignition.  6 days later when I was set to leave…..the trailer and Jeep where still there with no sign of the owner anywhere in site.  I wonder how long it took them to finally realize they were missing an entire vehicle along with a trailer.

Avoid mistakes, accidents and lost property by simply slowing down.  It seems rather obvious but at the moment its the last thing you think of when you’re in a frantic hurry.  There will be times, I guarantee you, that you will feel rushed or feel like something isn’t getting done fast enough.  But remind yourself, “It’s just a feeling.”  The world will not end, and civilization as we know it will continue on.  RV mistakes are more likely to happen when your feeling rushed.  So slow down.  Enjoy the process, and smile because the adventure began when you put the key in the ignition.  Someday you’ll be the expert willing to pitch in & help the new guy struggling with setting up his awning, and you can all laugh together over adult beverages around the campfire later.  Slow down and enjoy RV Life.  You’ll make fewer RV mistakes.

  RV Lesson #6 – Slow down.  Enjoy the little things, and when your feeling rushed remember its just a feeling.  The party started when you decided to start off on this journey, and big or small its all apart of the big adventure.  Enjoy it. All of it.  

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  RV Mistake #7 – Communication

When traveling in my RV with others communication is key.  Especially with new RVers.  Every situation requires different communications, and try to avoid confrontational phrases like you did that wrong, you should of, what are you thinking, why didn’t you.  Have a plan with clear expectations and try to deliver your message in a clear positive way so others don’t feel challenged or ridiculed.

They may not be aware of how to level an RV or hookup the sewer pipe.  When faced with three different plugins at your site they may be confused as to which one to plug into.  New RVers won’t know that it could be helpful to have a spotter getting into or out of a campsite.  Communication is crucial in these types of situations to avoid stressful awkward situations later on.  Remember you were new to this to at one point, how would you have felt if someone was barking at you while trying to help?

RV Lesson #7 – Communicate in a clear positive way to avoid stressful and awkward RV mistakes later on.  Have a plan with clear expectations for all involved.  Teach instead of preach.  

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RV Mistake #8 – RV Camper Measurements

The most common RV mistake among all new RVers is not knowing their campers length, height & width.  From bumping gas pumps to tearing off awnings I’ve seen it all.  Even done a few of them, and if you have never driven on the East Coast you will find out real quick they have some very low bridges, signs & tunnels.  If you can’t memorize your campers height. Write it down and post it somewhere in your cab, and make that measurement includes the A/C unit on top of your camper or the luggage racks you installed.  I always recommend adding 6inch to whatever height you measure just to be safe.  I went from driving a Mitsubishi Eclipse to a 40 foot RV.  Thankfully I didn’t take out any gas pumps, cars or buildings during my learning curve.  Others haven’t been so lucky on their maiden voyage.

Even if you have extended mirrors you won’t be able to see directly behind your travel trailer when backing up.  Unless you have a backup camera you won’t be able to see behind your RV camper when backing into your campsite.  It’s easy to drive by feel in a tiny car, but when driving a 40-foot battering ram you won’t feel that bridge rail or curb until its too late.  You need to take things slower because you won’t know your too small until you start hearing things crumple and scrape.  Its the worst feeling!

RV Lesson #8 – Know your the measurements of your RV Camper or Travel Trailer.  Know before you go, or go slow while using a travel partner as a spotter.  

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RV Mistake #9 – Boondocking

Boondocking, such a strange word, and is often referred to as dry camping or dispersed camping, but boondocking is the unicorn appeal of RV Life freedom.  Camping next to a secret waterfall in the backcountry for free while exploring the landscape around you, or roaming about calling any place you park home for as long as you want.  Boondocking comes in two fronts: Rural Boondocking and Urban Boondocking.

Urban boondocking seems a bit CRAZY to new RVers.  Camping in a parking lot??!! Wait, what? Essentially that is urban boondocking.  Camping in the parking lot of big box stores like Walmart, Target, Cabelas, strip malls, hospitals, city parks and wherever else you can find.  A concept that seems ridiculous to new RV owners, but when I bought my first RV that is just what I planned on doing.  Don’t worry after a couple of nights you’ll be an expert urban boondocker, and question why you ever thought this concept was crazy in the first place.  It’s a wonderful way to travel across America and save on lodging in the big cities, but it’s a different style than rural boondocking.

