#(she debates putting some in Andrew’s car)

[ashestoashes7]

Just thinking about Dan Wilds choosing neon fucking orange, bright enough that everyone who has ever tried to look over them is forced to actually look at them. All the shit she’s dealt with. She deserves to just get a giant bag of sparkly orange glitter and dump it over whoever pisses her off.

[lisafication]

Digging Graves for your Morals; Or, The Ethical Problem of Outlawry

Hello, yes, I am here again. This one is shorter, I swear (it’s under four thousand words, even). If this is the first post from me you’re seeing, this is a follow-up to my prior essay posted here on the game The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, although it should be able to mostly stand alone.

At the end of my last essay, I touched on both the game’s nearly uncompromising moral scepticism and relativity, but I didn’t really dig into it. I outlined that the game only textually frames actions as ‘morally bad’ in the context of a morality set by the society and the world that has treated them as no better than farm animals raised for the slaughter. Well, I have a lot to say on the topic of ethics on the topic of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley, so buckle in, this one’s going to talk about the social contract, moral scepticism and everyone’s favourite topic: Mrs. Graves.

As usual, this was originally posted and formatted for on Sufficient Velocity and you can perhaps more easily read it there. Spoilers abound, and my content warning from last time still applies.

She’s not too hot on either ethics or her mother

The Meat of the Matter

Since a lot of this is optional or otherwise missable information, let’s review the premise the game gives us. If you’re already aware of all of this, I apologise, it won’t take long.

First off the bat, the quarantine at the start of the game was a hoax-driven money-making scheme of which you can pick up more-or-less all the relevant details of. This is entirely missable and by the time it’s possible to discover, our protagonists have better things to dwell on and have dialogue about, so I’ll give you a summary of what you can deduce from reading the notes and thinking about it.

The quarantine is an organ harvesting operation, as per some documents you can discover in the wardens’ office. They entrap the residents, test their blood types and starve to death those they deem surplus to requirements — alternatively the starvation itself could be their method of ‘preparing the harvest’, there’s evidence in both directions and it hardly matters — harvesting the organs of the others for sale. As our protagonists are AB-typed, the ‘universal recipient’ or ‘most selfish blood type’, they’re some of the first on the chopping block.

If you read through the newspapers and the documents in Mr. Washing Machine’s car, you can discover that ultimately ToxiSoda are responsible, and a similar thing is happening in a different city under the guise of a ‘chemical leak’.  Should you further investigate matters, you will find mentions of the ‘man behind it all’, the doctor, or the Surgeon, as the fandom have been referring to him — you may recall Mrs. Graves mentioned someone similar! Yeah, he’s the guy who runs ToxiSoda, who are themselves partners with the water company that faked the parasite outbreak in the first place.

It’s all a life insurance scam, apparently

How much the details of the operation matter is something open to interpretation — it might just be something for players to figure out and Episode 3 will not cover the Surgeon at all, or he might play a major part; it's not particularly relevant to this essay. What matters is that it happened at all — indeed, it’s fairly easy to justify Ashley and Andrew in everything they did in Episode 1 (flashbacks aside), arguing that if they’d made any other decisions they’d have died — an argument that the victims dug their own graves, even if the Graves siblings put them in them. How correct that is is a matter of debate, but that you can make the argument at all matters, and we’ll be returning to this later. In my last essay (and again in the introduction here), I made an analogy to farm animals, raised without love and for slaughter. Let’s put a pin in the ‘for slaughter’ part for now and take a look at the ‘without love’ part. 

That’s right, it’s time to meet the parents.

As Andrew notes, there are significantly more compelling reasons for you to say that

They Fuck You Up, Your Mum & Dad

They really do. 

Our charming protagonists are, as with many things depicted in this game, an exaggerated, almost farcical example of this phenomenon — one that’s just grounded enough to still feel very real, just like the siblings themselves. 

The late and lamentable Mrs. Graves is just the same: originally a teen mother, hopelessly out of depth with two difficult children — even if one was good at masking it — and an unreliable, emotionally unavailable (at least to their children) partner who can’t hold down a job, ends up foisting them off on each other and doing a Parental Negligence because she simply Cannot Cope. That’s the real part. The part where she gets paid off by an organ harvesting operation to leave them to die, that’s the borderline-farcical exaggeration that throws all the nooks and crannies of her character into sharp relief.

Mrs. Graves does not have a good relationship with either of her kids. Having self-admittedly fobbed the job of raising Ashley off on her son, to the degree that they did not even celebrate her birthday as kids, both of them hold differing degrees and types of resentment for her.

For Ashley, it’s hate — perhaps not quite so clear cut as that, as it’s her that calls for the eulogy and she shows some potential signs of discomfort while cleaning up her parents’ corpses, but by and large, it’s fairly simple and straightforward, as usual for Ashley. The sentiment is not exactly unreturned, either.

This brings Ashley’s heart great delight!

The most clear incident raising her from everyday ‘neglectful’ to ‘wow she wanted nothing to do with this kid’ is the optional ‘birthday cake’ scene, obtained by finding the present in Ashley’s first ‘transitory world’ dream, in which we see Ashley’s birthday  and the founding of a lemon cupcake tradition between Leyley and Andy. She has received nothing from her family, notes that her ‘friends’ would say they were busy before she even told them the schedule and Andy takes her out to buy cupcakes with his pocket money.

This scene gets a callback in Andrew’s dream later. Just remember to Ask Nicely, rather than Kill Her.

Parents of the year, everyone.

So with Ashley it’s as straightforward and obvious as she herself is — she hates her mother, her mother hates her. With Andrew, as with Andrew himself, it’s a fair bit more complicated. His mother is a much more nuanced figure, who is believable in her role as an unfortunate teen parent who was trying her best. He has a degree of trust in her against, seemingly, his own good judgment In her conversation with Andrew, she acknowledges her fault in raising him and seemingly sincerely tries to offer him a ‘way out’, an olive branch.

I think many people have had relationships where they might say this

This scene in particular intrigues me, because she is acknowledging fault in a way that Andrew strictly avoids doing — and well, there’s nothing Andrew likes more than a good way to avoid acknowledging any fault of his own. With her dominant relationship over their father as a model for Andrew to draw comparisons to his own relationship with Ashley with, it’s no surprise that the narrative resonates with him to the point of ‘Accept’ being many people’s first completion.

Of course, that’s not all there is to it. There is a fascinating contrast with her later conversation with Ashley, where she — despite accusing Ashley of brainwashing Andrew — refers to Leyley and Andy as ‘two psychos’ and states that she always knew they were responsible for Nina’s death and that, implicitly, they owe her for not turning them in. 

There's something about mother-daughter relationships here that I just do not have the time or reading to dig into, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, when Andrew interrogates her on her possession of their death certificates, she has… an interesting, plausible story about a life insurance scam and claims that she really did think they died in the fire, implicitly denying the claim that she sold them. It’s entirely possible that she’s describing the details of the ‘scam’ correctly — you can even buy that she genuinely does care for Andrew in some way, if not Ashley, but her claim about being an honest, grieving parent shocked at their deaths… doesn’t add up?

This is a very normal reaction to your supposedly dead children showing up in your house.

As Andrew himself notes after hearing her story, she’s full of shit. This gets into speculation, because there are a few ways to read this, but the most plausible ‘gist’ is that she and her partner were paid off in money and jobs to not raise a fuss — the surgeon she mentioned is almost certainly the founder of ToxiSoda, remember?

The overwhelming difference in presentation between how she speaks to Andrew and Ashley invites investigation — and when Andrew turns down her offer and tells her he isn’t interested in her offer in Decline, her reaction isn’t… despair, it’s shock — and well, there’s a good reason for that.

Why do you think she did it in the first place?

This is the happiest we see her

Well — it’s so she can finally fit into society. That white picket fence, that idyllic 1950s life — hell you can call it the American Dream. She wants that, or as close to it as she can get — the working-class teen mother, living in poverty, aspiring to the middle-class. It’s a very common, very real and very grounded motivation.

And to that end, she effectively sold off her children. It’s no wonder she can’t fathom why Andrew wouldn’t choose the same.

That’s the part that makes you think — just like the deaths in Episode 1, well- maybe the siblings are justified here, too. It’s a weaker argument, but it’s still one you can make under many common moral paradigms today — what goes around comes around, all that jazz. Just look at how awful she was to Ashley.

She’s finally found what she’s been striving for.

Here’s the thing, here’s the thing though — what, reasonably, could she have done? Andrew and Ashley briefly highlight this in conversation about Ashley’s ‘friends’ in Episode 1 — was she supposed to fight gunmen to try and break them out? Throw food to the balcony from four stories?

Moreover, as she herself says to Andrew… would anyone really have been able to do better than her in her position? She was seventeen when Ashley was born, living in poverty with a partner who couldn’t even remember Andrew’s name when he was a kid. Anyone would have had difficulty, let alone with these kids.

Her evils are — they’re not any deliberate action, but rather… prompted inaction. She didn’t have the emotional energy, resources or plain capability to properly parent her children, she didn’t have any solutions to their murder of Nina in a state so blatantly hostile to its underclass, she didn’t have a way to connect with Ashley and she took the money rather than fight a futile and likely suicidal battle against a corporation and its armed goons in a dystopian setting.

Ashley, notably, does not deny this.

Her sin is the one we’re all, I think, guilty of — that of not trying hard enough, that of inaction in the face of difficult tasks, of not standing up on principle because it’s just too much that day and you don’t have the spoons, you’ll do it tomorrow (no you won’t). It’s a petty, everyday kind of evil — that of not doing enough. 

Is that enough to condemn her? Certainly, there’s a pretty manipulative read of her that likely has some truth to it — in the locked door in Ashley’s dream in ‘Decay’ you can discover that she has a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul — but consider that lens — the game won’t make up your mind for you, so you’ll need to choose that for yourself.

The dad is interesting in terms of negative space — but he’s mostly important in that he doesn’t matter, so I decided to not fit him in here. He has art, though — just no sprite, because, well, he’s never mattered to either sibling.

The Contract We Call Society

Right, it’s time to get a little bit Theoretical in here. Not much, but a little. Social contract theory is a complex topic with a lot of nuance, much of which I will be eliding in the name of not writing a twenty thousand word paper on semiotics, law, and anthropology, but the short analogy is… the idea that as long as you play by society’s rules, as long as you are a good citizen, a good person, the state, or the community, will take care of you.

In a number of ways, the harshest penalty levied by many historical states and legal codes was not death, but rather the criminal status of outlawry, a practice that’s cropped up a number of times in history — the practice of no longer being protected by the law. This meant one could be killed or worse with impunity — you were no longer protected by mob justice and, while overexaggerated as a term of reference, certain texts from Medieval England refer to outlaws as bearing a wolfshead, ‘for the wolf is a beast hated by all folk’. Never minding that wolves are actually delightful, this was a time when wolves were actively hunted and sold by people — and the same was intended to happen to outlaws. They were ‘fair targets’ as far as society was concerned, no longer to be treated as your fellow citizens.

This was the gravest punishment on the books, for most of these legal codes — something saved for those who had broken the social contract so completely that there could be no turning back (civil outlawry is… a bit different, that’s not the topic here). Among others, a modern critique of the concept is that it offers no incentive for improvement, no incentive to change or to cease harming society — if an outlaw has none of the social contract’s protections, what reason do they have to obey… any of the social contract? If that seems familiar, well, let me ask you this:

What if the state or community fails its end first? What responsibility does the innocent outlaw have to that contract?

It’s an interesting phrasing, that the world is better off.

It’s time to talk about the incest, and part of why it’s there. The cannibalism too, but that’s less impactful here. If you’ve seen me elsewhere, you might have seen me say that the incest is a load-bearing narrative pillar — in large part due to it being a critical facet of the siblings’ relationship, but in another large part due to it being an equally critical part of how the game uses taboo.

A taboo is in this context something that is considered repulsive and to be avoided by society. It’s a more complex term than that — you can also use it for certain sacred actions or utterances that are only permitted to certain people, for example — but that’s what it is here. Swearing, premarital sex, BDSM and murder are, approximately from weak to strong, some example taboos held in modern Anglospheric society. 

Strong taboos are a staple of horror — they shock, they disgust, they draw people’s attention and it’s that last one that’s critical here. Incest is a very strong taboo — while I am absolutely not segueing into its historical context, the very well-established Westermarck effect gives it a certain timelessness and immunity to desensitisation that most other taboos don’t have — murder, to contrast, is a taboo we’re largely desensitised to in modern media and works of modern media have to put in actual work to make a murder seem horrifying — through atmosphere, cinematography, evocative prose etc.

And this is important because the use of taboo I’m covering in this essay is that the incest is used to invite judgment — it is so ingrained as a ‘wrong thing’ in people’s brains almost regardless of background that it forces the player to engage with the work morally. And that’s where the fun starts.

I’ve mentioned before, very briefly, about the juxtaposition of tone between the Burial & Decay endings, contrasting with the very monstrous difference in morality. Burial is remarkably light-hearted — they play around with the drain blockage, they joke about their mother’s personality and this is further exaggerated on the Love path, where Andrew is much more comfortable with casual contact and the two make a game out of how far they can throw their parents’ skulls, the humour is directly contrasted against their abhorrent actions.

I’ll be real Ashley is far more merciful than I, I’m shuddering at the thought of that gunk in my hair

In comparison, Decay is… bleak. I’ve seen it being referred to as being ‘emotionally sandblasted’ and, yeah I think that’s fair — it’s uncomfortable, it’s heavy and it’s just not fun. And this is the route in which, if you chose Trust into Accept, Andrew has bought into the narrative that his mother’s offered — that he can fit just fine into society if he wasn’t stuck, if not for Ashley — the route that ‘fits’ most closely to the social contract, to Andrew feeling the guilt that we think he should and hating the monsters that they’ve become, as the social contract deems them. Given the pains the game takes to attach the player to the protagonists, this normative moral ending is very easily interpreted as the bad ending.

And well, isn’t it?

Thing is, as mentioned above, the social contract has never held up its end for them. The game takes careful pains to point out to a viewer that they’ve never had the life that society promises people, so why do its moral standards apply?

The game invites you to judge the characters, and in the same motion, asks you from what principles you judge them, making a pretty good guess in that, like most people who haven’t spent a large amount of time navel-gazing and reading some very boring books by very dusty old men, they come from the society around you.

Love even has Ashley express this sentiment directly after the incestuous dream — she asks you — well, Andrew, but this is also something for the player to mull over — why this is what’s engaged your morality or sense of revulsion, rather than the desecration, cannibalism or murder.

Andrew and Ashley are both very funny and very fascinating in this scene.

And that’s the framing that it casts all of its own moral judgement in — even the ‘tar-soul’ aspect is… well, it’s unclear what it even means. Mrs. Graves was a ‘not-hatched’ tar soul, after all. Other than that, it’s society and the world being better off without them, rather than any kind of assertion of objective morality. Due to the present of ‘soul colour’, we’ll presumably see the game make some moral statements in Episode 3, but as it stands?

It’s nearly completely morally sceptical, in and of itself — it’s not interested in moral assertions or education, it’s interested in making you question your own morals. Deconstructive (not that kind), rather than dialectic, to be mildly pretentious.

It uses taboo and shock to invite moral judgement, but then uses tone, charm and our instinct to look for the happiest end for our blorbos to get you to recognise that these are principles you yourself brought into the game, rather than any it’s handed you. 

To summarise: you’ve brought these principles in from society, but what do the siblings, the protagonists, the villains to the world, owe society? Enough that they should follow them? It failed them first, after all.

Closing Thoughts

This one is a bit less energetic than the last, tragically — my sleeping schedule is the stuff of nightmares recently, I love windy weather. Wait, no the opposite. Huge thank you to everyone who commented on the last one, you are the wind beneath my wings and the main reason I managed to get this out this week.

This essay is a bit more interpretative than my last one — certainly, there are alternative readings and I’ve been toying with the idea of deliberately taking a reading I don’t like very much and writing from that perspective as a demonstrative exercise recently — mostly that you shouldn’t just take my word for things!

Otherwise, if the last bit at the end seemed murky, I apologise — I did try to write a more detailed version, but firstly, it was three thousand words and secondly, I re-read it the next day and I could not understand what the fuck I was talking about. Personally, I blame Derrida — suffice to say that I strongly recommend playing through it with an eye towards considering culpability, morality and why you think certain characters are more or less forgivable than others, and for what deeds. See what you get out of it.

I managed to keep one particular thread open to wrap up with here —  I try to keep speculation on Episode 3 content to a minimum in the main essays, but it should be fine here — you might have noticed that I refer to Episode 1 and Episode 2 being on something of a spectrum of justifiability, with the siblings’ actions being ‘more’ justifiable in Episode 1 and ‘less’ justifiable — but still justifiable if you try — in Episode 2. 

To continue the thought of the happiest ending being the one in which they step the furthest away from common morality and to further jar the viewers’ sense of morality by contrasting societal morality and blorbo-oriented morality, Episode 3: Burial could continue this trend in having a major victim be someone who, well, has done nothing wrong and isn’t even guilty of bystander syndrome.

I wonder if there’s any good candidates, someone who’s sweet, harmless and will indisputably be an innocent victim…

…I’m sure she’ll be fine

[smutty-books]

Hoodie Guy

Chapter 5

Eminem x reader

Getting to know you, coffee shop, soft marshall matters, reader’s sons

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

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Angie teased you about Marshall and tried to get info out of you but you remained closed lip about what you talked about. You headed home in time to meet your sons’ buses and started them on their homework while starting dinner. Your 16 year old was determined to antagonize his brother and Nick played into it. You were glad for the distraction from your thoughts about meeting Marshall later. Soon enough you had your 12-year-old put to bed and Andrew was studying for an upcoming test. You looked at the time and realized you needed to get ready. You quickly went to your room, slipped into some straight-legged jeans, some white air force 1’s and a V-neck long-sleeved shirt. You let your hair down and fluffed it,and touched up your makeup. You spritzed some musk on your pulse points, the crown of your head, and behind your knees. You grabbed your debit card, some cash, and your phone. You let Andrew know you were going out with a friend. Andrew rolled his eyes when you repeated the exact instructions to him that you told him every night.

“ I know, mom, you tell me the same thing everytime you go out.” You kissed him on the too of the head and told him bye and what time you’d be back. You headed out, locking the door behind you. You drove to the coffee shop near the gym and parked. You took a few deep breaths and reminded yourself this was just Marshall and you were having coffee and talking, that's all. It didn't help that you had not dated much since your divorce and the times you had ended badly. You weren't one for casual hookups, and most guys wanted sex. That's what you worried about with Marshall, and, if you did date, what his expectations were cause you knew he was experienced with women. Way more experienced. You and your ex-husband had a good sex life and had done some experimenting, but you knew Marshall had been pretty wild in his younger days. You didn't know about it now, but if he was his team must be keeping it pretty hush-hush, as Marshall was very private.

You shook those thoughts off and reminded yourself that you were just talking and getting to know each other. Usually, things didn't progress past that. Most guys you were into were interested initially but then friend-zoned you, which is kind of what you were expecting to happen with Marshall. You would be cool with that. Marshall as a friend was better than no Marshall at all.

You again chided yourself for getting ahead of yourself. You checked again to make sure you had your debit card and your cash. You stepped out of your little car, ensured she was locked and made your way to the door. You glanced inside and noticed Marshall wasn't there yet. You look at your watch and see you are early, so you debate whether or not to wait outside or to go inside.

The smell of fresh coffee as a patron came out of the shop made up your mind for you. Coffee fiend that you were You followed the scent of the beloved liquid. You approached the counter and greeted the cashier. You scanned the menu but couldn’t decide. Ypu asked the cashier for a recommendation. The barista happened to hear your question and came over and asked you what you liked. You told her you liked dark roasts like Cafe Bustelo, a Cuban espresso, but you also like your cafe mochas and peppermint mochas as well as chai tea lattes. She offered her suggestion which sounded heavenly to you so you requested that and thanked her for her help and input. She smiled at you and began preparing your coffee in a mug. You paid the cashier for your drink and put a 5 dollar tip in the tip jar. You made small talk with the barista as you watched her prepare your drink. After a lovely conversation, she handed you your coffee creation in a big mug. You were delighted by the foam decoration on the top and told the barista so. She smiled appreciatively and blushed a little. Thanking her again, you turned around to find a table and found Marshall watching you. His face was expressionless but his gaze was warm and affectionate after watching your interactions with the staff at the shop. You blushed a little and ducked your head at his scrutiny . He swallowed down a smile and moved to join you.

