#[received] we’re doing the actual job where the fuck are you WEIRDO???

[johnnyutah]

scotty/matei OR scotty/gideon w/ 21.....go go go go oc heaven now

21: “me & me”

It’s a chilly afternoon at the circus, with most performers and customers scurrying away into the relative warmth of tents and caravans and trailers. As the wind picks up, Scotty misses his trusty hat. He is in a near-constant state of missing, as though the piercing instrument was never removed from some stab wound within him. He’s cold, too, which is kind of funny if you have a great sense of humour like he does. He wonders if Matei would think it was funny if he brought it up. Jeez, you know, I’ve frozen to death in an avalanche before, and this wind is somehow worse. Or, boy, I miss when my body couldn’t feel sensation.

Then he wonders the obvious, and flails, turning to the man beside him. “You cold? Want my jacket?”

Matei gives him A Look. Back in the time that never happened, Scotty would have been able to understand every twitch of the man’s eyebrow. He doesn’t know this Matei, and apparently he’s not making a great impression— seeing as he’s been reduced to speaking like a caveman.

“I’m okay,” Matei tells him, perfectly neutral and gracious. He has a sweater on, of course. Maybe it belongs to his new-old boyfriend. That pierces him too, although Scotty has long taught himself how to cope with an aching heart.

The other interns have all been whisked away to separate locations with separate objectives. Once upon a time, in another time, they moved like Voltron. Scotty would have known where they were even without Corby’s telepathy or Dorothea’s briefings. He could have made correct assumptions about which stall Sammy ducked into, or where Hami and Avery might be found sneaking around. Now, he can’t rely on any innate knowledge, turning to modern technology instead:

[sent] Where did everyone run off to?

[sent] ❄️☃️🎿☕️🥶😰

He looks up from the text to see Matei smiling oddly at him. Again, this expression is new; it bowls Scotty over. “What,” he says, tone soft, smiling back almost instinctively.

“Oh, uh,” Matei’s smile drops and he glances away. “Nothing. You… Nothing.”

He wonders if Matei thinks he’s texting a boyfriend or something. “Just sending a text to the other interns,” Scotty quickly corrects the thought. He used to have charisma, he swears— it dissipated sometime between the early eighties and ancient Mesopotamia and the current day. “I don’t… I’m not seeing anyone.”

For some reason, Matei smiles again— a little amusement playing at his pretty lips. “Okay,” he says, with poorly hidden pity.

“It is okay. I need some time to focus on me,” he lies through his teeth. Matei’s nod is half-hearted but his gaze is sharp. “You know, after everything.”

It looks like Matei is about to ask about everything. Scotty could tell him— he would, if he asked. About the guitar they kept in the living room, how far they’d made it through their watch of The Original Series. About Gideon, too, and Thor, maybe, and the long list of almosts and nevers.

Scotty’s phone chimes loudly in his hand— a message from one of the other interns. He may not be technically fifty anymore, but old habits die hard. Matei steps back, almost startled— the moment shatters. Scotty’s pain receptors need recalibration, because Matei moving away hurts worse than fighting the devil had.

“Maybe you should,” starts Matei, as Scotty says, “Boy, it’s cold. I sure miss when my body couldn’t feel sensation.”

The look Matei gives him is easy to read— he’s seen it on Corby’s face a thousand times now. Somewhere between constipation and concern. Scotty sighs silently. Maybe he really does need some time to focus on himself after everything.

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 3]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, anal play, panty stuffing, toys that have fake cum, a bit of drunk ‘n dom!seungcheol, masturbation, daddy!kink 😳😏 yall! and we are back! I’m sorry we had to take a pause from last week but hopefully we won’t have anymore issues! 😭😭  this chapter is about 6.5k so strap in for the ride yall! and as always, thank you all soooo much for the support and love on my fics T_T it means so much to me! 💕 I hope yall have a good weekend bbys!! 🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - ?

dom.cheol has donated $250

angelhan: :( i still cant believe i missed ur morning show…

chwenon: me too, i wouldn’t have stayed up til 6am had i known lol

sleepy_wonu: tbf, i couldve gotten kicked out of lab if i got caught watching… worth it tho

dom.cheol: i was at work but anything for u, baby.

You can’t help but pout at the camera reading the comments; knowing that some of your viewers were working or in class when you had done your surprise show. “Aww, m’sorry… I know it was so out of place for me but… You guys probably get it too, right?” You pause, sliding off of the pillow you were sitting on top of. You’d done a short show tonight; doing a strip tease for the camera before mounting a pillow and grinding against it until you came; fingertips gripping onto the silk as breathy moans spilled from your lips.  

“Y’know? When you wake up and you’re just so needy.”

hoshi_tiger_xx: all the time, baby!

gentleman_josh95: literally me this morning ;(

“Right? See you guys get me!” You giggle. The sound of donations and comments sound off in the background as you zone out for a second.

It had already been a couple days since then and this was your first show back. You and Seungcheol had texted sporadically; a little bit of awkwardness on both ends if you were completely honest. He seemed genuinely shy which was not what you expected at first but you also knew it must’ve been weird for him to suddenly have unrestricted access to you. Seungcheol seemed to be unsure of what he was able to ask you or talk to you about, even though you had assured him that you wanted to get to know him just like regular friends.

In your case, Seungcheol was undeniably hot and seemed to really like you which sent the butterflies in your stomach soaring each and every time your phone pinged.

kitty_junjun: hey can i ask a weird question

You tilt your head, eyes blinking cutely at the camera. “Of course!”

kitty_junjun: do u think you’ll ever have a show with someone else? Like a guest or sth? I know we’ve asked before but i’m just curious since your anniversary is comin up again...

Biting your lip, you watch as the others chime in, asking the same question. In truth, you had considered it maybe once or twice. But that came with risks. Not only would you have to find someone who was okay with being on camera with you, but you also ran the risk of losing viewers if they weren’t happy with who it was or how it turned out.

Seungcheol bites his lip reading the comments; he’d thought about it too.

He thought about if he’d be jealous, which he convinced himself he wouldn’t be. He would.

And whether or not he would pay to be the person to join you on cam and fuck you in front of all your viewers.

He definitely would.

“Mmm… I mean, I definitely thought about it before? But wouldn’t it be weird to see someone else on my shows? And, like, an actual… guy?” You watch the comments fly past, donations getting lost in the flurry of comments saying that you should do it.

universe_WZ: and miss the chance of seeing u getting fucked and put in ur place like a good girl?

universe_WZ: i will pay top dollar

alphagyu97: same

artist8hao: also same

dom.cheol: you already know how much we’d all love to see your cute lil cunt getting filled up with a real cock, sweetheart.

You bite your lip in thought, glancing at the camera with a coy expression. “Hmm, okay! I’ll keep thinking about it… I really want to but it’s gonna take some time to find the right person and make sure they’re okay with being on cam with me too~”

j__min: u should ask me, i cam sometimes too… we should collab ;)

Trying to hide the awkwardness, you laugh it off, tucking a few stray hairs behind your ear. “Oh? A camboy that watches me? That’s interesting~”

There were usually only 13 of your viewers who you considered to be your ‘regulars’ and you knew them all by their usernames. Of course, there were others who seemed to comment here and there and lots of anonymous donations and comments as well. But the newcomer seemed to be very interested in you and you weren’t sure how to take it just yet.

“Hmm~ Okay! I think I’m gonna end the show here! It’s getting kinda late now, huh? I ended up staying and chatting too long again~”

dom.cheol has donated $300

universe_WZ has donated $100

dom.cheol: it’s okay baby we like talking to u :)

sleepy_wonu: agreed

You stick your tongue out, winking at the camera before you say your goodbyes and last few thank you’s.

“I’ll see you guys next time~ Sleep well and dream of me!”

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, rolling his computer chair away from his desk as soon as you go offline. You’d been as cute as you normally were, but this time he felt like your lust filled eyes pierced the screen a little harder than usual.

He reaches for his phone, opening your text window before typing a quick response. ‘Great show tonight, baby. ;)’ Pausing, he wonders if it’s a little too weird to text right after you’d finished a show; but instead hits send. The read receipt shows up immediately after which alerts Seungcheol you already had your text window up when he messaged you.

babygirl 🍒 : i was just about to message u!! hehe, how are u?

Seungcheol bites his lip. Would it be too much to call? He ponders.

‘Hey, is it okay to call? If ur busy, it’s okay. Just figured it’d be quicker than typing.’ He hits send before he can regret it, watching as the read receipt shows up under his message again.

In a few seconds, it’s his phone that rings, your display name at the top as he accepts your call.

“Cheollie!” Seungcheol’s heart threatens to beat out of his chest at your nickname for him, hand clutching the phone tightly as he tries to calm himself down. “Hey, sweetheart. Sorry, you must be tired? I just thought this would’ve been quicker.” He chuckles, standing from his computer chair as he makes his way towards his bed.

“Oh, not at all! I’m just tidying up so I have you on speaker right now~ If that’s okay?”

“Mm, of course, baby.”

Seungcheol takes the time to lay in his bed, a deep sigh escaping him as he relaxes into the sheets. “Everything okay, ‘Cheol?” Your voice is soft and gentle; music to his ears as he stares at the ceiling.

“Yeah! Just… the comments have been weird, huh?” He ends it with an awkward laugh, hoping you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Oh, are you talking about people asking me to invite someone or the new guy in the comments?” Seungcheol doesn’t know which he wants to talk about first. “I guess both?” He inquires, hoping that it’s not too prying.

You make a humming noise on the other end, deciding which one to address first. “Mm, I mean… I would love to have someone else on the show with me but I don’t know… Don’t you think it’d be weird? I feel like I’ve been doing my show for so long by myself but maybe I should start trying other stuff…” You trail off, leaving it open-ended for Seungcheol’s opinion.

“It’s ultimately up to you, sweetheart. But---But if you do, just promise me you’ll make sure everything with this person checks out, okay? I mean--I just want you to be safe, don’t let it just be some weirdo off the internet.” Seungcheol blushes, words leaving his lips in a hurried mess. Sometimes he hated how overprotective he was of you. “And--and make sure they take a STD test and stuff, y’know?” Your giggles pour out of the phone receiver as Seungcheol hides his face in one of his pillows.

“Is this in reference to the ‘j__min’ person offering their services?” Yes.

“No…” Seungcheol mutters, somehow already knowing that you didn’t believe it.

“‘Cheol~ don’t worry. I’m not gonna get into cahoots with someone I don’t know. And honestly, it kinda weirds me out how he came out of nowhere… Makes me wonder if he was some anonymous viewer or donator this entire time and then decided to have a name.” There’s a pause on your end; Seungcheol hearing the washing machine going off.

“And anyway, if I were to do a cam show with someone else, I think I’d want to know them really well, don’cha think? Like a friend, maybe?”

Seungcheol lets you go to sleep after 15 more minutes of chatting; making sure you down a glass of water and get some food delivered before he lets you go for the night.

He places his phone down onto the nightstand, tugging his shirt off as he stands. But his phone pings not a second later, confusion crossing his features as he picks it up.

‘Hey hyung, don’t forget we’re going to that new diner across town tomorrow after work!!! I’m gettin me some disco fries baby!!!! - ggukie’

Seungcheol ends work 30 minutes later than he should the next day and Jeongguk watches from the concession stand as Seungcheol trudges over, fingertips running through his silvery-blue hair as he sighs.

“Some kid fuckin’ puked in the restroom and nobody wanted to clean it up so guess who did.” He complains, leaning his head onto the cool countertop as Jeongguk pats his head comfortingly. “Not my job but you should’ve called someone else. Where was Yoongi-hyung?”

“Gone, as per usual. We both know he clocks out 30 minutes early.”

The two laugh half-heartedly, making sure they have their things before they leave for the night. The night shift crew had already checked in just a few minutes prior; Taehyung and Hoseok waving them off as they leave.

They hop into Seungcheol’s car; Jeongguk already fiddling with the radio controls as Seungcheol puts in the address for the new diner that had opened up. “I hope this place is good. It seems to get a lot of good reviews for a place that just opened up, like, two weeks ago.” Jeongguk nods, settling into his seat as Seungcheol pulls out of the parking lot.

“We live in a city that’s straight out of an episode of Riverdale. I mean, we work at a roller rink? And there’s diners all over? But we’re in the present day with present day technology? Soon we’ll be Archie and Jughead. Except I want to be Jughead since I have the tattoos so you can be Archie. Or we can both be, like, from the Serpents but I still want to be Jughead.”

Seungcheol raises a brow at Jeongguk’s references.

“I don’t know that show so all of that just went over my head.”

It takes approximately 30 minutes to get across town; the huge neon lights from the diner welcoming them into the parking lot as Seungcheol parks the car somewhere near the entrance.

“God, was it just me or did that take a long time? I’m fuckin’ starving.” Seungcheol mutters; hopping out of the driver’s seat. “I think you’re just hungry, hyung.” Jeongguk offers, jogging up to the other male as they make their way to the doors.

Thankfully, the place seemed relatively empty for a Thursday night, a lone male standing at the front of the diner in a pastel coloured uniform.

“Hey! Welcome to Dynamite, my name’s Jun! Table for two?” Seungcheol nods slowly, eyes narrowing at the male who, for whatever reason, seemed familiar.

Jun picks up two menus, guiding them to a booth in the far corner of the diner. “We’re just a little understaffed tonight so I’ll also be your server tonight! Can I get you guys some water to start?” The two nod as they sit in the multi-coloured booth. “Hey, can I ask you something?” Jun blinks, nodding slowly as Seungcheol peers up at him from where he’s seated.

“I feel like I’ve met you? It’s weird. I’m pretty sure we’ve never met though…?” Seungcheol trails off, confused eyes meeting Jun’s. Jun wracks his brain, unsure, but feeling the same way. “I dunno, I feel the same but I’m pretty sure we never met. Maybe a past life thing?”

Jeongguk laughs, eyes too focused on the menu in front of him. “Oh, that’d be weird as fuck.”

“Anyway, I’ll come back with your water!” Jun walks away, leaving Seungcheol and Jeongguk to go through the menu.

“Hey, Seungcheol-hyung?”

“Mm?”

“I know you said you’re usually busy on the weekends but I’m doing a PUBG stream on Saturday and was wondering if you wanted to hang? I asked Yoongi-hyung too and he’s coming over to drink and hang out.” Seungcheol’s lips press into a firm line, eyes burning holes into the menu in front of him.

Jeongguk was a video game streamer sometimes and his streaming schedule lined up with yours which is why Seungcheol almost never had a chance to watch or be a part of Jeongguk’s. “Um, what time is it at?”

“I’m thinking of streaming from like 6PM to midnight or somethin’. But you don’t have to be there the entire time! Just thought it’d be cool to hang out on the weekends for once.”

Seungcheol nods slowly, glancing up at Jeongguk who’s already staring back at him. “I can probably show up for a bit? I need to leave by 10 though, I, uh, sleep early sometimes.” He knows Jeongguk doesn’t buy it, but a smile paints itself onto the younger male’s face in an instant.

“Cool! Wow, didn’t think you’d say yes actually.”

The older male nods, a tight smile on his lips. Your cam schedule was almost always on time; Fridays, Saturdays, every other Monday, and every other Wednesday at 11PM. Sometimes you’d have surprise shows, like before, but you often kept to your schedule unless something important came up. “I know, I get so busy on the weekends, y’know?”

Jun comes back with their waters, setting them down on the table before fishing out a pad and paper to take their orders. “What are you doing on the weekends anyway? I feel like I’ve never asked directly but you never return my calls on Fridays and Saturdays.” Seungcheol freezes mid-order, hands gripping the laminated menu. “Um, and a cherry coke, please, thank you. And I told you ‘Guk, I… I just like to unwind on the weekends, I like to enjoy my quiet time so--so sometimes I just turn my phone off, y’know?.”

Jeongguk puts his order in with Jun who runs their order back before he walks off again. “Is working at the roller rink that bad? I know it can get wild sometimes but… are you thinking about quitting?”

In truth, Seungcheol had thought about it before when he was first starting out at the roller rink. But he also knew it paid too well for him to leave just yet. “Nah, just… it gets loud, y’know? I end up doing jobs around the place that I’m not qualified to do. And with Namjoon-hyung gone still, we’re shorthanded. I thought about picking up another job for some extra cash, but with what time?” Seungcheol grabs his glass of water, lips puckered around the plastic straw as he takes a sip.

“You should cam!”

Water sprays all over the table as Seungcheol sputters, choking on the liquid. “The---what!?” Jun runs over with a stack of pink tissues, helping to wipe up the water as Jeongguk stares from across the table with a wide grin. He waits until Jun leaves again; eyes fixated on Seungcheol and the crimson blush that coats his cheeks and ears. “It’d be easy money for you. You’re not exactly ugly, and you can cover your face!”

“Why exactly are you suggesting that!? Why’d you go straight for that!?” Seungcheol screams under his breath.

“Let’s be real, it’s crossed my mind so it’s probably crossed yours too. You can always just game too, but if you need cash quick y’know… And hey, I have some extra equipment so…” Jeongguk trails off, wiggling his eyebrows at Seungcheol suggestively.

Seungcheol had actually thought about that too. Maybe once or twice.

But after he’d spoken to you and found out just how difficult it really was to keep your viewers engaged and how difficult it was trying to find new ideas to bring to your cam show, he knew it wasn’t as easy as most people thought it’d be. You always put in extra effort in your cam shows and it was a whole production with effort and ideas. Sometimes it took you days to even come up with a theme for a show and sometimes it didn’t do as well as you’d hoped.

“Um, if I ever do, I’ll let you know ‘Guk.”

Saturday comes sooner than Seungcheol knows and he’s antsy. He could barely even enjoy your cam show from the night prior knowing that he had to haul ass back home after Jeongguk’s stream. He plots out the drive home; times it just perfectly so he still has some spare time to relax before your show starts.

For a second, he wonders if it was the right decision or if he should’ve just stayed home like he normally did. But he quickly shakes the thoughts out of his head; glad to get out of his apartment and spend time with his friends on the weekends for once.

He makes it to Jeongguk’s place on time, a box of beer tucked under his arm when he knocks on the door. Shockingly, it’s Yoongi on the other end who greets him; a lopsided smile on his face as he ushers Seungcheol inside. “‘Guk was setting up so…”

“I brought more beer! He said you were spending the night on his sofa so drink all you want, hyung.” Yoongi nods, plopping back down onto the sofa as Seungcheol makes his way towards Jeongguk’s PC room.

The entire room is lined with LEDs, posters of anime and various video games lining all the spaces between the soundproofing pads that Jeongguk haphazardly attached to the wall.

“Yooo, how’s the setup coming?”

“I’m almost ready!”

It takes 20 more minutes of Jeongguk fiddling before he sits in his expensive gaming chair; Seungcheol close behind as he watches the younger male pull up the loading screen. “You’re not drinking, hyung?”

Seungcheol shakes his head, legs crossed as he leans back in the spare desk chair. “Nah, I drove here. Gotta be responsible, kid.” Jeongguk shakes his head, placing his headset and mic on before starting his stream.

“Hey guys! Welcome back to Golden Closet Gaming! I’m doing a PUBG stream tonight and one of my closest friends is here so if you hear him on the mic, that’s definitely not a ghost this time!” A concerned look crosses Seungcheol’s features but he laughs lightly. “Hey guys, I’m Seung---I’m, uh… I’m---SCOUPS!” He blurts out in a hurry; using his gaming username instead.

“And I’m your main player, JK!”

Watching Jeongguk game so seriously is interesting for Seungcheol. They take a break an hour and a half into Jeongguk’s streaming session to get food and drinks; immediately going back to the PC room right after.

But it makes Seungcheol wonder what it was like on your end to always be alone filming in your bedroom to thousands of people in such an intimate setting. For a second, it makes him sad, wondering if you ever felt lonely after your shows were over. Or if you were so tired and could barely take care of yourself.

I would’ve gladly been the one to take care of you after your shows, he thinks.

“Fuck you too, asshole! Get the fuck out!”

Jeongguk’s screaming brings him out of his sad thoughts; a brow raised as he peers at the screen. How the younger male had the energy to game for so long was beyond him sometimes.

“Uhhh anyway comments are asking what I should stream next week? I dunno, give me some ideas? Not the SIMS again though...” Jeongguk mutters. “Oh, j__min said I should play The Last of Us?”

The name has Seungcheol perking up in an instant, leaning over Jeongguk’s shoulder as his eyes dance over the comments.

j__min: bro u were supposed to stream that like 4 streams ago, wtf 

seokGENIE: its a good game tho, id be interested in seeing how badly u do

j__min: actually yea me too lmao

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow slightly. Surely it couldn’t be? He thinks. The typing style wasn’t the same at all but the username was, which sent Seungcheol’s mind into a frenzy at the possibility.

But unfortunately for Seungcheol, Jeongguk launches into another match which means he had to wait another time to ask about it. He notes it mentally, making sure to get answers as soon as he can.

10PM comes sooner than Seungcheol expects and he lets Jeongguk know when it’s 9:50PM and while they’re in the middle of a break that he needs to go.

“Damn, where did time go? But okay, hyung! Sorry we didn’t really talk and I just gamed the entire time but maybe next time we can actually do something else? Go out for drinks maybe?” He shoots the older male his best puppy eyes until Seungcheol sighs and gives in, nodding as he fishes for his car keys.

“I’ll see you at work, okay?”

Seungcheol waves at Yoongi still glued to the sofa; a tiny wave of his own as he wishes Seungcheol a safe drive home.

He makes it home at exactly 10:32PM, toeing his shoes off before shucking off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of the sofa. He shuffles to the kitchen and grabs a few beers out of the fridge; already downing two entire bottles before he even makes it to his PC.

The buzz feels good when he sits down, taking a swig of his third bottle as he boots up his computer. In the meantime, he checks his phone, scrolling through apps and deleting notifications.

A text pops up at the top of his phone’s screen.

babygirl 🍒 : see u soon :)

Seungcheol smirks; ego inflated knowing that he was the only one getting that text message.

He checks the clock, 10:56PM, and loads up your profile, simultaneously finishing off his third can of beer since he’d gotten home.

For whatever reason, you’re nervous when you finally sit down in front of your camera setup tonight. You adjust your baby pink lace bra that Seungcheol had gotten you; a cherry blush on your cheeks as the giddiness pours over you.

Checking the clock, you notice it’s already 10:59PM, finger hovering over the ‘rec’ button before pressing it.

It takes a second before the comments already start flooding in; the sound of donations and comments flying across the screen in an instant.

“Whoa~ You guys are so eager tonight, huh? Already so many donations! Thank you!” You shift slightly onto your side, biting your lip. “We’re already so close to the minimum donations for me to start… what’s up with you guys?”

tangerine_kwan: I’m so glad to see u, yesterday was not enough

therealchan99: fuckin talk abt it dude, i almost quit my job im stressed i need to see u princess

dom.cheol has donated $500

dom.cheol: fuck, baby i need to see your pretty lil pussy already i’m so fuckin hard

Your eyes go wide with Seungcheol’s massive donation. He usually waited until you were mid-show or towards the end to donate such huge amounts of money and yesterday he seemed relatively quiet during your show. It threw you off slightly, but you just assumed he might’ve just been going through some things at the time. “Seems like you guys had a rough week, huh?”

xcaliburDK: gOD u dont even know, ur literally my stress relief, beautiful

kitty_junjun: yea i just started working at a new place and its… weird, just glad to be off today

Pouting at the camera, you lean in a little closer. “Hmm, guess I should start then, shouldn’t I~? Since you all seem like you need a ‘lil escape~”

gentleman_josh95 has donated $45

sleepy_wonu has donated $70

sleepy_wonu: please put us out of our misery, baby

You can’t help but giggle, sliding the bra straps down your shoulders before you unhook the material and toss it to the other side of the bed. “This cute setup didn’t last very long this time! Should I upload some pics later to my private room?”

alphagyu97: plz

chwenon: yes yes yes lewds plz

“Okay~” You pause, fingertips hooked onto the sides of your panties. “I actually… wanted to try a new toy…” You murmur, shyness taking over as you slowly slide your already wet panties down your thighs. Sitting back down, you slide them off completely before you place them next to you, glancing at the comments as you cross your ankles.

artist8hao: wait was that…

universe_WZ: i think so

hoshi_tiger_xx: plz plz plz let us seeeeee

dom.cheol has donated $200

dom.cheol: spread your legs, sweetheart. Let daddy see.

You clench your teeth at the arousal that pools in your lower abdomen; shaky legs parting towards the camera. Squirming slightly, the plug that you had eased into your ass shifts, making you mewl at the feeling. You’d tried using your fingers in the past, but by far, the toy was the biggest you’d used yet.

“I--I… I bought this toy m-myself ‘cause I wanted to… wa--wanted to… start learning how to t-take cock in my ass too…”

The way you sit on the bed has the toy fully seated inside of you, toes curling against the bed sheets as your hazy eyes flit to the camera. “I dunno how long I’m gonna last, it feels so good~” You moan, grinding against the sheets underneath you.

angelhan has donated $150

angelhan: i’m begging please, panty stuffing

You bite your lip, eyes dancing over to the lace material sitting next to you. “Hmm~ I don’t think I’ve ever done that on my show before… Should I try it?” You ask cutely, flashing the camera a cheeky smile. The donations pour in like rain; the pinging making your stream lag for a second as it tries to keep up.

dom.cheol has donated $400

tangerine_kwan has donated $100

dom.cheol: fuck, sweetheart lets see you get those panties fucking soaked

universe_WZ has donated $200

“Guess we have our answer?” You laugh airily, reading a few of the comments that were basically begging you to.

Spreading your legs as wide as you can, you maneuver yourself against your pillows; grabbing the lacy material. You quickly adjust the camera with a remote, zooming in until it’s focused on your soaking folds. “Ngh, I’m already so fuckin’ wet… this plug is really making me feel so full~”

dom.cheol: i bet your cute lil ass could barely take my fuckin cock huh

“Mmh, is daddy gonna fuck my ass and make me cum nice and hard?”

yes, yes yes, god yes!

Seungcheol could die right now and be happy.

He wraps a hand around his cock, hips shallowly thrusting up into his closed fist as he watches you run your own fingertips through your wet folds before you sink two of them into your tight pussy. His eyes flutter shut, the image of himself fucking your tight ass as you whine and beg for his cum dancing behind his eyelids.

The alcohol in his body has him on edge even quicker; the grip he has on his cock loosening so he doesn’t cum as quickly.

“A-ah… g--guess it’s time to try this…” You whisper, reaching for the lacy panties. You drag the material up your thigh teasingly, swinging it around your wet fingertips before you place it against your entrance.

You take a deep breath, slowly pushing the panties into your pussy.

tangerine_kwan: oh my god oh my god

alphagyu97: fuck thsts so hot fuck

angelhan: spread your legs more, please god

Your lust filled eyes glance towards the comments, shakily spreading your legs as far as they can go. “O-oh god it--it feels suh--so good…” You mewl, pressing the material further and further into your pussy.

“It’s d-different but… but it’s--it’s--mmh!” 

You’re cumming before you know it, toes curling against the sheets as you cum around the toy in your ass and your fingers and panties deep inside your pussy.

Your legs threaten to clamp shut in an instant, which you fight off; the sound of donations and coins clinking flooding your eardrums. “I--fuh--fuck, I--I didn’t know I was gonna c-cum from that!” You let out a breathy laugh, moaning as you continue to push the panties inside of you until the fabric is completely gone from the camera’s view.

chwenon: now will u sell those

hoshi_tiger_xx: please once again i am begging I AM BEGGING

“Aww~ I wish I could… but you guys know my rules~” You pout; body warm and fuzzy after your first, unexpected orgasm. “God, I didn’t… I really didn’t know that’d make me cum so easily~”

dom.cheol: fuck sweetheart, your cute lil cunt cums so fuckin easily

“I know~ I have such a greedy pussy… Always want something filling me up…” You wink at the camera, reaching for a toy that was out of view. “I have another toy~ hehe, tonight is just full of new things, huh?”

You show the toy off to the camera, shifting so that you're on your knees instead. “It looks like a regular dildo right? But it’s full of cum! Not real cum anyway, but cum lube… It’s not the same but it’ll have to do for now~”

therealchan99: oh fuck oh god

sleepy_wonu: aww is the princess gonna let it cum in her cute ass?

artist8hao has donated $75

kitty_junjun has donated $50

dom.cheol: lets see that ass fuckin take all that cock baby

dom.cheol: let it cum in ur pretty lil hole

dom.cheol: fuck

You zoom your camera back out, turning to your side enough so that you could still see your monitor but also still be in frame. “Yeah? Does daddy wanna see how a good girl takes cock in her ass?” Moaning, you reach behind you, fingers on the end of the plug as you slowly pull it out. The stretch makes your back arch slightly; legs trembling when the larger part of the toy finally breaches past the puckered muscle.

The sudden emptiness only makes you reach for the dildo faster, covering it with lube before you place it against your ass. “D’you think I can take it?”

tangerine_kwan: i kno u can baby

sleepy_wonu: yes eys yes

dom.cheol: daddy knows u can, sweetheart

You place the toy at your puckered hole, biting your lip and telling yourself to relax before you slowly start easing it into your ass. “O-oh fuck…” You had made sure the toy was on the smaller size since it was your first time but the stretch of it still had your body tensing up almost immediately.

It takes a long and torturous minute until the toy is fully seated in your ass; body buzzing at the sensation. “G-god it--fuck, it feels even better than the plug~” You whine, maneuvering until you were sitting down on the toy completely.

You let your body adjust to the new feeling for a moment before you’re bouncing on the dildo, loud cries and garbled moans spilling from your lips. The new feeling has you chasing your high insanely fast; tuning out the comments and noises as you focus on your own pleasure.

Your mind can’t help but imagine Seungcheol again; his hands roaming your skin and his deep voice growling filthy praises into your ear as he fucks you from behind. You clench around the toy and the panties still in your pussy, wrecked sobs on your lips at the thought.

Before Seungcheol, you always imagined nameless hands on your body or even resorted to thinking about other videos you’d seen to help get you off. Some days it was harder and some days you were cumming in under five minutes. But now that Seungcheol had a name and face to you, it was impossible for you to imagine anyone else fucking you.