Rural boondocking is camping on rural land without hookups like National Forest property or BLM land also known as the Bureau of Land Management.  Boondocking in the National Forest usually comes with a 14-day cap requiring you to move at least 7 miles away for 7 days before returning.  Some NFS Web Pages say 3 miles while others say 5 miles. Some say you only have to relocate for 24 hours while others say a week.  To be safe I use the 7 & 7 rule.  At least 7 miles away for at least 7 days when rural boondocking on BLM or National Forest Land.  Don’t make the RV mistake of staying too long though because the bare minimum is a $275 ticket and the maximum is $5,000 fine and 6 months in jail.  Most of the time the officer will only issue a warning or a ticket, but depending on your record he could issue a whole lot more.

Check out my Free Camping Guide for more Urban Boondocking Options

RV Lesson #9 – Boondocking – The more you move or the more remote you go the less likely you will have to do deal with any consequences.  Rural boondocking is more relaxed and less intrusive compared to urban boondocking.  When urban boondocking the less obvious you are the better.  Park at the back of a parking lot out of the way, and best to park after dark and leave before sun up.  Park at businesses that are closed on the weekends.  Truck stops and hotels are easy to blend in for one night stays.  

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RV Mistake #10 – Know Your Tanks

One of the 1st RV mistakes I ever made almost cost me dearly.  I didn’t know how to read my control panel so I didn’t know my grey water tank was full.  A couple of trips in my RV begin to leak every time I took a shower.  What I didn’t know was that this was a safety measure to ensure a new RVer like myself didn’t burst the tanks, but I feared the worst.  I started taking things apart and was about to start dismantling my entire water system when I realized my grey drain was in the off position.  A simple fix that had I not noticed would have created a giant headache for myself.  Staying at RV parks where there are full hookups doesn’t require you to pay as much attention to tank levels as when your boondocking, but its a good idea to keep an eye on these things.

Most campers will have three tanks:

Blackwater -this tank holds your toilet waste

Grey Water-this tank holds the water from your shower & sink

Fresh Water-holds all your fresh water to use for the sink, shower, and toilet.

Depending on the size of your RV camper the size of your tanks will vary.  My travel trailer tanks are 40 gallons apiece.  While my slide in truck camper for the Tacoma only has a 5-gallon freshwater tank.  Knowing how to read your control panel will help you plan when to make a supply run while boondocking.  Keep in mind though at some point your freshwater and blackwater sensor will fail.  They all fail.  Crazy right??!!  Sometimes you can fix them with dawn dish soap or other DIY fixes you can find on the internet, but don’t count on it.  Before your sensor goes bad make sure you know how much use will fill your tank so you can plan your trip accordingly.  For me, I am not worried about my freshwater or grey water tanks.  I can always use water jugs or simply drain my grey water tank.  It’s my black water tank that trips me up, and for my travel trailer I know I can go over a month before it is full.

Some campers control panel will also monitor their propane levels. Something I wish I had.  Especially during ski season.  There’s been a few cold nights I wish I could forget, but during the summer my propane tanks can last 5 months before needing a refill.

RV Lesson #10 – Know Your Tanks – Know the size of your tanks and their limitations so you can plan your trips accordingly.  Make a mental note of how much daily use drains your tank in case your control monitor panel fails.  

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RV Mistake #11 – Plan Your Route/Destination

One crucial RV mistake that could cost you both time and money is to just wing it.  I used to do this a lot because I started traveling before the internet was even a thing, but with all the gadgets and gizmos available today take advantage.  A lot of RVers use an app called Allstay.  I am not a fan because it looks like a drunk a 3-year-old designed it and filled it with content, but a lot of RVers swear by it.  I use an app called iOverlander because it’s free, easier to navigate and was created to support overland exploration of the world, while respecting local cultures, people and environments through user-submitted free camping sites and whatever amenities they offered.  iOverlander has come along way since its creation and can help you find campgrounds, RV resorts, State Parks, BLM Land, National Forest Property, free camping spots, free hookups, private hookups, and various other boondocking alternatives.  With over 8,000 documented destinations in the United States alone iOverlander is always my first RV app I open.

RV Lesson #11 – Having a plan saves you time and money.  Saves you from guessing on where what & how.  Using apps like iOverlander and Allstay allows you to benefit from the experience of others.  I know of 3 secret camping spots less than 1 mile away from the North Entrance of Yellowstone, one which has a 3 tiered waterfall 5 feet from your campsite.  You’ll never find it unless you use an app like iOverlander or ask me in the comments below.  While you are at it ask me how I can get into any National Park for free, and so can you.  Saving you thousands of dollars on hotel and entrance fees for you and your families summer road trip.  