“ I see you made yourself at home.. Ypu weren’t waiting long, were ya’?” He greeted you with as he came to your side. You smiled at him as you both walked to a both toward the back. You let him guide where you sat. You automatically took the seat that your back faced the shop, he looked a little surprised but nodded in thanks and took the seat facing the shop. He watched you take a sip of your drink and then swallowed another smile as you closed your eyes and sighed in contentment, dropping your head back. You smiled sheepishly as you brought your head back up and found his blue gaze still resting on ypu, cataloging your expressions, a slight tilt to his lips.

“ What can I say? Coffee and I could never be strangers. A patron came out as I was waiting outside for you, and I couldn’t resist coming in and getting a cup. I hope you don’t mind?” your explanation started strong but trailed off as you waited for his response.

“ Yes, I minded. I fully ‘spected you to wait outside for me. I’m Eminem, I expect chicks to wait for me.” He said, wholly deadpan and seriously, sitting toward you and looking you straight in the eye. Your eyes widened a fraction as you looked in his serious blue eyes and scanned his face. You thought he was playing but his face was so serious. Your mind flashed to all the interviews you saw with him and his complete deadpan delivery and his dry sense of humor. You decided to play with it a little. You made sure an apology showed in your eyes just in case.

“ Oh, so sorry, my mistake. Where ever are my manners. Please for give the lapse in etiquette, Mr. Mathers. It won’t happen again.” Ypu intoned, dryly, your face in an exaggerated forgive me expression, complete with puppy dog eyes. Marshall broke at that. His blue eyes twinkled back at you and he allowed a smile and a chuckle.

“ Well, since it’s your first time, I’ll let it slide. Don’t let it happen again.” He mock warned. You tried to appear chastened though in actuality you were relieved he was being facetious. You murmured your thanks and picked up your mug and took another sip. Marshall excused himself to get his own drink. You turned around to watch him move across the shop, admiring his easy stride and his outfit. You admired his black Kangol cap, his black zip up hoodie and his sagged sweatpants and his Nike’s. You watched him interact with the cashier and watched him drop a 10 dollar tip in the jar. You continued to watch as he accepted his cup and as he turned around and moved back toward you. You turned around back toward the table not wanting to be caught staring like a creeper. You watched as he settled himself in and took a sip of his drink.

“Have you been here before?” Ypu asked him curiously, taking another sip from your mug.

“ Not this shop, no, I used to frequent the shop it was before. It was a little mom and pop greasy spoon. Made the best eggs and hash browns. They had to sell though, the owner got sick and they couldn’t keep up the business. This place hadn’t been open maybe 6 months. First time I’ve been in here.” He looked around the shop assessing.

“ Yeah, we have a place like that back in my hometown. It was called The City Grill. Only open till like 2 and made the best eggs and hash browns. It’s still there though. Little mom and pop hole in the wall place.” You shared, smiling slightly at the fond memories.

“ So you ain’t from Detroit. I didn’t think you was. Your accent is different. Where’s home?” He asked curiously. You told him where you were from and about your little hometown.

“ What brought you to Detroit? That’s a ways from home?”

“ I took a travel assignment here one summer. I kept coming back here each summer cause I love the hospital and the staff I work with so much. Plus I fell in love with Detroit. So I decided to move me and my boys here permanently.”

From there the conversation continued. Marshall was guarded about quite a bit but he answered more than you thought he would. You were also guarded about some of your history but tried to answer as openly as you could. He asked more questions about your kids and you bragged on them like the proud mama you were. You asked about his kids as that was never an area you delved into or investigated as those were his kids. You could see how proud he was of all three of his kids. You commiserated over your worry about your teenagers and how things had changed since you both were that age.

You were just chuckling at an anecdote he was telling about Stevie when ypu heard “ Mom, mom, mom, mummy, mama.” Marshall looked at you confused, realization dawned as you took your phone out with a chuckle. Murmuring an “ excuse me” you turned away slightly to focus on your conversation with your son. Marshall pulled his phone out so as not to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“ Hey, sweetheart, is everything okay? Is Nick okay?” You asked, concerned mom tone coming out. You heard an exasperated sigh from the end of the line.

“ He’s fine, mom, still sleeping. Can Jayden come over after school to hang out and listen to music? There's a new X album of unreleased songs dropping at midnight.” you thought about it. “ Has he checked with his parents that its okay?” “ Yes, mom, they said it fine.” “Is he staying for dinner? “ “ If that's okay, yeah.” “ Yeah, that's fine.” “ Bet! Thanks mom, love you, bye.” “ Love you, too, son, be home soon.”

Marshall looked up and put his phone away as you ended your call. He smiled to himself as he caught your concerned mom tone and hearing your tone when talking to your son, and the “ I love you too.”

“ Your boys okay?” He asked politely, even though he knew the answer.

“ Yeah. That was Andrew, asking to have a friend over tommorow to listen to a new album that’s dropping at midnight.” You explained, pocketing your phone.

“ Oh? What album?” Marshall asked curiously, thinking if he knew any albums on the horizon off hand.

“ Xxxtentation? It’s some of the unreleased music he did before he died.” you explained. Marshall nodded “ Your son into rap?” “ Predominantly, yeah, he started with you and then went from there. His favorites are X, Juice World, and NF, but he listens to so many artists.” you chuckled.” He likes to play them for me when Nick’s not around and get my opinion on what he is listening to.” you shared, chuckling, shaking your head, thinking about some of the screamers he listens to. Marshall chuckled as well. “ Sone of it though he just wants to hear me say” Andrew!!!!” others he says “ Mom this beat is fire, you gotta listen to it!” “ Mom, listen to these lyrics!” “ Mom, listen to this flow switch, listen to the rhyme scheme.” You shrugged. “ I'm glad he wants to share what he's listening to with me, though, keeps the lines of communication open.” Marshall nods thoughtfully, listening to you talk. You could see the wheels turning in his amazing mind.

“ You divorced, right?” you nodded, waiting for him to continue. He seemed to think like he was measuring his words. “Where their dad at? He in the picture? They get to see him?” You chuckled but it didn't have an humor in it. Marshall cocked his head and waited for you to continue. You thought about what to tell him.

“ Their dad lives in Arizona, before that Virginia, and before that Leavenworth. He was active duty while at Leavenworth, then retired. Did his 20 and got out. When he retired they moved to Virginia where he got a job as a DOD contractor. “ you told Marshall quietly. “ They see him a couple times a year. Andrew talks to him on FaceTime about once a month. Nick doesn’t know his dad or his new family that well.” As you talked , you kept your voice even and calm even though it still pissed you off. You looked at Marshall and saw the upset on his face. He swallowed a few times and you could see he was confused and upset. After a few tries he was able to speak.

“New family?” He asked, his voice controlled.

“ Yeah, he started seeing someone when we were separated, made it serious after we divorced and the when he came back to the states he moved her to Leavenworth with him and they got married. She had a son from a previous marriage. They had a daughter together a few years later even though she wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant. Of course this was after they told Andrew they didn’t have room for him when he asked to live with his dad.” You told him, your voice shaking a bit and you took a deep breath.

“ Motherfucker. So he chose a bitch and her kid over his own kids???!!!” He looked incensed at the idea. You bit your lip, and looked down, and nodded. You heard him muttering under his breath “ I see why you called him a fucktard. I just don’t get how a father can not be involved in his kid’s lives or choose one family over the other. That’s fucked up.” He told you after a few minutes, his voice calmer and quieter. You looked up and saw his gazing at you. You still saw anger on his face directed at your ex but in his eyes you saw sympathy. You wanted to get away from the unpleasant topic so quickly changed the subject. Marshall sent you a look that let you know he knew what you were doing but was going to follow your lead, for now, which you were grateful for.

“ So, you box, like for real. How long have you been boxing? How did you get started?” you asked him, intrigued. He smiled a little bit, chuckled, and answered your questions. You laughed as he finished with the story about being beaten by the 14-year-old. He shook his head and watched you laugh.

“Have you ever taught anyone to box?” you asked, curious. He shook his head. “ I tried to teach my girls, but none of ‘em got interested.” he imparted.

“ Yeah, my son used to go to a boxing club back home but stopped, never really said why. I always thought it would neat to learn, just never had the time.”

“ I could teach you, I mean, I can try to teach you, if you want.” he offered.

“ I don't know if I want to subject you to that. I'm incredibly uncoordinated and boxing looks like it requires coordination,” you said self-deprecating. “ Thank you for the offer, though, can I rain check and take you up on it later?” you asked tentatively, raiding you eyes to meet his blue gaze head on. The compassion and understanding in his blue eyes in his blues took your breath away. You realized that you could easily fall for this human being and you needed to protect your heart if you didn't want it broken. He considered you for a few minutes.

“ Raincheck it is. Imma hold you to that. So I know you got good taste in music cause you listen to me.” he said, smirking at you, you chuckled. “ What other artists you listen to?”

“ Oh, buddy, you just opened a flood gate with that question.” you warned him.

“ Hit me. I wanna know. Is it all rap or do you like other types of music?” he asked, curiously, hid gaze intent on you. You weren't used to such attention and part of you blossomed but the other part was waiting for him to put the breaks on and friend-zone you. You took a deep breath and thought for a moment.

“ Imma be honest, I grew up listening to 8 tracks and records on my parents Hi- fi. I grew up with classic country, 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s music. My parents got me a record player for one of my birthdays, one of those that had a tape deck as well? So I grew up listening to all their old records. Then I was a band geek, and a theatre geek. The band guys were into heavy metal band and garage bands so I have an appreciation for that. And I loved early rap, like the 80’s and early ’90s. Loved the Beasty Boys, MC Hammer, and Regulator by Nate Dogg and Warren G. And of course DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. Salt n’ Peppa, Run DMC. Then when I got married my then husband listened to a lot of 80’s hair and and classic rock as well as classical music and some show tunes. I got away from rap because it was too violent and too vulgar and misogynistic. It wasn't fun like the early rap I listened to. Plus my then husband wasn't a fan so that influenced my listening tastes. It wasn't till after I was divorced and my middle son started bumping rap and playing it for me that I got interested in the genre again. Then I became obsessed and devoured everything I could about hip hop and the culture. As you said in “ Kamikaze,” it made me feel strong at one of the weakest points in my life, and the more I listened, the more strength I drew from you and other hip-hop artists the more I sought to understand the culture and why rappers rapped about what they did. That's the beauty of music, it is universal and it’s a way of connecting to others and telling your struggles that others can relate to and maybe gain strength from the fact that someone else is struggling and you aren't alone in this world. That there are others that do understand and its a comfort and a solace.”you told him, gauging his expression. He listened intently and nodded at points, made agreeing noises at others and didn't look surprised by you statements about rap and why you got away from it. He looked a little sad at that but perked up when you talked about your renewed interest in it and watched, intrigued by the passionate way you spoke about this art form and culture that he was in love with so much and that had given so much to him and his family. That he strove to give back to and pay homage to whenever and however he possibly could. He found himself wanting to know more which was an oddity. He was saddened when he saw you look at your watch and start and knew you had to go.

“ You gotta go?” he asked quietly, looking down at his drink

“Yeah, I told my son I’d be back around 10:30,” you told him regretfully, finishing your now very cold cup of coffee. You moved to stand up and return your cup. He stood up as well and grabbed his drink and took yours from you despite your protest. He quickly silenced your protest with a warning look. You smiled at him in thanks. You thanked the cashier and barista and made your way to the door. He helped the for open for you, which you thanked him for. You talked and joked with each others. He walked you to your car. He watched as you unlocked your car and as you quickly checked the back seat before he opened the door and held it.

“ I’d like to see you again. “ he told you seriously. You looked him, confused. He clarified. “ I mean, I know we are going to see each other at the gym, but I'd like to, you know, kinda like take you out.” he got out. You looked up at him and smiled warmly.

“ Yeah?” You asked in wonder. He smiled at that, more certain at your humbleness that he wanted to get to know you more.

“ Yeah, I do.” he breathed, looking at you.

“ I'd like that, too. I kind of like you, Marshall Mathers.” you said sweetly, bashfully, blush on your cheeks as you admitted that to him. He leaned down and brushed a kiss to your cheek and whispered in your ear, his voice husky: “ Yeah? Wanna know sumtin'? I kind of like you too, y/n.” he felt you shiver as his lips brushed across your skin, and he bit back a smile, liking that he could affect you like that. He pulled back and gave you a small smile. You smiled shyly up at him, hardly believing someone like him was interested in someone like you.

“ Good night, Marshall. See you tomorrow night? “ you asked, starting your car, smiling as her engine came to life. He murmured his assent and closed your door. You rolled your window down

“ Sleep tight, sweet dreams, Marshall Bruce Mathers.” you told him, smiling at him.

“ You, too, y/n, you too. Text me when you get home.” he reminded you. You nodded and waved at him as you rolled up your window. He smiled as he caught Tupac’s “ I Ain't Mad Atcha” coming from your speakers before the window closed. He watched as you pulled away then made his way to his vehicle and made his way home.

[malamai]

I feel like the last 2 weeks I have neglected myself and this blog.

I have had such a crazy couple of weeks, like my work pattern has been all over being swapped around so I can cover, my sleep pattern has been all over, I have been trying to once again sort this house out so it isn't so cluttered and spend time with my kids. I have barely had time to think about anything. 😅

Currently we are in the middle of a heatwave so everyone is trying to keep cool, everyone has had their windows open to keep cool on a night which ended up being the reason I am so sleep deprived the other day.

I had an early night (LUCKILY because if I had not I'd of been 100% worse!) I am woken up at 3am to a scene similar to that in paranormal activity, Lee is standing next to the bed looking out the window and it's fucking 3am, there's a tonne of screaming going on coming from outside, I'm confused as shit. So I obviously ask what in the hell is going on, Lee explains that there's some guy screaming across the road down the phone to his girlfriend because she's been messaging and sexting another dude, he's said "dick pick" like so many times and he's having a complete mare, blah blah blah. And I look at him and Lee's looking back at me like he's expecting me to display some sort of sympathy for this dude at 3am and I looked him dead in the eye and said "could he not have let it stew for a few hours it's friggin 3am?!" And I picked up the bottle of cider I'd fell asleep drinking and start gulping it down because I am so thirsty and it's refreshing, Lee is just standing there like wtf Misty and I just tell him I don't care, I'm cranky and awake.

The argument continues until 5am and I have to be at work for 7.30am so I'm fuming as you can imagine, he even screams down the phone "I'M GONNA TIE HIM UP PUT HIM IN THE CAR AND I WONT SAY WHAT I'LL DO!!!" And I must admit that did give me a chuckle because this dude has no car, he doesn't even have a job to fund a car, he spends all day getting high on whatever and looks like a light breeze would knock him over! 😂😂😂 This guy needs to shave his head and go earn some dollar because the whole moment was top tier Andrew tate style lines. 👌

So I go to work and I am literally deceased, I can't think and I have to count large amounts of money all day so this is quite an issue especially when there's a lot to do in my job when its a Monday morning, I go full psycho and manage to find this guys Facebook and I'm like typing out this message and I'm going to give him a telling off in it, by devine intervention Lee calls me and asks how I am and what I'm up to and I'm honest and he laughs and tells me not to, but I'm fuming like I say, there's nothing worse than a sleep deprived working mother because we will kill you and then use the 24 hours in police custody as nap time. 😂😂😂

He said I should not message him because he's just been cheated on and a message from me would be the last thing he needs and I think I said something along the lines of "well he should learn to shut his windows when he decides to scream down the phone all night to his fiance. So after a bit of back and forth debate I am like "fine, I won't but if he is thinking I'm putting up with that for another night he will get a shock, there are kids and working people around him. It's not on." And then the phonecall ended. I was sooooooo tired and mad I was borderline psycho. 😂😂😂

[aftgficrec]

Staff Recs - Why Don’t You Just Stab Me in the Heart? Angst

We’ve read some fantastic angst lately so decided to feature it in staff recs. Not all of these end unhappily, but some do. We classify these as medium to heavy angst. Please heed the trigger warnings! - AFTG Fic Rec Fam

Scribbles and Sticky Notes by Fortheloveofexy [Rated T, 11750 Words, Complete, 2022]

It started soon after Andrew’s official retirement from Exy.

tw: major character death, tw: major character injury, tw: car accident

Nor are we forgiven by AyeAyeAye [Rated M, 16866 Words, Complete, 2022]

“Dissociative amnesia,” Andrew said, and Aaron tried his best to listen.

“She’s really dead,” he said.

“Yes.”

“You killed her.”

Andrew said nothing, just twirled his knife between his fingers and stared Aaron down.

***

Aaron is the host of a DID system. Andrew is one of his alters.

Pre-canon and works through canon also.

tw: child abuse, tw: drug use, tw: did, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: violence, tw: vomit, tw: withdrawal 

Can Nobody Hear Me (I cannot breathe) by temporaryeverything [Rated M, 23803 Words, Incomplete, Updated Aug 2022]

Andrew looks at himself in the mirror. He has electric clippers in one hand and his phone in the other, and debates which one he should turn to first. He flicks his thumb over the button of the clippers and it starts vibrating viciously in his hand. Another flick and it turns off just as quickly.

He unlocks his phone without looking and presses speed dial. He puts it on speaker and while it rings he flicks the button; on, off, on, off. On.

He starts at the front and just as the first strands of thick blond hair fall to the sink the dial tone stops and labored breathing can be heard in its place.

“Andrew?”

-

Where Andrew goes to see a doctor and doesn't tell anyone about it

tw: major character illness, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: explicit sexual content

Inked Petals by jaydreamz [Rated M, 11265 Words, Incomplete, Updated Aug 2022]

Andrew spent 3 years in a shithole small town in Florida trying to get through the loss of the only person who made him feel something.

Then Aaron convinces him to move to New York to start living his life again.

It all goes well until Andrew makes a tinder account and matches with his dead boyfriend.

tw: assumed major character death, tw: alcohol abuse, tw: implied/referenced drug use, tw: car accident, tw: panic attacks

Train Wreck by jaydreamz [Rated M, 8837 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2022]

Neil never made it out of Baltimore.

Six years later, Andrew has his life together, more or less, but he's far from okay. When Bee convinces him to change the scenery and go on a trip around Europe, he knows this isn't going to fix anything.

Except, he's sitting on a train in Switzerland across a ghost who's staring at him with a familiar crystal blue gaze and no spark of recognition in his eyes.

tw: assumed major character death, tw: violence, tw: explicit sexual content, tw: implied/referenced self harm

lamb to the slaughter by skullcaid [Rated M, 405804 Words, Incomplete, Updated Aug 2022]

After being saved from a vicious and merciless kidnapper that had him for eight long traumatising weeks, Asher Foster is trying his best at normalcy; which means he continues to work at a local convenience store and continues to do his schoolwork.

However, his attempt at prevalence is postponed when he learns he has not one, but two older twin brothers, and now Asher's not only dealing with the aftereffects and the outcome of his own grisly dark past, but also with the task of meeting and understanding Andrew and Aaron Minyard and their own family, the Palmetto State Foxes.

But Asher's life is far from a fairy tale, and not all demons are content with staying buried.

or, there's another secret Minyard brother.

tw: kidnapping, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: murder, tw: violence,  tw: vomit, tw: referenced forced feeding, tw: eating disorders, tw: paranoia

NB: extras from fic author @skullcaidd: ‘lamb to the slaughter’ book cover mockup (tw: blood, tw: injured animal) here, playlist here, and fandom fun post here. Fanart by @artattacker here and here, by @bevmvrsh here, and by @asher_katsumi on twitter here

just one thing series by Lyndis [Rated M/T, Collection, Updated July 2022]

Part 1: Just one thing [M, 3021 Words, Complete]

Neil is married off to Andrew Minyard. He tries to be a good husband. When he searches something in their shared bedroom he finds something unexpected, something very much not good.