“Shi---it, I--I wanna cum!”

dom.cheol: already? Fuckin greedy lil ass

dom.cheol: cum, sweetheart. Let daddy cum in ur tight ass too

universe_WZ has donated $100

alphagyu97 has donated $75

You alternate from bouncing on the dildo to swiveling your hips; reaching a free hand down to rub circles around your swollen clit. “Already? Can I cum?” You whisper, mind already a puddle of goo now that you were so close.

kitty_junjun: cum

xcaliburDK: cum

chwenon: cum

dom.cheol: you heard them, sweetheart. Cum. Now.

Seungcheol’s grip on his cock tightens after he sends the comment; growls spilling from his lips as he watches you bounce on the toy. His cock throbs in his hold, already feeling himself just as close to his orgasm as you were to yours.

“Fu--fuck I’m cumming! D---daddy!” You cry, slamming yourself down onto the toy as you cum hard. Seungcheol bites his lip to keep in his own screams; streaks of cum landing on his shirt and jeans as he works himself through his own orgasm.

He tries to keep his eyes focused on you in the midst of his orgasm, watching as you squeeze the base of the dildo until the cum inside starts to pour into your ass. “O--oh god!” You mewl, still thrusting the toy into your ass.

Seungcheol’s mouth goes dry when you reach a shaky hand between your legs, fingertips dipping into your pussy and pulling the soaked lace until half of it is in view of the camera. His grip on his cock tightens, moans on his lips when you then slowly start pulling the dildo out of your ass; the fake lube immediately spilling out of your ass and onto the bed sheets and sliding down onto the panties.

universe_WZ: oh my god oh ymg f

xcaliburDK: eyeeeeeee

kitty_junjun: i

You push the fake cum out, soft cries on your lips as the last bits of your orgasm roll through your body. The fake cum feels slightly cold which sends a shiver up your spine as it drips down your legs.

“Mmh… god that---that was intense…” You mumble, upper body slumping against the sheets.

You reach a hand between your legs again, making sure you’re in the camera’s view when you tug on the panties again; this time pulling them all the way out as you groan.

alphagyu97: if ur not selling those can it be a giveaway

alphagyu97: make it a raffle

You toss the soiled fabric to the side, mindful of the puddle of fake cum soaking into the sheets as you readjust your tired self in front of the camera. “You guys really want these, huh?” You laugh, responding to a few other stray comments asking for the soaked material. Your entire body is tingling from all the new sensations, mind going a mile a minute with the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Slumping forward, you thank your viewers again, yawning as you stretch out. “I think I need a bubble bath now~ ‘m so messy!”

hoshi_tiger_xx: we love a messy girl ;)

therealchan99: fuck yea we do

Letting a few more viewers leave donations, you start saying your goodbyes; wishing everyone a good weekend before you blow a kiss to the camera and sign off.

Seungcheol sends one last donation of $550, jaw clenched and cock still throbbing.

He reaches for his phone on instinct, opening your text window. Pausing, he grins. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system but he opens his camera app, flipping it so that it’s on him as he snaps picture after picture of his cum covered torso and his free hand still wrapped around his hard cock.

Smirking, he opens your text window again, thumb dancing across the keyboard with renewed energy.

‘fuck, princess. your fuckin show got me so hard. those panties were fuckin soaking from how much u liked getting ur ass fucked huh? I bet i could get u to cum just from me fuckin your cute lil ass... probably wouldnt even need to touch ur clit or fuck your cunt to get your tight walls cummin for me. but ur a greedy lil thing arent u? probably would still want a toy to keep that pussy nice n sated. fuck, im still hard even tho i already came once.’

He hits send before he thinks twice, quickly attaching a few of his own pictures before he locks his phone and tosses it onto his desk.

Seungcheol’s body is sensitive from his first orgasm still, but his hips thrust up into his closed palm again; head leaning up against the headrest as he lets out harsh breaths. His eyes flutter shut, eyelashes tickling his skin.

This time his imagination runs wild; hands tangled in your hair while he tugs on it, forcing your back straight against his chest as he fucks into you hard and fast. He imagines your sweet voice begging him to let you cum, walls tight around his cock when you fall apart on it.

“Fuck!” He cums hard, body rigid as his free hand digs into the armrest and the air is knocked out of his lungs.

Seungcheol vaguely hears his phone pinging in the background; mind hazy as the waves of his orgasm wash over his body.

When he starts to come down, he slumps against the chair, sleepiness already taking over with his two orgasms and the alcohol still in his system. He mentally makes a note to get rid of his soiled clothes another time, tiredly reaching for his phone.

He stares at it through his blurry vision, barely making out your name before he blinks the tiredness away enough to read your message.

babygirl 🍒: hehe~ does daddy want my panties then? i’ll gladly give them to u if u want them~ 😚

[s1utspeare]

Hi darling

You write such an awesome metas on fictional character so I wanted you to ask that what's your thought on Huo Dao Fu.

😊

AH OMG!!! Your ask could not have come at a better time, cause I have a feeling this man’s gonna be an important part of my next fic, so I really should start figuring him out. He’s SUCH A LIL WEIRDO??? honestly i love him, even though he’s a total Bitch 97% of the time, but I think at heart he’s just Looking For Something, as are all the characters in this show. 

What really interests me about Huo Daofu are his character parallels with Wu Xie, and I think that’s where most of the conflict between them comes in. Wu Xie, whether he means to be or not, is the Focus of Jiumen a good seventy-five percent of the time. Not always in a positive manner, because in Sha Hai they were all about ready to kick his ass, and in Reboot he pisses them off pretty good with his Warehouse Eleven stunts, but there’s a level of attention on him that other members of the families don’t receive, and I think Huo Daofu notices that, and is like “hey wait a minute why is he getting all the spotlight I want some spotlight >:( He’s not even doing a good job why is everyone paying attention to him”

Cause this bitch. THIS BITCH. He tried to be that bitch. He TRIED SO HARD. He went to EUROPE. He went to EUROPE and got a fucking like??? medical degree???? Like he went to GERMANY??? who does that?? not fucking wu xie, that’s who. Wu Xie went and got like a history degree or some shit which was just par for the course. But HUO DAOFU. He was DIFFERENT. He was gonna be THE SHIT. He was gonna be the unabomber of Jiumen, was gonna blow all that shit up and then say “fuck u” and all the future generations of Jiumen children were gonna hear horror stories about how Unique and Wild Huo Daofu was and he was never gonna have to deal with any of them ever again. 

BUT THEN WU XIE DECIDED TO BE PUBLIC ENEMY NUMBER ONE AND HE DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING OFF THE BEATEN PATH. HE LITERALLY JUST FOLLOWED WU SANXING AROUND FOR LIKE. A YEAR. AND EVERYONE LOST THEIR MINDS. Like if I had been Huo Daofu and tried SO HARD to be different from everyone else in my generation and then this Dumb Little History Twink kissed a Zhang and found some wild swamp treasure and everyone went nuts about it, I would have been pissed off too. 

Cause Jiumen is like. Annoying as hell, and everyone has a different way to deal with the fact that they’re a part of a treasure hunting org that has been around for hundreds of years and features immortals and weird-ass dudes with unbelievable martial arts skills and also Wu Sanxing. Xiaoge deals with them by Fucking Off Forever. Zhang Rishan deals with them by being The Most Competent Person In Any Given Room, and Huo Daofu deals with them by being The Biggest Bitch He Can Be, which isn’t even that much of a bitch, because there is always going to be a bigger bitch in Jiumen, and his name is Wu Xie. So it just backfires on him, because NO ONE GIVES A SINGLE FUCK. 

We’re introduced to him at Xiao Hua’s fake funeral (which lmao i love that) when he’s making some Evil Plans with the rest of Jiumen, but not for the same reasons, cause when they actually get to the desert, Huo Daofu does not care about the treasure pits. He doesn’t even go down into Gutongjing (I’m pretty sure), he just hangs out in the camps because he doesn’t CARE about the treasure, he just wants to keep Wu Xie from succeeding, wants to say, see, look, I can do things too, I can be clever and cunning, I can take them all down from the inside out and I don’t even need friends to do it. 

Huo Daofu is jealous of Wu Xie, I think, because Wu Xie is free of the confines of Jiumen, and Wu Xie has friends, and Wu Xie didn’t have to go to another country where he knew no one and didn’t even speak the language and work so hard and be fucking brilliant in ways that no one knows about and doesn’t always, always get overlooked in favor of someone who disregards everyone’s favor, but receives it anyway. 

So when Pangzi shows up with Wu Xie, half-dead, on Huo Daofu’s doorstep, I think a little vindictive part of him goes serves him right. 

But Huo Daofu is not a part of Jiumen in the ways that matter, and he’s a doctor, first and foremost. He took oaths because he wants to help people, he wants to save them, and even if he hates Wu Xie down in the pits of his stomach, he’s not just going to let him die. And so he follows Wu Xie to thunder city because, as he says, “I want to be there when you die.” He’s not going to kill him, he can’t do that, he’s a doctor, but that small, mean part of him wants to watch Wu Xie fall. 

(Also I love @kholran’s headcanon that Huo Daofu is Wu Xie’s bitchy ex, bc like YES??? OF COURSE???? like they had an on-again, off-again thing cause they were like “we’re not doing this with the Jiumen women” but they’re WAY TOO ALIKE and just ended up fighting all the time.)

Reboot loves the Rule of Threes, which is where an idea is repeated three times in order to create a pleasing pattern. Human brains love patterns, and so when we see the Iron Triangle, when we see the three pills that mark the stages of Wu Xie’s illness, when we see the three missing people from Sanshu’s journey, our brains go oh that’s important (and Reboot ALMOST kills the game, ALMOST knocks it out of the park, but then they have FOUR story arcs instead of THREE, and it drives me ABSOLUTELY FUCKING INSANE. WHY DID THEY DO THIS. WHY). 

And Huo Daofu is a FANTASTIC tri-tier replica of Wu Xie’s Greatest Hits, which are: 

Being a sort of outcast/family runaway (Wu Xie has very clearly said Fuck Everyone Who Isn’t Sanshu, and Huo Daofu has aligned himself with the Chen clan, because the Huo’s are like Fuck Men (which honestly good for them but pLEASE love ur special doctor boy he’s getting a Complex))

Acting based almost Solely on Emotions when in the Heat of the Moment (i.e. dropping his entire life to go play doctor with a man who will not calm down for any length of time in order to actual REST)

Solving problems that no person should be able to solve because he’s smart as shit 

Narratively, he’s a FANTASTIC foil for Wu Xie, because not only does he essentially hold this man’s life in his hands, but because he is what Wu Xie could have been if he hadn’t met Pangzi or Xiaoge, if he hadn’t had support from other people. And I don’t think that’s Huo Daofu’s fault, because he and Wu Xie are so, so similar. He just never got the people he needed, and its so clear that he’s achingly alone all of the time, so no wonder he’s jealous of Wu Xie and wants to become part of this little group so damn badly, even as he’s protesting and saying, “no, no, I want you to die, literally nothing would give me more pleasure, please die right now, I’m waiting.” 

Sure, he’s a flipper-flopper ass bitch, but he’s trying his best with what he’s got, and shit, that’s not a lot. He’s got zero support system. I mean why the fuck is he making street churros? Even Zhang Rishan, who has NO culinary expertise or connections whatsover, gets to live in a restaurant, while Huo Daofu has to make fried dough in an alley and then keep people from choking on their own lungs on his damn kitchen table. Someone please help this man. 

this is SO LONG i’m sorry but essentially I think that Huo Daofu is Like That because he’s trying so hard to be someone, and no one is paying any attention, and the person he would most relate to, Wu Xie, is off doing God knows what with his polycule of friends and Huo Daofu’s all by himself and like??? i would be SO FRUSTRATED??? please give this man a break and also give him Love??? like, this screenshot speaks VOLUMES (photo credit to @hey-its-wei) 

LOOK AT HIM!!!!! LOOK AT HOW FUCKING HAPPY HE LOOKS!!!! JUST TO BE THERE!!!! WITH A GROUP OF PEOPLE!!!!! WHO HAVE SEEN HIM AND LISTENED AND SAID “hey, you can come with us, we’ll take you, you don’t have to be alone anymore.” 

I said earlier that Huo Daofu, like everyone else in this series, was Looking For Something. And like many of our beloved Wu Crew, he was looking for a family. And look! He found them :)

[1zashreena1]

Angst Fluff Whiplash -14

18+, m/f, technically OCxDiego Jimenez [Power]

Summary:  What does an apex predator do after confessing undying love? Princess is about to find out.

WARNINGS: Ridiculous descriptions and ‘the code is more like guidelines’ outlook on grammar. Is it OOC if the character was given essentially zero development in canon???

Non-descriptive sexytimes, the L word, criminal activities glossed over, relationship building, plus size woman+fit man, Anxiety, This one is all feels and

I Am So NOT Sorry. 

THE TIME HAS COME

A/N:  Princess took on a life of her own and has essentially become an OC. There are infrequent mentions of her description (specifically as plus size) and her actual name in later pieces (its Bicki). She started as self-insert so she looks like me (plus size, white, short, blue eyes, curly hair). If that is not your thing, I totally understand. And do not feel obligated to read this, I will not be offended!

I’m not a fan of “plot” so be aware that most of this series is just meandering through their relationship, angst-fluff-smut whiplash style. But with dick jokes.

TAGLIST: @chelsfic​ ​ @symbiont13​ ​ @nicke0115​ ​​ @bunnykjm​ ​ @rosee-sensuelle​ ​ @girlpornparadise​ ​ @mandoplease​ ​ @heresathreebee​ ​ @xxsteph-enrixx​ ​ @jetiikad​ ​ @joalsglasses​ ​ @mutantcookiesecrets​ ​ @demoncatstone​ ​ @squidlywiddly87​ ​ @lockedoutofmyotherblog​ ​ @poeedamerons​ ​

"I don't know, Lisa. He won't tell me. Not until this weekend apparently?  We're supposed to go shopping."

"Honestly, I'm scared. I mean, there's the whole how did he get a passport FOR me dilemma. Then the part where he knows I don't like surprises. And he said he was calling my sister!"

"Oh my God, she could tell him anything! Please don't tell him about the Backstreet Boys phase. I'm going to have a panic attack."

"Of course he would tease me about it for eternity!"

"What? Watch what words? What are you talking about?"

"Do not hang up this phone! Do you even love me?!? Lisa? …. Hello?"

You toss your phone down on the bed and heave a huge sigh. Your very own BFF, abandoning you like that. Luckily its your own phone and not the insane cell Diego got you because it bounces off the other side of the bed and smacks into the wall before admitting total defeat to gravity. 

You stand there staring at your open suitcase. Your typical items are in there already. You don't need any toiletries. Or makeup, now. Or bras. Or underwear. Fucking hell, its like I already moved into the penthouse with him. 

… Could I do that? He already basically asked for it. He keeps telling me to quit my job and let him spoil me for real. You wring your hands together while rubbing your lips against each other and being bombarded with intrusive thoughts. Yeah. Until he's done with me and then I have to start all over. At 35. 

But its been almost a year now that you've been seeing Diego. What does that even mean, "seeing" him? You think about how the last few months have been so… easy. He practically lives in New York now, their territory split. He opted to control the East Coast and let his sister deal with the logistical nightmare of receiving the imports. 

He has been a lot looser since then. Faster to laugh, quicker to goof around, less likely to do anything as hard as he used to do. The distance from Alicia has allowed him to really flourish in every aspect. And he's beautiful with it. The laugh lines and the soft brown eyes wreck you every time.

He says he wants to keep you. Take care of you. You finally believe that he loves you. He has made so many improvements in communication. Hell, he read books on how to be with someone on the spectrum. Do you understand it? Hell no. Are you going to take it and run? Fuck yeah dude. I love him and I want to keep him.

And now he wants to take you on a trip. A surprise destination. Out of the country with a mostly legal passport. You don't doubt that you'll be safe with him. Your parents were a little concerned when you told them since they've never even met him. And they saw him on the national news that time he got arrested by the Feds, so that really inspires confidence. 

Your middle sister Lynne and niece Halley accidentally met him that one afternoon about a month back. And they have not shut up about it since. Diego this, Diego that, blah blah blah, paid the restaurant bill in cash, yadda yadda, took us all shopping to a Coach store and then got Halley some crazy new sold out Nikes. Diego had been delighted to be surrounded by a gaggle of giggling girls enjoying his spoiling attentions. Just like always, Diego went to the max and charmed them silly.

It was like having an out of body experience to see Diego with them. You couldn't really fault them, he swept you off your feet with no problems.  He was grinning and joking the whole time, making raunchy comments with your sister and encouraging your niece to be assertive (unnecessary according to her soccer coach and the 'Most Aggressive' trophy). He fit right in with them. Afterwards he had asked if that was what it was like to have normal siblings and your heart broke thinking about what his childhood had been like with his sister. 

Which brought you back to the here and now. He had mentioned off hand that he was going to call your sister. Maybe you should text her. She might know something.

Maybe you should just pack your bag and trust him. 

Your Diego Cell chirps and you dive for it on the nightstand. Is he okay? Please don't be hurt.

Its a pic of him. In the shower. With his own hand wrapped around himself. You choke on air and have to sit down. 

I miss you Princess

Holy. Shit. Its been almost a year that you have had unrestricted access to that incredible body and your reaction is still the same. Before you can respond another text arrives:

SOON

The attached pic is just from squinty eyes up.

You burst out laughing at him. You love that he is secretly a nerd about internet stuff. His appearance would never give that away. Time to be ridiculous right back.

Don't make me lick your eyeball 

You are a crazy person laughing to yourself alone in your bedroom.

You are so weird

Yet there you are, lusting after this weirdo

You shoot back.

… Am I the weirdo??

No. Still you.

I would threaten to bite it.. but you would like that

Well now you have to

Oh my God. You're fairly certain you could do anything to this man and he would think it was sexy. Its a novel experience.

Can we eat dinner at home tomorrow? I don't feel like wearing a real bra

You know the answer to that. 

YES. NO MORE BRAS EVER AGAIN. BE FREE

… no panties?🙏🥺

You can see the hopeful puppy dog eyes clearly.

A for effort babe. One of these days you might get your wish lol

...Are you panty free right now?

Wow. He is really trying here.

I'm packing. 

Your pic is a heap of tangled thongs dumped on top of Tiny Murder Panther.

💜🔥😛

He would find that hot. Fucking nympho.

Lemme finish this so I can go straight to the airport tomorrow

Fine. But I am pouting 

You do not doubt that.

Don't care. Still love your stupid face

You cannot believe you just sent that. 

Princess. 

Mi amor.

Diego's good little girl.

You shudder with the praise. You can hear it in his voice, as if he were right here with you.

I love you

Dream of me?

Oh baby, if you only knew. You sigh wistfully.

Always, baby

---------------‐---------

The flight is uneventful, thankfully. Your maxidress with a built-in shelf bra is stupidly comfortable and you actually take a nap. 

The plane has barely come to a stop and you already have on your silly lambswool lined Ugg flip flops. You had argued with Diego about these (Why would flip flops need a warm fuzzy lining??) but he had won by sticking one in your face and ordering you to feel. It didn't take a full second for you to snatch them both from him and cuddle them to your chest. His pleased smile full of dimples was worth all the subsequent teasing.

You slip on one of his previously stolen shirts in a metallic lilac color and roll up the sleeves so you have use of your hands. Bending at the waist, you flip your hair over and fluff it back up from the nap. What was that he had said? Oh yes: Wild and thick, just how I like it. The memory makes you bite your bottom lip and smile.

Bastian is waiting for you on the tarmac. He takes your bag and kisses you on the cheek in greeting. "Hey, sweetie. Nice shirt, is that new?"  His knowing grin is infectious. 

You nuzzle into the collar with a laugh. "Thanks! My boyfriend gave it to me." 

Bastian chuckles as he opens the passenger door for you. "Oh, honey. That is not all he is going to give you." He closes the door while you roll your eyes smirkingly. 

The ride to the penthouse is uneventful. Well, as uneventful as Friday evening rush hour traffic can be in New York. 

Bastian waits until the song is over before lowering the stereo volume. "We're supposed to pick up dinner. Any requests?" He drums his fingers on the steering wheel while you sit at the red light.

You ponder the options. "What kind of a day has he had? Meetings? Tours? Disciplinary action?" You ask Bastian thoughtfully. Sometimes when Diego has a bad day he likes comfort food. Mostly a giant heap of rice and beans next to homemade tortillas, he isn't so picky about the variety of meat.

Bastian glances at you out of the corner of his eye before warily answering, "There was a… termination… at a construction site this afternoon that took longer than expected. That's why he didn't come to get you, he wanted to shower first."

You keep your eyes focused forward to look out of the windshield. "Okay. How about Jalisco's then?" Comfort food it is. 

Bastian nods and adjusts course to obtain those tortillas.

‐--------------------

The instant the elevator doors ding open Diego pops up from the sectional and comes straight at you. Your giant sidestep to let Bastian pass is barely completed before Diego is slipping those big hands under his own pilfered shirt to crush your body to him. Your arms go around his neck like a reflex, like this is their natural resting place. He leans his forehead down onto yours and kisses you so very gently.

"Mmmm. Hi." You murmur softly into his beard. Those bottomless brown eyes look over your entire face before coming back to your own. His smile is huge, those dimples make your pulse trip. He blinks slowly down at you, just like the big cat you nicknamed him after. 

"Princess. How was the trip?" He always asks you this. You still aren't sure if its just culturally specific manners or if he is requesting a review of the flight crew's performance. Either way, your answer is always the same.

You pull him back down so you can cuddle into his neck. "Its better now that I'm here." He rubs his cheek against your own and purrs directly into your ear in response. Your body's reaction is immediate and decisive. You shiver in his arms and your nipples peak to full attention.

Except this time is different. With only a bralette and the dress's shelf bra Diego can clearly feel what just happened in real time. His eyes are comically round as he peers down at your cleavage in pleasant wonder.

"Oh. I like this outfit." His hands rise up your back to crush you further into him. You chuckle and rub your chest on his firm pectoral muscles. He watches hungrily as your compressed decolletage rises higher yet from the added pressure. "New rule to match the bedroom pants bar, no bras in the penthouse. Fucking magnificent, bonita." He licks his lips after making this proclamation.

You throw your head back and laugh joyfully.

‐----------------------

As it always does the weekend passes too quickly. Its already 1:00pm on Saturday when you two finally come down from the bedroom.

Diego is delighted to hear that your time-off request was approved for the trip. You had told him not to worry about it, your boss always kept her word about this stuff. 

That’s when he pulls a ridiculous pith hat out from under the couch. It looks like it came straight out of a Looney Tunes cartoon about a big game hunt on the African savannah.  You lose your entire shit and laugh until you do that silent clapping seal move.

Diego keeps repeating, "Wait, stop laughing. Stooooop." But he isn't faring much better. You finally wipe the tears and calm down enough to take it from his limp fingers while he chortles a few last times.

"Baby. What. What the fuck. What fucking is this??" You plunk the hat on your own head and Diego collapses facedown into your lap to gigglesnort uproariously. "Stop. Stop laughing. Stoppit!" You smack the back of his head lightly until he comes up for air.

He closes his eyes and composes himself. You take the opportunity to plop the hat on his head.

"Oh my god, that is so sexy!" You declare in high dramatics. 

He grabs your hands and leans in very close to explain. "You need this hat for our trip." Your eyes narrow in suspicion. "You will wear it for our safari quest…" he pauses for dramatic effect and your lips twitch in suppressed amusement. He leans closer yet and captures your stare. His face is hilarious, you can tell he is biting his cheek to keep from laughing. His eyebrows are drawn down in concentration but his eyes are widened in mock excitement. He sucks in a deep breath to exclaim, "To locate palm trees in the wild!"

He laughs as he puts the hat back on you.

You blink a few times in shock. Palm trees? You're going somewhere with palm trees? A tropical locale. Palm trees. Beaches. SWIMSUITS. Your sudden panic must show on your face because Diego's laughter dies off.

You blink furiously, but its too little too late. The tears burn as they well up in your eyes and spill down over your cheeks.

He reaches out to cup your face. "Princess?" His tone is an even mix of concern and fear. "Bicki? What?"

You shake your head 'no' and throw yourself into him. Diego catches you and hauls you into his lap. You curl up against his chest and sob quietly. He pets over your hair, open handed strokes so his fingers don't tangle in the curls, and soothes your back while you shake. Rubbing his nose against your temple, he kisses your cheek and whispers, "Do you want to write?" His gentle care only makes you worse. "...so that is no." He looks crestfallen. He buries his face in your hair and breathes heavily.

Your tears are slowing and your chest is finally beginning to loosen. "Dieg-" you hiccup, wrapping both hands around his forearm. You wheeze a few times before trying again. "I. I. Where? Where are we g-going?" 

He sighs deeply before answering. "Nowhere. I won't take you somewhere you don't want to go. I should have known better. I-" He snaps his jaw shut so fast that his teeth click together. 

Tilting your head back, you try to catch his eyes. Diego won't look at you. "H-hey, please." You cup his jaw and pull him down to you. He comes, but the motions are stilted. "Look. Please, baby. Let me s-see you."

When he finally meets your eyes it breaks your heart. That chocolate gaze is disappointed, hurt, frustrated even. You wiggle around until you're straddling his lap. He just holds his hands out of the way, not hindering you but certainly not helping either. Standing up on your knees to lean your forehead against his, you reach for his hands and bring them to your chest where you lace your fingers together. 

"Baby. I want that." Your nose rubs against his as you speak. "I want to go everywhere with you. I never thought I would ever get a chance like this. To travel? To go somewhere tropical? To have someone who loves me enough to do this for me?" You're crying again. And so is Diego? A little?? 

He brings your joined hands up to tap your chin. His face is adorably conflicted when he speaks, "You… want to go?" You nod slowly. His eyebrows lower as he tries to make sense of this. "Then why do you cry? Are they, the uh, is that 'happy tears' ?"

Your hands shake in his. "Yeah. Happy tears. I just. I was overwhelmed. I'm sorry." He huffs out a sigh. You continue, "Its almost like the super intense emotions short circuit my responses and I guess my default is panic crying? I don't know."

Diego huffs at you again. "Please stop that. I'm going to have a heart attack." There is a hint of real annoyance in his voice but his lips curl up at the corners. 

You free your right hand to reach up and brush his wet lashes. Why did something this little bring him to tears? "Baby, is everything okay?"

He leans into your hand, then turns to kiss your fingers. You giggle, you can't help it, his beard both tickles and delights you. He smirks at you, "It is now, Princess. You should get dressed so we can go." 

But you're not done here yet. "Where are we going on the trip? A place name, not foliage that may or may not be present."

His Cheshire cat grin is intriguing and mildly worrisome. He gives you one word, "Xcalak." And then watches while you access your mental map and pinpoint the exact location. 

It takes you a moment but you find it with a gasp. "Costa Maya? Like Caribbean-sea side of Mexico??"  He nods and you immediately start in with 20 Questions. "Are there cenotes? Is the water really those unreal colors? Is the food amazing there? Can we see ruins?"

Diego cups your face to stop you. "Whatever you like, little girl." With a kiss to your nose and a smack to your ass he ushers you upstairs to get dressed. 

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

The shopping is less traumatic than normal for you thanks to Diego making enthusiastic innuendo nonstop and feeding you between stores. You find sandals, and flip flops, and little slip-on sneakers. All kinds of flowy maxidresses and flouncy skirts paired with new tank tops in buttery soft fabrics. Cover-ups and kimonos and huge airy loose knit sweaters get rung up with linen pants and shorts you actually feel comfortable wearing.

But swimsuits? A disaster. Everything that fits your hips is way too big for your ribcage. Tankinis big enough to go around your middle are about a foot too wide around your chest. You try some maternity stuff… amazingly there isn't any chest support. That confuses both of you for almost 20 minutes while you discuss it over croissants and various iced beverages (coffee for him and some kind of hot chocolate slushie for you).

Then you look across the street and inspiration hits. One of the stores you order bras from is right there and has bra-sized swimwear in the display window. Diego turns to see what stole your undivided attention from him and slaps his hand down on the table in celebration. 

You aren't sure which one of you is more excited to get into the store. But while you run around exclaiming at all the things that come in your size Diego stands in the doorway and gawks. When you circle back to check on him he just points to one display wall.

There is lacy, frilly, corseted lingerie. In. Your. Size.

He demands one of everything that fits you and isn't red, brown, or yellow. You don't even argue.

The store does alterations and makes very good recommendations. The sales clerk is impressed with Diego's input, she comments that he really does seem to know your body well. You flush with it, glad that he isn't close enough to hear that. You leave with three bags and seven personalized swim outfits under construction. One is ready to wear and you keep reaching into the bag to touch it in wonder. 

Diego notices but just gives you a raised eyebrow. 

"This is the first time I've ever felt good about how I look in swimwear." You confess quietly. 

Diego wraps a massive arm around your shoulders and tucks you into his side while you continue down the sidewalk. 

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

Sunday is a mess as you try to make pancakes and Diego tries to remain physically attached to you like an excessively attractive barnacle. The pancakes are either burnt or still batter in the middle. Leftover carnitas and tortillas to the rescue. Diego teases you about the kitchen failure all day because this is the first time he has witnessed such a thing.

You doze on the couch under the pretense of "reading". Diego rotates through his laptop, cell, and the soccer match on ESPN+. 

Until his phone rings. 

You both tense up. Only one person calls him instead of texting. He takes the phone into the office to answer his sister. You wait on the couch to see which Diego you get back: silly tickle fight Diego,  sad puppy dog eyes Diego that requires cuddles, or  angry Diego that needs to fuck you through the nearest horizontal surface. 

The elevator dings and Julio comes in with a tray of coffees. "Ay, Gordita. Buenas tardes. I got you the hibiscus thing you like." He greets you with a big smile, then looks around when he doesn't see Diego on the sectional with you.

Hopping up to help him carry stuff, you point to the office in indication of Diego's location. Julio makes a face, "Hermana perra?" and you simply nod. Julio takes Diego's iced coffee and bites the bullet for you. The door closes softly behind him.

You munch plantain chips and slurp hibiscus lemonade until they come out.  Diego just looks tired when he comes back to you on the couch, coffee in hand. You open your arms in invitation and he plops next to you with a sigh. Cuddly Diego it is.