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RV Mistake #12 – Document

The most regrettable RV mistake I have ever made was not documenting my travels when I started way back in 1998.  Imagine the content this travel blog would have had I documented everything I ever did from 1998 until today.  Imagine the wealth of information you would have at your fingertips all in one spot. Its the one RV mistake I can’t correct no matter how hard I try.  Even if you don’t want to build a website and share your life publicly you should still document everything you do with photos or a journal so you can share with your kids, friends, and family someday.  I promise they will come asking some day.  Imagine sitting around a campfire with your closest friends and family with a full glass of wine reliving your adventurous travel life.

RV Lesson #12 -Document-  Whether you create a website or not document your travels.  Someday somehow someone will want to hear all about it, and you will forever change their life from the experiences you had while wondering around the globe.  

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RV Mistake #13 – Tree Lined Streets

Almost every class C RV from the 1990s leaks from the cabover sleeping compartment.  Why?  Because people forget the size of their RV camper and are used to driving their little cars and trucks down the road.  Within two days of buying my new RV camper, I did the same thing almost taking off the entire corner of my Mom’s garage with the cabover sleeping compartment in my Class C RV.  Tree-lined streets are a new RVers worst nightmare.  More damage happens at 5mph in on neighborhood roads to RV campers than anywhere else in America.  Goes back to knowing the measurements of your travel trailer or camper.  Remote dirt roads are also vying culprit to destroying your new RV roof.  Not only did I almost destroy my Mom’s garage I also ripped off the TV antenna a day later driving to the beach with a couple of friends.  A low hanging branch I thought was high enough or I would just drive created roof damage I didn’t even feel or hear.  I only found it while trying to fix something else a week later.

RV Lesson #13 – Tree-lined streets – Know the clearance of your vehicle.  I dented a gutter and lost an analog antenna, but what if I was in a drive-thru or hotel canopy?  If its looks like it going to be close it is better to avoid or use a spotter than assume your fine.  

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RV Mistake #15 – Carbon Monoxide Detector

Remember your college dorm room with ripped out fire alarms or that first apartment you had where you took out all the batteries because your cooking kept setting them off.  Factory Carbon Monoxide Detectors are awful and create the same urge to rip them out or remove their batteries.  They are meant to keep you safe which they do, but they also go off when they are low on power.  Which means if you are boondocking and using your battery as a power source your factory RV carbon monoxide detector will always be going off.  Its what they do.  An obnoxious “cry wolf” one too many times scenario leaving you guessing at whether your in danger or just being warned the battery is dying.

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After one too many false alarms I replaced mine with this self-contained guaranteed 10-year battery carbon monoxide detector that only goes off when its a real alarm.   Exactly what I needed to replace that awful factory RV alarm!! I never knew this was a rookie RV mistake until I started researching which carbon monoxide detector I should get for my new RV, and then I found out every RV owner swaps these out for the exact same reason.  Lesson learned.

RV Lesson #15 – Carbon Monoxide Detector – Replace the factory carbon monoxide detector that came with your camper with a self-contained 10-year battery RV carbon monoxide detector.  

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RV Mistake #16 – Rig Flipping

If you have never owned an RV or driven a large rig before it might take you a while to get comfortable with driving it.  I have never flipped my rig before. Thank god, but two months after buying my first RV I watched a couple roll their truck and travel trailer into the ditch.  Thankfully no one was seriously hurt, but their truck and travel trailer were unsalvageable.  Both completely totaled.

This RV mistake usually happens to new RV owners who take turns too fast, drive in very strong wind or start to fishtail uncontrollably.  All resulting in campers rolled over in the ditch.  In a travel trailer or RV Camper, you have a much higher center of gravity which makes you more vulnerable to turnovers if you take corners too fast.

RV Lesson #16 -Rig Flipping – When driving your RV Camper or travel trailer pay attention to all those signs you ignore when driving your car.  When they say maximum speed is “X” that is the maximum speed you want to be traveling.  When the wind starts pushing you around on the road its time to pull over and take a break so you don’t find yourself in the ditch wondering what happened.  

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RV Mistake #17 – Backing Up

Buying an RV for the first time will make you incredibly cautious at first, but eventually, you’ll get confident and comfortable enough to make the most popular RV mistake.  Backing up into something.  I have owned 5 different RVs and I have backed up into something with every one of them beside my truck camper.  Probably because I have a backup camera on my truck.  You will find yourself in all kinds of situations that require you to back up.  Backing up into a campsite, the gas station with cars whipping all around you or even your storage unit with no spotter.  Trying to avoid stumps, overhanging trees, building walls, cars, and even people.  Sometimes I wonder why a backup camera isn’t required by law on these things.