Andrew likes Neil but he also knows his father and he knows what that man is capable of. He doesn't think for one minute that Neil is unharmed, even though his experience is strikingly beautiful. But while he is fully prepared to take care of his new husband, he had no clue what he was signing up for.

--

“These are for self-defense.”

“Of course they are.” Neil was quick to respond, looking up for the first time and giving his husband an empty, lifeless smile. He couldn’t do better at the moment.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: negative body image,  tw: panic attacks

Part 2: The Butcher's Son [T, 3670 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2022]

Neil kills their Chef. Andrew tries to find out what happened.

tw: blood/gore, tw: murder, tw: minor character death, tw: disordered eating, tw: implied/referenced forced starvation, tw: panic attacks

it would have been you by theresnothis [Rated T, 2142 Words, Complete, 2022]

Jeremy should have known. He should have fucking known. All the signs were there. How could he have been so blind?

tw: major character death, tw: suicide, tw: implied/referenced rape

What died didn't stay dead. by freshtaylorswiftduck [Rated T, 11065 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil Josten is dead. Neil Josten was never even a real person.

Thank you. You were amazing.

And now Andrew Minyard was left with a pair of keys and nothing else.

tw: assumed major character death, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: panic attacks, tw: depression 

The Songs Around Us by doodlingstuff [Rated M, 80076 Words, Complete, 2022]

The mission was simple: Nathaniel would join Astral Foxes as Neil Josten and make them part of Moriyama Music.

In reality, Neil became real, found a home, and fell in love despite his lies.

When the Moriyamas send the Butcher to remind Neil of his mission and Andrew's life ends on the line, Neil will have to decide how to escape his fate and bring Andrew back.

Sometimes, music is the only answer, and others, as Neil will realize, truth is the only weapon you have to save the ones you love the most.

tw: car accident, tw: major character injury, tw: torture, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: panic attacks

Skin Comes Apart (Angel in Lothian) by JuiceGremlin [Rated E, 60088 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2022]

Andrew has signed with a team halfway across the country. Neil is determined to make it work, to break the distance down into something manageable.

They are going to survive this.

That is, if Ichirou doesn't have other plans.

 tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood/gore, tw: murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: panic attacks, tw: explicit sexual content, tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual drug use 

Either Love is a Shrine or Else a Scar by Texfoxyard (twda1003) [Rated E, 2762 Words, Complete, 2022]

14 years.

He is 14 years old.

168 months. 5110 days. 122640 hours. 7358400 minutes.

That is how long he has been alive. Though alive would imply he has a spirit, a vigor for living, not his 14 years of barely surviving on scraps of food, scraps of affection, and scraps of love.

By all accounts, alive does not mean laying in a pool of his blood hours before he legally becomes a part of a family, finally belonging.

or, the one where pig Higgins doesn't come across Aaron, which means Andrew stays with the Spears'.

tw: major character death, tw: suicide, tw: rape, tw: csa, tw: self harm, tw: blood, tw: graphic depictions of violence

Run to You by Major_816 [Not Rated, 38078 Words, Complete, 2022]

Part 2 of The Books of Baltimore series, part 1 (also angsty) recced here

When Nathaniel wakes up after Baltimore he bides his time, and as soon as he’s left alone in his hospital room he does what he does best.

~

He wanted to stay this time. He’d even been dumb enough to think there was a minor chance he could pull it off. He knows better now, back in the seat of a hotwired car and heading North on instincts learned under the threat of death. Nathaniel fights until he runs, and he runs every fucking time.

Sometimes, Nathaniel wonders if that’s all he’ll ever be good at.

 ~

AKA - the one where Neil runs.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: major character injury, tw: blood, tw: drugs

[maddiwrites]

Secret Lives (Part 2)

Paring: JJ Maybank x reader 

Summary: You and JJ never got along so your friends trap the two of you on a boat in the middle of the marsh to work it out. Only it doesn’t go as planned. (Part 2)

Note: I couldn’t be happier with the feedback I am getting from Part 1!! Thank you guys so much for helping me out and hanging on there with me as I figure all of this out! I’m so grateful for all the comments and messages and I am ready every single one! Now I saw a couple people asking to be a part of a tag list...so if someone could tell me how to set one of them up I would be more than happy to lol. I will tag the two people I’ve seen who asked to be tagged! But yeah, am I supposed to set something up for a tag list or do people just message me if they want to be tagged in my stuff? Someone let me know!! 

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: Language, angst, small parts of child abuse. 

Part 1

It’s been about two weeks since you’ve seen or talked to the Pogues. Everyday felt ten hours longer and the air felt thinner. You missed your friends. You missed surfing with John B, you missed debating about the accuracy of medical TV shows with Pope, you missed sleepovers with Kie, and yes, you even missed JJ. 

As much as you hated yourself for it, you knew you did the right thing. Staying with the Pogues would have caused more harm than good. It was clear as day that you and JJ would never get along because he didn’t like you and you weren’t going to stand around and be insulted by a guy you still can’t help but think about every single day. 

Every night, you pictured the hatred behind JJ’s blue eyes when he spoke about you being nothing but a spoiled brat who didn’t deserve his trust or your friendship with the other Pogues. Each word felt like an individual stab to the heart. You were use to people not liking you. The girls at your school hated you for not giving them the time of day, the boys threw hurtful remarks at you all the time after you rejected them. But they never hurt as much JJ’s. Because they didn’t come from the guy you loved. 

It didn’t matter how much JJ hated you. You couldn’t help but fall for his sparkling blue eyes, tan skin, and fluffy blonde hair. You swooned every time JJ laughed and smiled because you loved seeing him happy. You were turned on every time JJ stood up for one of your friends, threatening to fight whoever it was that was bothering them, even if it was an uptight Kook. You were silently heartbroken every time JJ told you and his friends about his sexcapade from the previous night.  You were concerned and personally infuriated when JJ would come to the Chateau with new sets of bruises without telling you where they came from because that little voice inside your head told you exactly where they were from. 

You loved him, and you hated that you loved him. 

But this was for the best. At least thats what you told yourself.

Kie didn’t agree though. She found you in your room the next day, ready to apologize for stranding you on a boat with JJ, but it just ended in another screaming match when you told her what happened. 

“So just like that? You’re gonna leave?” She yelled. 

“I can’t do it anymore, Kie! He doesn’t want me there, and I am so sick and tired of trying to get him to like me.”

“What about John B and Pope? What about me? You’re our friend too!”

“We can still hangout -”

“Without JJ? That’s so unfair!”

“He hates me, Kie! How would you like it if I forced you to hang out with Sarah Cameron, huh?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Its the exact fucking same, and you know it!”

Kie ended up storming out of your room, neither one of you feeling any sort of peace or satisfaction with your decision. You haven’t talked to her since, and you contemplated calling her every day. 

But you never do.

The alarm you set on your phone blared in your ear from the pillow next to your head - a reminder that you needed to leave to pick up your father. You slapped the touch screen of your phone until the stupid alarm turned off. The last place you wanted to be was anywhere outside of your room. The thought of being with you father, the man you continued to blame for all your problems, filled you with self-hatred. You hated how easily he was able to manipulate you to help him, making you and your mother out to be the bad guys. He used Andrew’s wealth as a guilt trip for you, saying that since you didn’t do anything to deserve his money, the least you could do was help him out because you and your mother left him with absolutely nothing. And you fall for it. You fall for it every single time because he says you use to be daddy’s little girl - that he had big plans for the two of you when you were old enough to learn life’s pleasures. Little did you know his biggest life pleasures had always been drugs, alcohol, and gambling.

You tied your hair up in a messy bun and bounced down the stairs. Swiftly, grabbing the car keys to your new Mercedes Andrew bought you for your sixteenth birthday, you sped walked past your little sister who tried showing you a new trick that she taught your maltese puppy.

“Look, Y/N/N!”

“Not now, Gracie,” You huffed. 

As you drove through the Cut, you couldn’t help but keep a lookout for your Pogues.  You tried not to slam on the brakes every time you caught a glimpse of blonde hair or swerve when you saw a guy John B’s height carrying a surfboard. 

You honked your horn twice when you pulled up to your dad’s shitty apartment. After no longer being able to pay his mortgage after your mom left him, he had no choice but to move into the cheapest apartment in OBX. He always tried telling you that was your fault too. 

A few minutes later, he walked out, looking like he hasn’t showered in days or knows how to change his socks.

He slid into the passenger seat with a grunt, barely passing you a second glance. “You’re late.” He said. 

You stayed quiet, knowing that anything you said would only piss him off even more since you weren’t in the mood to put up with his antics.

You drove him to his drug dealer’s house, parking outside of the one story home that looked like it was rotting from the inside out. Your dad made you take him here a couple times. Every time you stayed in the car. But today, your father had something different planned.

“Come on,” He said.

“What?” You looked at him with your brows pinched together in confusion. 

“I need you inside.”

“No, no, no, no. That wasn’t the deal.”

“Well it is now, so let’s go.” His voice was stern through his clenched teeth, his eyes unblinking. You stared at him for a long second, debating whether fighting with him was worth it. 

Without another word, you reluctantly opened your door and followed your dad into the house. It smelled like B.O and marijuanna, just like how you pictured a frat house would. Pots, pans, and plates were filled to the brim of the sink. A moldy meal that looked a couple days old sat at the round table tucked in the corner. 

Your dad lead you into the living room where three other men were sitting. Well two men and one boy you recognized immediately. You swallowed your nerves as they all turned to look at your dad, then you.

“What’d you bring me, today, Jerry?” The guy with the long black hair tied in a low bun looked at you like you were fresh meat. 

You took a small step closer to your dad, ironically looking at him for some kind of protection. You didn’t trust any of these men in this room. You didn’t care if they were your father’s friends. They were men who made poor life choices and you didn’t know how far they could take it.

You looked over at Rafe Cameron, who compared to these guys, looked like a lost kid in a carnival. He was sporting a black eye and jaw. He looked both shocked and scared to see you here, probably worried that you would torment his reputation by letting everyone know how he really spends his weekdays when he’s not partying on his daddy’s boat. Little did he know, he had just enough blackmail to use against you too. 

“This is my daughter, Y/N,” Your dad introduced you. “Y/N, this is Barry.”

Barry looked you up and down and smirked. “You look like you a part of Country Club’s world.” By the way he was pointing his thumb back at the Kook, you figured that was his nickname for Rafe.

“She is,” Your father answered for you. “Remember when you said you didn’t trust me to come up with enough money to pay you back for my blow? This is proof that I got it. That I’ll always have it.”

Bile rose up your throat and your heart twisted in your chest. Is this how your dad thought of you? An open wallet? 

Of course it is, you thought. 

Barry nodded, impressed that someone like you came from a man like your father. “Well, take a seat. Can I offer you anything? Beer? Soda? Maybe a whiff?” He pointed to the white line on his clear coffee table.

“No. Thank you.” You said slowly before looking up at your father. “I didn’t bring any cash...”

“Don’t worry sweetheart. I paid out this time - used the check you sent me for my water bill. But now Barry knows he can trust me with his shit - that I wasn’t lying about you.”

“Maybe you can help Country Club pass my shit around. You’ll get a nice discount if you do...and maybe something else,” Barry looked at you suggestively. 

“Don’t scare her off, dude, she just got here.” The other man said. He extended his arm out for you to shake his hand. “I’m Luke Maybank.”

In that moment, it felt like the whole world stopped turning. You stared at the man in front of you, drinking in all his features and matching them to JJ’s. Same blue eyes, sharp jaw line, and a perfect nose. You looked down at his hand as you hesitantly shook it. Dirty, dry, scuffed. You remembered the days and nights that JJ would limp into the Chateau. He would blame it on the Kooks but the details in his story never stuck, like he couldn’t remember them with each person he told.

“Maybank?” You repeated.

“Yeah,” He narrowed his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“I was friends with your son.” Just like that, you went from being nervous to being angry. You hated this man more than you’re own father. JJ didn’t deserve the beatings and the abuse from the man in front of you. He was nothing but a deadbeat dad who didn’t know how good his son really was to him. 

“I would have remembered a pretty face like yours.”

“He never brought me around your house,” You looked at Luke Maybank from his shoes to his face. He was wearing jeans with dirt stains on them, a fitted white tank underneath a grey and blue flannel that was ripped by the cuffs around his wrists. The bags under his eyes were as dark as the bruise on Rafe’s face and his chin was in need of a shave. “Wonder why.” You couldn’t stop the sarcasm that dripped from your tongue.

You wished you could say more, or spit in his face, or kick him where it hurts. You weren’t afraid of what would happen to you, but how he would take it out on JJ if you did.

You looked up at your dad. “I’ll wait in the car.”

You quickly walked out of the house, immediately taking in a deep breath of fresh air. Before you could hide away in the front seat of your car, Rafe called out for you to stop.

You turned, only because you didn’t know what he wanted.

“What?” You said.

“Tell your boys this isn’t over. They’re not going to get away with -”

“I’m sorry. What are you talking about?”

“The Pogues. They sunk Topper’s 2020 Malibu, 24-MXC.”

At least now you have an idea as to where his bruises came from. “Is that suppose to mean something to me?”

Rafe smirked. “I forgot. You’re not a natural born Kook.”

“And yet you and I are standing in the same douchebag’s yard. What a coincidence.”

Rafe sneered at you. If this were a cartoon, steam would be coming out of his ears. “Just tell them.”

When Rafe turned to walk back into Barry’s home, you called out to him. “How do you know it was them?” Rafe turned around. “What’s your proof?” He didn’t answer immediately, and you watched him wrack his brain for some bullshit lie, which gave you all the answers you needed. “I’m guessing there isn’t any but you think it was them because you gave them a good reason to sink Topper’s 2020 Mailbu, 24-MXC. A boat I know is the finest wake setter and number one in luxury, quality, and performance.” The only reason you knew that was because JJ would say it every time Topper and Sarah would cruise by you on the HMS Pogue, and the look on Rafe’s face made it worth every second having to listen to JJ repeat that almost every week.

If Rafe wanted to respond, he couldn’t, because your dad was now walking towards you with a mean mug on his face.

Before you could say anything, the back of your dad’s hand whipped you across the face. His wedding ring, the one he refused to take off for eighteen years, caught on the corner of your mouth, splitting your bottom lip.

Rafe jumped back, startled, and you bit back a scream. Your thumb skimmed over your lip, blood coating your finger. 

“Don’t embarrass me like that again. Got it?” You dad glared down at you.

“Sir...” Rafe’s voice shook with unease. If you weren’t silently shaking with shame, you would have been surprised that Rafe even said anything at all. 

“Trust me, kid. You don’t wanna get in between a quarrel between a dad and their kid,” Luke Maybank smirked as he made his way to his own truck that was parked in front of yours. 

You glared at the back window of the car, now shaking with both shame and anger. You knew there was nothing else you could do to change the way Luke treated his son. You knew you couldn’t stop him from hurting JJ. 

But it shouldn’t matter. Because JJ wasn’t your problem anymore.

                                                  ***************

The next morning your mom made you run her errands for her. A trip to the Cleaners to pick up Andrew’s suits, the pet store for dog food and treats, and lastly to Heyward's because, according to Gracie, he sells the best hot dogs she’s ever had. 

You were trembling with nerves as you stalked through the aisles. You kept your head down, focusing on finding everything on your mother’s list as quickly as possible so you could get the hell out of there. When you went to check out, Mr. Heyward studied you but didn’t say anything. Lord knows what Pope told him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he charged you extra just to make a point. 

“Thank you,” You said as he handed you the brown paper bag. 

He nodded silently. 

As you walked out of the store, you’re faced with three out of your four friends that you dreaded seeing. They were huddled together, whispering and bickering about something. When they heard the bell above the door chime, they all looked up at you. The four of you stood there like you had all just gone brain dead. Your mouth dried up and you forgot how to speak. 

Pope looked surprised to see you, like a ghost he wasn’t expecting to see. Kie looked glum, and you remembered your last conversation. You didn’t know what you were now. You couldn’t read JJ’s expression. His eyes are casted down on your face. He was staring at your lips. Your beautiful soft pink lips he’s dreamt about kissing for years. Now they were tainted and he was dying to know how, so he could wrap his hands around that bastard’s neck and set him straight. 

“Hi...” You said softly. You didn’t know what else to say. 

No one else had a chance to speak because the piercing noise of a police siren cut through the awkward tension. Officer Shoupe got out of his car and started approaching Pope of all people. 

"Morning Officer,” Pope said nervously.

Shoupe acted like he didn’t hear him. “I have an arrest warrant for felony of destruction of property.”

You instantly thought back to what Rafe said to you yesterday. Topper’s boat. How they’re not going to get away with it. 

You watched Shoupe with wide eyes as he told Pope to put his hands up. “Hands where I can see them.” Kie tried blocking Shoupe from getting any closer to Pope. “Young lady, out of my way.”

Heyward walked out of his shop when he heard the commotion. “You arresting my boy?”

Shoupe didn’t answer and forcefully pulled Pope’s hands behind his back. 

“Be careful!” Kie screamed at him. 

Everyone started screaming at Shoupe, trying to get him away from the boy who didn’t deserve this. Pope had a future ahead of him. One that didn’t involve relying on his parents money to get. He was a hard worker, stayed out of trouble, and even had a scholarship interview in a couple weeks that will be his one way ticket off this island. He couldn’t go to jail. It would ruin him. 

Your head started ringing as the people in front of you moved in slow motion. Rafe’s words repeated in your head - more importantly the words he didn’t say. He hesitated when you asked how they knew it was your friends. Because he didn’t know for sure. 

“Stop!” You screamed louder than anyone else, causing everyone to pause in their movements. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes and Shoupe narrowed his in suspicion. “Pope didn’t do it.” You couldn’t stop yourself from doing what you were about to do, but you knew it was better than Pope getting pushed down to the station. “I did it.”

“Y/N...” JJ started to say softly, but you cut him off. 

“You’re here for the Thornton’s sunken boat, right?” You continued, knowing that if you proved with some details that you were there, Shoupe would have no choice but to take you instead of Pope. “Pope didn’t do it. He wasn’t even with me when I did it.”

Shoupe shook his head. “Y/N, you don’t want to cover for -”

“I’m not covering. I was sick and tired of Topper and his friends always taking advantage of my friends, who do nothing but work their asses off to make sure families like mine can prop their perfectly painted toes up on some beach chairs and do nothing but lay in the sun all day. So I hit Topper where it hurt with something so replaceable as a boat because I know money is all that matters to that family.”

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” JJ said through clenched teeth. 

You shrugged. “What? I’m just telling the truth.” You took a deep breath and glanced at JJ one last time before focusing back on Shoupe. “You know my dad, Shoupe. And you know I’m not talking about Andrew. I mean, my real dad.” 

You tried to act like you didn’t just spill your biggest secret to really sell your story. You pretended like the eyes of all your friends weren’t burning holes in your head. 

Shoupe used to be the officer that would frequently visit your home when you lived with your dad. Neighbors would call the cops on your family a lot because the screaming got to be too much. Without your mom pressing charges, there was nothing he could do. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know your dad,” Shoupe said softly, like he felt sorry for you that he knew exactly what you were talking about. 

“I guess I inherited his temper.”

“What?” Kie’s voice broke and tears started cascading down her cheeks. You forced yourself not to look at her. 

“I know you don’t have any proof that Pope did it. There’s no cameras posted around the Thornton’s dock.” You knew that because Sarah made you hang out with their friends a couple of times on that boat. “And there were no witnesses.” You were banking on Rafe’s reaction for this one. “So I’m guessing the Thornton’s, most likely the Mrs., paid you or something to make the arrest. But I don’t think the Sheriff would appreciate you taking someone who you have no evidence against in instead of someone confessing to the crime right to your face.”

You didn’t blink when you stared Officer Shoupe down, challenging him to go against you and fight his way to Pope. But both of you knew he couldn’t take Pope after this. 

“Is this true?” Shoupe looked at Pope.

“Yes -”

“Not you! I’m asking Pope,” Shoupe snapped, glaring at you. You knew you just ruined his entire day. 

Pope looked at you for some kind of answer. You tried subtly nodding your head, telling him it’s okay to agree. You wanted him to say it was true. 

You didn’t know what was coming next for you, but you knew you could handle it. You didn’t know if Pope could.