He doesn't tell you anything and you don't ask. Everyone watches the match mindlessly. Diego snores softly in your lap while you pet his hair.

He rides to the airport with you but you forbid him from coming onto the plane with you. He is already making this harder than it has to be with his big brown eyes and clingy hands.

"Baby." You breathe into his hair while he snuggles into your neck in the backseat of the SUV. "Its only a week. We do this every week." You pet down his bicep and immediately regret it.

"I know." Diego huffs into your skin. "Why don't you just quit? Let me take care of everything." You go through this almost every week now, too. He nuzzles you, the sensation makes you reconsider his proposal. You pull his head up by a fistful of soft hair and look him in the eye. He blinks guilelessly at you.

"Number one: No. Number two: Stoppit." He laughs at your fond exasperation. "Okay. I'm gonna go. You stay on the ground."

"Fine." He whines. "But I am going to send you a dick pic the moment that plane takes off." He crosses his arms as if daring you to tell him no.

You cup his stupidly attractive face in your hands for a kiss. Okay, several kisses and 27 minutes later, you respond, "Send me one every day. Its my favorite dick." His startled laugh makes you feel very pleased with yourself.

He pulls you into his arms again to kiss you one last time. His beard scratches and you sigh into him. Finally that tongue retreats and he rests his forehead on yours. His voice is low and rough, his hands squeeze tight on your hip and thigh, "I love you, Princess."

Will that ever stop hurting? You close your eyes against the burn of tears but smile with happiness. "I love you, Diego." You pop the door handle before you open your eyes to see him watching you, jaw tense. You stick your tongue out and he breaks into a smirk. With a laugh, you slide out of SUV and walk to the plane, determined not to look back.

When you get up the stairs the pilot greets you, but his gaze shifts behind you. Turning around, you see Diego standing outside the SUV, arms crossed and trying to look so not soft. You smile and mouth Bye baby, he gives you a short little wave. You duck into the plane before you can start crying.

The wheels are not, in fact, off the ground when the phone chirps.

‐-----------------------

The trip is a few weeks out and there is some kind of emergency at the San Diego docks the next weekend. So. You don't get your Murder Panther fix. 

And your coworkers notice. They spend all day Monday strolling past your cubicle, straining their necks to see if you're wearing new shoes or some fresh bling. Finally someone has the nerve to ask how your weekend was. 

You find yourself blinking back tears. I miss him so much. This is ridiculous, he just texted you at like six this morning. But its not just the conversation you miss, now is it? You miss that big body crowding you into the corner of the couch. His soft curls under your hands. That beard on literally any inch of your skin. Draping yourself over shoulders wider than your hips and knowing that not only can he take your weight, he likes it.

He says he wants to keep you and you desperately want to keep him. Why do you fear this? Is it just his profession? The risk? Oh god, how do you even go about introducing him to your parents??? Diego can be all kinds of charming but he can be a real asshole, too.

And they know what he is: A criminal.  For your boomer parents he is the living embodiment of Public Enemy Number One. 

Grand Theft. 

Money Laundering.

Arson.

Murder.

International Cocaine Trafficking. 

HE IS A LITERAL DRUG LORD.

You lay your head down on your desk and try to keep it together. 

Your Diego Cell chirps.

Your laughter bubbles up until it comes out of you without your consent. It turns hysterical and you realize you need to leave the office suite. Now. 

In the bathroom you stare down at the phone as it lights up again with another message.

Miss my Princess💔👑

How? How is someone who can do all those illegal things so nauseatingly sweet to me?

And then it hits you. Illegal. You didn't use the word immoral. Illegal. You think back to how everyone you see working directly for him is well into adulthood. No children. There are a few women but they are not being sold by him, they are there by their own free will. And he has never laid a hand on any of them, they're just as comfortable around him as the men are. No sex trafficking.  You saw someone give their resignation last month. The dude walked away with a suitcase of cash for a decade of trustworthy service. Its a better retirement plan than what I have. 

Have you seen him assault people? Yes. You've seen him stab people. Carve off someone's ear because they weren't listening as assigned and it cost the Jimenez Cartel a shipment. You've seen him push an informant down an empty elevator shaft. Choke a man into unconsciousness with his bare hands when you were disrespected. 

And you still love him. Not a single one of those incidents weighs on your conscience. Your morality is a dingy grey 12 year old men's undershirt that you should just throw away but you're definitely going to cut into rags to keep for cleaning when it comes to Diego. 

The cell lights up again.

Mi amor 💞😍🍑🏝✈⏲👙

You don't know what's worse: His excessive and ridiculous usage of emojis or the fact that you understood. 

Look what came

The attached pic is a few pieces of your new swimwear. They look gorgeous, you can't even tell where the alterations were done.

You have to try on all of them. And show me

Of course he wants his own personal show. You feel desire burning low in your belly. Its been a year and not once has he ever shied away from your stomach rolls or hinted at weight loss. He never questions the food you order. And while the two of you have chuckled about shapewear he has never mocked you for using it. Or seemed disappointed when you opted not to wear it. He tosses you around like its nothing and prefers for you to sleep on top of him. Its not that he loves you despite your weight, he loves it as part of you.

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

Its now Thursday and the desk drawer where you keep your purse at work is vibrating. He knows I'm at work. If he calls right back I'll answer him. You try to keep your Diego Cell out of sight at work or you'll never get anything done. Plus your coworkers are always dying to catch a peek of your infamous sugar daddy/boyfriend.

Yeah. Boyfriend. Keep practicing that. It feels good. 

You finish the insurance call and hang up your headset when the vibrating starts again. Your next door cubicle neighbor pops around the divider to advise you to answer that before he comes down here and abducts you.

What deity should I pray to for that??

You snatch Diego Cell and march out to the hall. Poking the green button, you answer the call.

"Baby. You okay?"

"Princess! I… yeah. I'm not hurt."

He sounds odd. There is definitely something going on here.

"What's up? You need me?"

The silence stretches. 

"Yes. Please?"

Diego sounds very uncomfortable. It causes you physical pain.

"Well, you have me. What is it?"

You can hear him swallow and in your mind you picture him looking away, hiding some soft emotion shining in his eyes.

"Baby?"

"Here. I am here. I just. I just wanted to hear you."

Something is very wrong with my Murder Panther, you think.

"Babe," your voice is soft, you're trying to ease him. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

He huffs and you can hear him scrape a hand down over his face. "I know you are at work. And I should not have called. But."

His voice trembles, even over the phone you can hear it. He's afraid.

"Diego. If you need me, then you have me. Tell me, baby." You try to be reassuring but you also really need to know what is wrong.

"I would like to come down there." His declaration is overly formal. You wonder who he is trying to impress. Its certainly not me.

"You… want to come down here instead of me going up there this weekend?"  You're trying to make sense out of any part of this conversation. 

"I…. grrrrrrrrr."  He growls in frustration. Between English being his second language and your sensory processing issues, this is not an uncommon occurrence. He sucks in a deep breath and charges forward in an emotional rush. "I know you're working, but I want to come down there because I miss seeing your face." Before you have a chance to answer he adds, "Pick me up? At the airport, after work? Please, Bicki." His voice cracks at the end and his inhalation is ragged. Your heart implodes. 

"Diego. Baby. Of course. Of course I will. I can be there by six." You have a mental flash of how dirty your bathroom is, all the clothes you have laying around, and the vacuum you haven't touched in over a month. Diego needing me is more important.

"Good. Good. Yes, I. I will text you. When I land." His voice is raspier than ever, low and gravelly. 

"Sure. I'll be there." I'll always be there.

"Okay. You… you should go." You can hear his determination. You can visualize him squaring his shoulders and setting his jaw, taking on the Jimenez Cartel persona. 

"Hey." He grunts in acknowledgement. "I love you." You blurt it out before you have a chance to talk yourself round in circles. You can hear voices in the background. 

"And you. You as well." The call ends, but you know.

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

You're sitting in your car at the little regional airport second guessing the coffee you got when the phone chirps. 

Here

Springing out of the car, you wave to the security guard as you trot past. "Hey Jim, I just have to grab someone real quick. That's okay, right?" You wave vaguely back toward your car parked in the fire lane. There are only four security guards who work here and they all know you at this point. 

Jim laughs but waves you on. "Go get 'im, sweetie." Jim must be pushing 90 by now, he doesn't care about traffic laws.

You enter one of the two sets of automatic doors on this entire building and cross through the tiny lobby. There. You can see his dark hair and ridiculous shoulders over a completely unnecessary row of potted plants. He must hear your echoing footsteps because his head whips around in alarm, but his face relaxes into a wide smile. He lengthens his strides to come around the stupid plants, hands automatically reaching out for you.

"Diego." You laugh breathily and fling arms around his neck. He smells so good. 

He crushes you to his chest and buries his face in your neck. "Printhesss." He murmurs into you, slurred because he refuses to remove his mouth from your skin. 

Turning your head to kiss his cheek, you moan shamelessly for him. He surges back upward to capture your lips and kiss you with mild desperation. That devious tongue sweeps over the roof of your mouth before curling up behind your top front teeth. 

Your entire world narrows down to Diego. Chocolate. Tastes like the smoothest Belgian chocolate in existence. He smells perfect, clean but definitively male to you. His silky button-down is smooth under your hands, stretched taut over muscle. Those massive hands gather you closer, molding you to that big, solid body. His beard scratches your face in soft tickles when he alters the angle of the kiss just so.

"Goddamn." A woman's voice exclaiming somewhere behind you catapults you back into the here and now. Which is a dinky little regional airport in rural central Pennsylvania. You know, a very public location in a very prudish area of the country. Fuck.

You pull back and Diego's hands shoot up to the back of your head. Holding you in place, he leans his forehead against yours with a contented sigh. He rumbles softly to you, "Take me home."

You feel so silly seeing Diego in the passenger seat of your Corolla, he just seems so out of place. "You can adjust the seat however, nobody really sits there. I just put it all the way back to make sure you can get in without cracking your head." You sound nervous even to your own ears.

Diego turns to you with a response but his attention is captured by the cup holders in the center console, specifically the Dunkin Donuts styrofoam cup. He points to it, then looks up at you with a slow grin. "Princess. Is this for me?"

You flush but can't stop the embarrassed little smile so you cover it with sass, "Well, it sure as hell ain't for me." You start the car and give Jim a little wave. He winks and gives you two thumbs up. Yeah, I'm aware that you saw that kiss too, old man. Everyone saw that shit.

When Diego reaches for the coffee his fingers brush your hip. The contact burns and you suddenly remember that you have not touched this beautiful man for well over two weeks. Apparently he remembers, too, because he wraps that huge hand around your thigh with rather a lot of force. Right hand slapping down to cover his, your heart rate jumps through the roof. Did I take my blood pressure pill this morning?

"Don't." You choke out.

He rumbles softly next to you, purring with conceited pleasure. "Did my Princess miss Diego?" He asks you with an incredibly pornographic voice. 

"Oh, fuck you." Your answering groan is also obscene. So glad the windows are up.

His hoarse chuckle makes your thighs tremble. "You're Diego's good little girl, you will." He's right and you both know it. You would ride him right here in your own damn car if he demanded it. You have a problem.

He lets you redirect his hand to the coffee with only a little resistance. "Focus." You hiss.

"Me or you?" Diego quips.

"Yes." You declare.

Diego's guffaw is contagious and you don't even try to hold back.

Your apartment always seems like an adequate size until Diego is inside. No, bad Bicki. Do not say it like that. His presence just sort of… lounges about in a vaguely threatening but highly attractive manner. Much like the actual man on your couch. You tried to pick up dinner on the way but he just wanted to 'go home'. You are disgustingly happy that your place feels like home to him.

Diego had flopped on your couch immediately and hasn't moved since. Something is very definitely very wrong. There were bursts of your Murder Panther in the car, but he has been just subdued overall. He had turned your stereo up and smiled faintly, watching you sing along. He had also complained that the stereo in your car sucked (Agreed) and this was unacceptable. You're sure he'll do something ridiculously extravagant to remedy this.

You try to give him the remote, he takes it but doesn't do anything with it. You offer him food, both junk and something home-cooked, all you get is a shrug. You putter around for a while, picking things up and sighing before putting them down somewhere else. His dark eyes watch you, unfathomable. 

Finally you disappear to the bedroom only to return in your pajamas. This he likes, perking up and blinking rapidly. "Okay, I know you brought something softer than those jeans, so get comfy so I can order shitty pizza and cuddle you."

His jaw drops in momentary shock. Then he scoffs, "I do not cu--"

You cut him off, "Yes, you do and yes, you're going to. Up. Now." This has to be hilarious. This short little woman in overly long pants barking orders at the massive man who heads an international drug cartel. Well, its either hilarious or fatal. I'm about to find out.

Diego looks around, as if someone else might secretly be here to witness him be a little bit submissive and moderately soft. He raises his chin in a tiny show of defiance. "Fine. But I am showering first." He glares with this proclamation, daring you to contradict him.

You throw your hands up in the air. Why the fuck would I have a problem with that?? His eyes follow your hands, like a cat when you try to point out a bit of food but all it does is rub your finger. You sigh, resigned to your fate. "Of course that's fine, Diego. You know where everything is, have at it."

You watch his butt as he walks away to the bathroom. 

The pizza actually isn't shitty and Diego eats half of it by himself. When you offer him the cinnamon dessert sticks he shoots you a calculating look. You split the contents, pulling two sticks over to yourself and piling up the rest in front of him. His delighted grin is decidedly not calculated and you lose track of time watching him enjoy dessert.

He's beautiful like this. He wears a soft, silky t-shirt that is tight enough to help you get through the nights you spend alone. His hair is a riot of fluffy curls, free of product and clearly trying to break free of gravity, too. He hasn't shaved for at least a few days and that salt and pepper beard is filling in nicely. His face is unguarded, expression open, those laugh lines and dimples you love make frequent appearances.

After dinner you lay all over each other in some weird we-have-intimacy-issues approximation of cuddling. It works so you don't question it. He has his laptop and you have your tablet and together you have sporadic conversation. Its comfortable. 

Until Diego asks you a seemingly innocuous question that you know is very nefarious:

"What color do you like in cars?"

Your eyes narrow so much that you have trouble seeing. "...Why." Your low tone might be frightening to anyone else.

He looks at you over the laptop screen, brown eyes innocently wide. "Just curious. Your car is green. Do you like any other colors?" He slowly pulls the laptop closer to himself to subtly cover the screen with his bulk. 

"Diego." You slowly put down your tablet and start leaning toward him. He has nowhere to go, propped up in the corner of the chaise end of the sofa. "What. Are. You. Doing." 

"Will you let me take care of you? Just in this one way right now?" He licks his lips, brow furrowed in concentration. Building desperation shows in his eyes and you can't fight that. You don't want to win this.

"Let me see, baby." Your sighed acquiescence has an instantaneous effect. Diego drops the tension from his shoulders and opens an arm to you in invitation. You crawl up him to cuddle into his chest, wedged on your side between all those muscles and the back of the sectional. From here you are stationed directly in front of the laptop screen.

He is looking at cars. 

Armored cars. 

Armored, bulletproof, explosive resistant cars. 

What. The. Fuck.

"Diego, what the fuck is going on?!?" Your apprehensive demand sets him right back on edge. You can feel him go tense underneath you. The laptop gets shoved onto an empty cushion as you throw yourself over him. Tiny hands land on those broad shoulders with extreme force as you use all of your deadweight to trap him. Below you, Diego shakes but you can't tell if its from anger or anxiety because his eyes are scrunched closed tightly. "Tell me why I need a fucking bulletproof car!"

He surges up into your face to match your volume, "She knows! Mi hermana perra knows about you! Alicia found out about us!" You lurch back in shock, but the steel hands on your hips stop you from retreating. His voice is hoarse, louder than you've ever heard him, and its terrifying. Your fear must show because he releases his grip on you like it burns. 

"WHAT?" The ramifications here could truly be lethal. Alicia has already tried to set Diego up to take the fall when they were arrested almost four months ago. You know she has scorned Diego's familiarity with his men in the past, that is why he handpicks them personally. To Alicia, everyone is disposable, even her own brother. Her only loyalty is to herself.

Diego's hands come up in an aborted reach for you. You're still too shocked to move. His face crumbles in agony and he blinks furiously, hands balling into fists. "Everything I have ever wanted she has ensured I never got. She, she manipulates me into destroying everything I touch. I will not let her hurt you! I refuse to allow her to break us, mi amor!!" His volume has steadily escalated until he is yelling. 

He's afraid. He is afraid that he will lose me. The realization emboldens you enough to take his hands in your own, bring them to your chest, and press them close to your heart. You trust that he won't hurt you in his rage. You don't fear him, this dangerous, powerful, ruthless man that you love.

His hands open to slide up your shoulders, curl around your neck, and his thumbs glide over the pulse point under your ears. He brings your face to his own, his expression twisted up with fear and anger and possession and love. 

"You are mine! And I will keep you!"

You realize everything that you have been debating with yourself, all of your pro versus con lists, your stupid little dry erase board covered in sticky notes with your fears, your scribbled timeline of events and possible future predictions, none of it matters. All you care about is the man in your arms. Diego is the most important thing in your life and you can't imagine a life without him. If you had to give up everything to keep him, you would do it in a heartbeat. 

Your hands grip tightly around his wrists and you consciously straighten your spine. Expression hardening, your eyes open to meet his anguished gaze.

 "I want black."

The armored 2020 Camry is delivered that Sunday. You thank him for finding something inconspicuous with an upgraded JBL sound system and he compliments your understated color choice of Black Sand Metallic. By the time you drop him off at the airport that evening you've managed to replace the new car smell with something better and you're thankful that the leather seats just wipe clean. Monday morning in the parking lot at work, however, is a literal ordeal.

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

The next two weeks feel like they’re seven months long. You clock out at noon on Thursday to a chorus of your coworkers making vaguely lewd remarks and howling with laughter about your vacation. 'Two whole weeks on a beach in Mexico with an absolutely loaded hottie' is what they've been repeating gleefully all week. 

You turn around and walk backwards to give them finger guns, "Yes," then you reach down to adjust your pants, "And YES." Their squeals are contagious and you're still laughing when you burst out the front doors to drive home. 

You turn the volume waaaay too high in the car so that your teeth vibrate and it feels like you're having heart palpitations. I love this fucking car and I love that man. 

There is a rental Tahoe parked in the grass next to the huge gravel driveway at your farmhouse, but he left the second assigned parking space next to your Corolla open so you can park The Beast (as you have affectionately named your new ride) appropriately while away. When you get out of the car you glance up instinctively, Diego is standing outside your front door on the small third floor balcony laughing. 

"Are you deaf yet, Princess?" He hollers down in amusement. 

You flip him off with the middle finger that wears the gemstone ring he gave you while yelling back, "WHAAAAT??"

His laughter fades as he disappears inside, leaving the door wide open to let out all the cold air. Were you raised in a barn?? Close the door, the electric bill-- You cut off your own thoughts when you suddenly remember that you haven't been paying that electric bill for the last six months. Nevermind.

Before you can start up the stairs, Sara, your first floor neighbor, appears on the porch with their toddler. "Hey stranger!" Sara waves with a big smile and the kid does the same but with some kind of unidentifiable kitchen utensil in hand. "That is your boyfriend, right? He had a key so I didn't think it was your ex but I wanted to make sure. I mean, from what I just saw it is your boyfriend. Also, holy shit, that's your boyfriend?"

If she says the word 'boyfriend' one more time I'm going to spontaneously combust. 

"Uh yeah, definitely not my ex. Sorry, I forget that you guys haven't really seen him before, I meant to tell you he was coming." You can feel your face burning and it isn't from the August sun. Sara fans her own face with a hand while mouthing 'he's hot' like you're somehow unaware. You forge on before she can start gushing aloud. "We're actually leaving on a trip tonight so I'll be gone for the next two weeks."

Now Sara drops the kid and scrambles over to whisper fiercely to you, "Oh my god, seriously? Where are you going? Wait, this is the same guy you've been going to see in New York, right? How long has it been, like a year? Is he taking you on a trip for your anniversary? I don't even know his name. Oh my god, that is so sweet!"

Okay, down girl. You're not sure who you're trying to will into being chill, Sara or yourself. 

"Um, we're going to Mexico. And yeah, he's the guy in New York. It's just a vacation." You don't even touch the relationship questions with a ten foot pole. You glance up but Diego is still inside, Thank fuck. 

Sara hops a little in excitement. "I'm sooo jealous!" She squeals. "You have to take a ton of pictures! I need to see! Oh my god, I bet you guys are such a cute couple!" You nod and start backing away, trying to wave goodbye so you can climb the stairs and then climb Diego. "Ooh ooh, wait, what's his name?" Sara hisses conspiratorially. "Does he speak Mexican? Is he Mexican!?!"

You suddenly remember why you tried to move away from this area. Repeatedly. "Yeah, he's Mexican and yes, he speaks Spanish." You sigh. Sara nods but continues staring at you expectantly. Fine. "His name is Diego."

Sara makes a stupid face like this is a rom-com movie. I cannot take anymore, you must shut the fuck up. "Okay, okay. I won't hold you up. But seriously, we can have a 'pics and wine' girls' night when you come back!" She waves maniacally before snatching up the kid and skipping back inside. 

I can't think of anything I would like less. Oh hell no.

You climb the stairs in record time before she can come back outside and start talking again.

Bastian, Julio, and a third man you don't know are in your living room. You do not care and your vague wave shows it. You can hear Julio's warm 'Gordita!' greeting as you spin around and march to the bedroom.

Diego is standing at your bed, tucking TMP into your small duffel, when you burst through the doorway and continue at full speed directly into him. He laughs breathlessly but holds steady against your weight. "Princess. Are you ready?"

You take overflowing fistfuls of his shirt, bury your face in his chest, suck in a huge lungful of air, and shriek at full volume.

"Uhhh...that is a yes, si?" He mutters uncertainly above you. 

You rear back to look up at him with a smile so wide it hurts.

"Oh good." His hands come to your shoulders while those beautiful brown eyes sparkle. The dimples and laugh lines come out as he absorbs your infectious excitement. Your hands shoot up to his hair to yank him down so you can crash your mouths together with bruising force.

The effect is immediate. He moans loudly and crushes you against him. You dig nails into his neck and you lick your way into his mouth, his hands snake down to your ass to hold tight. Your left leg comes up as you try to wrap it around his hips. With a pained groan he rips those lips off of yours and pulls back. Undeterred, you move on to assaulting his now bared throat, moaning like porn come to life.

"Princess," he gasps, "You have to sto-- uhhh, yes, bonita. Your fucking tongue." You're too busy licking his adam's apple to pay attention to words right now. "Nooo, mi amor, please, lo siento, stopstopstop." You get in one last nip of his collarbone as he pulls your head back via a handful of ringlets. His pupils are blown wide and he's panting hard. You stare longingly at his delectable mouth while making pitiful whines.

"Please, baby, pleeeease. You're all I've thought about for days. I need you!" You try shameless begging, you're certainly not lying. Petting over his shoulders and down that solidly muscled chest, you shudder and try to pull yourself back to him.

He closes his eyes with a grimace. "Flight! Fuck you on the flight!" He croaks, then yanks your hair harder than you like. The pain clears the fog just enough for you to blink back to awareness. You nod jerkily and step back. "Have to leave now to get there before dark." He explains in a rushed huff. You blink as you remember how time works.

"Right. Yeah, right. Okay. Okay." Straightening to attention you yank off the cardigan you wore for the air conditioning at work, leaving you in a tank top and ready to be productive. Focus on not-dick.

Diego shoves your favorite notepad in your face so you can see your packing list and not him. The distraction works. He has checked off every item in each categorized list but left the strike through action for your completion. You lower the notepad until you can make eye contact with him and intensely whisper, "You know I fuckin' love you, right?"  

He laughs so hard he has to sit down on the bed.

You go through every bag, touching each item and crossing it off your list one at a time. He did it. Everything but you.

"You know I don't need TMP, right?"

"Why?" He squints up at you from where he lounges across your bed. 

Your face heats up and you clear your throat. "Well, its, I'm. I have, uh, you. So I don't need anything else." The realization of how true that is in every sense gives both of you pause.

Diego surges upright to cup your face and bonk your foreheads together just a little too hard. You giggle and he huffs. 

"Mi amor…" he sighs for you, eyes closing in pleasure. You 'mmmmm' in response. Then his eyes snap open and he growls an order, "Get changed so we can go!" And punctuates it with a stinging slap to your ass.

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

You spend the flight with your face pressed to the window, vibrating in excitement, except for a brief intermission of seven orgasms in the bathroom.

The unknown third man is Joey, Bastian's boyfriend. Joey is even quieter than Bastian and just as cute. They're not overly demonstrative but clearly comfortable moving around each other. Joey works in "Packaging" and does an admirable job of ignoring his cartel drug lord boss being snuggly. Julio naps. 

The customs agent at the Cancun airport looks you up and down with wide eyes but stamps your passport with no questions. Its a five hour drive to Xcalak but Diego is adamant it can be done in three. You give him an eyebrow question which he dismisses with a vague wave, "They paved the road all the way to the southern border last year."

Uhh, they what now? You understand soon enough. The drive drastically changes outside of Cancun. The scenery is both beautiful and heartbreaking. There are occasional mansions with armed guards, high fences, and SUVs like your own current ride. Mostly though, its shacks and people on foot or riding bicycles, weaving to avoid stray dogs and huge iguanas. Could I handle this as my daily reality?

The first time the road sidles right up to the ocean you have a small meltdown.

 "Is that what I think it is?" Your soft whisper is accompanied by a shaking hand pointing to the left. Diego, crammed into the middle of the backseat between yourself and Julio so you could have an unobstructed view, indicates an order for Bastian to pull over. He reaches across you and pops open your door. You slide out with his hand on your lower back and take about a dozen steps to the lapping water. Diego appears to your right, watching you intently.

 "Its gre-e-e-en!" Your stuttering squeal is accompanied by happy tears and you fling yourself into Diego with joy. He laughs at you, but hugs you back just as tightly.

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

The first week passes in a blur of amazing food, warm green sea, fruity drinks, and shirtless wet Diego. And so many orgasms that you can't keep count. Diego is all over you non-stop, more than he ever has been before (Astonishingly). Its incredible and you feel like the only person in the world. If he's not molesting you then he is at least touching you; keeping you in his lap, holding your hand, cuddling and petting and snuggling like a man obsessed. 

You love it. You love him. You love this life.

On Saturday he lets you lead him through the tiny town, your Spanish improving by leaps and bounds as you try to navigate the streets and alleys and shops. The four years of high school Spanish actually prove useful as you manage to complete a purchase all by yourself. Your playful mock smugness evaporates under the blazing desire in his eyes. 

He drags you back to the casita in a much shorter and more direct route than you took upon earlier departure. You're marched directly to the bed and he puts one massive hand in the middle of your chest to gently push you down onto your back. There is something different about this, something important in his eyes. Your voice is high and soft, "Diego?"

He climbs up between your legs and leans down to kiss you senseless. It goes on forever; soft lips, scratchy beard, silky tongue, and nothing but the taste of Diego. Your moans and sighs are mixed together, there are moments when you can't tell who is making what noise. His hands are shaking as he strokes every inch of newly bared and sunburnt sensitive skin while undressing you. 

It takes repeated attempts, but you finally get him naked, too. The sight never fails to take your breath away. All that soft, and now freshly tanned, skin is like velvet to your touch. You're mesmerized by his muscles flexing and then evening out as he moves above you. He finally gets your linen pants untangled off your left foot and flings them across the room with unnecessary force. Your soft peals of laughter light up his face and it brings tears to your eyes. You reach a hand out to him, "Diego. Baby."

He comes up over you, threading fingers into your hair, kissing you slowly and thoroughly. You can feel him against you, fire hot and mouth wateringly hard, but he makes no move to take you. Your eyes open in hazy confusion as the kiss ends. Diego is watching your face, blinking back tears. 

He is holding your head still, hands like steel. Whatever this is, he needs it. And you want to give him everything he needs. Forever.

You're captured by his eyes, bottomless, soulful, and hungry. His raspy voice is soft and trembling with desire. "I love you, Bicki. I want everything. Forever, Princess?" 

Your chest compresses and your heart implodes. Scalding tears escape when you blink and you're nodding before you even know it. "Yes, Diego. Yes, baby, I'm yours." 

Your back arches off the bed as he comes home and brings you with him.

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

You wake up crushed under Diego. The sun is still up so you might be able to talk him into going out for dinner. You rub your cheek on the huge bicep doubling as your pillow and Diego sighs directly into your ear from where he is spooned up behind you. Oh yeah, we should have done this waaaay sooner.

He nuzzles your neck just to incite squirmy giggles and you don't even fight it. "I have something for you, Princess. Stay here." He pulls away and you whine about the loss of your pillow. His low chuckle burns you alive with want. "Stay like that. Do not move." You obey while you listen to him rummage around behind you.

He comes around to your side of the bed, still completely and unabashedly nude. Hell. Fucking. Yes. You love it. He hands your glasses over and you slide them on to take in the now high definition view of naked Murder Panther. The view disappears as he kneels down next to the bed so you're on eye level. His expression is very peculiar. 

His hands slowly come up to reveal a small box of black velvet. Time slows to a halt as he opens the box and presents it to you. 

Inside is a ring. Gleaming in platinum and sparkling with three tastefully large princess cut diamonds. 

Its an engagement ring.

Diego is proposing. 

He swallows hard and rumbles gruffly, "Now remember, you already said y--"

You cut him off with a shriek. "YES! YESYESYES!!"

In the time it takes him to blink twice with surprise you're on him. Arms around his neck, you throw yourself into his lap. He topples backwards and you ride him to the floor, already bawling hysterically. 

He stares up at you in shock as you nod furiously and cry all over him. "Princess. You… you are certain?" If this were any other time you would be howling with laughter at his huge eyes and lax jaw. 

Your answer is stuttery but determined. "Y-y-yeah. Put it-t-t-t on me already!" 

He laughs in delight at your order and the imperious presentation of your shaking left hand. The ring glides on easily, a perfect fit. It gleams up at you blindingly. After a moment of admiration you lace your fingers with his and sigh at the union. His other hand comes up to roughly brush away your tears. "I know you do not like labels so much… but, you will be my, my married... Person. Thing?" 