A backup camera is a must. Ever since I got mine for the travel trailer I am amazed it took me this long to get one.  Even with the experience, I have at driving RVs my backup camera has saved me multiple times from dangerously backing into something I didn’t know was there or wouldn’t have seen without it.

RV Lesson #17 – Backing Up – A backup camera is an essential tool every RV camper owner needs.  Its the difference between spending a few dollars on a gadget now, or spending lots of dollars later fixing your damaged camper.  

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RV Mistake #18 – Gas Mileage

Fueling habits you have with your personal vehicle will get you into trouble with your new RV.  I’ve almost made this RV mistake a number of times.  When the gas light comes on in my Tacoma I know I have 60-80 miles before I need to find a gas station.  When pulling my travel trailer I have less than 20 miles to find a gas station.  On more than one occasion I thought for sure I was going to be walking down the side of the road in search of fuel.   Luckily that hasn’t happened, yet, but I do carry a 5-gallon gas can now.  To give me that extra little range.  Plus I need that gas for my generator if I am boondocking for long periods of time.

RV Lesson #18 -Gas Mileage – When towing a travel trailer your mpg will drop by more than half, and driveable RV campers usually only get around 10 mpg.  When my gas guage hits a quarter tank I start looking for the nearest gas station to refuel.  

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RV Mistake #19 – Misusing Stabilizer Jacks

Ask any employee at Camping World and they will tell you the #1 RV Mistake or camper repair they do is replacing stabilizer jacks.  Some of the time this is warranted because they are old and rusty, but most of the time it is because someone ran over something or tried to use their stabilizer jack as a regular jack to change the tire.  Stabilizer jacks are not meant to support the weight of your travel trailer or camper.  Camper stabilizer jacks are merely meant to keep your travel trailer from rocking and swaying as you carryon inside your camper.  They are meant to be raised just enough so that they are taught and barely touching the ground.  Anything other than that and you will damage them.  They are made out of cheap aluminum.  Not Steal.  They twist, bend and break all the time because people use them to support more weight than they are meant to.

***The weight capacity of your travel trailer stabilizer jacks is around 2,500 pounds per jack, but they are called stabilizer jacks for a reason.  They are meant to stabilize a portion of your camper’s weight not the total gross vehicle weight of your travel trailer.  Doing so will damage your stabilizer jacks, and require replacements!!**

RV Lesson #19 – Don’t use stabilizer jacks for an actual jack.  They are are not meant to carry full loads, and careful driving over bushes, boulders and stumps as they will also damage your stabilizer jacks.  

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RV Mistake #20 – RV Camper Winterization

It doesn’t take much water to completely damage your camper over the long cold winter months.  Luckily my first RV didn’t have a kitchen, shower or anything that required water or I would have easily damaged my first RV beyond repair by making this crucial RV mistake.  I didn’t know anything about winterizing my RVs back then, but campers hold a lot of water throughout its plumbing system.  Even after your tanks are emptied.  Something I found out in my Class B RV when I found out in the spring I never drained the hot water tank.  Good thing I found someone for cheap to weld the aluminum tank back together for me.

To winterize your RV you simply need to empty out all of the water in your camper and replace it with RV anti-freeze (the pink stuff).  You shouldn’t need more than a few jugs (5 gallons at the very most).  You can pay someone to do this.  Likely it will cost you around $150, but it’s easy to do it yourself and shouldn’t take more than 20 minutes.

RV Lesson #20 -RV Camper Winterization-

To avoid making this RV mistake follow these simple steps to winterize your RV camper:

Drain all the water from your holding tanks.

Refill with RV antifreeze 

My travel trailer came with a “T” attachment at the pump to allow me to shut to swap sources for the pump to suck from.  By turning one lever it closes the main hose and starts sucking fluid from the 3-foot hose attachment.  I put the open end of this hose into a 1-gallon jug of RV antifreeze (the pink stuff)  and turn on the pump.  

You don’t need to fill up your entire holding tanks or the entire RV.  All you need to do is turn on the faucet and wait until the pink RV antifreeze starts coming out.  Do this until every faucet, shower head & toilet start showing the pink RV antifreeze when turned on or flushing.  Remember for the faucets to do both the hot and cold side of the faucet.  Thats it your done.  This ensures the RV antifreeze is in all the pipes (hot & cold), holding tanks, hot water tank & even the toilet.  