“Yes, sir,” Pope said.

JJ felt like he was punched in the gut. He didn’t want Pope to go to jail, but he sure as hell didn’t want you going there either. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, that he was an idiot, that he tried not to love you but failed. He knew he treated you like shit and he pushed you away. Yet here you were, still taking bullets for each of them. 

Shoupe nodded and began reading your Miranda Rights. You handed Heyward your groceries and said, “I’ll have someone pick these up.”

“Wait!” JJ tried calling out to you as Shoupe helped you into the back seat of his car. “Wait! No!”

You kept your head down as Shoupe drove away, only looking up when you knew you were at least a mile away from your friends. 

As Shoupe closed the door to a room where you were to wait to be interrogated, you smiled to yourself. Your mom was going to be pissed, you were about to get in a shit load of trouble, and the Pogues still may never talk to you again, but you knew you just saved Pope’s entire future - the one he deserved more than anything. 

And you were proud of yourself for that.

                                                   ***************

Of course Mrs. Thornton didn’t want you to go to jail. She wanted about $30,000 of restitution money to make up for it. You rolled your eyes when you heard that. All that family cares about is money. You knew she probably didn’t even care about the boat in the first place. 

Your mom screamed at you the entire ride back to your house. She took your phone and TV away and threatened to homeschool you for the next school year. Your mom was strict but her punishments never lasted long. She usually caved somewhere in the first week. You think its because she thinks your childhood was punishment enough and that behavior like this was to be expected because of it. You tried not to get that mentality stuck in your head, but sometimes you could get yourself into some trouble here and there. 

Another part of your punishment was to do the yard work around the house. Andrew had already written you a list by the time your mom forced you to wake up at 6 a.m.

You couldn’t even be mad at the punishment. Mulching the yard was the least you could do. Andrew even planned on paying the Thornton’s back if you worked for him for free the rest of the summer. 

It was about mid morning when a car pulled up your driveway. You felt like the wind was just knocked out of you when you noticed the junky Volkswagen van park. 

JJ hopped out of the Twinkie and walked in your direction. You didn’t know what to do. Were you supposed to say hi and pretend like nothing ever happened between you two? Would you go back to bickering? You looked down at your body and was mortified at what you were wearing. Although it was only some black leggings and a white tank top, you were covered in dirt and sweat, and reeked of cow manure, which you knew was what mulch was made out of. 

You tried pushing away the butterflies that swarmed your stomach when JJ stood next to you. You turned to look at him, unsure of what to say. You hated that he had this effect on you. Usually you were quick witted and were able force any kind of small talk. I mean, you were a Kook now after all. But this felt different. You didn’t want to have small talk with JJ. You wanted to really know him. His past, his now, his future. You didn’t want to be tongue tied. 

“Hey,” He said softly.

“Hi,” You wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your gloved hand. You glanced back at the van, waiting for one of your other friends to appear. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren't answering your phone and I got worried,” JJ sheepishly tucked his hand in his pockets and had a hard time of meeting your eyes. 

Ever since you mentioned a dad with a bad temper, JJ couldn’t stop thinking the worst for you. When you weren’t answering your phone, he wondered if he had done something to hurt you. The thought made him so sick with anxiety, he drove to your house to make sure you were all right.

“Yeah, my mom took my phone away. Turns out she doesn’t like it when her daughter gets arrested.” You tried to joke. “Why were you worried?”

JJ finally looked at you again. “What happened to your lip?”

You coughed from the unexpected question. You reactively bit your bottom lip and looked away. “I uh, fell on Sarah’s boat the other day.”

“Y/N...” JJ said softly and touched your elbow to make you look at him. 

“What, JJ?” You snapped, turning to look at him with a glare. He probably put two and two together the second you mentioned your dad yesterday in front of him. Just like you did when you met Luke Maybank. You hated that you had this in common with the blonde Pogue, but you also knew he could be someone you could confide in, which is something you never had. “Why do you care? Just because you know about my dad now doesn’t make us friends.”

“I was wrong, okay? I was wrong about you, Y/N.”

You scoffed, “I have an asshole for a dad, JJ. Nothing else has changed.”

“I was the biggest dick to you. You tried every day to be my friend and I pushed you away. And I’m sorry. The truth is, I don’t like change and I don’t trust people because my dad -” JJ paused and looked away towards the road, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Because your dad’s just like my dad,” You said, making his head snap back to you. “I met your dad the other. It turns out they have the same drug dealer.”

“You met my dad?” JJ’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah.”

“Did you...”

“I didn’t say anything other than how we use to be friends. But trust me, there was a hell of a lot more I wanted to say.”

JJ nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, you were right. I didn’t take the chance to get to know you because I was afraid that I would like you a lot more than I wanted to, and then you would realize you were too good for us...for me. So I pushed you away. I tried hating you so you would hate me too. But truth is, I never hated you. I could never hate you. You’re smart, funny, kind, beautiful...” Your eyes flickered up to meet his and you noticed a pink hue running up his neck, which probably matched the one on your cheeks. “I’ve always thought that. And I don’t care about where you came from. You could have been born and raised a Kook or you could have been homeless your entire life. Nothing could ever change my opinion of you. I like you, Y/N. And I miss you. The Pogues miss you and they hate me and I hate me too because I drove you away. And I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t tell if this was a dream or not, but you weren’t going to mess this up, even if it was a dream. Because JJ was standing in front of you, telling you he missed you and that he wanted you back with him and his friends, and you’d be a fool not to take him up on that because you missed them too and you were miserable without them.

“I miss you too, JJ.”

JJ smile grew wide at your words and for a second, you thought he was going to jump up and down and cheer. “Really? You don’t hate me?”

You shook your head. “I never hated you, JJ. I never could.”

“You should.”

“No. I shouldn’t. I get why you didn’t want me around. I’m a Kook now and I was being shady when I tried hiding my dad from the rest of you. You were just protecting your friends.”

“Turned out they weren’t the ones who needed protecting,” JJ said softly.

You shook your head. “I don’t need protecting.”

“Why do you still see him if you live here now?”

“It’s complicated.”

JJ reluctantly nodded. He hated that this was a part of your life he couldn't exert himself into just yet. He had to earn that. He needed you to trust him first before you let him into such a vulnerable part of your life. But he understood that. He understood that more than anybody. 

But he was going to make sure John B kept his eyes on you. JJ knew you two were close.

“I won’t push you to tell me. But you can talk to me about it. I won’t judge you.”

“Thanks, JJ,” You said graciously. People say that all the time. You can talk to me. For the most part you never believe them. You think its just something people say to make them sound sincere. But with JJ it was different. You believed every word.

“Just promise me if you see him again to take someone with you. Like John B or something.”

“Okay,” You said. You didn’t know if you meant it because all you could think about was that JJ cared enough about you to be worried. 

“Okay...” JJ said awkwardly. “So we’re good? Friends?”

Your heart cracked at the ‘F’ word but you knew you were crazy to hope for anything else. You were lucky enough to even get called a friend. You bit down on your bottom lip as your grinned and nodded. “Friends.”

“Good,” JJ nodded. “So, I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay...” JJ clapped his hands in front of him nervously. “Good. Then I’m just gonna...”

“Yeah, I should probably get back to...” You pointed back to the mulch.

“Bye, Sassy.”

You turned back to the mulch in your wheelbarrow and bit back the urge to squeal in delight, at least until the van pulled out of your driveway again. 

“Actually you know what?” JJ said, making you turn around. He was walking back over to you with a determined look on his face. “Screw friends.” 

“What -”

Before you could process what was happening, JJ cupped your cheeks and smashed his lips against yours. You instantly kissed him back and pulled him closer to you by fisting your hands into his shirt. The butterflies in your body transformed into a stampeded and your heart was hammering against your rib cage. 

You’ve kissed so many other guys before, but this one felt different. There was a passion behind this one - a meaning that felt so deep it could only be explained through actions. Kissing JJ felt right, like you had done this hundreds of times before. 

JJ pulled away first and rested his forehead against yours, his eyes trained on your swollen lips. His breath hit your face and your legs went weak in the knees. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for about two years.” He said.

“What took you so long?” You said, your eye lashes fluttered up to look at him.

“I didn’t know what I had until it was gone,” JJ said, looking up at you. He pulled away to look you in the eyes. “I love you, Y/N. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way but - “

You pulled him in for another kiss as fireworks exploded in your head. You didn’t want to let go of this moment. You couldn't believe that everything you wanted was happening.

“I love you too.”

JJ’s eyes lit up like lights on a Christmas tree as did his smile that widened with each second. He picked you up by your waist and spun you around. You giggled above him and beamed down at him. You’ve never felt this happy in your entire life.

When he set you down, he kissed you again. “Say it again.”

You pulled him in close enough for your faces to be nose to nose. “I. Love. You. JJ Maybank.”

JJ shook his head and chuckled. “Unbelievable.”

He kissed you again, and you didn’t care if you didn’t get the yard work done in time because you fulfilled your duty as a Kook. You officially have everything you could ever want. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tags: @allycat449-blog @zarahsloves

[vroomvroommuppett]

Prompt week: “That’s your son/daughter!” and “she /he is never going to be aloud to date!” with Andy x Jessie x Yn

first of all i hate you for tagging me in that joe keery gif set bc he’s just *incoherent noises*

but i love you for this

anywho

join my prompt week!!

toddler prompt #1: “that’s your son/daughter!”

toddler prompt #9: “she/he is never going to be aloud to date!”

your daughter was 3. a normal girl, except she has two dads and a mom, but she doesn’t care. she has her dads wrapped around her finger. she wants ice cream before bed and you said no? they’ll sneak her some. but when it comes to boys in her class, that’s a whole other story.

that’s how you got into this situation

you had come home from grocery shopping and you see your daughter eating food at the island. andrew and jesse picked her up from pre-school. “where are your dads?” “couch woom”. you quickly put the groceries away and go to the living room and hear two very distinct voices. you walk in and they turn their heads.

“what’s going on?” they both started talking at the same time. you pinched the bridge of your nose. man children. you married man children. “one at a time please?”

andrew spoke up. “well in the car ride today, becca said she has a boyfriend” you laugh and said “that’s your daughter”. they pout. “it’s a phase. but in the meantime, you two can debate on whatever you were before i walked in regarding becca, i’m going to talk to our daughter about her ‘boyfriend’”.

when you were walking out, you could hear jesse say, “she’s never going to be aloud to date!”. you flipped them off

[oftenderweapons]

Dirty ABCs | Seokjin and Angel

Grab your water because this is getting thirsty!

Pairing: Seokjin x reader/OC (Angel)

Wordcount: 2.3k

Genre: headcanons, smut, fluff

Rating: 18+, minors dni

Trigger warnings: Cockwarming, Cumshots (face, mouth, chest), Creampie, Cumeating, Bondage, Saint Andrew‘s Cross, Impact play, Nipple and clit spanking, Riding crop, Objectification, Body tray (using body as a food tray), Submission (slave) and domination, Discipline and punishment, Deegradation, Pinning, Masturbation, Oral sex, Sex toys (vibrator, nipple pumps, clamps, wrist restraints, cockrings). Mentions of threesome, mild exhibitionism and teasing in public.

Edited by Goddess Almighty, Queen Of My Heart, @joheunsaram, this is all for you, muffin 😘🥰

Here’s my masterlist

Enjoy 💜✨

Aftercare: For Seokjin, aftercare is mostly a way for him to calm down and for Angel to take care of him emotionally. Angel is usually okay after a scene as long as Seokjin isn’t feeling guilty or dirty or distant. So it’s mostly her performing aftercare on him, while he prefers staying on the receiving end, getting his body scrubbed and his hair washed, or being fed while being held. He really likes being hugged while talking. He’s also into cockwarming after sex, since he feels like he’s being protected and that he’s reconnecting with his vanilla side.

Body part: TITS. Jin loves the entirety of Angel, but he has a thing for her chest. And her face. She’s so beautiful, and so clean-faced. He loves being the only one who sees her pretty face crumble in pleasure when she cums for him. Now, Angel loves Seokjin’s hands and lips. He loves watching his lips kiss and suck at any part of her body.

Cum: Seokjin loves to cum inside Angel’s mouth. When he’s feeling especially naughty, he wants to cum on her face, then get inside her and see her ecstatic expression covered in his semen as he coaxes an orgasm out of her. Angel likes cumming on his cock, mostly because of how whiny he gets when she squeezes him with her cunt; plus, once she discovers she can cum without him touching her clit, just ramming inside her, she decides that’s her new favourite way to orgasm.

Dirty secret: Seokjin wants to tie Angel up to a Saint Andrew’s Cross and use a riding crop to spank her clit and nipples. Of course he has plans to make that happen, he just needs to figure out a couple more details. Like whether he should buy a cross and then turn it into… a coffee-table? Angel wants Seokjin to use her body as a food tray, ignoring her entirely while he eats, only to turn her around and fuck her against the table once he’s done. She wants to be treated like a slave just once. Just to try.

Experience: Jin has had a couple of partners before Angel, but he never went that far. He’s always been a freak, but way too restrained to try things out. Only with Angel he realised he could get what he wanted without feeling like he was disrespecting his partner. Angel has had maybe two partners. Maybe just one — the guy who cheated on her with a girl they had a threesome with. He was a freak through and through, and it only felt natural for Angel to join him, but she’s always been a bit of a freak — and she has always known that.

Favourite position: MIS-SIO-NA-RY. For both of them. A soft go-to for romantic sex and a hard and fast jackhammering. Though there is some debate on cowgirl — especially once Seokjin starts shoving Angel on his cock.

Goofy: these two can be major goofs when having sex. It’s pretty common for them to start laughing when something is extremely out of character, but they have a special look they exchange to make sure that laughing is okay at that moment. Such an agreement came after the mood was ruined by inappropriate cackling, so they found a way to look for the other’s permission. Once one of them starts laughing, the other one follows suit. After releasing tension by chuckling, the sex turns very playful, the best expression of Angel and Seokjin’s genuine friendship and companionship.

Hair: Seokjin keeps things neat, but he doesn’t put too much effort on that. He prefers staying as natural as possible, with some trimming when the situation gets out of hand. Angel trims her hair short, she has a specific electric razor to make sure it doesn’t get long but also so she can shave comfortably and safely.

Intimacy: Seokjin aims at intimacy mostly during aftercare, when he needs to feel Angel extra close and loving. Also, on romantic nights. Sometimes he just needs to go vanilla-galore all over her, and spoil her and just… treat her like a goddess. During soft lovemaking, these two just say ‘I love you’ a lot. Most of their intimacy is unspoken and really physical rather than verbal.

Jack off: Well, there are cases where it’s strictly necessary. Though Angel does it a bit more than Jin, he still is a pro at it. He actually prefers when she’s around to do it for him, or can “assist”. He just wants to cum on her tits or her mouth. Or her face. Angel just uses toys when Seokjin is away. Or sometimes when he’s around but is feeling lazy and is not in the mood and she needs to get laid: she simply picks up her small, efficient vibrator and gets stuff done. Though sometimes Seokjin changes his mind…

Kink: Ooh… Seokjin is learning how to actually dominate. However, he already knows a couple things, like punishments, discipline, degradation and impact play. He sorts of assumes he’s into restraints too, but he’s still trying to figure that out. Angel truly enjoys power dynamics, and she absolutely adores subbing for Seokjin, especially since her ex never had the kind of authority that Jin can muster and impose on her so easily. She likes being pinned and degraded by Seokjin. She finds it extremely exciting when he grabs her and uses her a little, when he doesn’t give her a chance to fight back. She likes feeling overwhelmed by him, like she’s finally unraveling him from that polished outside that he curates so expertly. She loves being the only one that gets to feel the beastly part of him on her own body. Truth is, she’s even more proud of being the one who lets him liberate himself and finally embrace his true passion and pleasure.

Location: Their home because Seokjin is shy. But as long as there’s a flat surface and a lock on the door, he’s game. Actually — the flat surface is not truly necessary. Just wait and see. Anyway, Seokjin is super glad that Angel is almost always ready when he wants to get dirty. Most of the time he’s the one dictating when and where, and Angel is entirely okay with that. Saturday night in their apartment is code for “do not disturb, we’re smashing. Maybe across the kitchen floor so absolutely do not enter”. If they’re out in public, there’s a very low chance of Angel teasing him. If she does, she’s very subtle, and in a rather private public place. Think of a hand on his thigh while he’s driving with her somewhere. Blowing him in the bathroom of a rooftop restaurant.

Motivation: The easiest way for Seokjin to get horny is seeing Angel showing off her boobs. If she's going around the house in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts (no bra), consider her busy for the next two hours minimum. She's most definitely trying to get fucked. Sometimes she might even forgo the shirt too. Seokjin can't stand her being stressed, because of her being moody and hard to deal with, he'd much rather get some dopamine and oxytocin running through her by fucking her against the kitchen table. Especially if she's being exceedingly argumentative. However, if she's truly stressed and tired, then expect him to take the lead and try to relax her as… as deep as he can. Angel's greatest weakness is watching Jin doing the housekeeping. Cooking is excellent for sex on the counter. The laundry is freaking amazing for sex on the washing machine — even better if the machine is running. But the absolute best is when he's using the mop for the floors and she can drop her clothes and scold him for not cleaning properly. It always drives him mad and subsequently leads to Angel getting fucked exactly the way she wants.

No: Third parties in the room. Angel absolutely doesn't want to share. It's mostly due to her past experiences rather than Seokjin himself. That's her only strong no. Seokjin supports her fully and he has no interest in adding anyone to their mix. Angel is more than enough to deal with. Jin has a couple hard No’s, mostly linked with Angel teasing him in public, but also her flirting with other people. She’s rather cheeky and he gets a bit mad when she gets too comfortable with his friends. On more sexual terms, he’s still exploring; however, he already knows he’s not okay with anything considered strictly hardcore.

Oral: sloppy, hungry, fast. That's the way Seokjin wants it done. Yes he's fucking hung, but he doesn't care how much Angel takes in her mouth (throat, actually), he rewards the enthusiasm. He appreciates plenty of sucking, and encourages Angel in pumping his balls in her mouth. Angel goes insane with oral sex. I mean, have you seen his mouth? Meow, purrfect. He can make a kitty purr for sure. Angel's most definitely.

Pace: The fastest, the furiousest. This man is a fucking train. He won't stop. Till he's broken Angel through and through. Though some slow rolling of hips is used to tease and arouse and torture, and eventually to please on calmer, sweeter nights. Nevertheless, they both prefer to go as hard as possible. If they don't break they're not done yet.

Quickie: strictly limited to emergencies, but they love them. They can't have casual quickies because they usually turn on multiple rounds and torture, so they must be on a schedule, like ten minutes left before one or both of them has an appointment or has to leave. Usually that happens with Angel bent over or pinned to the wall while Seokjin goes wild all over her.

Risk: Depends. Usually no. If Angel's been naughty enough, well, Seokjin can consider. It's mostly about restaurant bathrooms, car back seats, and some very mild inappropriate touching on lifts, think of Angel standing before him, discreetly rubbing her ass against his crotch. Oh, and one backstage storage room. Once. Never gonna happen ever again.

Stamina: if I had to rate it, I'd say 8/10 solid. The point is burning out, not burning steady. The goal is running out of energy, so they don't hold back, they do their thing for however long that takes. But Seokjin can most definitely handle multiple rounds. His record is probably four, but he doesn't like going there often. Foreplay and one or two rounds is more than enough for him

Toy: a big yes for Angel. For Seokjin too once he gets used to the idea of them. Angel likes vibrators, the more unusual the better. It needs to do something that a dick can’t do, so no dildos. A big yes for breast-toys (her boobies are hella sensitive). She’s also a fan of restraints (mostly hand ones but not exclusively) and impact toys. A big toy freak. Seokjin embraces her love for cockrings (especially vibrating ones).

Unfair: Seokjin? Yes. Very. Angel won’t get to cum unless he has tortured her for at least twenty minutes. Sometimes he sets a timer and edges her until it rings. Sometimes he keeps her tied up while he cums over her body — her chest especially. He likes reminding her consistently that he is superior to her as long as the scene is going. But once it’s over, he is quick to remind her she’s his partner, his equal, and anything that happened during the scene was just an act.