You stroke his bearded cheek in return, thumb lingering on that dimple. With a hard gulp you dive in head first. Fuck it.

"Yes, Diego. I will be your wife."

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

The next time you wake it is dark out. You reach for a phone on the nightstand to your left and jump when you find one with a loud crack. Diego pops upright behind you, instantly on high alert. "Princess?" He hisses while covering your body with his own.

You gigglesnort, then meekly answer him, "I forgot about the ring and whacked a phone. Everything's okay, baby."

He sighs so deeply that his breath ruffles your hair. "Jesus fucking christ, woman. You are a menace."  He flops down on top of you and snuggles back into your warmth. 

You reach back with your left hand and grope blindly for his face. He licks your fingers as soon as they're in reach and you stuff them into his mouth as retaliation. He just sucks languidly. 

"Mmmmmm, I'm your menace, baby. And I have to pee." He nips your fingers but rolls over to free you. You slide out of the bed and stretch your arms high while arching your back. Diego groans painfully. "What?"

Diego rises to all fours on the bed while the sheet slithers off of him. "You forget that other people can see without glasses, huh?" You cock your head and realize that you have a shadow.

It's a full moon. And I just stretched naked in front of a sliding glass door. "Oh. Huh. I guess I do forget. Oops. I'll be sure to keep that in mind now." Your seemingly tame answer is directly contradicted by the exaggerated roll of your hips that makes your butt bounce when you walk off. 

"Fucking menace, woman." Diego growls as you push the bathroom door shut with a trill of laughter.

You never do go back to bed but you do wind up on the beach in front of the casita to watch the sunrise. Julio finds you both snuggled together late the next morning, still asleep on the covered daybed under the palms while the rising tide comes ever closer. At least Julio has the decency to cover your bare ass with a beach towel.

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

By the time you think to check your phone gallery you have… 1,792 pictures. WHAT THE FUCK. 

You scroll through the pics, there are a lot you do not remember taking. Was I that drunk or did Diego take some of these? One is a close up of your ass from below wearing a string bikini, I knew I wasn't that drunk. The next pic is Diego asleep on a lounge chair, one arm curled up above his head, muscles glistening in the sun, and swim trunks so low on his hips that it's almost obscene. Immediately following that is the same pic but with your own face photobombing about three inches away from the camera and giving a thumbs up with your left hand so your engagement ring is prominently visible. Oh yeah, I remember that one. 

There are videos, too. The first one is Diego making lewd comments while you twerk in the ocean for about ten seconds. Okay, that's par for the course with us. Next is you successfully backflipping off of Diego's shoulders into the green water to everyone freaking out. Shit, even I'm impressed with myself. After that is video of you gagging through a dish of octopus at some restaurant. Both of you are clearly visible in the shot so Julio must have had the phone. Betrayal. 

There are tens of dozens of the two of you in various poses and outfits, both disgustingly happy and blatantly in love. There's even a role reversal shot of Diego sprawled across your lap, one enormous arm wrapped around your neck and his knees over your own arm while you grimace and he laughs hysterically. The table to your right is covered in empty bottles and mostly finished drinks. An entire subsection depicts you asleep like you have a stalker. You count no less than 29 of you two trying on increasingly ridiculous hats in random stores.

You can't even keep count of all the close ups of a smoldering Murder Panther. You feel no guilt.  Aren't you supposed to be ridiculously attracted to your fiancé??

Fiancé.

You have a fiancé. Your fiancé is Diego. You are engaged to Diego Rafael Jimenez. 

I have to explain this ring to everyone. They'll have questions about him. People will want pictures. How do I explain what he does?? Oh my god, there's no closet here. I have to… find somewhere. And I can't I can't. Its-

Your head jerks upright when something touches your hair. Its Diego. Kneeling on the floor in front of you, he has unfurled a sheet over you to block out everything, and he waits there, watching you. Before you realize it your hands are reaching for his shoulders, just the feel of him, warm and solid under your hands, calms you. 

Slowly, his right hand comes up to cover your left. "No closet, Princess." His huge fingers grip yours tightly. You nod a little. He just watches you, eyes guarded. 

"Ask. Go ahead." You mutter. You can tell from his posture that he is uneasy, apprehensive. 

He locks eyes with you and his gaze is intense. He curls all of his fingers around your left ring finger. "Still yes?" 

The fear in his eyes breaks your heart. Your voice is shaky but determined, "No. You can't get rid of me. I'm your problem now, baby."  His expression would make a meeker woman cower in fear, you laugh weakly. 

He settles down on the tile floor in front of you, with the sheet over both of you. Its like four in the afternoon and I am sharing a blanket fort with my cartel boss fiancé while on vacation in Mexico. What even is my life? His elbows are on his knees, chin in hand. He studies you for a minute, you stare right back. He raises one eyebrow and you sigh in capitulation. 

"I don't know how to just be happy. I suck at it."  You shrug but reach for his face. Diego nuzzles into your hand while you stroke your thumb over his beard. 

"Habby isz nawt a berb." He slurs into your palm with a soft kiss.

The epiphany is like a cinder block to the brain. 

He's right. I don't have to 'do' anything. I'm happy right now. I've been happy every time I'm with him. And no one had to exert any effort.

People can define themselves. People can define their relationships. Why can't they define their own normal? I can make my own rules. Especially with someone like Diego as my partner.

His one eyebrow slowly rises as he watches your thoughts play out across your face. "You back?" He asks with a hidden smirk, you know its there from the way his eyes crinkle with laugh lines.

"Yup!" Is your decisive answer. Diego licks your palm. "I got better places you can lick, baby." You answer his smirk with a waggling eyebrow. 

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of play wrestling and inappropriate noises.

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

You do, in fact, go on a safari. Of sorts. Tours of ruins and jungle and cenotes, lots of side quests because the both of you are easily distracted by pretty colors. You probably added another thousand pictures of various palm trees to your gallery. The hat makes multiple appearances. 

Diego has to ship a crate home to New York because he bought you too many souvenirs. You laugh and tease him when he wants to pick out things for your middle sister and niece, until you hear his logic. 

"They were nice to me." He murmurs with a little half-shrug, "It was like being in a real family for a little bit." He studies the bins of painted shells on display in the little store with way too much focus.

You spend a moment deliberating before you decide to reach out and touch his elbow.

 "Hey," your soft voice brings his gaze your way momentarily before he goes back to ceramic turtle magnets. You take his hand with your own right and rest your left hand on his chest. Diego looks down where your ring glints in the light, then up to your face. "You know you're going to be part of that 'real' family, right?"

Diego's boyish little smile is heartbreakingly adorable. 

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

The flight home is much shorter than you want it to be and you spend most of it asleep on Diego. At one point you wake up to see Bastian and Joey cuddled up together napping. When you look up from where your head is resting in Diego's lap he is already looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

"What?" You whisper softly. You stifle a yawn and blink repeatedly. 

Diego strokes one big hand over your hair and grips your jaw firmly. With a huge toothy grin he answers, "Mine." 

"Uh huh. How many times you need me to say yes, baby?" You smirk up at him with an arched brow. He seems to be reveling in hearing you readily admit your commitment to him.

He considers your question carefully while his other hand trails down the front of your body under a blanket. I don't remember having a blanket earlier. Finally, Diego settles on "Every day. At least seven times. Seven is a good number, right Princess?" 

Your body jerks as his fingers press between your thighs with steady determination. Your eyes flick over to Bastian and Joey, still out cold. You make a show of wiggling around to get comfortable, and, surprisingly, that involves spreading your legs. "Yessss." You hiss up at him.

Julio reclines his seat and exaggeratedly covers his face with a new hat. 

Seven is a very good number.

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

Your first day back to work is a circus. You don't think twice about your normal greeting as you enter the office suite. You swipe your badge with your right hand and pop the door, then wave 'hi' to everyone. Like usual. With your left hand. 

There is an excessive amount of squealing that makes you second guess going into a female dominated field. The whole day is a wash because you have a steady stream of people passing through your cubicle. You're glad you had the forethought to curate a photo album of appropriate images to show your coworkers despite Diego's repeated attempts to sneak a dick pic in there somewhere. You most definitely included the glistening swim trunks lounge chair picture. Squealing intensifies.

Everyone comments on the hat and you're forced to tell the story of the hat. How you once told Diego that you wanted to see palm trees, 'But like, in the wild.' And Diego had laughed so hard that he fell off the bed only to pop back up wheezing about a 'Palm Tree Safari' until you smacked him in the face with a pillow. Your coworkers think it is just disgustingly adorable that he never let you live that down. 

Your coworkers have questions:

When is the wedding? 

Where are you having it?

What kind of dress do you want?

What are your colors?

Are you going to do flowers?

What about the cake?

Who is your maid of honor?

How did your family take the news?

What about his family?

Are you going to New York?

Will you take his name?

Oh shit. I forgot about the whole 'wedding' part of this.

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Healing Touch

Summary: You’ve been through a traumatic incident and even though it’s been a few years strangers and men still make you nervous. However a chance meeting at the vet office helps you move past your fear. Even if it’s only with one person. It’s at least a start.

A/N: This is a Game of Thrones fic, but it’s modern AU. Masterlist in Bio

Pairing: Jon Snow x reader

Warnings: mentions of rape, anxiety, depression, and PTSD (reader has a service dog) it’s kinda angsty, but it ends in fluff

Word Count: 2024

You and anxiety weren’t strangers. Nor were you and depression and ptsd. You were bosom buddies and you hated it. You hated it the moment your therapist diagnosed you. You didn’t want to be a freak, a weirdo, an outsider. Yet that was how you almost always felt. The only companion you had was your faithful mastiff, Darla. She was trained as a service dog and could sense when you were overly anxious or going into a depressive state. She even knew your queue for when you were stuck in a flashback.

Darla had been your therapist's suggestion, along with medication and writing in a journal. She felt having someone, even a canine, was better than shutting yourself up. Not that you could really be blamed for wanting to avoid the world after what had happened. It had been three years and you could still remember it as if it were yesterday.

You had been invited to a company party and had a few drinks. It wasn’t enough to get you drunk, but you still felt off. So you called a cab and went home early. Inside your house three men had been waiting for you. They each took their turn raping you and spilling their seed inside. All of which was done at gunpoint.

The next day you went to the police. You had recognized two of the men from work and a third from the catering company that had been at the party. You went to the police the next day and filed a report. It took a year before anything was done. A year of you repeating your story, of having to see the men in court before finally they were sentenced to prison. That didn’t stop them for finding a way to harass you. For six months you received threatening letters, crude letters about the rape, and suggestive letters about what they would do when they saw you again.

Eventually you had moved, but it didn’t help much. Your mind was still a mess and that was when you sought therapy. You ended up with Darla and she helped you more than you had thought possible. She was your best friend and you wouldn’t ever let anything happen to her.

You made sure that whenever your faithful companion needed shots, her heart guard, or her flea and tick medication that she had them. The veterinary office was one of the few places you felt comfortable. They were always kind to you and Darla. They gave her treats and were soft spoken with the both of you.

Humming a soft tune you went inside with your loving friend only to pause just inside the door. There was a new person behind the counter. Someone you had never seen. New people made you nervous. Especially men. Even though he had soft features you were still extremely nervous. His grey eyes and soft black curls did nothing to comfort you.

“H-hi,” you whispered. Darla bumped against your legs as she felt your mounting anxiety. You rested a hand on her head and rubbed her ears. It helped calm you a little.

Jon lifted his head and smiled softly. “Hello. How can I help you?” His voice was soft and smooth. He didn’t sound threatening or intimidating at all, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

You kept your hand on Darla, letting her presence sooth you. “Darla needs her flea medicine.” You looked down at her and tried to smile.

He looked down at the big mastiff and beamed. “She’s very pretty. Give me just a second.” He sat down at the desk and looked in the computer to see what Darla needed. He frowned softly. “I’m sorry, but we’re out. If you want to come back in a few days you can.”

You sighed softly and fidgeted just a little bit. “Yeah okay. Thanks for your help,” you almost whispered.

He grabbed a treat and held it out for Darla. She gently took it from his fingers and after eating it licked his hand appreciatively. “She’s sweet.”

“She’s a service dog. She’s my best friend.”

He looked up at you. “Service dog?” He noticed how nervous you were acting and took a few steps back to give you space. “I won’t ask questions. We don’t even know each other, but I’m Jon and I promise I won’t hurt you.”

You smiled a little at that. “Thank you, Jon. I appreciate the fact you are trying to be non threatening and kind. I’ll be back in a few days to get Darla’s medicine.”

The next time you went to the veterinary Jon was still working the counter. It seemed that he was going to be a permanent fixture. You weren’t quite as nervous seeing him this time, but you still weren’t comfortable. After you had left the last time you had went home and had to decompress. A hot bath with lavender oil, a cup of chamomile tea, and your add on medicine. You were hoping that this time you wouldn't be as anxious when you left.

Jon spotted you and grabbed Darla’s flea medicine. “It came in just this morning. I’m sorry you had to come back here.”

“It’s okay. It’s not exactly your fault. You can’t help that the truck hadn’t come in yet.”

He nodded and rang the medicine up. “All the same, I’m sure that not having the medicine here was a little hard for you.” It hadn’t taken him long to figure out what Darla was for when he saw how anxious you were and how you had trouble making eye contact with him.

You sighed and rubbed Darla’s ears. She grunted and leaned into the touch, looking up at you. “It was a little upsetting, but it’s okay.” You handed him the money and when his hand bumped yours you almost jerked it back, but you managed not to.

“Well now you have her medicine and everything will be okay.”

The next time you went to the veterinary office was to get Darla’s heart guard. It was getting easier and easier to talk to Jon. He made you feel a little less uncomfortable each time you saw him.

It was six months after your first meeting when you had to bring Darla in to get her shots. She was always well behaved and while the vet gave her the shots she needed the two of you had an actual conversation. One that lasted more than just a few minutes. You discovered that Jon came to work at the office after his younger sister got married and left for a honeymoon. It was supposed to be for just a few weeks and he would go back to his old job, but she had decided not to come back and he had stayed.

“Well at least she’s happy,” you said softly.

Jon nodded and his leg bumped against yours. He waited for you to tense and pull away like you had all the other times you two had accidentally touched. Only this time you didn’t. It gave him hope that the two of you were growing closer and that eventually he could ask you on a date and you would say yes.

The chance came a couple of months later when you had to once again come in for flea medicine. Darla at this point was attached to Jon like she was all the other people in the veterinary office. She greeted him like an old friend and you laughed.

“She really likes you a lot.”

Jon rubbed her ears earning a happy grunt. “Well I like her too. Almost as much as I like her owner.” He looked up at you from his kneeled position.

You blinked a little in surprise. “You...l-like me?” You mentally cursed yourself for the stuttering. It wasn’t Jon you were afraid of, but dating again. You hadn’t been with anyone since the accident and that was three years ago.

He nodded. “I do. Would you have coffee with me this weekend? It’s a public place and Darla will be welcome. I promise not to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

You licked your lips and thought it over. Eventually you nodded. “Okay. We can have a date. This weekend.”

When the weekend rolled around you were close to saying fuck it and staying in. Just not go on the date and forget that you even agreed to it in the first place. Your heart was racing and you were beyond nervous. You hadn’t dated in years. How were you supposed to do this? What if he wanted a kiss? What if he expected more? You weren’t ready for that. Just agreeing to the date had been a big step.

But in the end you couldn’t bring yourself to stand him up. He was a good guy, sweet, handsome, kind. He didn’t make you nervous anymore and Darla liked him. Surely if he was a danger your protective companion would have sensed it and warned you.

The beginning of the date was a little tense. You weren’t sure what to expect or if Jon wanted something from you. But after twenty minutes you started to relax. The two of you talked like you always had and you began to learn more about each other.

You hadn’t felt this relaxed in years and it was all thanks to Jon. He made you feel safe and like you could trust him. It was a feeling you hadn’t had in so long; one you wanted to latch onto and see where it went. And that was exactly what you did.

One coffee date turned into a lunch date that turned into a dinner date. Before you knew it, you and Jon had been dating for four months. He never pressured you to do anything you didn’t feel comfortable with. It took five dates before he gave you the first kiss. And you had felt comfortable enough to return it.

Tonight Jon was in your kitchen making dinner for the two of you. You were sitting on the couch, Darla’s head in your lap, watching him. Your pup wasn’t willing to move anytime soon and you knew it. It didn’t bother you though. You were relaxed and happy.

“It smells good. What are you making?”

“Chicken pazole. It’s a comfort food. Figure given the weather we could eat and watch a few movies. Just relax.”

You nodded and got comfortable, turning on Netflix. When the food was done Jon came over with two bowls of the soup. You sat up a little bit and let him sit behind him. You leaned back against him as he handed you the bowl. You took a bite and smiled. “It’s good,” you said softly.

“I’m glad you like it.” He kissed your head and picked some comedy for you to watch.

As you watched the movie you began to realize just how comfortable you were right there with Jon, in your apartment. His arm was wrapped around you, you could smell his cologne easily and you felt happy. You didn’t think it was possible, but you were happy. Not only that, but you were in love.

Jon Snow had came into your life by mere chance and now you didn’t ever want him to leave.

“I love you,” you whispered.

His grey eyes licked with yours as he looked down at you. “Did you just…”

You nodded. “Yeah I did. I love you.”

He beamed and gently took your face into his hands. His forehead touched yours and his curls blanketed you from the world. “I love you too.”

You gently moved and placed your lips to his in a tender kiss. That night you made love for the first time and you finally felt like yourself once more. You had finally healed and Jon had helped you do that. It wasn’t him that healed you, it had been your own determination, but it was him that made you want to get better. You had been tired of hiding and not moving forward. And with one chance meeting you finally had.

****

Likes don’t spread my work! Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed this! I love hearing from you guys and knowing what you think and hope to see!

[thereasontherumisgone]

The Wayward Boys ( pt. 6 )

( pt. 5 ) 

Taglist: @thatgaydemigodnerd 

And now the story can begin, all the players are gathered and soon they will need to take up their roles and play the game well. The Creator, The Glitch, The Demon, The Knight, The Agent, The Genius and The Hacker are all finally in one place, safe from the threat of their own worlds, nothing could follow them here. It’s as secure as the void itself. 

Where they were was the last part that existed of the Godly plane that Godric, Petyr and their friends would rule from, specifically this was Petyr’s part of that plane, a massive life fill forest that seemingly went on forever to the naked eye, but if you were willing to wander for a few days, you’d find yourself walking in circles. In the center of this forest was one giant tree, safely comparable to The Leaning Tower of Pisa, if it was upright and with a width to support it’s tall structure, definitely big enough to live in and Jay only proved this theory the closer he got to the tree and noticed the smaller signs of something living in that tree, small windows, vines seemingly tied together to form a swing that sat close to a large hole near the branch, oh and the lanterns and the sound of a certain Doctor calling out from above. “Oh hey buddy it’s nice to see you-- Oh god I lost the spider where is it-?!” Before disappearing back into the small window in which they appeared. 

“I see they’ve all made themselves somewhat comfortable.” Jay found himself commenting as he followed Petyr into the tree, they were now heading up a stairway seemingly crafted by the tree itself. 

“I forgot Doctor Oakes doesn’t like spiders. . .To my knowledge they’ve killed three already, which saddens me.” Petyr let out a sigh but shrugged not long before continuing upwards and both remained quiet until they got to a door, where Petyr paused. “I may have forgot to mention a few things. . .” 

“Oh god of course you have. . .what have you brought me into this time?” Jay rubbed the bridge of his nose and Petyr opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and showed the facial expressions of a man trying to deliver bad news without the receiver of the bad news just walking away. 

“Well. . .The Agent that I told you about is Agent Aleksander Parker. . .Fully brought back from the dead with only minor difficulties.” Petyr started off and monitored the look of ‘What?’ on Jay’s face turn to confusion, realization, sadness, back to confusion but with a hint of disgust. 

“You- You did what to him?!” Jay exclaimed but quietly as to not alert anyone on the other side of that door. 

“Found his body, brought him back. . .Someone drew smiley faces over his nipples for some reason. . .Listen it’s just been a messed up day and it’s only going to get worse.” Petyr sighed again.

“What else? If there is anything else?” Jay asked, only two seconds later to be regretting it when the doors were pulled open and Jay was greeted by his doppelganger, who had the most smug look on his face as he pulled both Petyr and Jay into the room. 

“Hey ol’ buddy, ol’ pal, long time no see!” James said excitedly as he pat both of Jay’s cheeks which was returned by Jay flashing glowing blue eyes as his way of quietly threatening the other. “And still as friendly as ever! I missed you so much! When was the last time we spoke? Banks hostages or--?” 

“When you were in Super Max, not going to ask how you got out or who helped you.” Jay took a step back from James and sent Petyr a look. 

“It was either him or Legohead, Legohead makes your friend here look normal.” Godric spoke up, previously was just sitting in the corner with a drink that looked similar to whiskey and a book, classy. 

“Don’t compare me to that weirdo.” James huffed. “By the way you look like shit.” He looked back at Jay. 

“Can someone please explain why we’re all here now? Now that Petyr has returned with Mr Barkley.” A person with a mask that had some voice modulator on it spoke up and Jay mentally took a guess. The Hacker. And he was correct. 

“I agree with Mr Seven, I only know the basics of why I’m here and as much as I love you Plant Man, I am a busy person.” Addison said as they sat stitching up a jacket that was a little too big and worn for Addison’s typical look. 

“Wait what about the weird zombie guy in the other room?” A young red head said, raising his hand slightly. “Was he kidnapped also or is he. . .” The kid gestured vaguely in Godric’s direction. “His project.” 

“Mr Parker has had a long day, he’ll be caught up when he’s rested and when he starts functioning at a slightly higher level than confused 8 year old.” Godric answered, still reading his book.

“Okay beautiful, thank you, continue talking.” The kid looked back at the group and nodded to Petyr.

“Thank you,” Petyr started. “You’ve all been assembled here today because Godric and I need a team of capable people to stop the end of the world, we chose you all not because of your impeccable lack of survival instincts or reluctance to work with outside parties, but because when faced with a challenge or a threat you can all get the job done in your own ways.” The god explained and a man with tanned skin and dark hair rose his hand. “Yes Mr Marquez?” 

“Yeah not my question but one from my uhh. . .roommate.” He spoke. “But why is there a kid here if the world is going to end?” 

“The kid can kick your ass.” The red head said with a frown, Mr Marquez, more commonly known as Rusty held his hands up. 

“I’m sure that could happen but my point still stands.” Rusty said and Petyr looked at Cody and gave a nod, then Cody was covered in his golden armour which allowed Jay to put together that the kid is The Knight so this Mr Marquez and his roommate must be The Demon. 

“How about now?” Cody’s voice said from inside the armour, Rusty had a wicked smile and mumbled something to himself that sounded like ‘Just scare him.’ from where Jay was standing before Rusty’s upperhalf was quickly overcome by a large shadowy creature which began to take form, limbs growing from a strange mixture of a black ooze, dark hairs and shadows quickly took the form of something out of a horror film, long hair covering most of it’s face and it’s back arched over to look down at the small human in the shiny costume and it let out a shrill screech before disappearing. 

“Oh my god you’re possessed by the girl from The Ring.” James commented from across the room. “So what’s the deal? You wear her for Halloween and she wears you for the rest of the year?” James asked, Rusty glared at him. 

“Alright Punk Edit, what can you do?” He asked and James grinned, about to stand up when a blue light forced him back down. 

“If we’re all done comparing ourselves, some of us want to know why we’re here.” Jay said, one hand in his pocket while the other had a faint blue glow around it. “Here how about I share the gory details on all our powers? Seven over there is a telepathic hacker who is very shy about people knowing his actual name and all that shit, Dr Oakes doesn’t have super powers but is one of the strongest people in the room from what I’ve seen so far, James can fuck up reality and I go around fixing it.” Everyone was quiet and Rusty held his hands up, taking a step back while at some point during Jay’s rant Cody’s armour had disappeared. 

“Uh. . .Well Hi I’m Cody Miller and my superpower is that I have a very. . .symbiotic attachment to some sentient magical armour that lives in my body. . .It identifies as he and answers to Reigner.” Cody spoke up, mainly looking at the floor. 

“My old work colleagues used to call me Rusty so. . .I’m Rusty and I’m possessed by a demon that yes, is a woman and please refrain from making those jokes.” Addison stood up from their seat and took a step forward. 

“Addison Oakes, I’m super rich and super smart, pretty sure I’m here to be the medic which I’m cool with. . .” They spoke with a nod. 

“Just refer to me as Seven the computer nerd.” Seven mumbled from across the room a Godric stood up. 

“Godric, old god of Death, here to be your mentor for the weeks ahead.” The God decided to join, followed by his friend. 

“I’m Petyr, God of. . .a lot of things, also a mentor.” 

“James Barkley, not from this universe but if anyone is ending it it’s me and it’s out of spite.” 

“Jay Barkley, from this universe, recently just quit my job and hoping to help.” 

[dragonindigo245]

Project [Redacted]

Heyo!!! This is a WIP story I'm doing with the amazing @pawton-meowity! Hope you enjoy! The odd numbered chapters will be posted on their Tumblr while the even ones will be on mine. Feel free to request to be added to the tag list for updates! Thanks! 💚🖤💚

Tw: Tramatic flashbacks

————

Chapter 4: P.O.V of Virgil

“I have just the thing for you.” I felt the inside of my hoodie pocket with a smile creeping across my face. Logan raised an eyebrow as I pulled out what they would probably assume to be a bracelet.

“I have a few extra of these. They hide your powers from detectors at the cost of nullifying them. As long as they don’t know your face then they won’t know it’s you they’re after. Course you’ll probably have to wear long sleeves to hide them because the uh.. ‘burn brothers’ know what they are. You’re alright Princey but Logan and Patton need to wear a hoodie or something.” When I explained this, Patton sucked in a large breath of air and fiddled with his hands.

“Ah well… that’s a problem… you see I’m in nursing school so we kinda… ya know… need our sleeves up sometimes.”

Well shit. This is going to be harder than I thought. I pondered for a few moments debating over to risk it and have him wear the nullifier unless he was doing hands on stuff or to have him go without until I can build him one to go somewhere else than his wrist. Course life isn’t just simple enough to let us get away with this. Of fucking course it isn’t.

“Language Virge!! My my, your mind is like the plague!” Remus said amused.

Gee thanks Remus. Totally needed that.

“You’re welcome! Seriously though! Nasty boy... I love it!” I rolled my eyes at this and decided to go with the first option.

“Alright Pat, just take off the nullifier when you need to do something like that. Otherwise it needs to stay on. That goes for you too, Logan. Do NOT take it off unless you need to hide it. If you take it off then you can and will be spotted. You’ll be surprised how they can find you.”

Patton and Logan both nodded in agreement. Thankfully they were easier to work with than Princey. I stood up and walked across the room to the dresser I had full of gadgets. Agh I can never remember which drawer they’re in. Nope that one's teleporters… weaponry… there we go. I pulled an extra nullifier out and closed the drawer. Patton received the one I had in my hoodie pocket while Logan got the one from the dresser.

“Keep alert. The nullifier can only do so much. There are other ways of finding you they can exploit. Do not use technology to talk about your powers unless you’re in need of help. Do not talk to anyone you do not trust about your powers. And above all do not use your powers outside of the forest or your rooms. They have eyes everywhere.” Patton nodded slowly and slightly spooked.

“What… what do we do if we get found out? I don’t want another… Logan incident. I’m sure none of us want to get… s-shot at.” This poor kid really shouldn’t be in this mess of all people. He looked ready to crumble.

“If you’re found out we’ll drop whatever we are doing and come to your location but… if you are found out then you’re either going to get captured or you’re going to have to hide for the rest of your life.” Patton winced and pulled his legs to his chest. Logan, on the other hand, seemed deep in thought but otherwise unphased. He was evidently hard to scare.

The room sat in an uncomfortable silence (minus Remus humming) for a little while. I was frankly shocked more over Roman keeping his mouth shut for so long. Well that can be used to lighten the mood at least.

“No witty comment from Disney Wince? Finally coming to grips with the reality of our situation?” I moved over to my original spot on the couch and watched Roman try to form a sentence.

“I… Can I ask… no scratch that. I-” Remus cut in, highly energetic but clearly a bit frazzled.

“Oooo! You wanna know what would happen if any of you three got captured? Well first they-�� Thankfully Dee shut Remus down real quick by holding a finger up to Remus’s mouth. Thank god, I don’t want to think about that.

“Virgil Nimbus… age 21… how the hell did this kid get in here?”

“He snuck in to free some of our subjects. He almost got subjects D3D31T and R3M7 out. Luckily we got one of our men to shoot him before he did any real damage. He should be waking up soon.”

“Good. We needed more participants.”

“Ah there he is! Hello Virgil. We have a lot to discuss. For starters… how did you get in here? Don’t bother trying to fight, our truth serum is very good at its job.”

“I… I disguised myself as one of the soldiers.”

“Mhm… well we can’t have that happening anymore. Prepare the machines!!! Don’t worry Virgil. After some time you’ll learn to accept this. Some results even showed patients growing numb to it if they’re lucky.”

Can’t think. Stupid drug thing. What’s happening?

“Attach ‘em to him and be sure it’s not so high he blacks out immediately. There’s a point to this and we mustn’t let it go to waste.”

Strapped. Can’t move.

“Don’t bother to fight it Virgil. You’ll be mostly immobile for the whole session.”

Weird things. Attaching to me.

“We’re ready to begin.”

“Good, on my mark. Three… two… one… begin.”

“Agh sorry. I know I shouldn’t ask that out of nowhere… I mean… was it bad? I don’t want my friends to get hurt or have an unfortunate demise.” Roman attempted to correct himself, the words bringing me back to the present as I stifled a gasp. Remus shoved Deceit’s hand away and waved him off.

“Ehhhh they won’t kill ya unless you threaten their lives! Don’t exclude yourself though! They would gladly take you in if they knew you were working with supes! Look at Virgey here!” Remus placed a hand on my arm which made me flinch probably more than he was expecting. He immediately removed his arm and shot me an apologetic look before perking back up like normal. His apologies weren’t exactly the best but at least he cared… as best as he could anyways.