I live in Minnesota and we get temperatures in January and February that can drop as low as -50 degrees at night with the windchill.  Winterizing my RV using this method has never caused me any problems.  Takes less than 20 minutes and costs less than $20 dollars for supplies.

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RV Mistake #21 – Walk Around Rule

To avoid embarrassing yourself infront of friends, family or complete strangers employ the walk around rule.  If every RVer did this there would be a lot less RV mistakes to laugh at on the internet.  I have seen people drive off with sewer hoses still connected, gas pumps still pumping, awnings left open, dogs still attached to bumpers and so many more “RV mistakes” over the years.  Whenever you stop or are gearing up to leave simply do a walk around your rig to make sure everything is unhooked, cranked up, folded up and closed up.

How awful would you feel if you forgot to close up a storage compartment and a jack or wrench fell to go bouncing down the road during heavy traffic?  Create a checklist to review before pulling out of a campsite.  Did you raise the stabilizer jacks?  Fold up the stairs?  Lock/close all the outside storage doors?  Retract the awning?

There are dozens of things you should check before leaving any campsite, and the same goes for pit stops.  Did you take the gas nozzle out of your fuel door before leaving the gas station?  Are the kids back inside the RV before leaving the rest stop?  What about the dog?  Did you close the fridge after that lunch stop before traveling another 500 miles to your next destination?  Did you hook up the trailer lights?  Electric brakes?  What about the raising the front crank jack?  Are all electronics off before tootling down the road for a day?  Literally, there are dozens of things you should check before taking off from any long stay, short stay or even quick pit stop.

I’ve been doing the walk around rule for years, and every time I do I find something that I should have attended to beforehand.  Its simple, quick, easy and keeps you from making costly and dangerous RV mistakes.

RV Lesson #21 – Walk Around Rule –  To avoid an embarrassing RV mistake simply double check your work by doing a quick walk around. 

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RV Mistake #22 – Generator Maintenance

To avoid the RV mistake of blowing up or ceasing your generator follow these 5 simple guidelines.

Change the oil – For new generators they require their first oil change after 30 hours of operation.  After that you can stretch it out to every 100 hours of operation.  Most people equate 100 hours to one season, but remember there are 24 hours in a day.  If your running it non stop day and night you need to change the oil every 4 days.

Replace Spark Plugs and Air Filter – Having the proper air/fuel mixture will keep your RV generator running longer and healthier.  Try to change out your spark plugs and air filter after every 200 hours of use.

Drain Fuel When Not in Use –  RV generators systems can get gummed from oil gas and various other fluids.  After sitting  for more than 30 days certain gas can began to seperate and attract moisture.  Causing damage to fuel lines, carbuerators and even your tank.  If you plan to let your RV generator sit idle for more than 30 days before storing it you should:

Run it for 10-15 minutes

After the RV generator has cooled down add a gas additive

Restart your RV generator and let it run until it dies ensuring all gas has been removed from the system.

Ensure the Battery is Fully Charged – If you have an electric start on your RV generator make sure your battery is fully charged before use or storing for long periods.

Start Your Generator Every 30 Days – Just like a car RV generators need periodic love.  If  you plan on storing your generator for long period of times its best to let it run for 15-20 minutes every thirty days.  This help keeps maintenance related issues at bay and ensures you keep the internal components lubricated to avoid rust and other harmful wear and tear when not in use.

  RV Lesson #22 – Generator Maintenance – Change your RV generator oil, spark plugs, air filter at the appropriate times to avoid damaging your RV generator.  

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RV Mistake #23 – Securing Your Travel Trailer Camper Ball Hitch

I hate to admit it, but I still make this RV mistake all the time.  So much, in fact, I swapped out my trailer hitch with a universal slide lock.  Now whenever the ball reaches the receiver it automatically locks for me.  I needed this because for some reason I constantly failed to check this.  Luckily I never had anything major happen, but it was still shocking to show up a gas stating and see the travel trailer wasn’t secured to my truck properly.

RV Lesson #23 – Securing Travel Trailer-  To avoid this RV mistake simply lower your travel trailer down onto the ball.  Secure the latch and then try and raise it back up with the front winch jack.  If it tries to pick up your truck you know you are secure.  If it didn’t well at least you found out before driving up a mountain.  