Volume: Angel is super quiet. She can exercise incredible volume control — and she is particularly encouraged to do so by the fact that Seokjin can be extremely shy about his moans and grunts, keeping them on the low. Especially when going vanilla, she really needs to pay attention to spot his little whines. At some point in their relationship, she admits she wouldn’t mind him controlling himself a bit less, vocally speaking, and from there on Seokjin gets gradually less shy, finally being the loud, messy man he is in his everyday life.

Wild card: Seokjin practices impact play on pillows when Angel is not at home. Mostly to make sure his game gets really safe and good before he uses any new toy on her. Once he learns how to use a riding crop, Angel can’t stop asking for it for weeks.

X-Ray: Girth? Considerable. Length? Excessive. The combo makes it impossible to take him without a stretch. He’s a grower. Angel’s power is all in her boobs. Her ass is on the flat side, but Seokjin wouldn’t have it any other way.

Yearning: Seokjin is the usual two-rounds-on-Saturday-night kind of dude when he first gets intimate with Angel, but mostly because he thinks that’s the way it’s supposed to be. He wants it a lot more. Once they start exploring, he feels free to ask for foreplay or sex pretty much whenever he wants to. Angel is up for daily masturbation/oral sex. They either end up going kinky on Saturday night, or doing the nasty mid-week and go for some fond, soft vanilla once Saturday night rolls in. Still, they’re not the kind to go two or three nights in a row: too exhausting.

Zzz: Angel gets sleepy during aftercare, but she tries to stay up as long as possible if Seokjin doesn’t feel okay. Sometimes he notices she’s sleepy and reassures her she can fall asleep, since the greatest comfort for him is knowing that no matter how cruel he was to her during playtime, she loves him and feels safe to sleep in his arms. Oh, and he’s clingy. He spoons.

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #10

Midnighter - #10 - Hospital

I am forever mad DC wasted their chance to let Midnighter and Dick have a moment when Dick lost his memory, so have this

*

Apollo put the car in park but didn’t turn it off. He reached over, placing a hand on Midnighter’s arm.

“I can go in with you,” he said.

“No,” Midnighter said, shaking his head. “I appreciate you coming this far, Andrew. But I…”

“Stop,” Apollo said softly. “You don’t have to explain it. I’m right out here if you change your mind. Take your time, M.”

Midnighter could only nod in reply, his throat suddenly tight. He pushed the door open and got out, slowly making his way into the hospital.

He’d debated coming at all. It was Red Hood who contacted him to tell him the news and answer his questions. It was the only reason Midnighter even knew which room to visit.

Still, he found himself dragging his feet as he navigated the hallways, following signs to find where he needed to be. He refused to meet the eyes of anyone he passed, keeping his head down for once.

Hospitals were usually an inevitable destination for crime-fighters. But with his ability to heal, and the fight computer usually letting him get through fights with little to no injuries in the first place, hospitals were unfamiliar to Midnighter. 

He didn’t like them. The sterile environment, the blank, white walls, the occasional dispassionate voice overhead calling out codes, the overworked staff bustling from room to room. No, he didn’t like hospitals.

Still, he forced himself to keep moving through the halls. Even if he was uncomfortable, at least he had the option to walk out of here any second he chose to. Some didn’t have that option. Some would never step foot out of here again.

That thought sent a shudder through him and he picked up his speed at last. He was here for a reason. Now was not the time for irrational fears to take hold. This wasn’t about him. 

Finally, he found the room he was looking for. He faltered outside of it, then steeled himself and stepped to the open door, peeking in.

A young woman looked up at him from the bedside. “Midnighter?”

“You have me at a disadvantage,” he said, cautiously stepping into the room.

“Barbara Gordon,” she introduced, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

He figured she was probably one of the many Batfam members or allies, but he didn’t really bother to puzzle out who at that moment. His eyes had locked onto the still figure on the bed.

“Has he-” He paused, his voice unsteady. He cleared his throat. “Has he regained consciousness?”

“Yes,” she said. “He was awake about two hours ago.”

There was another empty chair in the room, but Midnighter leaned against the wall, close to the door. He felt like he was intruding. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

“Red Hood said he doesn’t remember anything after the death of his parents,” he said. 

“No,” Barbara said quietly, gaze drifting to Dick Grayson’s pale face. “No, he doesn’t remember any of us. Any of- any of it. Who he’s been all these years. The things he’s done. The people he’s loved. It’s all gone for him. We don’t know if it’s permanent.”

Midnighter stared at Dick for a long moment, his stomach twisting. Almost his whole life, gone just like that. Stolen from him in an instant.

“He’ll be okay,” Midnighter said at last.

“He-”

“Will be okay.” He said it more firmly this time, meeting Barbara’s eyes. “I’m not saying it will be easy. But he lived the life he did because of his strengths. Those won’t go away just because he doesn’t remember how he used them.”

She stared at him before giving a small, sad smile. “Some people thought he was crazy for trusting you as much as he did.” She stood up, gesturing to the chair she’d been in. “I’ve been here all day. I really should step out for a bit, get some lunch and fresh air. Keep him company while I’m gone?” 

Midnighter took the chair and Barbara left the room. He glanced nervously at the door, realizing that any of Dick’s family or friends could come in here at any moment. He really didn’t like the thought of coming face-to-face with Batman. At least he’d save time by already being in the hospital.

But his anxiety faded to the background as he examined Dick. It was a miracle the shot hadn’t killed him, and a cruelty that it had taken so much from him anyway. 

Hard as it was to watch Dick lie, injured and motionless, Midnighter did not leave his side. He chatted easily with any staff who came into the room, claiming he was a work friend of Dick’s. He sent a text to Apollo to keep him from worrying. He told Dick’s unconscious self what he’d been up to recently, just to fill the heavy silence. 

It was a long time before Dick woke up.

Midnighter stayed quiet as Dick came to, taking a few minutes to seem lucid. When he looked at Midnighter, an exhausted expression came over his face.

“Who are you?” he asked.

Midnighter opened his mouth to crack a joke, but all that came out was, “A friend.”

Dick eyed him carefully before slowly shaking his head. “I don’t remember you.”

Midnighter could detect the helpless frustration in his voice. “That’s alright.”

Dick looked up in surprise. Midnighter didn’t need to ask to know the others must’ve all tried to remind Dick who they were- with stories that meant nothing to him, inside jokes he was no longer part of, memories the bullet had torn from his brain.

Midnighter gave him a sad, knowing smile. “Probably for the best you don’t remember me. It gives me a chance to reuse some of my best pick up lines on you.”

“Oh,” he said, blinking in surprise. “Uh- maybe, don’t do that?”

Midnighter’s smile grew a bit more genuine. “See? You don’t even remember me, but it’s like nothing’s changed.”

He shifted a little to get more comfortable. “Everyone else has tried to tell me who they were. What they were to me. I don’t remember any of it.”

“And it’s frustrating,” Midnighter said. “A whole life you remember nothing of. You don’t want to hurt them, but you don’t remember them, so that pain isn’t actually reciprocated.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “They care. But they’re just...strangers to me.”

Midnighter leaned forward a little. “I know what it’s like to wake up one day with no memory of who you used to be. My memory was taken from me too, Dick. I never got it back. I learned to live without it. I’m happy with who I became, even without all those memories. You’ll be okay, whatever way this goes. I promise. Trust that I know you, so I know what I’m saying is true.” 

He stood up, realizing there was nothing he could do right now for his friend. When he got out of the hospital, Midnighter would check on him, help him adjust to his new reality if he could- if Dick wanted him too. 

“Wait,” Dick said. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

Midnighter paused. “Midnighter.”

“What?”

“Midnighter.” He glanced at Dick, giving a ghost of his usual playful grin. “It’s all I had when I woke up without my memories. I spent years finding out who Midnighter really was. It’s not easy, Dick. But you’ll get there. Hey, when you’re out, I’ll take you for coffee sometime, if you want. Won’t even abduct you out of a hot zone this time.” 

“...What?”

Midnighter laughed. “Some memories you’re better off without. I’ll check in with you when you’re out of here.” He looked around the room. “I’m not a fan of hospitals.”

“You and me both,” he said moodily. He hesitated for a moment before lifting his head a little. “Thank you. You’re the only one who hasn’t...expected anything from me.”

“I’ve been where you are,” Midnighter said. “I’ll see you around, Dick.”

“Yea, sure,” he said. “See you around, uh, Midnighter.”

Midnighter left the hospital room, making his way back through the twisting hallways of the place. He was unsurprised to find Barbara waiting at the entrance.

“Don’t expect so much from him,” he said as he passed her. “He needs time to figure everything out.”

She said nothing, just watched him go. Midnighter found Apollo waiting in the parking lot, sliding into the passenger seat of the car. 

“Well?” Apollo asked. 

“He’ll make it,” Midnighter said, reaching out to squeeze Apollo’s hand. “He just needs someone who loves him enough to let him go and find himself, be it the new him or the old.”

“Let’s go home,” Apollo said, but didn’t release Midnighter’s hand as he started the car. 

Midnighter didn’t mind; Apollo had let him go when it mattered. He just hoped Dick’s friends and family would be willing to do the same.

[moldisgoodforyou]

lost time (chapter one)

pairing: rafe cameron x oc

a/n: while this features rafe, he is almost completely non-canon in this series! also welcome to my new series - I hope you enjoy 😌

warnings: drinking, cursing, mentions of sex

wordcount: 1.5k

MASTERLIST

______________

“You’re not seriously taking that.” 

Sophie Flint stopped dead in her tracks at the low, slightly amused voice that echoed down the hall. She had the Delta Tau Delta fraternity composite tucked precariously under her arm, which was definitely not fair game, but she had a mission to complete. 

She wasn’t exactly sure why it was a thing for sorority girls to steal things from frat houses. T-shirts, baseball caps, a fraternity composite if you were feeling particularly bold. But in a fun competition her friends on her dorm floor had concocted at the beginning of freshman year, she and her friends had made it their personal mission to collect at least one item from every fraternity, all 27 at Ohio State University. It was the start of her junior year and she hadn’t taken anything but a couple shack shirts so far (and was immediately told that was cheating), but a little pressure from her friends, a Delt party and a handful of White Claws made it the optimal time to act. Go big or go home, right?  

She turned, slowly and put on her flirtiest smile - and dropped the look the second she saw who it was. “Cameron.” Sophie acknowledged him with a mere nod, then started walking straight past him. 

Rafe snagged the edge of the composite immediately, tugging her backward. “Flint. Did you not hear me?” 

She rolled her eyes, keeping a firm grip on the composite. “Heard you loud and clear. Just not listening. I need this.” 

“What could you possibly need a fraternity composite for?” He questioned with raised eyebrows. 

“That’s for me to know and you to not find out.” She told him with a smug expression, curling her fingers tighter around the heavy frame. 

Rafe debated his options. He could let the girl go with a definitely stolen composite that would be kind of a hassle to replace, and let one of the pledges manning the door deal with it. Or he could argue more and watch the way her eyes grew bright and hear her little huff when she disagreed and - nah, it wasn’t worth it. 

He dropped his hand from the frame and lifted it in surrender, his other hand gripped loosely around a red solo cup. “I’m too drunk for this.” (He wasn’t.) “As long as you promise you won’t steal anything else.” 

She smirked. “I don’t make promises.” With that, she was on her way with the prearranged route - down the fire escape by the back hallway on the third floor, where her roommates waited not-so-patiently in the parking lot. 

___________

Rafe and Sophie had known each other since high school back in the Outer Banks, and they had never - ever - gotten along. He had gone to St. Andrew’s all-boys private school while she went to the sister school at Greenville Academy. Both grades were relatively small and students went to each other’s sporting events, combined for the yearly school play, and most importantly - threw parties together, often. The parties were always extravagant, alcohol flowing at some rich kid’s house with an excess of unsupervised teenagers milling around. 

If you asked either one of them where the mutual contempt started, they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint a specific moment. Sophie liked arguing (and instigating) just for fun while Rafe liked proving his arrogance. It was almost a guarantee at every high school party that at a certain point in the night, you could find them at each other’s throats, arguing over the dumbest thing possible. There was a point that it had evolved from coincidental arguments to seeking each other out to start a debate - no one else could go head to head with them quite like each other could - but they’d never willingly admit that.

___________

It had only taken them two weeks for their first argument in college. She strolled up to the makeshift bar in the sticky, dimly lit basement of Delta Tau Delta, way too confident for a freshman, and tapped on the pledge’s shoulder by the jungle juice to request a drink. Rafe Cameron turned around, wearing his backward baseball cap and signature smirk, and his face quickly morphed into shock. 

“Sophie? What the fuck are you doing here?” 

She crossed her arms, somehow already pissed off. They stuck to last names only, he knew that. That was their one unspoken rule they kept when talking - or rather, fighting - back home. “Please tell me you’re visiting a friend here, Cameron.” 

He grinned and spread his arms wide. “Welcome to my home.” 

“Dear god.” She elbowed him aside, serving herself a drink from the Gatorade cooler. “Of course you had to follow me here.” 

He gaped, mouth hanging open in shock. “Follow - follow you?! You’re high if you think I would willingly follow you anywhere, Flint.” 

“I applied to Ohio State, early decision, forever ago. You had to have known. It was my top school and top scholarship.” She shot back, trying her best to hide a grimace as she took a long sip from the sugary-sweet drink, laced with an ungodly amount of alcohol. 

He didn’t miss the subtle brag. “I don’t keep tabs on you. Why didn’t you go to Clemson or something nearby? You know, like everyone else?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Because, dumbass, I look horrific in orange and purple.” She proclaimed like it was an obvious statement. “And I wanted to get the fuck out of the Carolinas.” 

He grinned, completely unfazed by her insult,and lifted his cup to tap hers. “Cheers to that.” 

“Whatever. I don’t want to see you on campus again.” She turned sharply on her heel, leaving with the last word - or so she thought. 

“See you around, Soph!” He called out after her, way too smug for her liking. Typically, he would follow her and antagonize her some more, but as a pledge he was assigned to man the jungle juice for the night. He stayed put, only out of obligation - making a silent promise to himself to check up on her another time. 

___________

She ran into Rafe again one week after the composite incident. Literally. 

In her defense, it was pouring rain. She was just trying to be a good friend and drop her roommate Allie off for class, now that Sophie finally had her own car in junior year, but she was running late as always and in a rush. Sophie swerved around the corner of the business school parking lot just as a big black Range Rover was backing up, and gasped when she heard the tell-tale crunch of metal on metal. Allie winced, clutching her backpack in her lap. “Um…” 

“Just go.” Sophie sighed, knowing she had only two minutes to make it to class on time. Allie muttered a quick apology and dashed out of the car as Sophie dropped her head to the steering wheel with a loud “fuck!” She reached over and grabbed her insurance card from the glove box, then got out of the car, ready to grovel. 

Rafe slammed his door as he got out to inspect the damage. It wasn’t much, more like a quick bump and a paint scratch than anything, but he was already in a mood and this didn’t help. 

“Oh, fuck no.” Sophie cursed lowly to herself as she saw Rafe hunched over by their bumpers. “Great driving, Cameron.” She called out, arms crossed. 

He straightened up, walking over to her with an incredulous look. “Uh uh. This is your fucking fault, Flint. Just give me your insurance card and we’ll call it good.” 

She rolled her eyes and pushed a now-wet strand of hair out of her face. “Except you crashed into me. Ever look in the parking lot before backing up?” 

He scoffed, gesturing her over to look at the cars and waited til she reluctantly followed. “There’s an indent of your front plate in my rear bumper. And there’s about twenty students that probably saw it, want to call in a character witness?” 

“I’m not a bad driver.” She huffed. “That’s clearly your fault.” She was lying, of course - anyone with two working eyes could see she had rammed into him. And with anyone else, she’d be extremely apologetic, even patient. But Rafe Cameron irked her to no end. 

“Yeah, the time you merged your brother’s car into someone else on the highway our sophomore year of high school shows you’re an excellent driver.” He retorted, then started toward her car, opening the door. “Where’s your card?” 

“Hey!” Sophie grabbed his arm, pulling him back. She fished the insurance card out of her pocket and begrudgingly handed it over. “Chill out, it’s right here.” He took out his phone and snapped a picture of the front and the back, then handed it back. He then paused, eyeing her over. She shifted under his intense gaze. “What, Rafe, it’s raining. Hurry up so we can both leave.” 

“I thought you weren’t in the business school. Why are you even here?” 

“I’m not. I’m dropping off a friend.” 

He reached out and swiped a thumb under her eye, and she silently cursed herself for the way she fucking shuddered, like she was desperate or something. He smirked. “Your mascara’s running. Probably ought to fix it.” 

With that, he turned back to his car - enjoying her rare moment of silence. 

[anightflower]

Come and Find Me Chapter 4: The Andrew Curtis Case

Guys I am so sorry this took so long. On top of school kicking my ass, I had to rewrite and reedit this chapter several times until I got to one that I deemed worthy. I am going to try and post Chapter Five early for you guys if I can. 

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Violence, Rape, Abuse

Masterlist 

Spencer glanced around the room at all the police officers assembled. He cleared his throat. 

“The Unsub is a white male in his late 20s to mid-30s. He is a man with an average build and a friendly face, someone who women would not pose as a threat.”

“Since there were no signs of forced entry, we believe he’s posing as someone who women would let into their house. Classic cases of this include maintenance men there to check up on things, someone who needs help after their car broke down, or a similar case like that.” Emily explained. “This is a man who fakes confidence, but in reality views himself as inadequate in some way, he knows he can’t fight off another man, so he chooses women who live alone and are essentially defenseless.” 

“Yet, he hates that they are successful enough to support themselves or that they have any sort of power.” Morgan chimed in.

“He clearly was cheated on or had some sort of marital issue that caused him to spiral into this spree. He is a sexual sadist projecting his partner onto the women he attacks, that’s why he chokes them, watching the life drain from their eyes sparks something in him and gives him a sense of power. That is also why he rapes his victims, he loves the idea that he is all powerful and they are helpless.” Hotch explained. 

Spencer swallowed, “Comparing his last four victims it seems his type is 20-30 year old females with (Y/C/H) and (Y/C/E).” 

Which coincidentally looks like the love of my life. Spencer thought, repressing a shudder.

________________________________________________________________

Spencer starred in shock at the scene around him. He was just finishing up the geographical profile, when they had received a call about yet another body. 

Her empty bulking eyes stared up at the ceiling, her body was beaten, cut, and bruised. 

“Strangulation marks on her neck, multiple stab wounds and injuries, this looks like our unsub.” Emily resisted the urge to shudder. 

“Man, whoever cheated on this guy, must have really broken him.” Morgan mused, looking around at the bloody scribblings on the wall. 

Spencer knew that if they tested the blood on the wall, it would match the victims. He looked at the frames on the wall, trying to ignore the blood that seemed to coat everything. The victim had her diploma hung up and multiple pictures of her smiling with family or friends. Spencer stared hard at the name on the diploma; Adria Winston.

It scared Spencer how easily he could see you in this woman’s place. Injured, dying, pleading for him, for anyone to save you-

“Reid. Reid, are you alright?” Morgan clapped a hand on Spencer's shoulder, drawing him back to the present. 

Spencer shook himself out of his dazed state. “Yeah, uh I just need to step out for a second.” He said, pushing past Morgan and making his way outside Adria’s house. He pulled out his phone and dialed your number, it was late, so you would most likely be asleep, but-

You picked up on the third ring. “Hi baby, are you alright?” Spencer bit back a smile at the sleepiness in your voice.

“Not really, but I just really needed to hear your voice. How is Ohio?” Spencer asked, trying to distract himself from what he just saw. You could tell, but you played along with it. 

“Not too bad, whoever designed the Google lounge has nothing on me.” You joked. 

“Well, we already knew that.” Spencer smiled. 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t believe some of the cool stuff I found, I’m telling you if the employees complain about these amazing comfy chairs I got for their break room, I am totally coming back and stealing all 22 of them for my apartment.” You said enthusiastically. “They're perfect for reading in Spence, I’m telling you, you would love them.” 

Spencer let out a little laugh, “I’m sure they are. We will have to see if we can find some, but I don’t think 22 will fit in either of our apartments.” 