My mind tuned the conversation out to jumbled noises. I just couldn’t deal with anything so… extra right now. I inserted random song lyrics into my head to get my mind off of this. Thankfully I had a few songs memorized and shuffled through those to drown out my other intrusive thoughts.

Hey edgelord, sorry to intrude on your thoughts (not really) but they’re talking about how they’ve missed a class and are working their way towards the whole “we gotta go” sentence.

Crap.

“I’m probably in a decent amount of trouble myself. We should consider leaving… wherever we are to head back. Thank you for your hospitality, you three. I would like to inquire how we make our way back.” Logan pushed. I stretched and turned to the nerd. “We’re on campus. We actually go to your college ourselves. It isn’t hard to figure out where exactly we are.”

Princey stood up dramatically and bowed. “Well then we bid you good tidings weirdos. We shall grant you our phone numbers and depart!” I rolled my eyes and smirked.

“Wow. I thought you couldn’t get more extra but boy was I wrong. You surprise me by being an annoying, spoiled kid.”

Roman made a noise that could only be described as an offended drama queen half gasp, half screech. Honestly I don’t even know how his vocal cords allow him to do that. “EXCUSE me? Annoying?!? Kid?!? How dare you! I am neither of those! Just because you have your fancy gadgets and knowledge on the comic book villains doesn’t mean you can undermine my glory, Cruella De Vile!”

“Notice how he didn’t say he wasn’t spoiled…” Logan mumbled under his breath.

“Did you insult me, Specs or are you siding with the honorable Roman?”

“Guys! Stop fighting! Come on!” Patton intervened. “Let’s just be friends and get prepared to leave! We already missed choir practice and I need to get ready for my final class! You all do too!”

Roman sighed and said something inaudible, most likely an apology. “Let’s just hand over our numbers and get outta here. I don’t think I can be in the same room as Captain Shook and still have enough edgy nicknames left.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed my phone out of my pocket.

“Yeah yeah, you just wanna leave because I can knock you and your ego down a few notches.” I pulled up my phone number, ignoring Princey and his new offended noises. I handed him my phone and he whipped his out while glaring at me. Yeah that’s about what I expected. He finally handed my phone back and shoved his in a pocket.

“I added Patton and Logan in already. You can text me their numbers later.” Roman hiked a thumb in Dee and Remus’s direction on his usage of the word ‘their,’ before turning back to his friends, “Come on you two. Thanks for backing me up LOGAN.” Logan didn’t indulge Roman by saying anything and instead helped Patton off the couch.

“Thank you so much everyone! It was nice to meet you all! I just wish we could have met under better conditions!” Patton said cheerfully. Everyone said their goodbyes and left the three of us like I preferred. Nobody but the ones I could trust.

“Greetings Virgil! How are we today?”

“...”

“Ah. That is a beautiful silence. Maybe today will be the day you can get your special abilities! Wouldn’t that be exciting?”

“...”

“Well not exciting for you I suppose but you’ve learned that by now. Do you have anything to say before we begin?”

“...”

“I didn’t think so. Proceed as normal.”

Hey. Virgil. Snap out of it buddo.

“Wait… please… I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Excellent. Cancel that last order. A willing subject is a loyal subject. Isn’t that right Virgil?”

Virge! Hey! Damn it, get out of your head.

“...”

“Now then. The real fun begins. Get him strapped down and prepare for trial number one.”

VIRGIL!

I jolted out of my thoughts to find myself on the floor with Dee crouching down to me. Didn’t know how I ended up here but I didn’t particularly want to know.

“Thank you Remus.” Dee said to where I assume Remus was. Dee moved to sit next to me and wrap an arm around my shoulder. I wasn’t not grateful for that but something made me flinch away. Dee recoiled his arm immediately with an apology.

We sat quietly before Dee turned to me with a serious expression. “Virgil. You should talk to us about this. You haven’t told us anything that we can use to help you. We know they’re-”

“It’s fine.”

“You’re on the floor.”

I shrugged and pulled my knees up to my chest. “It’s still fine. I can handle it.”

Dee glared but didn’t push farther. Instead he pushed the subject to a different one. “You know… with an extra three that does mean…”

“No. No way. We are not doing that.”

“I’m just saying it’s an option.”

“We’re not going to put them in danger like that. You saw what they would do to them. They’re scared enough as is.”

“And if we don’t take the chance you know they’ll get caught. They all do.”

“They won’t stand a chance fighting them either. They aren’t experienced in fighting obviously.”

“Virgil… Is this really even about them or are you just afraid?”

“I’m NOT afraid. I’m over that.”

“Just think about it.”

Dee stood up and took a worried glance at me again before leaving the room. I was alone again with nobody but my thoughts.

“Hey… You’re the one who tried to free us that one night.”

“...”

“I have a plan to release everyone in here. It won’t be simple but we can do it. Are you in?”

“...”

“Look… I know they are… intimidating but we can get out of here. My names-”

[aliciameade]

Fade Into You - Ch. 1

Title: Fade Into You (Chapter 1 of 5) Author: aliciameade Rating: T Pairing: Beca/Chloe Summary: Tip for newlyweds: send a wedding invite to every billionaire whose address you can find because it's a 50/50 chance their assistants just send you a perfunctory gift without ever wondering who the hell you are. Or: Beca had a really bad terrible idea when she got tired of being broke in New York. 

Also on AO3 and FFnet, but I probably can’t link there idk.

Beca wasn’t prepared for how expensive it was to live in New York City. Sure, she’d done her research; she knew it would be costly, but just how costly it was was wreaking havoc on her bank account. Rent, transportation, groceries, household necessities and the very rare luxuries like a concert or theater ticket here or there to keep her sanity had her living paycheck to paycheck. Even bringing two roommates with her to cram into the tiny Brooklyn studio didn’t help her live any more comfortably (considering only one of them chipped in for rent).

Of course, it probably helped her afford to eat.

Whatever. The point was that it was not quite the life she envisioned for herself once she landed what she thought was a Big Job.

But at least she had her friends.

“Why do I have so many cousins? And why are they all getting married?”

Beca watched Chloe sitting at their tiny dining table on Sunday afternoon (if you could even call it that) as she tossed aside a just-opened fancy envelope and what Beca assumed to be a wedding invitation. As far as she could remember, it was the fourth Chloe had received so far that year. “How many cousins do you have?”

“Sixteen. And I’m the baby of the family so they’re all either married or about to be. And here I am.” She gestured at nothing specific and sighed. “I can barely pay my share of the groceries. I can’t afford to go to all these weddings so I need to send something off their registry, but I can’t afford that, either.”

“Weddings feel like a ploy to get free shit from everyone you met once in your life,” Beca said as she watched Chloe stress out. “Like, congratulations on deciding to spend your life with one person. Why do I have to reward that?”

“It’s like an expectation. You either have to go to the wedding or send a gift. Or both!” Chloe slid her chair back from the table and took the two steps needed to get to their bed which she threw herself on a bit dramatically. “I’m just going to elope.”

She liked being on the same page as Chloe. “And miss out on all the free swag?” Beca said as she nudged Chloe’s foot with her own.

“I don’t want to be part of the problem!”

“Okay, okay!” Beca laughed. “So elope. Must be nice, though: send out a bunch of invitations to people you know won’t come and get a bunch of free stuff in return.”

“I know,” Chloe mumbled into her pillow. “It’s so messed up.”

A devious thought slid through Beca’s mind and she paused the music she’d been playing. “I need a new Keurig; ours is going to die any day now. I can feel it.”

Chloe turned onto her side to look up at Beca. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She closed her laptop and slid down to lie next to Chloe, eye-to-eye. “I have an idea. But before I tell you, I blame it entirely on Amy’s influence.”

“Why Amy?”

“You’ll see. Now hear me out. What if we sent out wedding invitations saying we’re getting married in, like, Fiji where no one we know can afford to go, and set up a wedding registry somewhere.”

“Beca, that’s, like, fraud. No wonder you blamed it on Amy.” Chloe frowned at her. “And no one would believe we’re getting married anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not even dating!” Chloe said with a laugh. “And you don’t even like girls!”

Oh. Right. There were those little details that the people who would make sense to invite to their wedding would know she and Chloe weren’t together. Not to mention the giant elephant in Beca’s mental room that she was actually very into girls and very, very into Chloe.

Except literally no one in her new adult life knew either of those facts about her. The bisexual thing was weird to bring up unprompted at this point, and when she started dating Jesse in college, everyone just assumed she was straight and made it even weirder to try to correct.

And the Chloe thing, well...that was all sorts of messy and complicated.

“Okay, first of all, a person can fall in love with someone who’s not their usual...type, so anyone who says shit about that can fuck right off.”

Chloe seemed a bit surprised by her declaration but waved for her to continue. “And the fact that it’s me?”

She had to stop herself from saying, “It’s everything.” Instead, she said, “We’ve basically been living together for six years. I don’t think it’s that far-fetched.”

Chloe was quiet for a moment, thinking, and then a slow smile spread across her face. “Beca Mitchell, you devious little devil. You actually think this could work.”

“Well, why wouldn’t it? If Aubrey was getting married in, like, Fiji and you couldn’t afford to go, you’d send her something off her registry, right? That’s what you just said.”

“I would never miss Aubrey’s wedding,” Chloe said earnestly. “She’s my best friend. And she wouldn’t miss mine, either.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Beca drawled. “So we don’t invite our current friends. Or immediate family. Cousins, old coworkers, and friends from high school.”

“Can I invite Mrs. Higgins, my 8th grade choir teacher? She was my favorite teacher.”

“Yeah, I mean as long as she won’t try to show up—wait. You’d actually do this?”

“You’ve had worse ideas.”

“Have I though?” Beca shook her head. “This is dumb. Forget it.” She put away her computer and rolled out of bed. “I’m going to Target if you need anything. I’m out of conditioner.”

“I don’t think I do, but I’ll come with you.”

~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~

When Beca came home from work late on Monday, Chloe was laying in bed, laptop propped on her thighs. She was intently focused on whatever it was she was doing and didn’t look up at Beca’s entrance.

“Hey, weirdo,” Beca said as she kicked out of her shoes and pulled her own computer out of her bag to toss it onto the bed while she changed into comfy lounging clothes. “What are you doing?”

Chloe ignored her for a few more seconds before tapping the trackpad with particularly notable resolution and sitting up. “Hey!”

“Yeah, hey,” Beca laughed. “Seriously, what are you doing? Caught up in an intense Pinterest spiral?”

Chloe shook her head. “Come here; I want to show you something.”

“Is this going to be puppies or something dirty?” Beca knelt on their bed and walked her way up until she was sitting next to Chloe. There was no telling what Chloe had up her sleeve whenever she told Beca she wanted to show her something.

“Neither. Look.” She turned her screen toward Beca.

“What am I looking at?” she asked after a few seconds. “Because that looks like a wedding invitation with our names on it.”

“That’s what it is.”

She looked at the invitation on Chloe’s screen again and then looked at her. Chloe was biting her lip and almost buzzing with excitement. “And why is that a thing that exists?”

“I made it!”

Beca rolled her eyes. “And why did you make it?”

“We need invitations if we’re going to invite people to our wedding.”

“That idea was terrible! I told you to forget it; how much time did you spend on this?” She grabbed the computer away from Chloe so she could zoom in on it. The stationery had been painted with watercolors. It was quite pretty and one Beca wouldn’t be opposed to choosing for her actual wedding.

“A couple hours. I went with a silver and sage palette. I don’t think we’re a couple who has pink in their wedding.”

“Yeah, no,” Beca said, only half-listening because her brain was pretty hung up at the moment seeing the words ‘The Wedding of Beca and Chloe’ in script. “No pink.”

“I just put Fiji because you mentioned it yesterday but we can pick something else. And a date. Oh, and we’re registered at Amazon and IKEA.”

Picking a wedding locale and date with Chloe? Sure. Cool. “Wait. You already registered us?”

“Well, no, not yet,” Chloe scoffed as if Beca’s question was absurd. “That’s what’s on the registry cards that go with the invitations. We need to make our registries together next weekend.”

“I’m not sure if I should be concerned or proud that you’re so willing to go along with my terrible idea.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Chloe said with a shrug.

Beca was pretty sure a lot of bad things could happen like someone showing up to a non-existent wedding. Then again, all they’d really have to do is apologize and explain that the wedding was called off last-minute and point out their would-be guests would now have a vacation in Fiji without wedding activities to inconvenience them.

“Several things come to mind,” she said as she returned the computer.

Chloe elbowed her. “Okay. We need this to be far enough in advance that it doesn’t feel shotgun, but not too far that everyone can rearrange their schedules for it.”

“So it’s like I forgot to send out the invitations like I said I would and you found them in a box two months after they were supposed to have gone out?”

Chloe looked at her, holding her gaze. “That sounds exactly like something you would do.”

“And we should have it on, like, a Wednesday so it’s super inconvenient. With no holidays around it that people can use to save vacation days.”

“I feel like you’re a secret evil genius,” Chloe said as she flipped through the calendar on her computer. “How about October 2?”

“Perfect.”

They then spent more than an hour Googling Fiji and wedding location options. It took so long because they kept bickering about the venues; Chloe loved one but Beca hated it. Then Beca loved one and Chloe hated it. Every fifteen minutes or so, one of them would remind the other this was all fake and it didn’t matter, and the other would argue that it still had to seem real. They’d finally settled on a resort located on the edge of a rainforest that had more than enough amenities for a destination wedding.

“Well?” Chloe asked when she finished entering the details on the invitation. “Good?”

Beca stared at the screen and what they’d created inviting recipients to their wedding. It made her a little queasy so she swallowed hard. “Perfect.”

They ordered a set of one hundred invitations, response cards, registry cards, and envelopes for it all and agreed to split the expense equally.

“Did we seriously just do that?” Beca asked as she put away her credit card. “That shit is nonrefundable. We just burned five hundred dollars.”

“Think of it as a down payment on my new dinette set.”

“Your new dinette? Pretty sure that’s going to be ours, babe.”

Chloe cocked an eyebrow at her. “Babe?”

Beca blushed. “Wedding fever. Shut up.”

“You’re adorable,” Chloe said with a laugh as she grabbed Beca by the chin to give her a shake. “Careful, or I might marry you for real.”

She blushed even harder, her heart getting lodged in her throat. “Yeah, right, dude.”

“We’ll see,” Chloe said with a wink before hopping off the bed to leave Beca behind, heart still pounding. “It’s my turn to make dinner. What do you want?”

~~~

~~~

“How many names do you have so far?” Chloe asked from her lounging spot lying backward on their bed, feet rocking back and forth next to Beca.

Beca looked at the spreadsheet on her computer; she hated spreadsheets. Loathed them. But Chloe created one for their wedding invitation list so she could have Staples print the addresses on the envelopes once they arrived. Had they planned ahead like actual would-be brides, they’d have had the list ready to import when they ordered the invitations to let the printer do that. But alas. “Thirty-six. It’s hard to figure out who makes sense to invite to my wedding but wouldn’t actually come.”

“If you can get to forty, I can make up the difference.”

“I should invite the CEO of BFD; it’s not like he’d ever come. I’ve never even met him. He’d probably pick one of the expensive gifts, too.”

Chloe sat up quickly and Beca tried not to think about how strong her abs must be to do that. “Beca.”

“What?”

“You’re a genius.” She sat forward so suddenly Beca had a fleeting [stupid] thought that Chloe was about to kiss her but all she did was turn around to sit next to her and look at the list on Beca’s screen. “But don’t add him; I don’t want to put your career at risk. Put your douche boss from Residual Heat instead; there’s no way he’d come.”

“O...kay,” Beca said as she typed his name. She’d have to look up her old studio’s mailing address later. “But why am I a genius?”

“We can invite a handful of CEOs and tech bigwigs who won’t know whether or not we work for them. We send it to their office and their assistant will just buy something off our registry without bothering to look us up.”

“Should I be concerned that your mind is this twisted?” Beca asked as Chloe commandeered her laptop to open Google and start searching.

“Did you forget this was your idea to begin with?”

She watched Chloe pull up the address for the headquarters of Apple. “A little ambitious, don’t you think?”

“Are you kidding? The bigger the company the bigger the chance we get a ‘declines with regret’ and you get that Ableton Push you think I didn’t see you add to our Amazon registry.”

Beca grumbled under her breath to hide her guilt. She’d gotten a little click-happy the other night after a couple beers and added a few non-traditional items to their list like high-end mixing equipment and the new Xbox.

“I’m just going to pick ten companies from the Forbes 500. Let’s see what happens. And now you don’t have to come up with the rest of your list!”

“Sounds great,” she said with a tight-lipped smile.

Something in her gut was telling her they were taking this much too far. But that new Ableton was so, so pretty…

~~~

~~~

“Becs, honey,” Chloe said when Beca opened the door to head to work.

Beca turned, patting herself down to make sure she had her keys and phone. “What’s up?”

“Don’t forget to mail the invitations.” She smiled at Beca and pointed at the shoe box on the table containing their pretty little scams. Amy had stuffed the envelopes for them last night and was naturally agreeable to their little business venture. They’d obliged her request to add an absurd inflatable bounce house to their list as payment for her help as long as she promised to never try to set it up in the apartment.

Beca was pretty sure Amy had her fingers crossed behind her back when she agreed.

She picked it up and rapped her fingernails on it. “Are you sure we should do this? I feel kind of guilty.”

“We got our list down to eighty-nine people we barely know—or don’t know at all. It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, okay,” Beca said with a nod, though being told not to worry didn’t magically erase her concerns. “You’re right. I’ll see you after work. It’s my turn to cook, so text me what you want and I’ll pick it up on my way home.”

“I’m totes going to be the one who actually cooks in this marriage, aren’t I?”

“Trust me; it’s for the best. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, sweetie!”

~~~

~~~

Beca dropped the stack of thick, fancy envelopes into the outgoing mail drop on the corner by her subway stop on her way to work, and that was it.

The deed was done.

~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~

Three days later...

When Beca came home from work she found Chloe at the table but she wasn’t sipping her usual tea and wearing a smile at Beca’s return.

Instead, she was visibly nervous, her arms crossed and eyes fixed on her untouched tea.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Beca asked and moved to sit across from her. “Are you okay?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” Chloe said in a small voice, eyes refusing to meet Beca’s.

“It’s hard to promise that when I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’ll try. What’s going on?”

Chloe closed her eyes and sighed. “My parents got one of our invitations.”

“What?!” Beca almost launched from her chair; she gripped the edge of the table to stay put and she saw Chloe flinch at her outburst. She tried to lower voice when she demanded, “How?”

“I checked the spreadsheet because I know I didn’t put them on it.” She sounded on the verge of tears. “But it looks like it got corrupted, like it combined with my Christmas card list.”

Beca’s blood ran cold. “My dad’s on your Christmas card list, too.” She’d barely finished the sentence when her phone started ringing in her pocket. She could hear Chloe’s text alerts almost non-stop from where her phone sat on her bedside table. “Who else ended up on the list?”

Chloe closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Beca pulled her phone from her pocket; she already knew. She didn’t even bother looking at the screen as she swiped the screen to answer it. “Hey, Dad.”

“You and Chloe are getting married?!” he crowed into the phone. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? Oh, Beca I’m so happy for you both; you’re perfect together!”

“We’re not—wait.” She straightened. “Huh?”

“I knew it was only a matter of time.”

She looked at Chloe across the table who was oblivious to what her father was saying. She seemed to assume it to be terrible the way she was hiding half her face behind her hand. She looked miserable.

“Yeah…” Beca replied. She felt bad; this was all her doing and now Chloe’s going to be humiliated having to tell everyone in her life that she tried to do something dumb. Or that her fake relationship failed. And all her cousins were getting married… “We’re...really happy.”

Chloe’s hand fell and her eyes went wide. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“And I’m so happy for you. The date is going to be tough for me to get away in the middle of the semester, but there’s no way I’m going to miss my little girl’s big day. Is there a block of rooms reserved for guests? Should I just give your name when I call?”

“Um, no. Sorry. We...we splurged on the trip so we couldn’t lock down rooms for everyone.”

“Don’t you worry; I’ll take care of the rooms. It’s the least I can do. I’ll call the resort and give them my information.” It was Beca’s turn to cover her eyes. “Thanks, Dad. That’s so generous.”

“Anything for you and my soon-to-be daughter-in-law.”

“Thanks. Listen, I just got home and Chloe and I have a lot to talk about. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Sure, pumpkin.”

Beca ended the call and set down her phone with a long exhale. “Shit.”

“What happened?” Chloe asked sounding as sheepish as she did excited.

“He’s...going to pay for everyone’s rooms at the resort for our wedding.”

Chloe blinked hard and sat back. “What?”

“He thinks we’re perfect together. And he wasn’t surprised at all. Well, he was surprised by the wedding. Not about us being together.” Which we’re not. “What did your parents say?”

Chloe cleared her throat. “They offered to pay for the rehearsal dinner and the reception.”

“What?” Beca said with a barked laugh.

“They’re over the moon for us. Asked what took us so long.” She looked like she wanted to disappear into her chair, which was a unique state for Chloe to be in.

“But you didn’t tell them it’s fake.”

“Did you tell your dad it’s fake?” Chloe countered. “No, you didn’t. You just went along with it.”

Beca sank into her chair, too. “And now our parents are ecstatic we’re getting married.” There was a lot to unpack with that fact and all that came with it. Chloe’s texts were still chiming and a minute later, Beca’s started up, too. “Seriously, who else got invited?”

With a sigh, Chloe slid a piece of paper across the table. Printed on it was a spreadsheet set up just like what they’d made to send to Staples, except it was a mish-mash of their distant cousins, millionaire executives, and people they actually knew. Their parents. The owner of the vet clinic Chloe was interning at.

Aubrey, Emily, and the rest of the Bellas.

“Oh, my God, how did this happen?” Beca said with a groan as she crumpled the paper and tossed it toward the trash can. (She missed.)

“I told you: I don’t know! All I can think is that my files were named List1 and List2 and somehow they got combined or maybe I didn’t delete everything from one of them before I saved it.” She reached across the table and grabbed Beca’s hands. “Beca, I’m so, so sorry. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll let everyone know it was just a prank gone wrong.”

Beca was about to agree when she remembered how excited her father sounded. “Your parents were really happy?”

Chloe managed a sad laugh; she still looked on the verge of tears and Beca couldn’t blame her. She felt like she might cry herself. “My mom said she was starting to get worried you were never going to propose.”

“Oh, my God,” Beca said, blushing hard. “She didn’t even know that we were dating. Or, that we weren’t dating. Whatever. What did you say?”

“I told her I asked you.”

“You proposed to me?!” Beca scoffed. “As if you would! I would totally ask you to marry me before you even had a chance!”

Chloe blinked at her, her worry and sadness starting to fade into a soft smile. “You would?”

Beca realized what she’d said and shook her head. “Nevermind. I should have looked at the envelopes before I dropped them off.”

“You didn’t have a reason to. This isn’t your fault.”

“Except that it was all my idea?” Beca said with a crooked smile. “You’d think Amy would have realized they were wrong when she was stuffing them. She knew the plan.”

Chloe sighed and let go of Beca’s hands to run her own through her hair. “Something tells me she knew they got messed up.”

“Why would you think that?”

Chloe shot her a look.

“Because it’s Amy. Right.” She sighed, too. “I need a drink.” Beca stood up and headed for the fridge, the top of which held their liquor collection. “What do you want?”

“Whiskey, neat,” Chloe answered as she pushed aside her tea.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

~~~

~~~

They waited until they were both two whiskeys in before they agreed to get on Skype with Aubrey.

“This is how you tell me you two are a thing?” Aubrey said as she waved the invitation in front of her camera. “A little warning would have been nice.”

“It all happened so fast, Bree,” Chloe said. “I guess living together in such close quarters...well, it brought some things to light.”

It was so convincing that Beca almost believed her. Except she didn’t know why they were lying to Aubrey. Not wanting to immediately disappoint their excited parents was one thing, but going along with it with Aubrey… She nudged Chloe from her spot next to her where they sat closely in bed so they could both be mostly in frame and threw her a look she hoped read, What the hell are you doing?

Chloe just winked at her and slipped her arm behind her to wrap around her waist and pull her closer.

“Well, as disappointed as I am that you didn’t think to tell me, I’m thrilled for you both.”

“You are?” Beca scoffed.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You two are good for each other. And I know you’ll take care of my best friend.”

Beca had to fight hard to not blush. “Yeah. Well...that’s the plan.”

“So, Fiji? I’ve always wanted to go! Do you have a wedding planner? And Chloe, I can’t believe you haven’t asked me to be your Maid of Honor yet! We made a pact!”

Chloe cleared her throat. “Right! I was getting to that! I’d love it if you’d be my Maid of Honor.”

“What are you doing?” Beca muttered from the side of her mouth.

“Asking my bestie to be in our wedding,” Chloe muttered in return.

“I’d be honored!” Aubrey said with a bright grin. “Now you have to let me take over the planning. You can’t do this all by yourselves. Put me in touch with your contact at the resort and I’ll take it over. What have you arranged so far?”

“Well, we could barely get the invitations out without trouble…” Chloe started and Beca elbowed her. “So we haven’t really had a chance to get going yet. We haven’t even put down the deposit to reserve the space yet—”

“Don’t say another word,” Aubrey said with her hand up. “I’m going to take care of that as my gift to you both.”

“Thanks, Bree. That means so much.” Chloe grasped Beca’s hand and pulled it up to kiss it.

Beca just stared at her in shock.

“Right, Becs?”

“Uh, yeah. Right. Thanks, Aubrey,” Beca offered. “We gotta go, though,” she added, desperate to end the torture.

“Okay. Remember to send me that info and I’ll send you the confirmations once I get it taken care of this week.”

“Totes. I’ll text you later.”

“Perfect. Have a good night, you two!”

“Bye!” Chloe chirped and Beca offered a weak wave as Chloe disconnected the call.

“Oh, my God, Chloe, we can’t keep this up!” she said as soon as the screen was blank. “What are we doing?!”

“Everyone’s so excited for us; I don’t want to disappoint them.” Chloe turned a little to look at her and she was so close Beca could see the different specks of light and dark in Chloe’s eyes. “We’ll tell them soon.”

“Aubrey’s going to spend money on this. We can’t let her do that.”

“I’ll wait a few days to send her the info and then we’ll just tell it’s off.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

~~~

~~~

Not two hours had passed when both their phones chimed with a group text from Aubrey to the two of them. Chloe was taking a bath when it came in so Beca opened it and read it aloud so she could hear it.

“Was too excited! Looked up the resort info and got it booked. Oh, my God. They said they didn’t have any record of your interest—gee, I wonder why—and the day was already booked for some corporate retreat but I got them to move it for the wedding. Of course she did. Good thing you let me take care of it! You might not have had a venue. Damn it, Chloe!”

“Well, it’s not my fault!”

“Then whose fault is it?!”

Nothing but silence followed from behind the shower curtain.

(Chapter 2)

[escapingreality1992]

Bars and Hookups

Carol Danvers x OFC

“Lila? Hello? Lila!” a voice called out, a bit muffled as my attention was affixed elsewhere. There she is, standing with a group of people, laughing at someone’s joke most likely. The girl is a blonde with a slight wave to her hair; her eyes remind me of chocolate for they are a warm shade of brown. She’s taller than me, maybe by a few inches. This girl is beautiful. I imagine her laugh is beautiful, sweet as sugar. I don’t know for sure because I can’t hear it; she’s too far away.

           “Will you stop staring? One of these days she’s going to see you and come over here. What are you planning on doing then? The same voice from earlier says.

           “Huh?” I ask, my gaze still on her. A swift blow to my arm breaks my stare for a minute, my head swiveling to the person sitting across from me; now I remember that I’m hanging out with my friend, Sarah, a roommate from college. It also happens to be her birthday. Damn her for bringing me to this bar, I think to myself. When I agreed to this outing I hadn’t know we were coming to Haven, where she always comes…with the same group of people I’ve noticed her with.

Haven is quiet and cozy, the atmosphere always bringing good vibes. The interior is a cool shade of blue, reminiscent of the ocean in some ways, the wood paneling making it seem as if it were made out of driftwood. All the tables were black as midnight, the granite glimmering in the dim lighting. It was my favorite place to come if I wanted a drink and if I needed to cool off from work.

The first time I saw her was a few months ago when I desperately needed a relaxation from my stressful job, the bar drowned out as she walked in with a group of people, the same group of people she was in here with tonight; I was drawn to her, to the way she walked, the confidence oozing out of her. I couldn’t help but to think about what if she was mine to do as I pleased with her. Sarah had started coming with me a few weeks ago and had begun to notice how I’d sneak a peek in her direction, the infatuation brewing inside my aching heart. Now I was completely ignoring my friend, the guilt getting to me.

           “I’m sorry. Guess I’m a bit distracted,” I manage to say, resisting looking back over at that woman. I don’t know her name but I’d like to; I wanted to hear her say it, wanted to hear her voice; those rosy pink lips were a favorite thing of mine, my gaze always drifting down to. The people she came in with were easily recognized as the Avengers but I wasn’t sure which ones, except of course Tony Stark, his face constantly plastered everywhere before he saved the world during the battle of New York. The other ones were girls- a redhead with a curly bob, green eyes and the other a brunette, the same color eyes as the redhead-and I secretly prayed that the other three weren’t in relationship with my crush.

“Lila! You’re not even looking at her and yet you’re still daydreaming about her. A bit distracted? I think you might be a lot distracted,” Sarah commented, sipping her dirty martini.

           “Sorry…” I mumbled, picking at my fingers, ashamed of ignoring her. I decided to take one last peek at her…and found her staring right at me; she caught me. Shit. She’ll probably think I’m a weirdo, I thought, whipping my head back around, focusing on my friend.

“Uh oh. I think she saw you. Remember how I said she might come over here? Well…that’s exactly what she’s doing,” Sarah remarked. My body went rigid, my heart hammering in my chest, nerves spiking afraid of what was about to happen. The woman in question approached our table, standing in between my friend and me, hands on her hips, one jutting out to her right side.

           “Hi, my name’s Carol. I couldn’t help but that notice you were looking at me and I wanted to come over here to introduce myself. What’s your name pretty girl?” She greeted me, a smile on her face. I was at a lost for words, the reality of the woman I’d come to admire actually talking to me. I opened my mouth to speak, still no words coming out, my nerves taking over my senses.