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RV Mistake #24 – Falling Asleep while RV driving

RV driving isn’t like driving your everyday vehicle.  It takes a lot more focus, planning, and awareness to avoid the RV mistake of falling asleep at the wheel.  Plus in your daily vehicle, most trips are shorter than 30 minutes whereas RV driving is long-haul road trips.  Pushing your self to arrive at your destination as soon as possible.  Staring down the road as signs, road marks and cars lethargically pass by.  Zapping the energy out of you with each passing mile.  You buy an energy drink.  Turn on an audio book, and even roll down the window.  Nothing seems to help as your eyelids get heavier and heavier.   This is what every RV driver said after falling asleep at the “RV wheel”.

Your destination isn’t going anywhere, and arriving at a campsite isn’t worth dying over.  Don’t make the RV mistake of falling asleep while driving because you want to click off a few more miles.  Pullover.  Take a break.  Get some rest.  Let the dog run.  Do some shopping or better yet go see the sites your whizzing by.

RV Lesson #24 – Falling Asleep while RV Driving is the most common RV mistake that ends in disaster.  Slow travel is cheaper, easier & safer.  Instead of whizzing by all the wonderful sites this country has to offer pullover and take them in.  You never know when you be back to see them again.  

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RV Mistake #25 -Checking your Camper & RV Roofline Seals

Most new camper owners don’t realize they are making this RV mistake, but you need you to check the seals on your RV camper twice a year.  Once at the end of the season, and once before the season begins.  Caulk is not a long-term solution.  It cracks under the hot sun.  Freezes in the cold temperatures.  Contracting and expanding shortens the life of even the best caulk on the market.  You also need to consider caulk application is designed for stationary seals.  RV camper seals are constantly get bounced, twisted & thumped along your travels.  This constant bending and twisting is detrimental to caulk especially during the cold months.  When it can simply just brake off under the stress.  Leaving your seal open to the elements.

RV Lesson #25 – Camper & RV Roofline Seals need to be checked every 6 months.  Professionals recommend reapplying seam sealant/caulk once a year to protect your camper investment.  

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RV Mistake #26 – RV Camper Toilet Paper

Another RV mistake that most new RVers don’t know they are making is using the wrong toilet paper.  Do you really have to buy special toilet paper for your RV, travel trailer or camper?  The answer is NO!  You definitely do NOT have to buy special toilet paper, but it helps.  Finding and using rapid dissolving RV toilet paper isn’t crucial, but if you want your RV camper to stay in tip-top condition for a lit’s time its extremely helpful.  Remember when I said your black water and grey water tank sensor will fail you at some point?  Well, thats because something in your tank is messing with the sensor.  Using rapid dissolving paper products will help ensure the life of your sensors.

RV Lesson #26 – RV camper Toilet Paper – If you want to extend the life of your camper, keep your tanks from clogging and your sensor within the tanks functioning longer than you should consider using rapid dissolving RV toilet paper and various other RV paper products.  

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RV Mistake #27 – Propane Leak

A common RV mistake that usually flies below the radar is propane leak.  How is that possible with a camper that includes a carbon monoxide detector?  The answer is burner blowout, and I am not talking about your stovetop burners.  Most campers come with 3-way refrigerators. Allowing them to run on propane, shore power (electric) or battery power(12 volt).  Running your camper fridge on propane is a wonderfully cheap option.  I can run my fridge on one propane tank for over 5 months, but the RV mistake that most people make is driving with their fridge running on propane.  The wind will blow out the burner and propane will still be flowing to a burnt out burner.  Loosing propane and letting it draft into your RV camper.

Embarrassingly I have made this RV mistake a bunch of times this fall with my new Toyota Tacoma truck camper.  I was so used to the reliability of my travel trailer I forgot how sensitive RV fridge burners can be.  For over a week I kept opening a warm fridge even though I kept lighting the pilot every time I stopped.  Then the carbon monoxide alarm went off one afternoon and the lightbulb finally came on as to what my problem was.

RV lesson #27 – Propane Leak- When a burner blowout occurs propane is still being piped into your RV.  So don’t drive your RV camper or travel trailer with the fridge running on propane.  Your items will not get cold.  You’ll be wasting propane, and more importantly, you will be piping propane into a sealed box.  

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RV mistake #28 – Overloading Your RV camper Bumper

A bumper is a bumper right.  If something can fit on it than its fine, right?  I found a bumper tray at a thrift store someone had custom made to fit the square bumper of my travel trailer.  It was the perfect size for my generator, gas can & camping chairs.  Even came with 4 welded D-rings to secure my RV generator from being stolen.   The RV mistake I made was assuming my factory bumper could bear the weight of my RV generator.  If I was never going to move my travel trailer this wouldn’t be an issue, but the bouncing stress of travel quickly showed me how poorly this bumper was attached.  There are hundreds of RV bumper attachments you can buy online to increase your storage or enhance your camping experience.  Before installing any of these awesome aftermarket attachments I strongly recommend you purchase bumper struts to increase the weight your bumper can support.