“I suppose you’re right” You sighed dramatically, but then took a more serious tone of voice. “Are you alright baby?” 

Spencer’s chest tightened at your worried tone of voice. “There’s a sick selfish part of me that is so glad that you aren’t here (Y/N). All of these girls look so much like you-” Spencer paused, swallowing back tears. “I just am so glad you are safe, I don’t think I could focus as well on this case if I knew you could possibly be in danger.” 

“Aw Spencer, I am so sorry baby. You aren’t sick or selfish for wanting me to be safe, everyone focuses on the safety of those they love, it’s only human. I know you are going to catch this guy, you are the most brilliant man and agent I have ever met. Just don’t tell your team I said that, I don’t want a bad reputation before they even meet me.” You teased, trying to lighten his dark mood. 

Spencer let out a small laugh and sniffled. “Trust me the team is going to love you. We will have to figure out when you can meet them, but I definitely want to wait until things settle down a bit here.” 

There was silence on your end for a second. “Listen Spence, I can stay here a bit longer if it will help you focus, but when I come home I am taking self-defense classes and such. I want you to have a sane mind knowing that your girlfriend actually can handle herself. I honestly think it will help me keep sane too, after hearing everything about this case.” 

Spencer heart skipped a beat, as much as he wanted you safe and sound, he also needed to hold you in his arms to keep his sanity. But ultimately you were the one who should lead your life, not Spencer.  “I appreciate you considering me, but I want the ultimate decision to be made by you Princess, I trust your judgement and I don’t want you living your life based on my fear.” 

You breath caught in your throat at the sentiment. “I love you Spencer Reid.” 

Spencer could have sworn his heart stopped. The two of you hadn’t said I love you yet. Part of him wished it was in person, but just hearing you say it, meant the world to him. “I love you more (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

So help him god, Spencer would catch whoever this unsub was and put him away, so you could come home to a safer city. 

________________________________________________________________

“You know what strikes me as funny?” Emily asked, looking at the crime scene photos. 

The room was silent, waiting to hear what she had to say. 

“Each of these unsubs reported strange gifts and letters being sent to their home. The police had thought it was nothing, but now I am thinking that maybe this could be a connection. I mean think about it, didn’t you guys notice that each victim received a gift box wrapped the exact same way?” 

Morgan nodded. “Yeah they had the white box with the red bow-”

Spencer chimed in, “Red typically symbolizes love and infatuation, but in this case it was the unsub’s warning, red meant war or violence was about to come upon this victim.” 

“Reid and JJ I want you to talk to the officers and get the reports these women filed for harassment, I think we are missing a connection.” Hotch ordered. 

An hour or so later they had that connection.  

“All of the victims received their gifts from a delivery service called ‘Special Delivery.’” JJ explained to everyone. 

“Well it seems we have to pay them a visit.” Hotch said. 

________________________________________________________________

Special Delivery was a small Ma and Pa store, located just a couple blocks from Ava’s coffee shop. Spencer debated on stopping in to check in with her and maybe grab the team coffee. 

Spencer had quickly taken a liking to Ava, not only because he had called him your “sexy superhero boyfriend,” but because she was a reliable friend to you, one who always managed to bring a smile to your face. She reminded Spencer of a more wild Emily, in the best way possible.

Emily stopped outside the storefront window, glancing at the display of chocolates, gift baskets, and jewelry. “Why is it always the cute small places that get ruined? Can’t it be one of those big corporate offices that fuck over their employees instead?” 

Spencer huffed a laugh. 

As they entered the store, the bell let out a delicate twinkle. Causing a silver-streaked brunette to pop out from the back of the store. Her round face held a warm smile as she approached them. 

“Hello dears! What can I do for you?” She asked as she excitedly clasped her hands together.

“Hello Mrs. Ellison, my name is SSA Prentiss and this is Dr. Reid, we had a few questions for you.” Emily said gently, flashing her badge to the woman. 

The woman's smile dimmed a bit, “Oh, uh of course, is everything alright?” 

“Mrs. Ellison I am sure you’ve heard of the recent tragedies-” Emily began, 

“Oh yes, I’ve been keeping up with the news, it’s just dreadful that something so horrible could happen so close to home. You see these things in movies or in other places, but you just never expect them to happen right near you.” Mrs. Ellison said sorrowfully, wrapping her arms around herself. 

“Mrs. Ellison, I am afraid everyone of these victims received several deliveries from your shop. Each was wrapped exactly the same, white box, red bow, does this ring any bells for you?” Spencer asked, cutting to the chase. 

“Well dear, it is Valentine season, red, pink, and white are the typical go to colors.” She shrugged. 

“Do you have any regulars? He would have each gift he bought wrapped the exact same way? He would seem friendly, but would be on the quieter side?” Emily asked, attempting to prod the older woman’s memory. 

“I’m afraid none of that is ringing any bells dear, I am so sorry.” Mrs. Ellison said apologetically. 

“Do you have any other employees? Or do you run this place all by yourself?” Spencer asked. 

Mrs. Ellison, let out a small laugh, “Oh goodness me, no. I get so many orders, I could never do it by myself. I previously had three employees, Jess, Remy, and Andrew, but I had to fire Andrew when I found him stealing from our stock. It was a shame too, he was a hardworking boy, but I’m afraid he just fell apart after his wife left him.”

Emily and Spencer exchanged a quick glance. “Do you happen to know why his wife left him?” Spencer asked, his heart picking up speed. 

“Oh it's not my business to share-” Mrs. Ellison hesitated. 

“Please Mrs. Ellison, this could be crucial information.” Emily urged her. 

Mrs. Ellison let out a sigh. “That horrible girl cheated on him. I just couldn’t understand it either, Drew was such a doting gentleman to her, it simply didn’t make sense.” 

“Do you still have his contact information? His address?” 

“Why of course, but you couldn’t possibly think he has anything to do with this-” Mrs. Ellison began, making her way to behind the counter to grab a binder. She looked up worried when Spencer and Emily didn’t answer right away. “Do you?” She urged. 

“It’s quite possible he had nothing to do with it, we just need to follow through with every angle.” Emily quickly explained. 

“Of course.” Mrs. Ellison said, but her hands slightly shook as she opened up her binder to get Andrew’s address. 

________________________________________________________________

“Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, open up.” Hotch hollered from outside the door. There was no response. Hotch looked to his team to make sure they were ready, then kicked in the door. 

As the team checked different rooms, several calls of “Clear!” echoed throughout the house. Curtis was not there. 

Morgan made his way to the basement and swallowed back a gag. “Hotch! You better come see this.” 

Guns at the ready, Spencer, Hotch, Rossi, and Emily, made their way down to Morgan. 

“What the hell.” Emily huffed as they all beheld the horrific sight before them. 

It was a girl, for sure. She had the same mutilated marks as far as they could tell, but her body was decently decayed. 

“He’s displaying her like a trophy.” Spencer observed. “He props her up naked and makes sure her wounds are fully on display to remind him what he did.”

“There’s more trophies over here.” Rossi said in disgust, gesturing to a shelf full of different valuables. 

“He’s sick.” Morgan hissed. 

“We need a med team down here to remove a body. As soon as it’s IDed we need to know and alert any next of kin.” Hotch ordered into his earpiece. 

Rossi put on a glove and began to go through the other trophies for evidence. “I’ll talk to the victims families and see if any of them recognize these items.” 

Morgan dialed up Garcia. 

“Speak and be heard, the all-knowing goddess listens.” 

“Hey baby girl, I need you to look up any missing person’s reports from around this area. The victim has (y/c/h) and (y/c/e). She fits our victimology to a t, but we need to figure out who she is.”

“I’m on it.” Garcia said. 

“And Garcia,” Hotch said, stopping her before she hung up. “I need you to find a license plate for Andrew Curtis. Also check to see if he rents or owns any other property, he’s currently not at his home and it is too close to other buildings for his victims to not be heard.” 

“You got it. Talk soon.” She said, hanging up. 

About half an hour later Garcia got back to them. “Curtis drives a 2003 silver sedan with the license plate 637-IRT. I also found that he rents a small storage unit that’s a 20 minute drive in a more secluded part of town. I am sending the address to you guys now.” 

“Thanks Garcia.” Hotch said. He turned to JJ “I need you to get an APB on Curtis. I want you to warn the public to keep an eye out for him.” 

JJ nodded and rushed off with her phone. Hotch looked to the rest of the team. “Everyone else, vests on, we are heading to that storage unit.”

________________________________________________________________

“Fuck Drew, what are we going to do?” The boy asked as he looked at the screen projecting a news report on Andrew Curtis.

“Well, it might be the end for me, little brother, but I have you as my legacy. They don’t have a clue that you are even involved, so I need you to get out of here.”

“No, no, no. I am not going to leave you!” The Boy cried, tears streaming down his face. 

Drew huffed a laugh. “Now, now, little bro. It isn’t the time for tears. I’ve taught you everything you need to know. You need to get your girl from that Doctor remember?”

“How am I supposed to do this without you?” The Boy asked, fear filled his voice. 

“Your time will come. You have to be a man about this. You have the skills now and you have our little videos to watch. Your own little tutorial to pluck that girl right out of Dr. Reid’s hands. You need to hide those and hide them well. Promise me you won’t fuck up your chance.” Drew growled. 

The Boy whimpered and Drew smacked him. “Promise me!” He yelled. 

“I promise.” The Boy sobbed, grabbing at his pained cheek.

Drew’s face softened and he gave the boy a smile. “Good, now get out of here legacy and make me proud. I expect to see you on the news someday.” He winked. “You remember our code right?” 

The boy nodded. 

“Then this isn’t the last time we will speak to each other. Now get the fuck out of here, I already fucked with the security footage, so they won’t even know you were here.” Drew explained, pushing the boy out towards the parking lot. 

The Boy’s heart broke as he rushed from his mentor, not only because he knew he would never be able to see Drew in person after this, but because he knew that he would never be able to ruin the 6th victim. The sixth whore that was tied up in the trunk of Drew’s car. 

________________________________________________________________

The girl sobs were muffled by her gag. Drew pulled on her hair harder as he dragged her to the storage unit. He knew he didn’t have much time left, so he might as well let every moment count huh?

The girl’s sobs turned into terrified screams as she beheld the bloodied storage room and the various knives and devices within it. 

“Shut up you stupid bitch.” He growled in her ear.

The girl whimpered something and Drew ripped away her gag. 

“Please.” She begged and Drew simply laughed as he lugged her limp body towards the table in the center of the room.

“Please, just let me go. I won’t tell anyone, I promise. I have a family who cares about me-” She pleaded. 

“Whores don’t have families. Whores have nothing. They just cheat and lie and move onto the next guy. Huh Madelyn?” He growled as he threw her up onto the table.

“My name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily-” The girl sobbed.

“Enough of your lies Madelyn. You stupid slut. You couldn’t stay loyal could you?” Drew snarled, hitting the girl’s head hard against the table.

She sobbed harder. “My name is Emily, my name isn’t Madelyn, please it’s Emily.” She babbled.

“SHUT UP.” He said, hitting her again.

Suddenly a shout rose up from outside the storage unit door. “Andrew Curtis, this is the FBI, come out with your hands raised.” 

The smile that crept across Drew’s face was wicked. He grabbed a knife and pulled Emily against him. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He whispered in her ear. 

“Andrew Curtis, this is your last warning. We will come in armed and ready.” Hotch’s voice shouted again. 

Drew remained where he was, the sick smile on his face, as tears streamed down Emily’s face. 

When the door burst open and several agents poured in, he did not flinch or cower away. 

“Drop the weapon.” Hotch boomed, his voice echoing in the space.

“Now, now, now, where would the fun be in that?” Drew mocked. 

“Put down the weapon, Curtis and let the girl go.” Rossi ordered. 

Drew’s eyes looked past all of them and fell on Spencer, he bit back a smile.

“Come any closer and I’ll slice her throat.” Drew threatened, pressing the knife harder to Emily’s throat, a few drops of crimson blossomed and crept down her neck.

“If you don’t let Miss Bloise go, then we will be forced to take action Mr. Curtis.” Rossi explained.

Drew’s hand shook, god he wanted them to come at him, but then he thought of his mentee, how lost he would be without him. 

He lowered the knife and let the girl go. She ran towards one of the agents, tears mixing with the blood that ran down her neck. JJ wrapped an arm around the girl and guided her out. 

Morgan rushed to Curtis, pinning him down against the floor and putting cuffs around his wrists. 

Though they had caught him, Hotch felt uneasy. Curtis had given in too quickly. The greasy smile across Curtis’s face as Morgan led him away only heightened his suspicions. 

________________________________________________________________

The team sat outside the interrogation room, watching as Hotch tried to get a rise out of Andrew Curtis. He and JJ had gone in; Hotch to be the intimidator, JJ to be the trigger as she looked a bit similar to the victims. So far the man had just sat in the chair, his arms crossed, silent and smirking. It had been almost an hour and they had gotten nothing out of him.

Spencer felt as though Curtis could see him through the two-way mirror. 

“You know Agent,” Curtis began. “I know you’re trying to be the big bad wolf, but it’s not going to work, I’ve dealt with worse than you.”

Morgan looked about ready to kick in the door and beat the confession out of Andrew. 

“Send me in, I’ll get an answer out of him” Morgan growled, cracking his knuckles.

“Unfortunately, the confession won’t stand up in court if they found out you beat the shit out of Curtis to get it” Emily smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

“The Court doesn’t have to know” Morgan argued, making Emily scoff. 

“Focus kids.” Rossi ordered sternly, but Spencer could tell he was fighting back a small smile. 

Hotch and JJ came out of the room. Hotch looked to Spencer, his expression grim. “He wants to talk with you.”

Spencer looked at Hotch confused, “Why me?”

“He’s ‘fascinated by you’” Hotch explained. “I know it’s not ideal and you don’t have to go in their Reid, but-”

“But, we could get the confession out of him. We have the charges for Miss Bloise, but we want to pin him for the other girls he attacked. I understand and I will do it.” Spencer said. 

“I’ll stick with you Spence” JJ reassured, putting a hand on his arm. “You won’t be alone.”

Spencer nodded, sending a grateful look JJ’s way as they made their way into the interrogation room.

“Ah the elusive doctor. So glad you could join us.” Drew purred.

Spencer said nothing as he moved to sit down across from Curtis.

“-your wife left you Mr. Curtis, is that correct?” JJ asked.

“Please doll, a pretty thing like you can call me Drew” Drew said, looking JJ up and down. 

Spencer’s fists clenched in anger as he felt JJ tense next to him.

“The file says she left you after she cheated on you. Did you have medical issues Mr. Curtis?” Reid asked, drawing Curtis’s attention to him. “Did you struggle to please your own wife?”

Curtis growled. “That stupid whore has nothing to do with this.” 

“Ah so you couldn’t and when she left you for a man that could, you projected your anger for her onto these women. You were angry at them for being confident and independent, much like your wife who knew what she wanted.” Spencer said, sitting back in his chair with a faint smirk. 

“These women were nothing but whores, willing to let men in like me. They wanted someone so badly they let a stranger into their house.” Curtis hissed.

“Mr. Curtis, you were a delivery man. They didn’t let you in, you forced your way into their homes didn’t you?”

“If a man needs a glass of water, can’t he let himself in?” Curtis purred. “They turned their backs on a predator and got what was coming to them.” 

“Did you attack them in their homes?” JJ asked. 

“Only to make them quiet, couldn’t have the neighbors hear them scream.” Curtis laughed and Spencer resisted the urge to choke out the man across from him. 

They placed images of all of his supposed victim’s before him. “Do you recognize these women?” JJ asked, her voice harsh and cold. 

Curtis looked over all of them, silent for a couple minutes. Spencer’s patience thinned. “Well?” 

Curtis pointed to an image of Lila Jennings, the third victim of this case. “She screamed the loudest.” He pointed to another image. “She was a hot piece of ass, it was fun breaking her.” 

“Enough.” Spencer hissed. 

“In short Doctor, yes I do recognize these women. Every single one of them and no I do not regret a single one.”

Without saying another word, JJ and Spencer got up, taking the files with them. Curtis’s laughter rang out behind them as they shut the door.

________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST

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[princesscatherinemiddleton]

Ten Years Ago...

I have really fragmented memories leading up to the royal wedding - I remember hating Catherine’s engagement dress, I remember a craft shop near my house doing a “cushion making” workshop during the wedding (which two of my friends went to), I remember being in school and talking about what the dress would look like in English (we were doing Romeo and Juliet). I also have fragmented memories of the months afterwards; debating whether Kate was pregnant during her tour of Canada in 2011 sticks in my mind.

But I remember every moment of April 29th 2011. My excitement was threefold. One - I’d never seen a royal wedding before and I was fascinating (ngl, I felt the same about Philip’s funeral). Two - my family were coming around for the day. And three - I had spent the last few years reading about Prince William’s girlfriend in the papers and I had decided I loved her.

Nearly every house on my road put bunting up, and it stayed up until the end of the Olympics a year later, although we didn’t have a street party (someone tried to organise one for the 2012 Jubilee but no one wanted to go!). My family decided to have a tea party, making cucumber sandwiches and fairy cakes and scones.

My family started turning up at 8am and I remember my dad and uncles in the kitchen, making bacon sandwiches for those who wanted them. I remember sitting with my cousin’s son, playing Pokemon on my sister’s pink DS Lite. I remember watching the guests arrive and listening to my family’s commentary on people I knew (“Doesn’t David Beckham look lovely? What is Victoria wearing?”) and on people I didn’t (“Of course Tara Palmer-Tompkinson is there!” “Is that Elton John?”). I remember the reporters filling the gaps with visits to Bucklebury, speaking to old ladies in a gazeebo, and to Kate’s old primary schools.

I remember the royals arriving. My family’s disgust at Andrew (early adopters of the Andrew is trash campaign), their amusement at Eugbea’s hats, and their regular-as-clockwork hatred for poor Camilla stick in my mind. Carole Middleton completely won them over and they spoke a lot about how sorry they felt for the backseat she’d had to take at her daughter’s wedding. I remember we tried to guess the colour the Queen would be in - I guessed yellow, with a blue blanket - and I remember never guessing the Queen’s wedding outfit colour right ever again.

I remember Kate appearing and me almost crawling into the TV to get a better look. I particularly remember repeating things like “Alexander McQueen! Lace! Sarah Burton!” despite not knowing what the commentators were on about. My family spoke about how Kate waved “like a commoner” and by this point there were 15 of us in my tiny front room.

The wedding ceremony is a bit of blur. My family stood up for the national anthem and I’ve never forgotten that because I’m 100% sure they’ve never done it before or since. One of my aunt’s cried at Jerusalem because it played at her wedding. One of my uncle’s decided to be creepy about Pippa. There was a lot of talk about the Queen and how proud she was and “how dare Camilla sit so close to her” and “doesn’t William look handsome” and “when are we having cake?” - I was sat cross-legged on the floor at the foot of the TV, partially because there were no seats, and partially because I was lured in.

I adored the colour scheme - I still do. The red, white, and gold was so perfect (and so me!). Catherine’s walk down the aisle to “I Was Glad” moved me to tears (but I’ve also cried watching every bride go down every aisle at every wedding I’ve ever been to). The bells pealing as they left the cathedral touched my cold little ex-Catholic heart.

Almost as soon as they left the church, my family abandoned me and the TV for the cakes. Some of them returned not long afterwards - also with cake for me - but the rest started playing some game in the dining room. I watched the carriage ride and peppered my grandparents with questions and they spoke about the Queen and the war and their own wedding (which I paid no attention to until I decided to write about it at uni six years later). The noise from the crowds stands out to me. Hearing the cheers and watching this couple - and their fancy family - travelling in London in carriages was amazing. My aunts spoke about how Kate now had a “royal wave” and how they would have to call her “Catherine” now (reader, they never mentioned her again).

Even when the carriage ride had finished, I didn’t want to move. I was scared of missing something, especially since we didn’t have a TV which could pause or record or rewind, and I was not the most technical teenager. But I did leave to get more cake and to join the game, leaving my family with strict instructions to call me back in if anything happened.

The balcony. The waving. The crowds. The flyover. The first kiss, which made everyone laugh because “it was so quick! How could they have got photos?”. The second kiss.