           “Lila. Her name is Lila,” Sarah answered for me.

           “Nice to meet you Lila. I’ve seen you in here a couple of times before but you’re usually alone. What’s the occasion? Are you on a date?” Carol continued, her smile widening.

           “No, no. We’re not dating. We’re here celebrating my birthday. I invited her out for drinks and I hadn’t been here in quite some time,” Sarah replied, when I still could form no words, no voice.

           “Well, birthday girl, would it be terrible for me to buy your friend here a drink? Mind if my friends and I join you?”

           “No, not at all. In fact, I insist you join us. It’s kind of fun seeing her speechless for once,” Sarah said, nudging my leg under the table with her boot.

           “Perfect. I’ll be right back with my friends,” Carol stated, leaving the table. As soon as she was out of earshot and out of view, I kicked Sarah in the shin, making her curse and shoot me a glare.

           “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I can’t talk to her much less be around her. She probably thinks I’m a weirdo,” I snapped at her.

           “Weirdo, no. I do think you’re super cute though,” Carol’s voice penetrated my ears. Fuck, she’s quick, I thought, trying my best to fake a smile.

“So, anyway, this is Steve, Wanda, Natasha and I have no doubt you know this is Tony Stark. Guys, this is Lila and…sorry, I didn’t get your name,” She continued, pointing to Sarah and me after gesturing to her friends as she introduced them.

           “I’m Sarah. Please, join us,” Sarah stated.

           “Have a seat and I’ll be back with another…Bloody Mary for Miss Lila,” Carol remarked, making a note of my drink of choice.

“Extra spicy,” I choked out, receiving thumbs up from her.

“Finally! She speaks,” Sarah said, clapping her hands in a mocking fashion.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, playing with my straw.

“Danvers told us it’s your birthday. What better way to spend it than with the Avengers? At least with the ones that are here right now,” Tony stated, slinging an arm over both our shoulders.

           “Hey, Stark! Paws off my Lila,” Carol snapped, returning with my drink and one for her as well. Setting them down, she pulled up a couple of chairs, the rest of her party gathering around us. Draping an arm around me, she held me close, shooting dagger eyes at Tony.

           “Uh, Danvers. I don’t think she’s really yours,” Steve stated, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning back against the back of his chair.

           “Not yet anyway,” She shot back, kissing my cheek. I stood up abruptly, excusing myself to go to the bathroom, embarrassment flooding my entire body. Entering a stall, I sat down on the toilet, angry tears springing to my eyes.

           How could I have been so stupid? Why did I have to get caught? Now I’m being flirted with and being humiliated by friend in front of her, I thought to myself. The sobs racked my body, my hands gripping my hair behind my ears.

           “Lila? Are you all right? You’ve been gone a long time. Carol and Sarah are worried about you,” a voice called out.

           “Yeah, I’m fine,” I blurted out, pulling out some toilet paper, dabbing at my face, wiping off any evidence I had been crying. Unlocking the door, I strode out, coming face-to-face with the woman whose name was Wanda.

           “You don’t look okay. What’s wrong? Did Carol come on too strong?” She asked me.

           “It’s nothing. I think I’m going home. I’m not feeling too well,” I replied, washing my face with a wet paper towel, cleaning up the makeup from where it ran while I was crying. Peeking outside, I made sure the people at my table weren’t looking, planning my exit from the bar.

           “She likes you by the way. She has been watching you the whole night. You’re the first person she looks for when we come here. You shouldn’t leave. I know it might make you scared but come have fun with us. Tell her to back off a little if she’s flirting too much. Don’t go Lila,” Wanda stated, freezing me mid-step.

           “I can’t. Not with Sarah humiliating me in front of her. I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I told her before ducking out the front door. I had driven by myself, no worries about Sarah getting stranded at the bar. I wouldn’t step foot in Haven again, not until a couple of weeks later when work got be too much.

  Three Weeks Later

At work things had gotten stressful and it seemed like I couldn’t do anything right. Some people didn’t want to bother working or being slack on the cleaning, nothing positive coming out of anyone’s mouths; I really wanted to snap back at those who aggravated me. I desperately wanted a break and after a few hours spent pacing around my apartment debating on going to Haven, I gave in to driving to the bar hoping I would see her; I wanted to see Carol.

           I wanted to get out my frustration and the only thing I could think of was to tear off all of her clothes and fuck her until the sun rose high in the sky. Thank goodness I lived only 15 minutes away from that bar and today is a Friday; no work on the weekends. I parked my light blue sedan, getting out and stalked up to the front entrance, pulling open the large wooden door. Scanning the crowd, I spotted Carol with the same group of friends, laughing and having a good time at a table in the back of the bar. She was wearing a brown leather jacket, a black shirt and dark blue jeans, black boots to match; it was a magnificent site. My nervousness spiked knowing what I was about to do wasn’t a thing I’m known to do.

           Breathe, Lila. Go make her yours, I thought, taking a deep breath and straightening my back and marching through the sea of people toward their table. Her eyes flickered to me, eyes wide with surprise; she didn’t a chance to speak as my lips smashed against hers, my hands grasping a handful of her soft, blonde hair, yanking her body to mine. At first, I thought she had changed her mind about me, her lips immobile as I kissed her; that was true until her arms secured my body to hers, those plump, pink lips capturing mine in a rough, longing second kiss. Someone cleared his or her throat, breaking us apart for a moment.

           “Are you going to join us or…?” the voice belonging to Tony asked, gesturing to the table in front of us.

           “I’m sorry, but no. I must steal Carol away for the rest of the night. There…are things I want to do to her. Things I should have been bold enough to do earlier,” I replied. His eyebrows raised and his mouth gaped open, the implication of what I wanted to do extremely clear in his expression. I grabbed Carol’s hand, tugging her to the entrance of the bar, exiting to my car in order to take her home.

 At my apartment building, I parked and led her up to my apartment door, unlocking it to usher her inside. Closing the door and locking it behind us, I turned to face her, my lips connecting once again to hers, both hands now interlaced in all of her hair.

She backed me up against the door, my back slamming into it hard but I didn’t care. I wanted her, needed her now. I moved my hands down to her jacket, pushing it off of her, the material hitting the floor, her shoulders bare against my skin, the shirt being a tank top underneath that jacket. She lifted me so I could wrap my legs around her waist, her lips moving down to my neck; I tilted my head back at the contact, her lips sucking on my sweet spot.

           “Where’s your bedroom?” she asked, mid-kiss, returning back for more, her hands slipping under my periwinkle blue shirt, warm hands cupping my breast still in the bra I was wearing.

           “In the back room down the hallway,” I answered, moaning as she had pulled down one cup of my bra and brushed her thumb across my nipple; it hardened at her marvelous touch. She carried back to the bedroom, laying me down on the mattress, removing my shirt from my body, ripping the front of the bra freeing my breasts. The cool air of the air conditioning, hardened my nipples even more, prompting her to press her mouth to one; the hot saliva and the way she swirled her tongue around it causing me to arch my back. She pinched and twisted the other one, my hands clinging to her shoulders, nails digging into her supple skin. From my breast, she trailed a line of kisses down my stomach, that soft hair making me shiver in anticipation as she unbuttoned my jean shorts, pulling them off, leaving my panties on, not quite ready to have me naked in front of her.

She lifted me up to remove the remaining remnants of my bra, returning her lips to mine, one hand sliding underneath the silky fabric of my panties and stroking a finger against my core until she inserted one finger inside my body. My hands ventured to her tank top hem and I shifted it upwards, her movements pausing to let me take it off her, unhooking her bra and tossing to the side. I unbuttoned her jeans, yanking them down along with her underwear, while she decided to take mine off, tired of the fabric getting in the way of her touch.

           I moaned as she inserted two more fingers, stretching me. Faster she went as she pumped them in and out of me, bringing me to climax, drenching her fingers; a loud moan from me echoed around the room.

           “I love that sound from you. I’m going to make you come again just to hear it one more time. Or maybe I’ll make you come over and over so that it never ends,” she told me, replacing her fingers with her mouth. My hips bucked, my legs spreading further apart as my hands clenched at the sheets. She sucked on me, her tongue lapping at my juices; tiny moans escaping my lips, crying out her name as she made me come again.

           “You’re as delicious as you look,” Carol stated, licking her lips. I growled in delight and flipped her over onto her back, my turn to make her orgasm.

           “I’d like to taste you to see if you’re as scrumptious as you appear to be,” I commented, trailing kisses of my own to her core, spreading her and pinning her legs to the mattress so she wouldn’t escape the pleasure I was prepared to give her.

           “Lila, fuck! Keep…going. You’re…fantastic…with…your tongue. Lila!” she called out in between breathy moans, as I brought her to climax inside my mouth. She did indeed taste fantastic, her appearance definitely matching with it. We played with each other, our touches and kisses continuing until we were exhausted, sweaty, coming to cuddle right as the sun began to rise. We had opened the blinds to watch it, her body pressed up behind me, her blonde hair fanning out against the pillow.

           “It’s stunning, like you,” she stated, kissing my neck, snuggling closer if that was even possible. Turning to face her, I kissed her lips, a sweet moment compared to what we had been doing throughout the night.

           “I’d like to take you out on a proper date. I like you. A lot. Tonight I was frustrated because of my job and I’d like this to be more than what it seems. What do you say? Want to go out with me tomorrow night?” I told her, receiving a nod from her.

           “I’d like that very much. I’ve been crushing on you ever since the first night I stepped in that bar,” she said, caressing my cheek and kissing me for a final time; we both fell asleep in each other’s arms the beginning of a very special relationship.

[sanpatron]

Saint’s Seven Redux: Part 1

Deep within the Fibonacci Ward on one of its higher levels stood a casino; one that looked as grand and marvelous as many of the ritzier ones you could find on the Vegas strip. Despite the fact this building lacked a resort like its real life counterparts, or the Golden Dawn here in Spirale, it still stood as a sort of bastion of glamour and luxury, of vice and splendor. A place where anyone in this city could potentially become a winner and reap their winnings, but at the same time fail oh so spectacularly and lose it all.

But despite the grandeur of it all there were much more sinister dealings at play here. Cheating, botched games, debts, misery, murder, loans. One could enter this building thinking they might have a chance to strike it big and soon leave hours later with their whole life in shambles. Many have been left to ruin because of their time spent in this building, so much so that it’s become quite the hotbed of rumors in regards to the alleged ‘higher management’ this casino works for. Nevertheless many people do not heed the warnings of such talk and soon find themselves in the same sort of misery that’s befallen other people. If you wish the encounter high-risk gambling in its truest nature then there really was no better place to visit. As the proverb goes ‘the house always wins’, especially when it’s enforced.

Yet despite everything none of this particularly mattered to the 3rd Street Saints.

The Boss has been biding his time for quite a while now; gathering whatever resources necessary and acquiring as much information as possible to plan out this attack. He’s had these bastards in his sights ever since they fucked him and that other weirdo over months ago. Hasn’t forgiven them since. But revenge wasn’t the only thing on the Boss’s mind currently. What really fascinated him about this casino were the various rumors in regards to an apparent mob connection. ‘So there are others here.’ he would initially think. It certainly made the goal of taking over this city a much harder one, but in the same vein it felt far more exciting now.

Whoever this apparent higher management was were definitely hard to track down. Maybe they’ll make themselves known once this whole job is over with. Who knows? He was more than looking forward to dealing with them in the future. But for now all that mattered was the acquisition of this establishment by any means necessary.

From the intel that was gathered it seemed as if there was a low number of patrons in the casino currently. Excellent. The fewer citizens they needed to deal with the better. Gave the Saints much more room to really go all out on their enemies. With everything now set in place it was time to move out. A portion of the gang would stay behind as there was an obvious need to have people here to look after their territory. The rest would ride towards the casino in various cars and trucks while the higher ups would find themselves in a limo the Boss had rented for the night. What better of a way to make an entrance then by coming in with style.

Even if tonight wasn’t one of their more particularly busier evenings there was still quite a number of people within the casino. Slots, blackjack, poker, you name it. Any and all forms of gambling resided within this building. The variety helped the people running this joint make quite the profit, not to mention it definitely wet their customers’ appetites into taking part in much more lucrative games with drastically higher stakes. It was a strategy that had helped them make a vast fortune here in Spirale, and it was all going to be toppled down in one night.

Out in the streets of Fibonacci the usual sounds one could hear throughout the ward were immediately drowned out by a limousine hurdling down towards the casino, music blasting from the inside of the vehicle. Several other vehicles followed alongside it almost as if this was a motorcade of some sort. Eventually they all arrived outside of the casino, the limousine pulling up right by the entrance. Stepping outside of the limo were a handful of people, some who may be recognizable to anyone who might have caught a glimpse of a certain weapons store robbery months ago.

Each one of them seemed to be carrying a handful of weapons; rifles, pistols, shotguns, knives, anything to prepare themselves for what was to occur. And as the group from the limousine made their way inside of the building a large number of people clad in purple followed behind them, some staying out by the entrance for what could only be assumed as a means to keep an eye on anyone who may try to enter or leave.

As soon as they were inside of the casino a member of security immediately spotted them and began making his way towards the large crowd. Yet before the poor bastard even had a chance to utter a single word or even make any kind of move, the smallest member of the group from the limousine used the umbrella she carried on her person to stab him repeatedly in the abdomen. Several dozen or so of the people clad in purple stayed behind to deal with anyone else in security, the rest heading into what would be described as the main part of the building which hosted all these casino games.

The largest of the limousine group, a man dressed in a fine suit and wearing what looked to be a high-tech mask that resembled an oni, quickly took the rifle strapped to his back and began firing it into the air in order to gather everyone’s attention. And just like that people were already screaming and trying their damn hardest to duck under any piece of furniture they could find out of fear of getting shot. As this went on security began frantically trying to get a hold of backup with no such luck. Seemed as if any means to communicate with people in other parts of the building or outside of it had been cut off. A panic had soon settled in; various members of staff trying to figure out who exactly were these guys. Did they have any relation to the two madmen who shot up the place months ago? No, couldn’t be. This was far more organized than that spur of the moment massacre.

It had to be a gang. But why target this place? Opportunity? A grudge? Could practically be anything. However, the reason really didn’t matter at the end of the day. These people had had the gall, no, the audacity to break into this building and act like they could do whatever the hell they wanted. That was not going to slide with any of the members of staff on board. They would do what they can to slaughter these fools and remind everyone what kind of power they held here.

Sadly that was not going to happen.

" Evening, people! Hope you’re all doing well tonight. ” says the large man in the oni mask, who at this point was thought to be the one in charge. “ Just wanted to quickly apologize for ruining any of the fun you might’ve been having. We kinda have some business that needs to be taken care of with the people running the joint here. Figured it’d be best to get it outta the way now rather than later. ” As he says this he makes his way towards one of the many tables littered about the area, climbing on top of it to use as a makeshift stage.

“ Now just so we’re clear none of you are involved with this little matter at all. So I figured it’d be best to ask y’all to leave the place and forget all about this. ” His tone now turns to one of sarcastic empathy despite his voice being modulated. “ I know, it must suck real bad to quit in the middle of that win streak you’re having. But I promise you all you’ll be compensated on your way out! Might not be a whole lot of Dust, sure, but I think it’s safe t’ say that with the money you’re receiving and the promise of not being caught in the middle of a shoot out you’re getting a pretty good fuckin’ deal right now. ”

Anyone with half a brain could realize how good this was. If they didn’t then that was their own damn fault, but the man in charge knew how people were. He knew what would sound good to them. A bit of money and their lives intact? In this situation that was basically a jackpot. Bit by bit people would make their way towards the front entrance, the people clad in purple compensating them for their time before shooing them off and making sure they wouldn’t say shit. 

In truth there was bound to be a few dozen or so who would speak to authorities, but by the time any formal investigation would be made there wouldn’t be a trace of evidence to prove what exactly they witnessed.

With all patrons of this casino now having left it was time to actually get this show on the road. “ I think it’s pretty obvious what we intend to do here. You guys are smart, right? I’m sure one of you already went and tattled to whoever the fuck is running the place. Soooo let’s just get to it, huh? ” As he says this more and more of the ‘staff’ begins to enter from other parts of the building. Unfortunately they can’t make due with any outside help, but to them this seems to be enough. “ Oh fuck, where are my manners. Forgot to introduce myself! So, hi. I’m the Boss of the 3rd Street Saints. Pretty sure you might’ve heard of the gang and I here and there, yeah? I’ve heard a lot about you guys too. A whole lot of real interesting shit. ”

It’s difficult to tell with the mask on but there’s a clear sense that the Boss is smiling behind it. If anything the mask acts as a means to represent that given its design. “ I know you assholes are working for an even bigger set of assholes somewhere in this city. Don’t know who the hell they are just yet but I’m hoping t’ meet them sometime soon. Maybe they can take this as an open invitation for just that. ” As he lets out a laugh the rest of the casino’s ‘staff’ begins to draw weapons on the Boss and the Saints surrounding him. Just like his last encounter with them they were all armed to the teeth. How exciting.

Now if only the Boss knew what kind of chain reaction would be caused by this one act of defiance.

There was nothing more to say. Nothing more to do other than let the carnage start. And so with that the Boss gestures to his Saints to begin the fight, shouting out “ LEEEEEEEET’S GET IT ON! ” before racing over to a slot machine and ripping the device out of its place, using that monster strength of his to throw it at the opposition. He uses the confusion over his improvised weapon to begin firing away at much of the security personnel, ducking and weaving behind cover as he slowly makes his way to where he assumes the office of the man in charge here is.

@liketorchwork, @rooksassassin, @trggrhppy, @maxequerade, @harliquinn, @parasmol

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

New Beginnings (Part 1)

Frank Adler X OFC

A/N: I literally spent like FOREVER working on this storyboard LOL I hope you enjoy this series! Ignore the piece of shit wattpad cover... It looked too plain, and I wanted a picture. *shrugs*

Warnings: None really... yet. Swearing, mostly.

Main Masterlist // Series Masterlist

“It’s too hot, here.” Annie sighed to herself, air conditioning cranked to the max in her older model truck. Honestly, how do people like this weather? “What do you think, Elena?” She glanced up in the rearview mirror, spotting her snoring toddler in her car seat.

With an eye roll, she went back to concentrating on the busy road, squinting behind her sunglasses to find her little street. “Seriously, kid? We’ve only been driving for, like, twenty minutes.”

Florida was a completely different atmosphere than northern Minnesota.

It was a million times hotter, there were more people in the major cities, and the people were always so busy. Luckily, Annie could get used to the warmer weather, considering she’d decided to move in mid-September. It was still hot as shit in Minnesota, but she knew that would change fairly quick. Minnesota weather was completely unpredictable, but Annie had respected that. She was used to dealing with the rain, heat, snow, and cold – sometimes all in the same damn week.

Now, she was going to have to learn to respect the tropical weather – considering she was moving to Florida during hurricane season.

Hurricanes were nothing like tornadoes…

If there was a hurricane any time soon, she was going to have a goddamn heart attack.

It was a bright, sunny day, though. She picked a great day to leave the hotel and move into her new… apartment? The landlord had called it an apartment, but the pictures made it look more like a small house; and though she hadn’t seen the place in person, she already loved it. It was the only pink house in the little community that she’d found on a renters website.

Moving had been a spur of the moment decision, on her part, because… well… her parents… they died in a car accident back in early June.

Her dad had hydroplaned during a particularly bad thunderstorm, causing the car to collide with a large semi-truck, and they’d lost their lives. Luckily, the other driver was unharmed. Her brother, Gavin, had been on his way home to visit from his first year at North Dakota State University when the accident had occurred.

Unfortunately, Annie and her small toddler, Elena, had been at home – waiting on their arrival back from the store.

Receiving the news about their parents’ deaths devastated the siblings. Elena was too young to understand why her mother and her uncle were huddled together on the couch, sobbing uncontrollably, awaiting the arrival of their grandparents to help with funerals and insurance. Gavin’s girlfriend, Grace, had driven all night to come to Gavin and Annie’s rescue. She helped cook and clean, and she helped with Elena – much to Annie’s admiration.

Gracie had been a friggin’ godsend to the siblings.

When Annie and Gavin decided to sell the family home, they – drunkenly – decided the best thing for Annie to do was throw a dart at a map of the United States and choose a state.

Because mixing alcohol and darts was the best idea they could come up with.

After three tries to get the damn dart to stick in the damn board, it landed near Tampa, Florida. Not wanting to completely live in the city, they’d done some online research and found the apartment – at an amazing price – which was move-in ready by the beginning of September.

That was the reason for the 1,900-ish mile trip from Thief River Falls, Minnesota, to the little town outside of Tampa, Florida. The landlord – Roberta – had promised that the place would be painted, carpets would be cleaned or replaced, and that the place was quite spacious for a single-mother and a toddler.

Not that Annie couldn’t afford to do all the work herself, after she received the ghastly life insurance – blood money – check with too many zeros. Her and her brother split the check down the middle for life insurance, and the house. He got their mother’s fancy Jeep, and she got her father’s old – but reliable – pickup truck. It made more sense, with the move. Not that she had much stuff to move, anyways. She’d wanted a clean break from her life in Minnesota. She’d broken things off with her boyfriend, Lance, and donated all her belongings – only keeping the important items.

The usual type of ‘I need a change of scenery after my parents’ deaths’ move.

Right?

Her brother tagged along on the trip with her, to make sure that the apartment was really ready. All the while, Annie found a job at a local elementary school as an office secretary, which provided daycare for Elena.

Unfortunately, Gavin had to leave early in the morning, due to college starting back up and having an early exam he needed to finish studying for.

So, he had to catch a flight at an ungodly hour, earlier that morning.

“We’re almost to our new home, Mija.” Annie smiled, knowing full well that her daughter was still snoring away in the back seat. That kid could sleep through anything. “You shouldn’t be napping. It’s almost ten in the morning. You should be wide awake, kid.”

Glancing at her phone – which was attached to a vent-clip, so she could see the GPS – she realized that she’d actually missed the turn into the neighborhood, prompting her to sigh in frustration. Whipping around when she could, she followed the road back to her turn, which was partially hidden by a few annoying trees.

Commit that to memory, Annie.

…Stupid ass trees.

“Elena, baby, time to wake up.” When Annie entered her little neighborhood, she reached back to gently shake her daughter’s chubby, little, tan leg. “We’re home.” Annie immediately knew which house was hers… since the bright pink stuck out like a sore thumb. She loved it! “Mija, look.”

She heard the grunt and whine of her little girl, who was not a happy baby when she was woken from a nap. Elena – who’s dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin resembled her father – was glaring at her from her car seat, pissed off. Though Elena’s features didn’t resemble Annie’s, in the slightest, her facial expressions completely matched Gavin’s facial expressions – much to Annie’s dismay and humor.

“Oh, come on, Mija.” She laughed, pulling into her designated parking space – which was a small, grassy area next to her new home. “At least show me your beautiful smile. Today’s a happy day.”

The second the car stopped moving, Elena started straining against the bonds of her car seat, lip protruding in a pout and whining loudly.

“Alright, alright.” Annie sighed, unbuckling her own seatbelt, before reaching for the door. She was immediately hit with a wave of humid heat, which seeped into the air conditioned truck and fogged the windows. “Fuck, it’s hot.”

She hopped down, her five foot three inch stature appearing even smaller next to the height of her dad’s older truck. Walking around the front of the truck, she saw a young girl running around in one of the yards, blonde hair swishing behind her as she chased around a fat, orange and white cat. A woman, who was seated on her concrete steps, was laughing, watching the young girl with the adoration a mother would have for a child.

Speaking of children…

Annie ripped open the door, unbuckling her own child from her car seat and turning back towards their new home.

The pastel pink home had a lot of character, reminding Annie of a small doll house she’d had as a child. The plants around the house looked as if they’d been well cared for, the concrete steps – though slightly uneven – were lined with a metal railing, which would be good to have when Elena learned how to walk properly down the stairs, versus sliding down on her butt or belly. The roof looked a little worn, but that was understandable with Florida’s stormy weather, and the accents of the house were a newly painted white.

The neighborhood, though dated, looked beautifully kept-up.

Elena, whose mood had improved in the last couple minutes, whined to be let down and thrashed against Annie – pissed that she wasn’t immediately able to run around and cause a ruckus.

“Stay close to mommy, okay?” Annie told her, setting her down on the grassy lot, “Mommy doesn’t know this neighborhood, yet.”

Elena immediately ran circles around Annie’s pale legs, which were donned in some jean shorts, and started a fit of giggles – stomping around like a tiny, little weirdo.

“Let’s get the stuff from the back, yeah?” She smiled, watching Elena run to a bush to check out the little yellow flowers blooming, eyes full of wonder. “Then we can tour the house.”

Ignoring her, Elena picked a flower from the bush, plopping down on her butt and examining the flower with her dark brows pushed together in concentration – slightly humming to herself.

With a small chuckle, Annie moved to the back of the truck, moving the cover back so she had access to the few belongings that she’d brought with. There were only a few boxes of belongings and necessities, three suitcases, a portable crib for Elena, a large cooler of food Annie had purchased that morning, some grocery bags, and a blow up mattress for Annie.

That was it… At least, until the furniture arrived.

Grabbing Elena’s things first, she hauled them off the truck, calling for Elena to follow her as she brought them to the front steps. Elena, who had thrown the poor flower onto the ground and trampled it to a mangled mess, toddled over to the front door.

After struggling to get the door unlocked with her arms full, Annie stepped into their new home for the first time, followed by Elena’s little body.

The carpets – which had been replaced, recently – where a brilliant off-white, as were the walls. The front door lead into the living room, which – though small – was perfect size for the Annie and her toddler.

Gently setting her belongings down, she stood there for a moment to take it all in.

She took a deep breath, the natural floral scent of her new house – which covered the smell of fresh paint – wafting through the open windows and tickling the inside of her nose. They’d probably been opened earlier that morning to let the breeze naturally cool the house a bit, since it was hot as balls.

To her left was the kitchen, which was a little more dated than the living room but did have newer appliances. There was a back door, in the kitchen, which was closer to the yard that the young, blonde girl and the older woman had occupied previously. The kitchen was big enough for a small kitchen table, and Annie could already picture how she wanted to decorate.

Luckily, white and light wood were easy to work with.

So many options…

There was a hallway that connected the kitchen to the two bedrooms and one bathroom. The bigger bedroom was, obviously, Annie’s. It was big enough that she could fit a queen size bed and a dresser with plenty of room to walk back and forth – not that she’d spend much time in her bedroom, anyways. The second bedroom would be perfect for Elena to have a crib, a small double bed for guests, and a large bin for her toys.

Annie, in awe of her new home, carried Elena’s portable crib and suitcase to her new bedroom. “This is your room, Mija! Do you like it?”

Elena followed Annie into the bedroom, frowning at her new environment with the look that Gavin got when he was thinking hard. Her little dark brows were pulled together, pink lips pursed into a tight frown, and eyes narrowed as she scanned the area.

God, she was never allowed near her uncle, again. Those two were peas in a freaking pod.

“Once we get it decorated, you’ll like it more.” Annie sighed, thankful that the only stairs in the house were the front steps. “Stay here while mommy gets the rest of our things, okay?”

Elena ignored Annie, again, going for the zipper on her suitcase and trying to unzip it, herself.

While the toddler was distracted, Annie quickly started hauling her items into the home, putting each box and suitcase in the appropriate bedroom and making a mental list of things she was going to order online and shop for.

Once all of their possessions were out of the truck, Annie set to work on setting up the portable crib for Elena and the air mattress for herself.

Shit, why do the stupid sides never want to lock up? Why did you have to become a magic fucking wizard to set up a portable crib?!

A knock sounded at the back door, startling her while she made up Elena’s bed – after she somehow got the sides to lock up.

She didn’t know anyone, yet… Who would knock on her door?

Maybe the landlord?

She did say that she was going to check in…

Annie, leaving Elena to play with her book in her bedroom, made her way towards the back door, spotting the woman and child from earlier – the young girl holding a giant plate of chocolate chip cookies, with an annoyed frown on her face.

“Well, hello.” Annie smiled, opening the back door and waving them inside the empty kitchen. “I’m Annie O’Hara. Are you my new neighbors?”

“I’m Roberta. I’m the landlord.” The older, dark-skinned woman smiled, a hand on the young girl’s shoulder. She recognized Roberta’s voice from speaking to her on the phone. “This is Mary.”

“Hi, Mary.” Annie greeted, opening the door wider to let the duo step inside. “You can come in if you’d like. I still have to order the furniture, though, so there’s not really anywhere to sit.”

“We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.” Roberta chuckled, entering the home with Mary following closely behind. “It’s been a while since we’ve had new neighbors, but Bernadette’s health just kept declining… Her children had her in assisted living, before she passed.”

“I take it Bernadette was the previous tenant?” Annie asked, leaning against the counter and watching as Mary set the plate of cookies beside her. “She kept the place up really nice. This house looks like it’s seen some love.”

“She loved to tend to her plants. It was therapeutic for her.” Roberta sighed, leaning against the wall opposite from Annie. “She, also, made a mean apple pie.”

“Well, I haven’t baked in a long time, but I do love to cook.” Annie shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest, “My daughter likes my homemade macaroni and cheese.”

“You have a daughter?” Mary asked, eyes lighting up and all traces of a frown disappearing. “How old is she?”

“She’s almost two.” Annie replied, lips lifting into a smile at the potential play-mate for her daughter. “She loves to run around outside if you want to meet her.”

“Can I meet her?” Mary grinned, practically vibrating with excitement. “We haven’t had any kids in the neighborhood in forever.”

“Of course, you can.” Annie pushed away from the counter, walking towards the hallway and calling out, “Elena, come here, Mija!”

The sound of uneven footfalls stomping around the hall could be heard from the kitchen as Elena ran from the bedroom to where Annie was calling her name. She came barreling around the corner, a large grin on her face, and an excited cry echoing through the empty house.

Scooping her giggling form from the ground, Annie gave her a sloppy kiss on her little cheek. “This is Elena.”

“Hi, Elena.” Mary waved, excitement rolling off of her in waves. “Can I show her my cat? His name is Fred. He has one eye.”

“Only one eye?” Annie asked, cocking a confused brow as she tried to keep her hold on her struggling toddler – who still wanted to run around and explore. “What happened to his other one?”