RV lesson #28 – Bumper supports can increase the weight you can safely load onto your bumper to protect your camper investment from unnecessary damage.  Bumper supports can increase your load bearing ratio from hundreds to thousands of pounds.

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RV Mistake #29 – Exposed to the Elements

An incredibly cheap an avoidable RV mistake is leaving your camper exposed to the elements.  The number one RV killer is water damage.  One tiny hole in your roof from an ice dam build up over the winter, or cracked caulking during the hot summer can destroy your entire camper.  When you are not using your camper it’s extremely wise to tarp it.  Pay for covered storage, or install a covered carport on your property.  The couple dollars you spend now in preventative maintenance will save you thousands of dollars later on.    A new roof on a camper averages about $300 per linear foot.  On a 20 foot RV camper, a new roof will cost you $6,000 to replace.  Most RV mistakes are made out of financial pressure.   Don’t make a $30 RV mistake that will cost you thousands of dollars later on.

RV Lesson #29 – Cover your RV Camper.  Buy a tarp!  Pay the extra for covered storage, or purchase a carport to protect your camper investment.  A $30 tarp could save you $6,000 later on.

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RV Mistake #30 – Air Vents

Becoming a full-time RVer is a huge learning curve filled with one RV mistake after another.  Each RV mistake you make will teach you a lesson most of the time you wished you’d never learned, but will never make again.  One of the most overlooked component when buying an RV for the first time are the air vents.  If you have never lived in a tin box before how would you know how crucial these little things are?    The three most common RV mistakes when it comes to air vents are:

Wrong type of camper vent – There are two types of air vents.  Ones that do nothing and ones that do something.

If your air vent does nothing but open and close it’s pretty much useless.  On hot days it will do nothing to move the hot stale air within your camper. On cold days you may or may not even be able to open it because when the warm air met the cold air it created condensation.  This condensation tends to freeze air vents shut.  Again making them completely useless.

If your vent has a fan installed within it you at least have a vent that has potential depending on the size of your fan and overall design.  You still have to open and close the roof lid its a poor design that can still freeze shut during colder months.  If you have a fan that the size of a silver dollar pancake you pretty much have a useless battery draining air vent.  You want a fan that is 6 inches or larger with no roof lid.  It still need it to be covered, but you just don’t want a lid that needs to cranked opened or closed.

Age of camper vent– The age of your air vent is also a big factor.  Again crank lids are extremely vulnerable to the elements, and they have no way of hiding.  This last year I purchased an 8-year-old truck camper.  With the intention of installing DIY air vent fans because they had none.  While on the roof installing the solar panel I barely brushed up against one of the crank lids.  When I say barely I mean the slack in sweatshirt arm I was wearing barely grazed a corner of the lid and it completely crumbled into a thousand pieces.  Now instead of just adding a fan, I had to replace the whole camper air vent.  The sun had beat down on them for so long the plastic was beyond brittle.

Securing your camper vent –  Crank lid camper air vents were probably groundbreaking technology in their time, but in today’s world are completely useless.  Buying a camper with crank lid air vents and no fans is a huge RV mistake.  Crank lids can be forgotten to be closed before driving before it rains & before the wind picks up.  Crank lids can also become frozen shut.  Forgetting to close your vent before driving or on windy days is only a minor RV mistake, but forgetting to close your vent while its raining can become a major RV mistake in a hurry.  Imagine leaving your RV on a day trip and a surprise rainstorm kicks up while your away. You could come back to an inch or more of standing water in your camper.  Not cool!

RV lesson #30 – Air Vents-  When buying a camper for the first time or anytime make sure they have the right vents or negotiate the price so that you can install the right vents and avoid this annoying RV mistake all together.

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RV Mistake #31- Buying your RV from Camping World

The most devastating RV mistake you could ever make is buying your camper from Camping World.  I have been traveling since 1998, and have been full-time RVing since 2008.  In all of those years of travel, I have not heard one good thing about Camping World.  Everything I have heard about Camping World can be summed up as:

too expensive

the instant they got our money the customer service disappeared

my RV has spent more time in their repair bay than I have been able to use it

Camping World offered me half what it was worth

Then Camping World nickel and dimed me to death

Camping World quoted me one thing and delivered another

RV lesson #31 – Buying an RV from Camping World is a complete nightmare that cost you more than your new RV Camper is worth.  There are better deals through better companies that you should consider before giving any money to Camping World. 