We played on the Wii for a while after that. The BBC reliably informed us nothing would happen for a while, so we ate and had fun, and heard people partying in the streets of not-London. When we did switch back over, it was not long before the newlyweds appeared in Charles’ car. The pure joy of that moment was clear. My uncle started talking car and everyone else ignored him and were like “Harry must have done that!” We stayed until we saw Will, Catherine, Charles and Camilla returned to Buckingham Palace (unpopular opinion but Kate’s fluffy little jacket is the only thing that makes her boring second dress remotely interesting).

My memory of that day is family. It’s love and fashion and cake and games and fun. It’s spending time together and returning to normal the next day. I have never felt anything like the atmosphere in the run up to that wedding - the closest was the London Olympics but that suffered from being over 2 weeks, not one day. That’s why I bought a copy of the wedding on DVD (I also bought the London Olympics DVD) and that’s why I’m still here. No matter what happens, April 29th will always be a special day in my heart

[littleoddwriter]

Hiya! Do you have some time for a Zsaszmask with their son?(yes, yes, it becomes my guilty pleasure) when Andrew went for a date with his lover. As overprotective parents, they followed him to see what's going on? And guess what, Harley is in the area too to piss them off? Some humor and fluff would be nice. Thanks in advance and have a nice day (P.S: I prepare a little something for you!)

Don't You Trust Me? | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hey! I've always got time for these, because ngl, I'm pretty invested in this AU too, now. <3 I really hope you enjoy this! :) (P.S.: You are??? That's so sweet, aw, thank you! Can't wait. <3)

summary; see above.

notes; Swearing; Domestic; Kid Fic; Spying on their kid; Overprotective Parents; tiny bit of angst because Roman being Roman, I guess. (Andrew's partner is non-binary, btw. <3)

“Okay, I’m going then, dads. See you later, love you!” Andrew called to his dads from the door.

“Don’t stay out too late, Andrew!” Roman yelled back and got a muffled “I won’t” back, after which he heard the door fall shut.

Sionis stood next to his partner for a moment, frowning. Then he suddenly clasped Victor’s shoulder with such force that it actually startled Zsasz a little, “C’mon, Victor! We’ve got to follow him. Fuck knows what kind of person he is meeting with,” Roman proclaimed, looking determined as ever.

“Uh, no offence, boss, but he’s eighteen. I don’t think we should be following him, right?” Victor responded, looking at Roman.

“What? Of course we need to follow him! It doesn’t fucking matter how old he is. No son of mine meets up with someone I don’t know without supervision.”

“Haven’t you been unsupervised all the time when you went out as a teen?”

“Because my parents didn’t care, Zsasz,” he looked at him incredulously over the rim of his sunglasses, “But we’re caring parents, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, but I doubt my parents would’ve followed me on a date when I was eighteen and they cared, too,” Victor muttered.

“It’s the right thing to do, I know it. So come on! Do you remember where he said he’d go?”

After Victor nodded to affirm that, yes, he remembered that, Roman practically just shoved him out the door, so they could get in the Rolls Royce downstairs in record time. Honestly, Zsasz was still taken by surprise more often than not to find that Roman was the overprotective kind of parent. Not that he was much different; he just tried not to show it too much. He also tried to remind Sionis to do the same, because it’d be more dangerous if people knew that he truly cared so much about their son, but of course his partner disregarded that – although Victor guessed it wasn’t intentional.

“Do you know anything about this person he’s meeting? Because he told me absolutely fucking nothing,” Roman groused, and yeah, it was fair, he hated being left out on anything.

“Well, their name’s Cassidy, they’re nineteen, just started going to Gotham Academy, and Andy met them on the internet first. This would be the first time they actually meet each other as far as I know,” Zsasz responded dutifully.

He was able to really see the different emotions cross Roman’s face as he talked; first a raised eyebrow and an intrigued look; then an impressed nod; and then anger and anxiety, which he now displayed to their fullest. In a way, Victor could understand it, he too felt anxious over Andy meeting up with some rando from the internet, but he trusted him. Didn’t mean he had to be a fan of all this either.

“Has Andy told you those things?” Roman hissed, and for a moment, Victor really didn’t know if he should lie or not.

“Yeah,” he replied, deciding not to lie. It was no use, Sionis would have found out anyway, and then he’d have to deal with the inferno that was his rage and he really didn’t like it aimed at him.

“Fucking fuck!” Roman yelled, clenching his hands into tight fists, the leather squeaking a little, “Why doesn’t he tell me these things, Victor?”

He could only shrug, he didn’t know. Sometimes Andy just didn’t tell him things, and Victor guessed that was just how teens were. He couldn’t remember how he was back then if he was honest.

Roman scoffed, crossed his arms angrily and stayed silent until they’ve arrived near the café Andy would meet up with Cassidy. A public place was always good for such things, although still dangerous – especially in Gotham.

They parked a few streets away in an alleyway, where they’d leave the car and driver and then stay around the café to watch over their son. It was pretty straight-forward.

Across the street from the coffeehouse was an expensive clothes store, which they went into to stay hidden and still be able to see Andrew. As they stood near the shop window, Zsasz was the first to spot Andy sitting outside at one of the small coffee tables, smiling at his phone and looking around, every couple of minutes, respectively.

“Cassidy is late?” Roman asked quietly, looking at Andrew, while he was acting as though he was looking at the blazers they stood in front of.

“Hm, no, Andy’s just early,” Victor replied, a slight smile on his lips.

After a couple of minutes, someone came to stand in front of Andrew and he jumped up immediately, wrapping his arms around them. Must have been Cassidy then. Looking at them like this, Victor wasn’t sure this really was the first time they’ve met, but what the hell did he know anyway?

And then they kissed.

Zsasz could hear Roman’s teeth clank as his mouth snapped shut in an instant. Sure enough, when he looked over to him, he was clenching his jaw, an icy, piercing glare fixed at their son’s- date? Partner? Huh.

“Didn’t you say they met for the first time today?” Sionis asked through clenched teeth.

“That’s what he told me.”

“Does that fucking look like a first meeting?” Roman yelled, causing some people to turn around to look at them in shock – although they averted their gazes very quickly again, after noticing who they were.

“Not really, I’d say, no.”

“How can you be so fucking calm, what the fuck, Victor? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Zsasz shrugged, “You know how teens are, keeping their first relationship secret for a while and all.”

“I had reason to do that! He doesn’t!”

“Okay, hey, it’s alright. We’ll talk to him later, alright?” Victor tried to get Roman to calm down a little, putting his hands on his shoulders and looking him in the eyes intensely.

Sionis inhaled sharply, taking a few deep breaths and coming back down a little, “Yeah- Yes, ‘kay. We’ll talk to him later. Fine.”

Before Zsasz could say anything else reassuring, an obnoxiously loud, shrill, accented voice rang through the store, “Romy Baby!”

That Harley-Bitch. Great,that was what they both needed now.

Victor could swear that behind his sunglasses, Roman’s eye was twitching because of how irritated he was. And really, he couldn’t blame his partner one bit – he, too, was fucking annoyed by her mere presence.

“Miss Quinn, what a coincidence to meet you here. Right now, no less,” Roman said, his voice strained, just like the all too polite smile on his face. Zsasz hated that Harley caused him to hide like this.

“Well, I was just in the area and saw you through the window! ‘Course I had to come and say Hi, Romy! Oh, and see, Andy Baby is just across the street, too!”

“Which is entirely unrelated, of course.”

“Sure, sure! Is he on a date?” she gasped, “Oh, I should go say Hi to them as well! Maybe I should tell him that his two dads are spying on him. What do you say, Romy?”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell him that, Harley! He’s my son. I’m allowed to look after him.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know. It’s kinda weird of parents to do that. He’s eighteen, baby, let him do his thing in peace, huh? It can fuck’em up pretty bad if you don’t give’em their space, y’know?”

“I am! I fucking am!” Roman was stomping his foot on the ground as he yelled that and in all this time, Victor’s never seen him do that.

Harley just shrugged, waved at them and skipped out of the store and across the street within the blink of an eye, it seemed. Fuck.

Roman was in shock, looking at her going up to Andy, and Victor couldn’t say that he was any less shocked.

“That fucking crazy bitch!” his boss hissed quietly and stalked out of the store, too, Victor coming after him dutifully.

Zsasz felt such deep hatred for this bitch then and there, when they crossed the street and she wasn’t to be seen anywhere. And when they looked over to Andrew, he was looking right back at them. Shit. She set them up.

“Dads?” Andy called for them, frowning.

“Fuck,” they both muttered in unison and walked over.

“Hey, baby, we were just-,” Roman started, but Andrew interrupted him.

“Following me?”

“Well- We were just concerned. Not knowing who you were going to meet and all,” his partner defended himself, and fuck, Victor’s not seen him this- flustered, really, in, well, ever.

“Right. Uh, sorry, anyway. Cassidy, those are my dads. Dads, this is Cassidy, my- uh, partner,” Andy introduced them all to each other, red in the face and shrinking in on himself towards the end, getting increasingly more quiet with each word.

“Nice to meet you both, sirs,” Cassidy said, smiling gently.

“Pleasure’s all ours,” Roman smiled politely, putting on his faked friendly, diplomatic mask in an instant.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Victor just mumbled.

Then they stood there. Roman was staring holes into Andy’s date and Zsasz debated with himself if he shouldn’t just grab him and drag him back to the car, but Andy beat him to it.

“Could you please leave us alone then? Please? I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry.”

Roman nodded jerkily, “’Kay, we’ll go home. But if anything goes wrong, you call us.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, dad, I promise!”

That was when Zsasz really did take Roman by his arm and dragged him away before this went on any longer. He couldn’t bear it anymore.

Throughout the car ride, Roman had his arms crossed and was quiet, while he just frowned, pursing his lips. Victor wanted to suggest killing someone to get his mind off things, but he knew it wouldn’t go over very well, so he kept quiet.

Back at home, Roman sat down on his chaise longue, still with his arms crossed, and an even deeper frown on his face. He immediately went to work on making him a Martini. It might not solve anything then, but it usually calmed his nerves a little.

“I’m not a bad father, right?” Roman asked quietly all of a sudden, while Zsasz was still busy preparing his drink.

“No, you’re not,” he replied honestly, pouring the drink into its designated glass.

Then he walked over and gave it to Roman, who nodded in thanks.

“Why doesn’t he trust me then?”

“He does.”

“Really? Because last time I checked, he trusted you with the information of who he was going to meet. Not me!” Roman took a sip of his Martini, sighing shakily after.

“Look, I don’t know why he didn’t tell you, but I swear he trusts you just as much.”

His partner side-eyed him then and took another mouthful of his drink, “I don’t know, Vic. I don’t think he does.”

“Ask him, when he comes home,” Roman full on glared at him then, but Victor just stared back, “You know I’m right. If you want to be sure that he trusts you, ask him.”

“I hate when you make sense,” he muttered, “but fine, I’ll ask him.”

A couple of hours later, Andy finally came home, a happy little smile stuck on his face.

“And I’m back. See? I’m fine, dad,” was his greeting, which didn’t particular amuse Roman.

“Sit down, I need to talk to you,” he said – ordered – instead.

Andrew’s smile vanished pretty instantly, worry clear in his expression. “Okay? What is it?”

“Do you trust me?” Blunt as ever, Roman went straight to business.

Even after all these years, their son wasn’t quite used to it, visibly taken aback by the question, and Victor couldn’t blame him for it.

“Yeah, of course I do. Why?”

“Because you told Victor who you were meeting and I didn’t know anything. Although, granted, you also lied to him about this being your first meeting, so at least there’s that, I suppose.” Now he was just being snappy, which wasn’t anything surprising either, to Victor at least.

“Uh- Shit, sorry. Dad, I didn’t mean to- I meant to tell you, too. I-“

“Then why didn’t you?”

Andy shrunk in on himself, “Because I didn’t want you to forbid me to go. I didn’t lie to papa when I said that I’m meeting them for the first time.”

“You two kissed the second you saw each other! What the fuck, Andrew?”

“We’ve been a couple for a few months now, but only virtually. They’ve only moved here recently to go to the academy. Today was the first chance we had of meeting, I swear. It just felt right.”

Roman didn’t say anything for bit, just breathing heavily through his rage. Victor walked over to him, put his hands on his shoulders and massaged them firmly, helping to ground him. Yelling at Andy wouldn’t do them any good now, either.

“Alright. Fine,” he sighed eventually, brushing his hands through his hair, “Fuck. As long as you’re happy. I trust you to tell us if they do anything that makes you unhappy, so we can deal with it, ‘kay?”

A small smile stretched Andrew’s lips and both Roman and Victor couldn’t help but smile, too.

“Deal. Thanks, dad,” Andy said, got up, walked over and hugged Roman, “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to feel like this.”

“It’s alright. I promise I won’t follow you on your dates anymore. But I’d like you to keep some of my security nearby.”

“I can work with that,” Andrew chuckled, kissing Roman’s cheek, “I love you, dad.”

Roman kissed Andy’s temple and patted his arm. Then their son let go of him and also came up to Victor to kiss his cheek, “And I love you too, papa.”

“I know, love you too, Andy.”

He may have been eighteen at the time, but he was still their baby, that was for sure. Victor thought they did a pretty good job with him.

[440mxs-wife]

The Great Debate

Pairing: Sam x Reader. Other Characters: Dean, Sheriff, Deputy Frank Walters (OMC’s)

Word Count: 6080+

Warnings: mild show-level violence

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Are you kidding me, Sam?" you exclaimed. "There's no question in my mind who would win that fight," you grumbled.

Sam rolled his eyes from the front seat of the Impala. He turned around to face you sitting in the back seat. "Okay, Miss Smarty Pants, who do YOU think would win that fight?" he demanded.

You let out an exasperated sigh before answering. "First of all, I don't think, Sam, I already know. Lieutenant Worf from Starfleet would definitely win in a fight against Chewbacca!" you retorted.

Sam snorted. "No way! Chewie has the brute strength, not to mention he's oh, I don't know, EIGHT FEET TALL," Sam shot back.

"Maybe so, but Lieutenant Worf is a KLINGON, plus he has the training and the skills to fight with multiple weapons. He doesn't just rely on 'brute strength'," you mocked.

"Yeah, but--" Sam started.

"Oh, for crying out loud, will you two nerds just shut up!" Dean thundered.

You and Sam glared at each other for about ten seconds, then busted out laughing at Dean's outburst.

"Relax, Dean. We're not really fighting," you explained between giggles.

"Yeah Dean, relax. Just two best friends having a healthy debate of Star Wars vs. Star Trek, and why Star Wars is the best," Sam grinned.

"As if, Sam!" you shot back in mock annoyance, playfully swatting Sam's arm. You looked at Dean just in time to see him roll his eyes at the antics going on between you and his brother.

You and the Winchesters were on your way to tracking down the cause of some unusual activity in Colorado. All indications pointed to demons, especially with the traces of sulfur left behind at the crime scenes.

Dean pulled into a space in the parking lot of the Moonstone Motel. He gave the two of you one last glare before he exited the Impala and headed for the motel manager's office.

That left just you and Sam in the car, which served to kick your heart rate up a bit. His chin rested in the crook of his elbow, his arm perched on the edge of the front seat. He looked at you with a playful grin on his face.

"What?" you asked with a chuckle.

"Nothing," he replied, still with that grin on his face. "You look pretty today," he remarked softly.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at the unexpected compliment from an unexpected source. Before you could open your mouth to respond, Dean opened the car door and settled back into the driver's seat.

Dean parked the Impala in front of the rooms, then handed you a key for your own room, #12. Sam followed his brother to their room, #11. As you put the key into the lock, Dean was doing the same for their room. You flashed Sam a warm smile, then ducked into your room.

You dropped your bag on one of the chairs and perched on the edge of the bed. You took a deep breath then flopped back onto the mattress. After staring at the ceiling for a while, you decided to take a shower. While washing your hair, you replayed the events that had occurred in the car just before you arrived at the motel.

It was an age-old debate between you and Sam, Star Wars vs. Star Trek. It was something the two of you liked to engage in to annoy the hell out of Dean on long car rides. He endured it for as long as he could, then usually ended up telling the both of you to shut up. Sometimes, either you or Sam tried to get in one last parting shot against the other. Dean would again yell at the offender to shut up, and that would be the end of it.

You thought back on some of your previous discussions. Marvel vs. DC, Lord of the Rings vs. Harry Potter, even Looney Tunes vs. Tom and Jerry. Sam had fought you tooth and nail on most of those until you finally had to call a truce, basically agreeing to disagree.

However, today's debate ended without the usual fanfare of one of you trying to get in the last word. It was almost like he let you win, but Sam wasn't known to do that. He was nothing if not persistent, practically to the point of being irritating. There was no way you could ever be angry with Sam for long, though, not with how you felt about him. Then there was his last comment, just before Dean got back in the car. What was up with that? you wondered.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had first met the Winchesters about seven years ago, when they rescued you on a shapeshifter hunt in Evansville, Indiana. Your hunting partner, Andrew, had been captured by the shifter. You tracked it through the sewer tunnels beneath the city, but by the time you found Andrew, it was too late. As you tried to recover from your initial shock of Andrew's death, the shifter ambushed you. You got knocked around, hit your head a couple of times and broke your arm in the process.

The shifter managed to get the upper hand and knocked you to the ground again. Your silver knife was just out of your reach, and you were fighting hard just to remain conscious. As the shifter was about to strike the final blow, Dean came out of the shadows and killed it.

Sam came rushing to your side, checking you for injuries, while Dean looked around for other shifters and/or victims. Once Sam was satisfied you could be moved without causing further injury, he picked you up and put you in the backseat of your '68 Nova. He drove you to the hospital and stayed while you were treated for your broken arm and probable concussion.

The hospital wouldn't release you on your own due to the concussion, so Sam volunteered to be responsible for you. He drove your car back to the motel, which happened to be the same one that they were staying in, only a couple of doors down. You spent the evening getting to know Sam, while Dean went off to the local bar to celebrate a successful hunt.

As the months went by, the two of you became best friends. After awhile, you found that your feelings toward Sam had begun to change. At first, you dismissed it as some sort of "hero worship", from the aftermath of the shifter case. Then, you thought maybe it was infatuation, from the way he took care of you, almost like a "Florence Nightingale" effect.

Eventually, you realized that your feelings for the younger Winchester went beyond best friends and were not related to the shifter incident. However, after having had your heart broken before, you were reluctant to take that leap of faith to reveal your true feelings to Sam.

Over time, you've done your best to hide them, push them down and pretend they didn't exist. Even so, the current course of action was becoming more difficult with every smile, every lingering look and every touch that electrified your skin. After what happened on the car ride today, you knew something was going to break sooner or later. You just weren't sure what you'd do when it did.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

In Room #11

"So, what do you say, Sammy? What say we find a bar, have a few drinks and go check out the 'local wildlife', hmm?" Dean grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

Sam was researching something on his laptop. "Nah, you go on ahead, Dean. I'll just stay here, see what else I can find out about this case," he mumbled, eyes never leaving the computer screen.

"Come on, Sammy, you know what they say. All research and no whiskey makes Sam a dull boy," Dean teased.

Sam threw Dean one of his famous bitch faces. "Really Dean? That's the best you've got?" he grumbled.

"What's with you, man? You don't want to come out tonight for a drink and to dance with a pretty girl, you'd rather stay in. Oh, and by the way? Why did you let her win that argument today?" Dean remarked.

"What are you talking about? I didn't let her win anything. You told us to stop arguing, so we did," Sam replied.

"Yeah, but one of you usually throws in one last parting shot, and neither one of you even tried. So, I ask again, little brother, what's with you?" Dean asked. "Are you really that tired? Did you think she was right? Do you like her or something?" he persisted.

When Sam looked up in response to his last question, awareness suddenly dawned on Dean. "You do like her! I'll bet you wanted her to know what it feels like to win, so you caved! Oh, this is too sweet," Dean gloated.

"Shut up, Dean, you don't know what you're talking about," Sam growled. "Besides, even if I did have feelings for her, there's no way she'd return them. She's an amazing woman. Smart, beautiful, and she deserves someone who can give her the world. Besides, she's my best friend, for cryin' out loud. Probably all we'll ever be, though," he muttered.