“Don’t know. He doesn’t like to talk about it.” Mary shrugged, like she’d answered the question multiple times, before. “Can Elena meet Fred? I think he would like her.”

“Of course.” Annie held the door open for the duo, still holding Elena, before following them outside into the sun. “Elena loves animals.”

Setting Elena into the plush grass, Mary grabbed her little hand, leading her into the other yard, where the orange, monocular cat was stretched out – sunbathing. Roberta and Annie sat down on the steps, watching the young girls as they pet the rotund cat.

“So, is Mary your daughter?” Annie asked, watching as Elena gently pat the cat on the side of the belly. “She’s adorable.”

Roberta laughed, leaning back so the sun was shining on her face. “Does she look like my daughter?”

“I’m a pale, Irish redhead.” Annie shrugged, closing her eyes as the sun warmed her arms and cheeks. “Does Elena look like my daughter?”

“I guess not.” Roberta replied, and Annie could hear the smile in her tone. “As much as I wish she was mine, she’s not. I just love spending time with her.”

“Well, hopefully her and Elena can spend some time together, too.” Annie opened her eyes to watch the young girls run around the yard, chasing the cat. “Elena doesn’t have much interaction with other children.”

“Where’s her father, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Mexico.” Annie replied, a small wave of guilt washing over her. “I was on spring break when I met her father. Marco worked at a bar just outside of Cancún, where we met. We had a small fling, and one thing led to another… I didn’t get his number or any other information on him, because it was just a one night stand, so I couldn’t exactly contact him.”

She gulped, getting that lump in her stomach that appeared any time she thought about how other people perceived her after learning the truth about Elena’s conception. “I remembered that… I remembered his mother’s name was Elena, though. I wanted to make sure Elena knew her heritage, as much as I could. I’m trying to learn Spanish and named her after her grandmother. I want to educate myself, so she doesn’t feel like she’s missing a part of herself, you know?” Annie frowned, watching Elena giggle as she ran away from Mary. “I googled the bar, after Elena was born… but it burnt down. I have no idea where Marco could be, or even what his last name was.”

“So, you’ve been raising her all on your own?”

“My parents were a big help,” Annie’s shoulders sagged in grief, the familiar pang of loss ripping through her chest. It was never going to get easier to mention them… “They died back in June, and my brother’s in college at NDSU in North Dakota… So, I decided it was time to move on. I needed a change, as cliché as that is.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Roberta laid a warm hand on Annie’s arm, face soft with sympathy. “Losing your parents is hard. I know the pain. I’m sorry you have to experience it so young.”

“I’m just glad to have Elena, Gavin, and Grace – his girlfriend.” Annie smiled, sun starting to leave her pale skin a little pink. “I’m sorry that you know the pain of losing your parents. When did it happen?”

“Oh, honey, it was years ago. Eventually, you learn to appreciate the time you had with them, instead of missing the time you didn’t.” She sighed, patting Annie’s arm before looking over at a truck that was pulling up a few houses down. “Frank’s here. He’s Mary’s uncle. More of a father than any man I’ve ever met.”

Annie watched as Mary abruptly stopped running, a large grin stretching her face as she spotted the older truck. “FRANK!” Mary shrieked, running toward the taller man who was exiting the truck.

“Shit.” Annie whispered as Elena followed Mary, confused that they were no longer playing, and going to investigate. “Elena! Mija!”

Annie jumped up, jogging after the toddler, who had already made her way over to the confused man and joyous child. Mary, who had jumped into her uncles’ arms for a moment, squatted down next to Elena – who was holding her arms out to Mary to pick her up – and lifted her with a small grunt, talking to Frank.

“Frank, this is Elena.” Mary introduced, as Annie quickly made her way over, “Her and her mom are our new neighbors. They’re where Bernadette used to live, before she got too old.”

Frank was a tall man, tee shirt tightly stretching over his broad shoulders but bunching up at his narrow waist. He looked as if he had just gotten home from work, arms and tee shirt stained with oil and grease. His face was unshaved, but kept pretty tame, and he was tan – as if he worked outside.

The look in his eyes was one of a parent, and he looked at Mary like she was his entire world, tired eyes lighting up at the sight of the blonde, little girl.

Well, shit, Annie thought to herself, He’s attractive.

“Mary.” Frank sighed, shaking his head, trying not to smile. “That’s not a polite way to put it.”

“What! She was!” Mary shrugged, as Elena laid her head on Mary’s shoulder in exhaustion from running around. She spotted Annie and gestured over to the woman. “That’s Annie. Elena’s mom.”

“Hi! Sorry about Elena! She really likes Mary.” Annie smiled, brushing her stray red hair from her face, holding out her free hand to Frank. “I’m Annie O’Hara. I just moved into the pink house.”

Frank cocks a brow at her, blue eyes scrutinizing her as he grasped her hand with a stiff handshake. “Frank Adler.”

“Nice… to meet you?” Annie replies awkwardly, watching as Mary and Elena run towards the cat. “Your niece is such a sweet girl. Elena is already fascinated by her. They’ve been playing since Roberta and Mary came to meet us.”

“Nice.” Frank replied, curtly. He watched Mary, paying no attention to Annie as Mary and Elena plopped down in the grass to pet Fred.

“Anyways…” Annie gulped, starting to awkwardly walk away. “Nice meeting you.”

“Yep.” He replied, turning and walking towards his house, before calling out to Mary. “Mary, come eat lunch.”

“Okay!” Mary called back, standing quickly, and turning to Elena. “I have to go eat lunch. We can play, later, okay?”

“Come on, Mija.” Annie walked over, scooping Elena up from the ground, dusting the grass from her little shorts. “Say ‘bye-bye’ to Mary.”

Elena lifted her hand, waving her hand back and forth with a small pout, and Mary ran off to her house.

Well… that was awkward. Annie thought to herself, shaking off the negative vibes from the encounter. He was kind of a dick. Jeez.

Annie and Elena made their way back over to Roberta, who was still sunbathing on Annie’s step. “I don’t think Frank likes me much.”

“What makes you say that?” Roberta frowned, dark eyebrows pulling together, confused. “Was he rude to you?”

“Not exactly.” Annie shrugged, sitting on the step with Elena in her lap, bouncing the toddler as she played with the neckline of Annie’s shirt. “Just… a little standoffish.”

“They went through a lot, last year.” Roberta sighs, gazing over at the Adler residence with a sad look in her eyes. Annie could see her swallow thickly, before continuing, “They’re still recovering from it.”

“I won’t ask.” Annie sighed, pressing her face against the warm curls on the top of Elena’s head. “That’s their business. I just hope that Mary and Elena can play together. It’d be nice to have another child in the neighborhood, so Elena can become more social. I want her to be a kid and be more social. She’s always around adults.”

“That sounds familiar.” Roberta smiles at Elena, holding out her hand for Elena to grasp and examine. “So, why don’t you have any furniture, yet?”

“I wanted a clean break.” A small pang pierced at Annie’s heart as she thought about her childhood home. She missed it. She missed the smell, the squeaky door to the patio, her bedroom, and… her parents. “The house just wasn’t the same without my parents. I wanted to be able to start a new life with Elena. Gavin was already gone, so it was just me and Elena in the house. It didn’t feel right.”

“So, you lived with your parents?”

“Yeah.” Annie replied, replaying the past in her mind like a footage reel. “After I found out I was pregnant, I quit college out of panic. I was newly twenty-one, and only on my second year of doing my generals at the U of M.” A small sigh escaped her, before she could help it. Quitting college was something that she really regretted doing, but she didn’t want to dwell on past mistakes. “I really panicked, but I was lucky to have parents who wanted to help me. They let me come back, gave me a room to stay in, loved their grandchild with their whole hearts, and never judged me for my actions. They were truly the best parents I could’ve asked for.”

“They sound like great parents.” Roberta smiles, brushing her fingers over Elena’s dark curls. “I have a son. He lives in the Miami area. I only see him a few times a year. He has a family of his own, and a life of his own.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Every day.” She smiles, dark eyes shining with unshed tears. “I have Frank and Mary, though.”

“Well,” Annie grasped Roberta’s hand in comfort, “I hope you know that… You have us, too.”

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

Part 2 

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

FOREVER TAGS: (OPEN)

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[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

You’re My Bodyguard, Not My Owner. (Chapter 29) (Brendon Urie x Reader)

This is it.

It’s over. It’s all over now.

This is how I die.

Those were the only thoughts that ran through Agent Corvey’s mind as he was unforgivingly gripped by the front of his shirt and flung backwards, against the concrete wall. The impact stung a fair amount, but he swallowed the groan of pain clawing up his throat out of fear that making a sound would piss off your bodyguard even more.

Yeah, right. As if that were possible.

Brendon was angrier than he had been in a very, very long time. Quite possibly ever. Most of that anger was toward the useless man he had pinned up against the wall, practically shivering with fear, but a fairly large chunk of that anger was towards himself.

He had one job – that job was to protect you – and he failed. You were gone, and despite S.H.I.E.L.D’s best efforts, no one had been able to find so much as a breadcrumb to lead them in your direction. For all he knew, you could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere. You could be trapped in some weirdo’s car or hotel room, about to become the next victim of a deranged serial killer. You could’ve been captured by Hydra. You could be being tortured right at this very moment. You could be- Fuck.

Brendon shut his eyes tightly for a moment, chest heaving as he tried to clear his mind of all those errant thoughts. He didn’t want to think about any of those possibilities. He couldn’t. If he allowed himself to, he would be giving in to the notion that you were gone, never to return. And there was no way he was going to give in to that.

Not now, not ever.

Instead, he would do everything in his power to find you and bring you back. Heck, he’d search all fifty states on foot if he had to. He had promised you that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, and he would destroy anyone that threatened that promise.

Starting with the stupid fucker that was whimpering under his hold like an abandoned puppy.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t toss your sorry ass out of that fucking window right now,” Brendon jerked his head in the direction of the panoramic window of the helicarrier.

He kept his icy gaze fixed on Corvey, who was making a concerted effort to form some sort of an answer, but struggled tremendously to do so. All he could manage was a few strained syllables, none of which were at all comprehendible. This only made your bodyguard livider, and he tightened his grip on the lesser agent’s shirt as he minimised the space between them in one swift motion; Corvey flinched, shutting his eyes and preparing for the hit he was certain was about to come.

Fortunately for him, The Director chose that precise moment to intervene.

“Agent Urie, that’s enough.”

Brendon reluctantly slackened his hold, allowing Corvey to stand on his own once again – as opposed to being held up by a wall – but he still fastened his colleague in place solely with the icy blizzard raging in his gaze.

The Director stood up from his seat on the opposite side of the room and crossed over to his agents. He gave Brendon a blank stare before turning his attention to the other one.

“How,” he started calmly, “did this happen?”

“I… she… I just…” Corvey stuttered, voice shaky as he wrung his hands anxiously, “She said…”

Brendon let out an impatient groan and let his head fall backwards before he gripped at his hair in frustration. “I swear to God, Corvey, if you don’t form a proper sentence in the next three seconds-“

“She swiped my key card!” he eventually got out; the prospect of suffering through Brendon’s wrath (again) was clearly enough to kick-start his vocal system. “She-she must’ve done it when we were in the break room. I don’t know how…” he frowned, looking down as if trying to remember, but shaking his head when he couldn’t, “I have no idea how this happened.”

“Mm.”

Brendon’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he looked at his superior. “’Mm’? That’s all you’re gonna say to that? ‘Mm?’” your bodyguard enquired in disbelief, shaking his head lightly. “Sir, he’s the reason she’s missing right now!”

“No, agent,” The Director snapped, pivoting his head to give Brendon only the slightest bit of acknowledgment, “We’re the reason she’s missing right now. This is on all of us. And it’s gonna take all of us to fix this. So forgive me if I’m not tossing him around the room,” he turned his head fully now, eyes raking over Brendon, “but while he did fuck up quite spectacularly, he’s not the only one who did. If anything, all three of us should be tearing ourselves apart right now. But we’re no good to her broken – as individuals, but especially as a team. So push your dumb-ass testosterone overload to the side and channel your energy into what’s important right now.”

Brendon shook his head as he turned around and started pacing, hands clenching and unclenching in an absentminded attempt to alleviate his uneasiness.

“I should never have left her,” he mumbled, more to himself than either of the other two, “Especially not with him. I’m her bodyguard. I should’ve been there with her. Assigning a temp was the worst idea.”

“Agreed. And believe me,” Fury glanced over at Corvey, “I won’t be making that mistake ever again.”

The slighter agent cast his gaze downwards, head hanging regretfully. It was clear that he knew that most of what had happened was his fault. Good, thought Brendon. It’s about time he realises his own stupidity.

Fury was about to speak again but was halted when a dishevelled, wide-eyed Agent Hill rushed into the room.

“Sir, we might have something.”

The Ritz hotel. Chicago, Illinois.

Doctor Aaron Ross’s slender fingers worked to fasten the buttons on his suit jacket as he walked through the elegant corridor adjacent to the conference hall where he’d concluded his seminar just a little over an hour ago.

The final nights were always the busiest; a hundred different camera flashes going off simultaneously, reporters shoving microphones in faces and yelling out prying questions, everyone asking you to stop and take a picture with them – it was to be expected that he wouldn’t be able to get out right away.

And he had a duty to fulfil. Appearances had to be kept up, reputations needed to be bettered and people needed to be pleased in order to ensure future successful events, such as the one just held.

So Aaron grinned and bore it, his fingers massaging his jaw as he walked along in an effort to reduce the painful side effects that accompanied smiling too much.

He was treading through the longue area now, eyes focused on the elevator on the opposite side of the room and thoughts occupied by the wonderful bottle of Jameson that was waiting for him up in his suite.

Then, for some mystical reason, Aaron’s eyes fluttered over to the bar for a tiny moment, and what he saw robbed the whiskey of his attention completely.

You had your drink raised to your mouth, lips slightly parted and ready to receive the liquor, when your gaze met his. He had stopped in his tracks and was now staring at you; it was evident by his facial expression that you were quite probably the last person he had expected to see tonight.

Nevertheless, he must’ve been rather pleased with your sudden appearance, since after you flashed him a bright smile and slight wave of the fingers, he switched directions and strolled over to you.

“Doctor Aaron Ross,” you smiled when he was near enough to hear you, and lifted your one leg to cross it over the other, “what a pleasure to see you again. I’m not sure if you remember me; I’m-“

“Snowflake,” he interrupted with a devilish smirk. His eyes gleamed dangerously as he reached for your hand and brought it to his lips, all the while maintaining eye contact with you.

You raised one brow and pursed your lips infinitesimally, pretending to be impressed. “You do remember.”

He chuckled, and it was the kind of chuckle that was created for the sole purpose of charm. But you weren’t here to be charmed. Not tonight.

“How could I forget?” he mused, tilting his head slightly to the side as he studied your face. “Like I said before, you’re exquisite.”

“And you’re a huge flirt.”

He let out a proper laugh this time, one that reached his eyes and made the corners crinkle. He held up his hands in defence and arched his brows. “Guilty as charged. But you needn’t worry; I assure you that it is entirely harmless. I’m well aware that your heart’s already been taken, and while I may be a flirt, I am not one to blight that.”

“Uh,” you chuckled nervously, “excuse me?”

“That brown-eyed fellow that accompanied you in Stuttgart,” he elaborated, a crease forming on his forehead before he too chuckled nervously and it disappeared, “You know, the one who, uh… strangled… me.”

Your eyes went wide. This is definitely not what you came here for. Not at all. “Oh, no, Brendon’s not my…” you started to explain, but found it difficult to do so properly, “I mean, him and I, we’re not…”

You trailed off, hoping he would understand. He shook his head and waved a dismissive hand.

“Don’t worry, I get it. No labels,” he winked at you, and you chuckled awkwardly.

So he didn’t get it. Great. You didn’t bother correcting him about the situation, however, deciding it was better to rather let him think that you were dating your bodyguard than to actually try and explain the whole story. That could wait for now.

“Err… right,” you offered a weak smile, to which he responded with a beam of his own, “I must admit, Doctor, that this is not a chance encounter.”

Aaron’s interest had piqued, and he casually leaned against the bar countertop, intrigued expression on his face. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I saw the news report about tonight on a TV in a diner over in North Carolina, and when I saw that it was your seminar…”

“You drove twelve hours just to see me?” The doctor made no effort to mask his shock.

“Yes, Doctor, I did.”

“My, my,” he muttered softly as he mulled over the situation, “Well as honoured as I am by that fact, I imagine you didn’t go to such extreme lengths just so that we could make chit chat in a hotel bar.”

A small sigh passed your lips. “Not really, no. I’m in a very… precarious situation, Doctor. Confusing too. And I think you might be able to help me find some clarity in it all.”

“Say no more, snowflake. I’m hooked,” he smiled again, stuffing his dangling hand into his pant pocket. “I am more than willing to assist you in any way I can.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” you breathed in relief; you had been a bit worried that he’d decline, “And it’s (Y/N).”

“(Y/N),” he repeated slowly, and the way he said your name made it sound exponentially more important than what a name really was – just a group of letters thrown together. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. It was a nice change; a direct contrast to the way Brendon said your name – icy, in a way that sent shivers rolling down your spine. In all honestly, however, you weren’t sure which one you preferred. “I like it. And please, my name is Aaron, not ‘Doctor’.”

“Right,” you grinned, “Thank you, Aaron, I appreciate it.”

“Not a problem. I’m interested to hear what exactly it is you need me for, but might I suggest that we head up to my suite? A bar isn’t nearly as personal an environment.”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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[lewnatic]

For the D&D asks, 1-20

Oh gosh, okay. This is gonna be long so I’m gonna do it under a cut.

What was your favorite Nat 1 Experience?

I don’t think a lot of my characters have had really funny Nat1 moments, sadly. I will always remember the one when @zhixx​ made a goblin named Spook’em specifically designed to have the least survivability possible. The first time he was downed he rolled a Nat1 on his first death save. The feeling of comedic timing was just beautiful.

Favorite D&D Inside Joke?

“You are a privateer! BUT ON LAHND.”

Favorite Item Your Character received in D&D?

Phailyn was supposed to get a tome to increase his strength, but when his crush said she wanted it, he immediately fucking dropped it so she could have it. So the DM let me sneak off and get a scrying orb we’d passed up earlier. He hasn’t used it yet, but I just like the story behind it.

Ves probably considers Sikrikta to be the best item she’s received has a lot of really expensive shit she’s keeping just because she has bourgie taste. She got a bottle of wine as a gift that would have been 400g if she’d left it unopened. She’s drinking it gradually through the adventure. It’s good, but not quite as good as what she’s used to.

Teeki has a gaudy diamond crown that Bing bought for 300 gold. It does nothing. It is purely cosmetic. She loves it.

Basically I love frivolous shit.

Preferred Animal Companion (if you had any)?

Vesxlit has a familiar, if that counts. He’s a parrot named Brilliant. He talks like a normal human (in a setting where that is definitely not commonplace) and is a member of the Bardic College in the capital city of the nation we’re traveling in.

He’s a posh gentleman who helps Ves sew dresses. They spend 90% of their time arguing because, being a bird, his fashion sense is incredibly bright and garish.

Favorite D&D Battle Encounter?

Every boss fight Skaaren has done is goddamn awesome, tbh. My favorite is the first just because of how scary it was.

Keep in mind, we’re level 1 in Pathfinder, an Oracle (Ves) and a Barbarian (Cato.) We’ve just watched a big hole open up in the ground, and our characters don’t know why, but we’re looking for missing people (including the barbarian’s boyfriend Fabius, he’s important) so we figure hell, this is probably where they’re missing.

We find some of the missing people at the bottom of the hole, but we haven’t found Fabius, so we go deeper in. We find this creepy old woman doing some kinda ritual or something by a pool of water? Barbarian charges in to kill her and save his man, and… kills her very quickly.

Silence. We go to check on Fabius, and we’re not sure if we can safely move him. I’m running out of heals from earlier stuff and I pop my last one on him, and after a while of debating what to do a ton of undead start coming out of the water. Just a goddamn mob. Whatever the hell creepy-lady was doing, we were suddenly way in over our heads. Even if we picked up Fabius and ran, we don’t have a fast way out of this hole. And we start taking damage fast. Including Fabius.

I don’t remember the specifics of the fight. I think that’s a testament to how much we were panicking. I remember feeling the helplessness of being a mage completely out of spell slots frantically trying to hit things with my stupid mace.

And I remember when the fight was over, I stayed down there panicking for several more minutes, trying to determine if Fabius was even alive while the barbarian ran to get the local doctor in a town of which he didn’t even speak the language.

In the end, Fabius was okay, and we both got out of it alive. It was just that sense of dread and fear, that we didn’t know how the DM’s rolls were going or if anything we were trying had any impact. Skaaren has always done a stellar job since of bringing that sense of genuine fear into the game when he wants to, but that first unexpected taste of it was so damn cool.

Favorite D&D NPC Interaction?

Varis Vrynn was my favorite villain. Not because of his fight, or how he fit into the greater lore, but because of how @extravagantshoes​ played him. He was a slimy uppity elf in the city of Galthiel, a city with heavy class divides based on magic ability. Varis was a powerful diviner, and a lot of our party interactions involved everyone in the party trying to piss him off and Varis looking down his nose in disgust at all of us.

Then Cedlanna, our young sorcerer, got a conversation with him alone in his manor, where he wanted to make a deal with her. And she just ripped into him. Cut to the core of his insecurities and how with all of his riches on display, his manor still was incredibly empty–that for all the parties he hosted he was completely alone.

He was doing some really irredeemable things and later tried to kill us all but I still managed to feel kind of sad that we ended up gruesomely killing him.

Dumbest thing You & Your Party Did

Charging through multiple spinning saws comes to mind. Every time I try to sneak around in heavy plate armor also comes to mind.

I feel like I need to make a separate post to discuss just all the impulsive things Cato does. Turning an entire city upside down just for the chance to punch a specific guy in the face was one.

Most Epic thing You & Your Party Did

I might also make a separate post about this, but Cato and Ves convinced a bunch of lizard people that they were their gods.

Basically in this setting, the level 1 baddies generally fought are called Rapia. They’re kobold-esque in design, but they have a faith-based culture and… well, kind of a faith-based biology. Rapia need something to worship, they undergo gradual physiological changes based on the thing they follow. (Say it’s a sea creature, they might get gills.) And if they don’t have something to worship, they literally become sick and presumably die.

We’d fought a few before and looted crap from their caves, including a tiny hammer that we never could have used but the barbarian held onto cuz idk??

We later ran into some others by falling through the roof of their cave, but they didn’t attack us. They started to assume that we were the gods depicted on one of their cave walls. For the sake of brevity, a fight broke out later when we were trying to leave, and Cato gave the hammer to one of the rapia who was helping us escape. It turned out in the DM’s notes, this hammer had significance to the rapia, and was supposed to be given to the religious leader of a tribe. And so the entire tribe turned to our side and protected us. And… they started following us.

It was about this time that the DM broke character to tell us he had no plan of this happening, and I guess we just have a tribe of rapia now. And we’ve had the goddamn campaign balanced around having a tribe of rapia ever since.

What did you like about your Campaign’s World?

I’m gonna try to sum these up quickly cuz these stories have already gotten long.

The Ascension world has elements of what I affectionately like to call Pop Fantasy, there’s some genre-awareness while not being parody, and all the work on the pantheon Spi did has been goddamn amazing. I also cannot figure out the overarching mysteries and that is awesome.

Nejj puts a ton into immersing us into the world. I can always very clearly get a feel for the sort of setting he’s putting us in, and I’ve been having a lot of fun with the political intrigue he’s been setting up.

Skaaren’s got the weirdest goddamn races in his setting and I love every single one of them. He’s also packed the setting full of little cultural details, I swear to god he’s done extensive research into what we’re having for breakfast in the morning based on where we’re staying.

What was the most Interesting Lore you Found?

I seriously can’t pick a favorite here so I’m going to give a silly answer, and that’s that acolytes of Ves’s goddess commune with her by getting super high. 

Summarize Your Campaign(s) in a Single Sentence

One for each campaign:A group of weird rebels and one very ordinary guy dismantle the ruling government.Goblins discover crazy politics and necromancy, what happens next will warm your heart.Tourists getting intimate with the horrifying hidden truths of nature

Describe your whole Party Dynamic in a Sentence

The best bunch of weirdos and one stupid shady paladin.Loner rogue becomes Team Mom by sheer force of how much the other two hate each other.Bug Jesus and The Angriest Boy discover family in the form of lizards.

What Alignment do your characters lean towards?

I have a weird time choosing an alignment for characters cuz motivations change a lot for my nerds. Teeki was True Neutral but has become more Chaotic Good. Ves is Lawful Good I guess?? And Phai is a goddamn mess whose alignment has shifted at least thrice since his conception.

How do you tend to Take Notes (if you do)?

Badly! Next question.

Prefer Story/Plot Driven or No Plot/Character-Driven Campaigns?

I tend to prefer plot-driven, but I honestly think elements of both should be implemented in your narrative–occasionally giving breaks from the overarching plot to give the cast some time to dick around can give a breath of fresh air to roleplay.

Combat or Role Play?

Roleplay, of course. I actually used to think I hated D&D combat. It took a lot of great sessions to make me realize that the RP doesn’t stop for combat, and that’s when I started really getting into learning and enjoying mechanics elements.

Favorite D&D Monster/Creature?

Illithid. I would love to actually play as one someday.

Magic User or Fighter?

Magic is more engaging to me, personally, but I like both.

Preferred Weapon/Spell in D&D?

Tasha’s Hideous Laughter. In large part because of how it’s roleplayed in Critical Role tbh. I also have felt the high of Sneak Attack enough times to really love it now.

What was your Favorite Nat 20 Experience?

One time I rolled a Nat20 perception while we were on the road and it was literally just to find a coin on the ground. That might always be my favorite. 

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: The Assassin’s Blade, Ch 23-24

Sorry this took so long but this book is fucking exhausting

Celaena and Ansel knew their little escapade with the Asterion horses would have consequences. Celaena had at least expected to have enough time to tell a decent lie about how they acquired the horses. But when they returned to the fortress and found Mikhail waiting, along with three other assassins, she knew that word of their stunt had somehow already reached the Master.

But how? Who told him? Who the hell saw them steal the horses and somehow got back to the fortress before them?

So, get this. The Mute Master has them alone in his chambers, no doubt about to get furious at them for pulling such a stunt, right? And then Celery pulls this fucking shit.

And suddenly, as the memory of that day echoed through her, she remembered the words Sam kept screaming at Arobynn as the King of the Assassins beat her, the words that she somehow had forgotten in the fog of pain: I’ll kill you!

You’re about to be possibly kicked out of a training fortress that you need to receive a letter of approval from in order to be allowed home and now you’re suddenly splooging over a guy because he... didn’t want you to be hurt? Like any decent fucking human being? God I fucking hate you, Celery, you stupid piece of shit.

After Celery finishes drooling  over Sammy wanting to kill Arobynn for hurting her, she at least has the good sense to take the fall for the idea since this is Ansel’s home and getting in trouble would extremely affect her.

Apparently the Mute Master is fairly chill with them stealing horses and Ansel tells Celery she can go tomorrow for her first private lesson. Jesus Christ, finally, this story is going somewhere.

Their punishment next morning is cleaning animal shit out of the pens.

Another benefit was that they didn’t have to go running. Though after four hours of shoveling animal droppings, Celaena would have begged to take the six-mile run instead.

Not really a benefit then, is it?

Celery goes to the Master’s hangout on the roof for her first lesson.

Celaena cleared her throat again, and the Master finally turned. She bowed, which, strangely, was something she felt he actually deserved, rather than something she ought to do.

Celery learning that diplomacy is a thing?? She really does grow stupider as the books go on, since in E0S she threatens and attempts to stab the people in a political meeting that don’t agree with her viewpoint.

The Mute Master gives her a basket with a snake inside and tells her to observe its movements, so she spends the lesson moving with the snake and copying its movements. It’s actually really cool and more interesting than generic swords training.

SJM describes some more cool training in passing about how Celery has to study the movements of other animals like bats and rabbits. So let me get this straight; a whole page in the market scene was dedicated to Celery crying because she wanted new shoes, and that’s plot important, but you skip over her training which was the whole point of her coming to this place.

I’m.... speechless. Utterly speechless. It isn’t often you see someone fail so badly at all aspects of writing, but SJM has done it. She has officially failed at a basic component of storytelling. And her books are New York bestsellers. Truly, the world isn’t a fair place.

And every day, Celaena went to sleep after lunch and dozed until the sun went down, her dreams full of snakes and rabbits and chirping desert beetles. Sometimes she spotted Mikhail training the acolytes, or found Ilias meditating in an empty training room, but she rarely got the chance to spend time with them.

Ilias I kinda get, but you’ve spoken what, five words to Mikhail? You have no relationship with him lmfao.

There were quiet moments also, when she wasn’t training or toiling with Ansel. Moments when her thoughts drifted back to Sam, to what he’d said. He’d threatened to kill Arobynn. For hurting her.

Ask me if I give a fuck. Seriously, I don’t. I don’t feel this chemistry at all and I’m dreading when we return to Arobynn’s assassin joint and we have to read multiple paragraphs of Celery splooging over how hot Sammy is.

Next chapter opens up with Celery putting make up on Ansel because it’s apparently her birthday.

“What?” Ansel said. Celaena shook her head. “You’re going to have to wash it all off.” “Why?” “Because you look better than I do.” Ansel pinched Celaena’s arm. Celaena pinched her back, laughter on her lips.

Girls being friends? Pure and wholesome. Too bad SJM ruins it immediately after with this.

She hadn’t even dared ask the Master for her letter yet. But more than that … Well, she’d never had a female friend—never really had any friends—and somehow, the thought of returning to Rifthold without Ansel was a tad unbearable.

Hmm... it does raise the eyebrows a little that Ansel is super masculine and a “stronk female character’ like Celery and she is the only girl Celery has ever considered as a friend.......almost as if... it’s sexist towards girls who aren’t masculine like Celery.....hm...

At the party people are dancing with no music, which is whack af to Celery.