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RV Mistake #32 – Food

Classic rookie RV Mistake is thinking you will get food on the way.  When was the last time you went to the grocery store in a semi?  Ever been to a fast food restaurant driving a bus?  RV driving is completely different than zipping around in your little commuter vehicle and rarely do things go as planned if you are not prepared for hiccups.  When you get a flat tire or stuck down a remote road you’ll hate that you planned to do your grocery shopping later.

RV Lesson #32 –  Do your grocery shopping in your everyday vehicle before you leave.  This will give you time to pack and plan. Maybe even make a ready to heat meal for pit stops along the way to your new RV adventure.

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RV Mistake #33 – Extension Cord

After buying my first RV I had a lot to learn, and the dumbest RV mistake I made I didn’t find out until after I had parked and began setting up.  I can’t consider this a major RV mistake,  but I felt pretty dumb for not having a way to connect my new RV to the power outlet 10 feet away.  Luckily my neighbor, who must have taken pity on me, had an extra one to borrow me for the night.  Keeping me from driving around at 10 pm at night in a 1978 30 foot class C RV looking for a power cord.

Another thing about extension cords is that they are not all made the same, and you get what you pay for.  Buying the cheapest extension cord will only cause more problems down the road.  After making that first RV mistake of not packing a power cord I have always made sure to have one stored permanently in my RV campers.  But most RV campers will require an adapter for your RV to plugin to a power cord. This creates a problem when you purchase a cheap extension cord, or if you try to run your camper without enough voltage.

Another RV mistake I never knew I was making until I did a little research.  I always used to buy the $20 50 foot orange extension cords because they worked for all of my other RV campers.   After getting my new travel trailer every 3-6 months my adapter would be melted to my power cord.  Because the cords I was using weren’t big enough to power my 50 amp travel trailer.  Whenever I hooked up the travel trailer and blew a fuse or plugged into an outlet not suitable for 50 amps my cheap extension chords would stop just short of causing an electrical fire.  Another RV mistake I repeatedly made because I made assumptions powered by past experiences.  When you get a new RV be sure to do your research.

RV Lesson #33 – Pack a power cord, and at least one back up extension cord.  Be sure to pack the right power cord or you may end up burning down your new RV camper in an electrical fire because of an RV mistake you weren’t aware you were even making.  

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RV Mistake #34 -RV GPS -CoPilot

Even when I am driving in my hometown or even home state I use google maps for everything.  I used to be able to whip around Minneapolis & the surrounding suburbs without any assistance.  Remember I grew up before there was an internet, and when I was running my roofing company I relied heavily on map books.  Nowadays, I couldn’t even tell you where to buy a map book let alone need one, but if you want to avoid navigational RV Mistakes you will want to get the app CoPilot. CoPilot is an app made for both apple & android that has RV related warnings, maps and data.    No date needed for use of  CoPilot’s updated offline maps which also include height/weight restrictions for roadways.  But the best feature of CoPilot is the ability to avoid tolls when mapping out your destination.  Something I can’t wait for google maps to incorporate.

RV Lesson #34 – Get an RV focused GPS unit or app like CoPilot.  

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I made a lot of RV mistakes with my first RV.  Mainly because I thought I knew everything that I needed to know.  Most RV mistakes can be avoided by doing a little research or at the very least a simple google search.  What I am trying to say is my first RV taught me everything I needed to know about RV life through one RV camper mistake after another.  It was a fun adventurous & frustrating road to learning everything I now know about motorhomes, campers, travel trailers, and truck campers.  Hopefully, this “RV Mistake” article will help you skip all the RV mistakes I made so that you can enjoy RV life sooner rather than later.  Is there an RV Mistake that didn’t make the list, but think it should?  Leave it in the comments below, or just make fun of me for making all these dumb RV mistakes.  Either way I would love to hear from you.  Thanks again for reading my RV travel blog.

Instead of my first RV being the rv home of my dreams it ended up being the camper studio apartment my parents hated parked in their front yard.  Because I just bought the first cheap RV that came along.  Don’t make the same RV mistakes I made.  Get out there and enjoy RV life and all the adventures that come with it.

34 RV Mistakes I Made With My First RV Camper & The RV Lessons I Learned My First RV Camper I approached buying an RV for the first time in all the wrong ways because I was your typical RV newbie.