Though she loved, loved, loved parties, Celaena would have rather spent the night training with the Master. (...) But he’d insisted she go to the party—if only because he wanted to go to the party. The old man danced to a rhythm Celaena could not hear or make out, and looked more like someone’s benevolent, clumsy grandfather than the master of some of the world’s greatest assassins.

Hey, you leave him alone. He’s one of the few good characters in this shitty ass story, and if he wants to dance like an old grandpa, then let him.

Celery sees Ansel dancing with Mikhail and makes it all about her own feefees for Sammy, as usual.She gushes over how Sammy is totally in love with her and how she totally busts a nut every time he looks at her or some stupid shit like that.

Someone touched her shoulder, and Celaena looked up from her empty wine goblet to find Ilias standing behind her. She hadn’t seen much of him in the past few days, aside from at dinner, where he still glanced at her and gave her those lovely smiles. He offered his hand.

Poor Ilias, man. Obviously Celery doesn’t owe him anything, but.... you deserve someone so much better, Ilias. Imagine if it were Sammy here instead of Celery. I want that fanfic, someone write it.

Ilias and Celery eventually ditch the party since Celery’s feet hurt from dancing.

What would he say—that is, if he could speak—if he knew that Adarlan’s Assassin had never been kissed? She’d killed men, freed slaves, stolen horses, but she’d never kissed anyone.

God, we’re really going there, aren’t we... god I’m so tired....

First off, good job on shaming any older teenagers because they’ve never kissed someone before, as if that makes them weirdos. Makes me feel fucking amazing as an 18 y/o who hasn’t kissed anyone yet. Thanks, SJM.

Second, who gives a shit?? In fact, Celery, you have a good excuse for not kissing anyone; you’re an assassin. If you told Ilias, he’s probably just assume you’re too busy with work to settle down with someone. Like, do you think he’s really gonna make fun of you for not having kissed anyone before? Does SJM know how human beings function????

Anyways, Ilias does try to kiss Celery, but immediately stops when she backs away. Man, a male character who respects boundaries?? In MY SJM book?? Never thought I’d see the day.

“I—I can’t. I mean, I’m leaving in a week. And … and you live here. And I’m in Rifthold, so …” She was babbling. She should stop. Actually, she should just stop talking. Forever.

You really should. Sadly, Celery doesn’t take her own advice.

Ilias is just like, “whatever, that’s cool fam,” and goes to his room. I can’t believe SJM is making me praise a character for respecting personal boundaries but holy shit, that’s how low the bar is with her characters.

Alone in the hallway, Celaena watched the shadows cast by the torches. It hadn’t been the mere impossibility of a relationship with Ilias that had made her pull away. No; it was the memory of Sam’s face that had stopped her from kissing him.

First off, that semicolon is making me wince when a comma would’ve sufficed better, so jot that down. Second, unghhhh I don’t care, I don’t give a shit about Celery’s sudden crush on Sammy! He deserves someone who will treat him right!

Ansel arrives late next morning to shoveling shit duty because she slept with Mikhail. Again, ask me if I give a fuck.

Out of the blue, Ansel gets all pissy and jealous of Celery training with the Mute Master. It’s so literally out of nowhere and so obviously shoehorned in just so there can be conflict. SJM looking up basic writing tips and was like, ‘Oh shit, my story has no conflict and I need a falling out before the final climax! Uhhh Ansel is mad at Celery, yeah okay.”

Celaena’s throat tightened, and she cursed herself for feeling so hurt by the words. She didn’t think the Master felt that way at all, but she still hissed, “Yes, my glorious fate. Shoveling dung in a barn. A worthy task for me.” “But certainly a worthy task for a girl from the Flatlands?” “I didn’t say that,” Celaena said through her teeth. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Jesus Christ, Ansel, I think I hate you almost as much as I hate Celery. Ansel is one of those fucking assholes who twists around words of others and reblogs someones post with a shitty “So you’re basically saying you hate all of (x) people, are you OP?” guilt trip.

Celery is like ‘whatever, nobody cares about you reclaiming your shitty homeland even though it has nothing to do with our conversation and I only brought it up because the author wants us to hate each other now” and Ansel stomps off. Riveting Drama, this is, these characters are so well developed! I totally care about how this conflict will resolve itself!

[topimagines]

Viva Las Vegas

This was requested! (Requests are indeed open, too.)

You had a late start to your morning, your alarm hadn't gone off because of daylight savings time, and your mother had to wake you. It was a Sunday, but you promised your mother that you'd wake up early for piano lessons.

"(Y/n), time to get up! You have lessons in half an hour!" Your mother called, knocking on your door until you woke up. You went to take your blanket off your legs, but wound up rolling off the mattress and hitting the ground with a loud thud.

"I'm up!" You groaned from your place on the ground. You sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. David Bowie was playing through the door, it was assumable that your mother was playing the music in the kitchen of your small apartment.

After your parents separated, your mom had moved you away from your original home with your brothers and sister, to a small apartment in Las Vegas, Nevada. She'd found a job at a high ranking office building as a data analyst, but you still lived frugal lives due to the debt from the divorce, and all of the bills she had before.

You swiftly changed your clothes, and finally opened the door to reveal your your parental unit with curlers in her hair and a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, "oh, good, you're up." Her speech was muffled from the brush.

"Yup," you said, popping the 'p', before pushing past her to go to the bathroom. When you looked in the mirror, your hair was a mess and you had black makeup smeared under your eyes that you forgot to remove from the day before.

Although, you didn't have a problem with that. It was good to recycle, after all.

You quickly brushed your hair out, not finding a comfortable place to part it, and splashed water over your face to help you wake up. Your mother entered and spit out the foamy substance in her mouth before getting started on the curlers in her hair.

"Mrs. Urie said to just meet Brendon in the studio, so I was gonna drop you off on my way to work, is that ok?"

"You trust me with Brendon all alone? What about what happened with Amanda?" You asked her. Amanda was your half sister, she had snuck out multiple times before you moved away to see a boy she was dating. When your father found out, he wasn't happy.

"Well, you're not Amanda," she stated, "I trust you."

-

After both of you were finished in the bathroom, there wasn't much else to be done besides get your shoes. You slid on some beat up boots and a leather jacket your best friend had given you before you left, and you both were out the door. Once you were driving toward the studio, the windows rolled down as to keep the car cool. Your mother began to talk about what that day was going to entail.

"I have a few meetings today with the board, so I won't come get you until around four, is that cool?" Your mother asked. You nodded in response and watched the buildings fly by with a whoosh sound.

"I wonder what piece Brendon wants to teach me today," you thought out loud. Your mother chuckled in response to your day-dreaming state.

"He mentioned something at dinner the other night about making his own piece, maybe he'll let you help,” your mother suggested. You shrugged your shoulders. Brendon did not confide in you, or talk to you like you would your best friend, he was always very busy with his girlfriend.

You did go to the same school, so you knew about this girl. Her name was Jenny, and you didn't like her. There were many reasons to say so, but it was primarily due to the fact that you two were in completely different groups. Her friend group constantly bullied you and your only friend.

However, Brendon seemed happy with her, so you didn't bother him about it.

Your car pulled up to the studio. It was a relatively large square shaped building with vines growing up the sides. It had two levels, but only one large room per level. On the farthest side from the street, a large chimney stood high and proud. There was a staircase leading up to double doors, and there was a small parking lot in front of them. The doors opened to the second floor, where Mrs Urie had many projects for the church they were involved with. You never took the stairs up, because your guys’ (Mr Urie said that he didn't buy the studio just for Brendon and his wife, it was for all family) space was on the bottom floor, you took the side door that led directly into it. You swung the car door open and tentatively stepped out.

“Have a good day, sweetheart!” your mother called before pulling away from the studio. You waved her off before turning toward the building and walking toward the door.

You twisted the doorknob and let yourself in quietly. Immediately, you heard the sound of Brendons beautiful grand piano and his voice filling the air. You carefully walked further into the room and smiled lightly at how amazing he sounded.

“You're incredible,” you stated. You could only see the back of his head, but you could tell he was smiling. You took a seat on the bench next to him and finally got a good look at him. He was freshly shaved, a pair of glasses sliding slowly down his nose as he looked slightly down at the sheet music. His fingers danced across the keys gracefully, even when you sat down.

He seemed entranced by the song and didn't stop you when you placed your hands on the keys and playing along with him. Once the song ended he looked over at you with a goofy smile on his face. You had an odd feeling in your gut when you were around him, your hands never stopped shaking and if he touched you, your stomach would explode in a million butterflies.

But it wasn't a crush. It couldn't be.

You wouldn't let it.

“I have good news and bad news, which do you wanna hear first?” he asked, the smile not leaving his face.

“I guess good news,” you answered.

“My mom told me that I'm not allowed to charge you for lessons because you and your mom are basically family by now,” he said, making extravagant hand gestures as he did.

“And the bad news?” you asked, only slightly concerned.

“We're doing hand independence exercises today,” he groaned for you. He hated them as much as you did. When playing piano, you had to learn how to play independently with little to no thought at all. You never had much of that, so once a week you did exercises to improve upon the independence you already had.

“Do we have to? Can't we just, you know, listen to Fame and get high like last week?” you asked with a little smirk on your lips. The week before, after your lesson had finished, you both had to wait for his mother to come pick you up and take you home. You had three hours, so you played David Bowie, Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC and smoked the rest of Brendon's stash.

“No, we can't, you weirdo,” he chuckled.

-

Hours later, you finally finished the work and got started on an actual piece. Brendon leaned back and only assisted you when you forgot where the notes were. Suddenly, as you were about to finally finish the piece, the door to the studio swung open to reveal, none other than, Jenny. She sauntered in, and didn't wait for you to stop before flopping herself in his lap and sending you a glare.

“Don't take this the wrong way, babe, but why are you here?” Brendon asked, giving you an apologetic look.

“I saw your mom at the church and she said you wouldn't be attending, so she gave me the address,” she giggled innocently, batting her eyelashes at him. You groaned internally and wanted to gag. That was supposed to be your safe space, a place to get away from people exactly like her.

“Does your mom still have the landline upstairs?” you asked Brendon, playing with the hem of your shirt awkwardly. 

“Yeah, why?”

You didn't answer, just getting up and walking up the stairs before he or Jenny could argue. The room was dark, save for the small light coming from the stairs leading down to the ground floor. You quickly walked toward the phone on the far right corner of the dark of the room and dialed the number of the man who could save you from the awkwardness. It rang twice before the familiar voice rang through the receiver, “hello?”

“Dallon?”

-

Dallon didn't have to be asked twice before he came to get you. He never asked any questions when you called him, he knew better than that. You always ended up telling him what happened anyway, but it was always on your own terms.

“Hey, pretty lady, need a lift?” he asked as soon as you made it up to his car, the window rolled down. He had sunglasses on and an unlit cigarette in his mouth, you guessed he was just about to get his lighter out when he pulled up.

“My knight in shining armour,” you sighed before hopping in, granted unceremoniously, the car through the open window. You ensured the seat belt was buckled and Dallon skid out of the parking lot, “she showed up unannounced, and was all over Brendon like I wasn't even there.”

“You mean he didn't kick her out as soon as she sat down? I thought you were supposed to be getting lessons from him,” Dallon questioned. He was never Brendon’s biggest fan, he always thought he was a bit too big for his britches. You never agreed with him, but he did have a point.

“It's not like I'm paying him for anything. Would you want someone like me with you when you had a rich girl hanging onto your every word?” Dallon rolled his eyes at that, “he deserves everything that he has.”

“If he doesn't buck up and tell that fuckin’ girlfriend of his that they're your lessons, he's gonna get a punch in the face,” Dallon grunted. He finally took the lighter out of his jacket pocket, flicking it a few times before actually getting a flame. He lit the fag (do not comment on this fucking word, it means cigarette) and took a long drag from it. Smoke puffed out of his nose before he blew it out of the window.

He was always protective of you, especially after you told him about your parents. He wanted to be a big brother figure, one that would help you if and when you needed it. You both had similar styles, more punk than you thought you looked. He had hair down past his ear on one side, and a full undercut. If you ever saw him without his leather jacket, you got worried. He never left home without it. He also had a switchblade always tucked into the inside pocket of the jacket, something his mom gave him before she died so he could protect himself. Luckily, he never used it.

“It's fine, I just wanna go home and watch a movie or somethin’,” you sighed, looking out the window at the buildings flying by with the same, calming whoosh. Dallon shook his head, but drove you home. You both pulled up to the apartment complex and you were surprised by Dallon getting out of the car with you.

“If you think I'm leavin’ you alone in that apartment, you're fuckin’ high,” he said, his voice was gravelly, like usual.

“I wish I were high, I sold the last of my stash for groceries,” you sighed, Dallon gave you a once over before sending you an unmistakably mischievous wink, “why am I not surprised?”

-

The next day, you had school. Dallon had ended up staying the night, on accident, so he offered to drive you to school. Your mother was okay with it, she always was.

Whatever would let her sleep in a little longer.

Thus, you were in Dallon car, on your way to a place you did not want to be. You pulled up to the to the front of the high quality school. It was quite tall, being three stories, and very wide. However, it's size didn't make up for the crowded halls with its almost three-thousand students and staff. Dallon shut the car off and turned to you to bid you goodbye.

“If anyone talks shit, you know what to do right?” he asked, taking your hand from its spot on the seat belt buckle, “kick ‘em where it hurts.” he gave your hand a final reassuring squeeze before dropping it and letting you step out of the car. You leaned over, placing your elbows in the open window.

“I know, dad,” you mocked, “am I taking the bus home?”

Dallon glanced at you one more time before turning the car back on, “not on my watch, pretty lady,” he said, winking at you before taking off. You spun on your heel and walked toward the front doors of the high school.

You had no friends at the school, Dallon graduated when you were a freshman, and you had the Urie family. You never bothered to make any other friends.

You pushed through the crowd, the smell of excessive amounts of hairspray made you want to vomit, but you held your breath as you made your way to the third floor, and into your first class.

“Good morning, (Y/n),” your English teacher greeted you as you sat down.

-

You had one class with Brendon, anatomy, but you couldn't talk to him. His girlfriend also had the class.

“So, Mr. Urie, tell me what range of motion is happening when I point my toe toward the ground?” your anatomy teacher questioned. Brendon’s eyes widened and he looked from the teachers face to the board multiple times before you decided to help. As much as you loved him, or hated to admit you loved him, he was never good at remembering anything from anatomy.

“Plantarflexion,” you whispered from your seat behind him, hoping he'd hear you.

“Plantarflexion?” he said, although it came out as more of a question than anything. The teacher grunted, begrudgingly, in approval and Brendon let out a sigh of relief. Jenny didn't seem pleased that you were giving answers to her boyfriend. Her eyes bored holes in the side of your head, begging you to look over so she could tell you to stop talking to her partner before she did something she'd regret.

Her words, not yours. You'd heard the speech from her many times.

However, you continued on with your work and didn't get her a glance.

-

“You left so abruptly on Sunday, I was hoping you would have stayed longer,” Brendon said. He had found you at your locker after Anatomy, “My mom missed you.”

“I thought you wanted to be with your girlfriend,” you deadpanned.

“I wanted to be with you,” he pouted. Damn, that pout would be the death of you.

“Brendon, you know that when she is with you, she is with you,” you emphasized, “I'd rather not be around someone that is all over my piano instructor while I'm trying to learn.” you heard a giggle down the hall and turned to see Jenny, in her big hair and denim jacket wearing glory, approaching you and Brendon. You scoffed, turning back to your locker to put in the combination. Once it was open you retrieved your history textbook, and slammed it shut. When you turned back, Brendon was being dragged away by the girl he said he loved. What a surprise, you thought, not using him, my ass.

-

It was the next Saturday, and you were thrilled to not have school. All you wanted to do was sleep in and hang out with Dallon at his dad's corner store, but your mother had other plans. She woke you up at eight in the morning, told you to get dressed and to get in the car when you're done. You groaned in protest, refusing to get up. That was, until she took your comforter by the corners and pulled it off of you, leaving you cold and uncomfortable until you complied. You begrudgingly got up from your bed and stumbled out of the room and into the bathroom. Your hair was disheveled when you looked in the mirror, and your sweatpants hung low on your hips, that in partnership with the slightly risen hem of your shirt, showed the waistband of your underwear.

“You have ten minutes, sweetheart!” your mother called when she heard the sink’s water start to run. You groaned loud enough for her to hear, the only reply was a chuckle and, “it's not my fault you didn't wake up at a good hour.”

Five minutes later you emerged from the restroom with slightly fixed hair, minty fresh breath, and a clean face. Your mother had left clothes out for you on your bed, though it was only jeans and a t-shirt. You changed into the clothing and slid your boots on before finally emerging. You found your mother waiting for you by the front door. Once she saw you, she stood a bit straighter and opened the door for both of you to exit.

-

“So, are you going to tell me why you woke me up at eight on a Saturday?” you finally asked. Unlike most times, the windows of the car were rolled up. You could still slightly hear the sound of other cars rushing by yours. It was quite cold outside, most likely because of the early morning, and like most days in Vegas, there were already people walking on the sidewalks and driving in a rush to get to their jobs.

“Well, the church Grace goes to is doing a potluck and I thought you and Dallon would want to go,” she stated. She pulled into a turning lane that you never noticed and flipped on her blinker to turn left.

“Dallon doesn't like church,” you murmured.

“Well, he's meeting us there, liking church or not, the promise of food persuaded him,” your mother chuckled.

Your mother pulled up to a small building that you had never seen before. She shut the car off and didn't give you a second glance before stepping out of it. You saw Dallon walk up to her to greet her, and she pointed toward the car, probably explaining that you were lagging behind them.

“Hey, pretty girl, hurry up!” he called as he walked toward the car. You finally swung the door open and stepped out onto the gravel of the small building's parking lot.

“I'm comin’, slick,” you called, trying not to slide through the gravel when you slammed the passenger side door. Dallon reached you before you could start walking toward the building, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “what’s with you?” That's when you smelled it. You knew the smell of cannabis by that time, and you knew how Dallon acted when he was stoned, “this is a church event, Dal!”

“Yeah, but church boy knows how to party,” Dallon laughed. Church Boy, you thought that’s his nickname for Brendon.

“Where is church boy?” you asked.

“With the girl you hate,” Dallon said, way too loud. Luckily, people were too busy eating and chatting to hear you.

-

You had sat down at a picnic table that had no one else sitting at it, and Dallon had his head in your lap. You combed your fingers through his hair to keep yourself entertained, and he seemed to like it, falling asleep in your lap. As if out of thin air, Jenny walked up with a drink in her hand and sat down across from you, her two bitchy friends following suit. She gave you a sickly sweet smile. Her friends sat on either side of her and gave you the same look.

“How are lessons going, (Y/n)?” the blonde girl asked.

“They’re going ok,” if you didn't interrupt them, they'd be better, “Brendon’s a good teacher.”

“I know he is,” she said sweetly, but her eyes told a different story. She looked around, her friends doing the same, like they were making sure no one was looking. Then, she took her red, plastic cup and splashed it all over you, and her friends did the same. Dallon shot up, red punch covering his face, and looked around. You were covered in the liquid from the head down and sat in quiet shock before Jenny started to talk again, “don't talk to him, don't look at him, if i catch you with him, you’re in for a lot more than juice in your face.”

You looked at her face, she was so smug and thought you wouldn't fight back. You stood from your spot, Dallon watched you from his spot on the bench. You stepped up to her, she was a similar height to you, only standing a centimetre taller than you.

“Listen, bitch,” you start, “I don't know what I did to you, I don't want to know, but that does not mean you can blatantly threaten me and dump disgusting, obviously spiked, punch all over my best friend. Piss off, cunt.”

Then, your face stung.

You didn't know what happened fully until you saw her red hand go back to her side. Ouch. You didn't know what came over you, but you found yourself taking her by the hair and dragging her toward the parking lot.

“Kick ‘em where it hurts,” you muttered under your breath. She clawed at your hands in her blonde locks, that felt like straw due to the amount of hair spray in them, but you continued to pull her away from the crowd, toward her car. When you reached the gravel, you finally pushed her with so much force toward the ground, she slid a solid foot and a half, “I better not see your fucking face ever again, bitch, because in your own words, ‘you're in for a lot more than juice in your face.’”

Her lip quivered when she looked up at you, but she didn't move.

“You should really go,” you heard a voice behind you say. You slowly turned your head and saw Brendon standing with his arms crossed.

“Thank god, baby, she hit me and pulled my hair!” Jenny cried from her spot in the gravel.

“No, I meant you, Jen,” Brendon stated, “Everyone saw you, I'm not stupid. In fact, I really don't want to see you again, either. We're through.”

“You can't break up with me!” Jenny screeched. She stood up, shakily, and approached Brendon. She tried to pry his arms from their crossed position across his chest, but he didn't budge. When that didn't work, she tried kissing him, but he stood like stone. She had an angry look on her face when she pulled back, “I can ruin your life, Brendon Urie!”

“Then you might wanna leave and get started,” he deadpanned.

Jenny gave him a glare and left the potluck without another word, her two friends following closely behind her.

“Sorry about that,” you apologized. Brendon chuckled and shook his head, taking a step toward you.

“About what?”

“You just broke up with a popular girl because of me,” you murmured.

“That only gives me the chance to do this,” he chuckled.

Then Brendon Urie kissed you.

And you loved it.

A/n: there won't be a sequel because i like the way it ended, so don't ask -ro

[rustandyearnings]

Calling In, Take 2: Power, Accountability, Movement, and the State

In the winter of 2013, I wrote a piece titled, “Calling IN: A Less Disposable Way of Holding Each Other Accountable.” Over the next four years or so, this piece would become the bane of my existence. Let me explain.

This piece sort of exploded – I was receiving emails and messages that the piece was really resonating with folks doing justice work across all types of communities. It was true and probably is still true how tired we all are of the constant worry that we cannot make mistakes – not even among those who we call friends, family, and/or comrades.

There have been numerous challenges that have arisen since the publication of this piece. The first is that it was so wildly appropriated by white people to rationalize or justify their own racist behavior. It’s been wildly appropriated to push away valid critique of racist or otherwise oppressive behavior. I remember as Ani DiFranco was being called out for playing music at a slave plantation, that white lesbians were quoting “Calling In” to tell Black women and women of color that they shouldn’t be critiquing Ani (or other white people) in such a harsh way. I don’t think I need to offer any more examples on how this piece or this concept has been misconstrued to mean, “I can do whatever I want and you have to be nice to me.”

The second challenge actually has a lot more to do with my own political development than external factors—how it was being read by my community or how it was being used by those inside and outside of my community. In the four years since writing this piece, I regret to some extent not writing more about the relationship we have to each other in movement versus our relationship to each other and that relationship to the state – the apparatus which seeks to and often succeeds at dividing, repressing, and conquering (literally and metaphorically) us.

I have become regularly frustrated by some of the contexts in which “calling in” has been used or named. It’s less about people annoying me (because people annoy me a lot) or some idea that I am the arbitrator of what “calling in” as an accountability practice or process actually means. It is actually more about the individualistic ways we think of accountability, power, and our relationships to each other. In many ways it is not surprising that we conceptualize ourselves as simply individuals. We are born into this world by ourselves (unless we’re a twin or a triplet, or something, but you get my point), we experience much of the world with only ourselves (even if many of our experiences involve others), at night we fall asleep and wander into the dream world on our own, and when we die – and we all die – we die alone.

We take the reality of the human experience as being both terrifyingly and rewardingly lonely and compound it with the deadliest economic, political, and social system in existence, capitalism, and most of us end up having a lot of shit to unpack around our individualism, and specific to this context, our understanding of harm and repair.

So what does it mean to hold each other accountable in a world that is incredibly messy? In a world where we don’t have much to rely on but the reality that things are incredibly messiness? That isn’t to say that there aren’t topics or issues where we are capable of drawing a clear line. We know how to do that – that’s why we have vibrant social movements.

But we have to start figuring out the space that exists between ourselves and our communities, our communities and the movement, and the movement and the state. Not only do we have to start figuring out that space, we have to do this in a way that is honest, transformative, and real.

I don’t think that I can say this enough: we are human beings and we have our shit. We carry with us the traumas we experience from early ages, that we don’t start developing different coping mechanisms for until later in life. For some of us, it is much later in life or it is never actually dealt with at all.

Being in movement has taught me that movement brings together the maladjusted weirdos of society who have decided or have been led to doing something about their own and others’ maladjustment. When I say “maladjusted” I am capturing a pretty broad stroke of people who are, by the standards of this system and society, not fit to be a part of this system and society. We are rightfully upset, uncomfortable, and angry. In most aspects of our lives – at our jobs, in our classrooms, in our neighborhoods, and most public spaces, including those that are allegedly democratically elected to represent us, we do not belong nor do we have power.

Movement is where we have power. Movement is where those of us who have seen the most fucked up shit; have made a whole lot out of the nothing slapped to us by capitalism; have had to endure the incredulous crimes against humanity, whether it be gentrification or police brutality, homelessness or addiction, incarceration or unemployment; have once believed that we might not survive another day have managed to find others, to find a way, and to fight for our right to life every day.

The power we have in movement spaces is beautiful, transformative, and sometimes (and increasingly so) threatening to those who have power over us. But the power we have can sometimes fuck us up. Let’s be real. Sometimes we get power and suddenly no one is a friend, it’s only foes. And it’s especially foes if not everyone agrees with us. Sometimes we get power and we become stagnant, we start operating in the interest of preserving our own power, instead of remembering why people’s power means anything to begin with: we have to build with other people to win. Our fingers tight as a fist are much stronger than they are a part. Our arms linked are a much stronger barricade than our shoulders alone in the cold. The harmony of many voices is much louder than just one.

The movement gives us power and we start acting like calling out greedy politicians and corporate profiteers or politicians who want to rid the world of queer and trans people is the same as calling out our cousin who makes sexist jokes at the family reunion or even a fellow organizer who takes up a lot of space as a white person. These are fundamentally different relationships. Our relationships to capitalism, white supremacy, and patriarchy as pillars holding up a destructive and deadly system is fundamentally different than our relationships to the human beings who have to survive these systems. 

The state is an oppressive force that seeks to cultivate division and thrives on our disconnection and alienation from each other. Let’s try our best to not feed it with our harms and grievances as if it could help us resolve them.

Our movement is, in many ways, fighting to confront the state. We are disrupting the institutions and systems harming our people. Our movement is not mechanized with an oppressive ideology; we are not weaponizing ourselves toward profit; we are not propping up fake democracy to make the rich more comfortable; we are not fighting to dispose of our people, leave our people behind or for dead. If we are truly building our movement to confront the state, we’ve got to stop treating each other like the mistakes we commit are the same heinous crimes that the state commits against our people. We are all capable of causing harm but we can’t operate as if the harm we cause to each other is the same as what we experience from the state. Often, the harm we cause to each other happens in the process of trying to build a different world.

Somewhere along the lines, the idea of “calling in” was put in opposition to “calling out.” I don’t believe that such dichotomy exists, since I think that our accountability should be more rooted in our understanding of power, to each other and to the forces that seek to exert power over us, than rooted in our individualism and selfishness about who gets to be right and who is wrong.

But ultimately, whether you want to call in or call out, let’s all try to be on the same page about who our shared enemy is – and it is not each other. I stick by a lot of what I originally wrote in that piece in 2013. Movement building is about relationship building. And it’s also about nuance. In the piece I elaborated on how we use our relationships as the basis for determining whether we "call in" or "call out." I’m still less interested in how we label our processes for holding each other accountable and more interested in the process itself. Some questions that I would pose to folks when they are deciding how they want to deal with an oppressive situation are: what is the depth of the relationship I have with this person? Are they someone I consider an acquaintance? A friend? A comrade? What values do we share (if any) and what are they? 

There are deeper political questions that should inform how to hold people accountable, too -- because everything is political and more importantly, because everything requires us to think of ourselves within the context of a broader society. Our society necessitates harm in order to thrive and it can either continue to thrive or be delegitimized based on our responses to harm. We live in a real society of disposability. We talk about it a lot but I think sometimes we forget how entrenched we are in it. When we talk about the prison industrial complex, we are talking about a world that puts people in cages for the rest of their lives because of an accountability system where the state arbitrates who gets to make mistakes and who doesn't. The structural violence carried out by the state shapes and informs how we relate to each other interpersonally.

Lately I’ve been returning to the fact that we are human beings. This kind of statement is obviously a little oversimplifying. We are human beings who are greedy, selfish, cruel, unforgiving, vengeful and also deeply feeling, compassionate, remorseful, creative, apologetic, loving, and caring. Some of the human beings on this earth commit viler nastiness than just being human – we know that this shows up in our communities and in the broader world as sexual, emotional, and physical violence, all tied and connected to capitalist exploitation and oppression: white supremacy and anti-blackness, transmisogyny and homophobia, islamophobia and xenophobia, Zionism and anti-Semitism and more.

I'm not saying that there is never harm nor that we should martyrize ourselves to minimize the harm we experience. I'm saying we should remember we have all caused harm, have the propensity to cause harm and if causing harm or making mistakes were the basis for whether or not we maintain community with each other instead of our humanity, our dignity, our aptitude for change, and our belief in a radically different and better world, we'd have no community. And probably just as scary, if not more, we’d have no movement.

There is no perfect way to deal with harm or conflict. We are trying our best to maintain our relationship to each other and ourselves in a world that is routinely dehumanizing, under a system that doesn’t care about what we mean to each other. But we should care about what we mean to each other.

As a queer and gender non-conforming person of color, a migrant from Viet Nam, and a communist, what keeps me alive is the fact that everything changes – that in fact, everything must change. When something has stopped changing, it’s dead. If there’s nothing that is useful from this piece, any of my (largely unoriginal) musings on power, accountability, movement, and the state – I hope at least that we can all remember and respect that everything changes. That this be a gift we do not take for granted, that this be a gift we give to each other in service of a better world, a world where not only are we capable of transforming but one that our transformation made possible.

In the spirit of change, I acknowledge that four years from now I might write a totally different piece, depending on where the forces of this gruesome planet are, depending on the tenacity and resilience of humanity, I might write a take three. But for now, I hope that I’ve done some justice to those who I am fighting alongside with each and every day, whose mistakes I share in, whose vision I believe in and co-create, whose wisdom, commitment, and revolutionary optimism reminds me that healing, being free, and almost anything is possible.