Dean pursed his lips. Oh, Sammy, if only you knew what I know, he thought to himself. Dean found out about your feelings for Sam after a drunken night in the library. After one too many shots of whiskey, you'd let the confession slip out, and instantly panicked. You made Dean swear not to tell Sam, but he also made you promise to tell Sam before too much time passed.

Dean shrugged, grabbed his keys to the Impala and headed out the door. "All right, but don't wait up. You know, you don't have to stay in here all alone after I leave," he grinned mischievously.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Dean," he replied. Dean finally left the room, got into the Impala and headed for the bar. "Finally," Sam grumbled.

He thought about Dean's last comment, the one about not staying in their room all alone while he went out. Sam wondered if you were already asleep, or if you might be interested in watching a movie with him. He quickly changed into his pajamas, made sure he had the motel room key in his pocket and knocked on your door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As you towel-dried your hair, you heard the roar of the Impala's engine as she pulled away from the motel. Guess the two of them are headed out to blow off some steam, you said to yourself. As you were about to pull the blankets over your head, you heard a knock at the door. You glanced through the peephole and saw that it was Sam.

"Hi," you greeted him as you stepped aside to let him in.

"Hey," he replied. He looked at you then at the blankets turned down. "Oh, you were just going to bed, I'm sorry. I should go," he stammered.

You put your hands on his solid, muscular chest to stop him. "No, no, you don't have to go. As long as you're here, would you like to watch something on TV?" you asked hopefully.

"Sure, a-as long as I'm here," Sam smiled shyly. Your hands on his chest seemed to solidify his decision to stay.

You went over to your previous spot on the bed and got your legs under the blankets then maneuvered into a sitting position. You were having some difficulty in propping up some pillows between your back and the headboard. After he got underneath the blankets, Sam reached over and helped put the pillows in the right place for you. "Thank you, Sam," you remarked softly.

Sam looked around for the remote then found it on the nightstand by his side of the bed. He offered it to you, but you declined. He flicked the power button and started to run through the channels, finally settling on the first of four parts of The Stand by Stephen King. "Is this okay?" he asked.

You shuddered, remembering the parts that you had read from the novel that were a little disturbing this late at night. You had enough nightmares from what you saw with your own eyes on a daily basis, let alone what your imagination could conjure up. "Yeah, I'll be all right, I guess. It's just a TV show, after all," you replied nervously.

Sam chuckled softly and put his arm around you to bring you closer to his side. "Don't worry, I'm here, I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you," he promised. In response, you put your head on Sam's shoulder and your hand on his chest. You let out an audible sigh of contentment and tried to concentrate on the program. There were a couple of jump-scare moments in the show, but Sam was there to hold you and calm you back down.

Soon enough, your eyelids started to droop and you were having a hard time keeping awake to watch the program. Finally, you gave in to your exhaustion and your eyes slid closed for the night. Sam pulled you closer to his side and dipped his head towards you. He pressed his lips to your temple in a lingering kiss and whispered, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning, you woke to a heavy weight across your midsection and a toasty, warm feeling throughout your body. When you looked down, you noticed that it was Sam's arm draped across you, keeping you held close to his body. You tried to carefully ease out of bed without waking him, but Sam was having none of that. "Mmm, g'morning, baby," he mumbled then kissed your bare shoulder where your T-shirt had slipped off.

The feel of his soft lips on your bare skin sent an electric shock wave racing straight to your core. "G-good morning, Sam," you stammered. You turned over to face him and saw that his eyes were still closed. You reached over and brushed a lock of his thick chestnut hair behind his ear, then traced his jawline with your index finger. Sam caught your hand in his and kissed each fingertip, one by one.

As much as you were enjoying this, you told yourself that it wasn't real. Sam was stuck in some dream-like state, one where he was kissing some other woman just like he was kissing you. That was the only explanation you would let yourself accept. Eventually, you were able to get out from under Sam's arm and make your way to the bathroom with your bag.

Today was the day for meeting with the local authorities and questioning the witnesses. That meant wearing your Fed suit with the black pencil skirt, white button-down blouse and black blazer. You ran a quick brush through your hair then focused on your make-up. You had left your shoes by the door, only wanting to put them on at the last minute.

When you walked out of the bathroom, Sam was sitting up in bed and Dean was already in his Fed suit. He had brought coffee and breakfast with him. You could feel an awkward silence in the room, as if you'd interrupted a discussion the boys were having. Sam rubbed his eyes then got out of bed. "I'm gonna go get dressed, then meet you both back here," he stated. He flashed you a quick smile then walked out of your door and over to his and Dean's room.

Dean looked at you with an all-knowing smirk on his face. "So, how was it last night?" he asked.

"What exactly do you think happened, Dean? Sam came over after you left, and we watched TV," you mentioned.

"All I know is that Sam didn't sleep in his bed last night, so he had to have slept here," Dean pointed out.

"Dean, what more do you want me to say? I fell asleep watching TV, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up with Sam still here in my room," you explained. Which was a pleasant surprise, you thought.

"Oh-ho, a little 'Netflix and Chill', hmm?" he grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes in disgust. "Oh, will you grow up, Winchester? Not everything is about sex," you retorted.

"Fine," he huffed. "One question though," he mentioned.

"What?" you replied wearily.

"Who was the big spoon?" Dean asked with a know-it-all smirk still on his face.

You answered him by slapping his face with a pillow from the bed. Sam walked back into the room just in time to witness the pillow being slammed into his brother's face, causing him to laugh. You gave each other a high-five.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After breakfast, the three of you climbed into the Impala and went over to the local sheriff's department. You wanted to see what they had turned up and also to get a look at the victims. Sam and Dean introduced themselves to the sheriff and began chatting with them about the crime scene and the victims. At the same time, you were trying to see what additional information the deputy may have.

Deputy Walters was kind of young, a little shy and soft-spoken, not exactly the tough-as-nails lawman you might expect. So, during your questions, you turned on your feminine charms, hoping that it might elicit more information. You hated to be reduced to using such tactics, but you reminded yourself that lives were at stake.

As you spoke to Deputy Walters, you noticed that Sam kept glancing over. His frown seemed to deepen the longer you and the deputy were talking. You made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"Well, I think that about does it, Deputy Walters. You've given me a lot of good information for me to review with my fellow agents. Thank you," you remarked, putting a hand on his arm.

"Please, call me Frank. And, you're welcome. Anything to help out an agent from the bureau. 'Specially one as pretty as yourself," Frank gushed. "How much longer are you in town?" he asked.

You felt your cheeks grow warm at his compliment. "Not sure, I still have to compare notes with those two, then go from there. Why?" you inquired.

"I was kind of hoping that maybe you might want to go out for dinner with me tonight? It's kind of a small town, and most of the ladies my age are already married. Besides, it's not every day that I get to meet a gorgeous woman who's also an FBI agent," Deputy Walters remarked shyly.

"How nice of you to say, Deputy Walt--Frank," you replied softly. You looked over at Sam and Dean, who were both still discussing the case with the sheriff. "I think dinner tonight could be arranged," you agreed.

"Really? I-I mean, that's great! How about we meet back at the station at 7, and we can go to dinner from here?" he suggested.

"Sounds great, I'll have one of my partners drop me back here at 7," you said.

"Until then, sweet lady," Deputy Walters took your hand and brushed his lips across the back.

Sam's eyes grew wide as he witnessed this exchange from across the room. He abruptly excused himself from Dean's side and made his way to yours. Sam placed a hand on your back and quickly ushered you out to stand next to the Impala to wait for Dean.

Once you were outside, you whirled around and turned to face Sam. "What the hell was that, Winchester?" you demanded.

"Me? What the hell were you doing, flirting with the deputy?" he retorted.

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. "It's the same as we've always done. We've got a small-town deputy who seems to be a little lonely and we need info. So, like always, you and Dean leave me to turn on the flirt. Don't worry, I have every intention of sharing with you all the information that Frank gave me. Before I head out for my date with him tonight, that is," you finished.

Sam's eyes grew wide at your revelation of going out on a date with someone. "Frank? Who's Frank? And a date?!? You're not going out on any date tonight, not with him!" he exclaimed.

You took a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself before answering. "Deputy Frank Walters and I will be going out to dinner tonight in town. He will be waiting for me at the station at 7, and I have every intention of keeping that promise!" you shot back.

"This is not one of our 'friendly debates', this is about you and your safety. We still don't know who's behind all this demon activity. For all we know, it could be Barney Fife over there," Sam huffed.

A thought struck you about Sam's true reason for not wanting you to go out on a date with someone. "Are you jealous?" you inquired.

"What?" he asked.

"That's why you don't want me to go out with Barn--Frank tonight. You're jealous!" you smirked.

"Don't be ridiculous. He knows we're only in town for a short period of time. And it's you who can't see that he's only seizing this opportunity to use you. Just to 'scratch an itch', without any long-term commitment," Sam muttered.

The look of horror on your face instantly told Sam he had taken his debate one step too far. He reached out to you to apologize, but you backed away from him. "I can't believe you said that to me," you whispered.

"Wait, I'm--" Sam pleaded, his hands outstretched towards you.

"DON'T," you shouted. "Don't touch me, don't talk to me, just stay away from me right now," you growled.

Neither of you noticed that Dean had finished talking to the sheriff. As he walked over, he had been watching the entire heated exchange between the two of you. "What's going on here?" he asked.

"Nothing," you both answered in unison, your response a bit louder then Sam's was. You yanked open the rear passenger door and settled into your seat, arms folded across your chest.

Sam did the same, taking a bit more time to settle in as he reflected on the last bit of your conversation. Am I jealous, like she said? he thought to himself. Why should I care who she goes out with? It's not like we're a couple or anything, he silently reasoned. But I wish we were, Sam shook his head at that last thought.

Dean looked at the two of you before he left the station to head back to the motel. "Oh. Yeah. Obviously it's 'nothing'," he observed dryly.

The Impala was barely put in park at the motel before you were the first one out the door. Your keys at the ready, you were in your room with the door closed before Sam and Dean had even taken off their seat belts.

"Dude, I don't think I've ever seen her so pissed. At anybody, let alone you. What did you say to her?" Dean asked.

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath before explaining the previous conversation to his brother. "Whoa," Dean said when Sam finished. "You know she's not like that, Sam. She's not into one-night stands and she's not completely naïve about guys," Dean replied.

"Yeah, I know, and I didn't even mean it, either. But she's right, I am jealous of her going out with that deputy. I still may be right, too, though. We don't know who's behind all the demon activity around here. Deputy Dumbass being the cause of it isn't the most far-fetched idea, you know," Sam grumbled.

"Maybe. It could be the deputy. But all that aside, Sammy, you're gonna have to man up and tell her how you feel at some point," Dean replied as his phone buzzed in his pocket. When he unlocked his phone, he saw it was a text message from you.

You: Dean, will you please take me back to the station for my date? Need to be there by 7

DW: Yeah, I can do that. You ready yet?

You: Almost. Will text you when I am.

DW: Don't worry. Gonna be just you and me in the car, kid. Sending Sam to his room without supper lol.

You: Thanks, Dean.

"Is that her?" Sam asked. "Ready for her date?"

"She said she was 'almost ready'. I told her I was sending you to your room, so you gotta clear out, man. Don't worry, Sam. She's tough, she'll be all right," Dean tried to reassure his brother.

About ten minutes later, a buzz in Dean's pocket showed a text message that said you were ready to go. Dean relayed the message to Sam, who then got out of the car. He unlocked the motel room door and went inside, but stood waiting with it cracked open just a little. He wanted to see how you looked, all dressed up for your date. Also, to torture himself a bit more that it wasn't him you'd be out with tonight.

For your outfit, you were wearing your newest pair of faded blue jeans with a sparkly, navy blue top that had a boat-neck opening. You had on your black ankle boots with the wedge heel, and you had kept your jewelry and make-up simple. Sam drew in a deep breath at how beautiful you looked tonight and sent a silent prayer to anyone listening that you be kept safe.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dinner with Frank passed pleasantly enough, each of you asking questions to get to know each other better. You tried to keep your answers as vague as possible regarding your background and current occupation. You told him about your family and about losing Andrew in a car accident, instead of on a shifter hunt.

As you walked out to his car after dinner, Frank suggested that you go out for a couple of drinks and maybe some dancing. "I'm having a great time, and I don't exactly want it to end," he murmured as the two of you stood by his car.

He had his arms around you, and he was looking directly into your eyes as his hand caressed your cheek. It had been awhile since you'd had that kind of attention from any man. But with as shyly as he was acting earlier compared to now, alarm bells started going off in your head.

"Frank, it's getting late, I really should get going. Here, let me text my co-worker so that he can meet us back at the station," you said as you reached for your pocket.

"That sounds perfect, since we know those Winchesters will drop everything to come rescue you," Frank sneered.

"What are you talking about? My partners' names are--" you were cut off by his hand at your throat, lightly squeezing it.

"Save it!" he hissed. "Everyone knows you're working with those two flannel-jockeys," he retorted as his eyes flashed to all black.

"It's you," you whispered. "You're the one behind the demon attacks around here," you growled.

"That's right. Now call them and tell them to meet us here. If you don't, it's going to be a very unpleasant ending to our 'date'," he sneered.

You pulled out your phone to dial Dean's number. He picked up on the second ring. "Hey, sweetheart, is your date over with already?" he asked.

"H-hey, Dean. Yeah, I'm ready to come back. Dinner was nice, but it's getting late so we decided to call it a night," you replied shakily.

"Everything okay, honey?" Dean asked, his tone shifting to one of concern.

"Frank" gave your neck a little squeeze and a warning glare to remind you of the consequences should Dean not take the bait. "Y-yeah, I'm okay, just tired. Deputy kinda reminds me of that guy I went out with from Poughkeepsie," you chuckled nervously.

"Okay, we're on the way. Pick you back up at the station, right?" he asked.

"That's right," you choked out. "See you soon, Dean," you whispered. Hope so, you silently added as you disconnected the call.

"Now, we wait," the demon said smugly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dean grimly looked at his phone after the call was disconnected. Sam could tell something had gone wrong, and he knew you were in trouble. "The demon--" Sam started.

"Yeah. Just like you said, Sam," Dean confirmed.

Sam closed his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Now was not the time for the I-told-you-so's. The main focus at hand was that they had to get you back safely. Dean grabbed his car keys and ran out the door, with Sam close behind.

Before getting behind the wheel, the boys checked the trunk to make sure they had a good supply of holy water and their angel or demon blades. When they were satisfied in their preparations, they got back in the car and headed over to the sheriff's station. On the way, Dean sent up a prayer to Castiel, just in case.

When they got near the station, they noted that there were five demon sentries keeping watch. Inside, the demon wearing Deputy Walters as a meatsuit had tied you to an office chair. He kept looking out the window for any signs of the Winchesters.

"You don't really think they're going to waltz in the front door, do you?" you scoffed.

The demon backhanded you across the face in response. "Keep quiet. They'll be here, it's just a matter of time. I hope they get here quick, because this meatsuit isn't cooperating too well. Keeps squirming, telling me not to hurt you," he mocked.

"Leave him alone!" you growled.

"You're not really in any kind of position to make demands, now are you?" he sneered.

"Listen to me Frank, I know you're in there, and you've got to fight! You can do this, just kick him out!" you pleaded. Another slap to the face, this one hard enough to bring tears to your eyes.

"Shut up! Or I will hurt him from the inside and it will be all your fault if he dies," the demon snapped. A noise outside caught his attention, and you prayed that it was your rescue party. You also hoped they would be able to make it into the building undetected.

"Looks like the party's about to get started," the demon cackled with glee. His grin faltered when he began to hear demon screams and see several orange flashes. You both knew that meant his demon army was being taken out, one by one.

"Noooooo!" he cried. With his master plan unraveled, the demon chose to smoke out rather than be sent back to Hell by Sam or Dean. Deputy Walters' body slumped to the floor, unconscious.

From your chair, you visibly relaxed when you saw that the demon was gone. Your head was down, and silent tears began streaming down your face. Sam and Dean walked in, guns drawn, but quickly put them away when they saw there was no longer a threat.

Dean tended to Deputy Walters, and for the most part, the deputy was okay. At some point, he was probably going to have to get 'the talk'. You knew he would need it to help him make sense about what happened.

Sam rushed over to your side and began to untie the ropes holding you to the chair. He helped you stand up once you were all untied. He gingerly massaged your wrists where the ropes had started to bite into them.

As you stood before him, you continued to cast your eyes downward, unable to look Sam in the eye. You felt a bit ashamed of how the two of you had fought before your date with the deputy. What you considered to be jealousy, was really only Sam's concern for your safety. Turns out he was correct in that the demon possessing Deputy Walters was the one you were supposed to be hunting.

"Hey," Sam said softly. "Come on, sweetheart, look at me. Please," he pleaded. You shook your head, but Sam hooked his finger under your chin and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. His face fell at seeing the marks on your face from being slapped around by the demon. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry this happened," he whispered.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, Sam, I do. I apologize for not listening to you that the deputy may be possessed and the cause of all of this. If I had, none of this would've happened. I'm so sorry for how I acted earlier," you remarked softly.

"What matters is that you and the deputy are safe, and the demon left the meatsuit behind," he reminded you. His fingertips gently brushed your cheek, then he slid his hand to cup the back of your head. Ever so slowly, Sam inched forward to close the gap between you until you felt his soft lips meshing with yours in a slow, tender kiss.

"Whoa," you whispered after you and Sam broke apart from the kiss. "So that's how best friends kiss after a near-death experience with a demon?" you asked.

Sam chuckled lightly. "I don't know about that, but it's my way of showing you that I consider you as more than my best friend. I-I'm in love with you. Your smile, your laugh, everything. I could lose myself for hours in your expressive eyes. I want to run my fingers through your soft, silky hair. And my lips are itching to not only kiss your lips, but any other part of your bare skin that presents itself," he finished softly.

"Oh. Well, you certainly have made a compelling case. Only this time, I'm in complete agreement with you. I'm in love with you, too, Sam. Your intelligence, your compassion, how I know I can tell you anything and you won't judge me. Your strong arms that I know will keep me safe and comfort me when I need it. And those lips of yours sure do talk a good game. I, for one, cannot wait to feel their magic wherever they may travel over me," you responded.

It took all of about three seconds before you dove towards each other and your lips crashed together in passion-filled kiss. Sam's tongue darted out, intending to break the seal on your mouth, and you gladly granted him access with a smile. As quickly as the kiss started, you slowed down and took your time to taste and explore each other's mouth. A tiny moan escaped your lips, which seemed to re-ignite the fire within Sam, causing him to pick up the pace again.

When the need to breathe became too great, you broke apart, both of you panting heavily. "Wow, Sam, you're amazing," you remarked.

"Baby, you're the amazing one. I wasn't sure how much longer I would've been able to keep my feelings for you hidden away," Sam replied. "I love you so much," he declared.

"You know, I think I fell in love with you right after we met, after that shifter case?" you asked, to which he nodded. "At first I thought it was some sort of 'hero worship', because you rescued me and took such good care of me afterwards. But I can't deny it anymore. I love you too, Sam," you replied.

From the doorway, you heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. You both looked over to see Dean standing there, that know-it-all smirk back on his face. "It's about time you two confessed your feelings. I didn't know how much longer I was going to be able to stand watching you dance around each other," he grinned.

On the way home, Sam sat in the backseat of the Impala with you. His body was wedged into a corner, his back to the passenger-side door. Then his left leg was stretched out across the length of the bench seat. You sat in front of Sam, your back against his chest and his arms around you.

With the purr of the engine rumbling down the highway, you relaxed against each other. Dean turned around at one point to see that you had fallen asleep in each others' arms. He was happy for you and his brother. "Nerd love," he remarked affectionately, shaking his head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @yourelivingwrong @akshi8278 @magssteenkamp @swiftlymoniquesblog @lyarr24 @miss-nerd95 @distefano123 @hobby27 @deanwanddamons @jessica-noel94 @wayward-mikaelson @jawritter @gabrielslittleangel @janicho88 @jensengirl83 @deangirl93 @idreamofplaid @like-a-bag-of-potatoes @winchesterprincessbride

[nekojitachan]

OK, so it took a while, but I got something written (I should say something completed). Let’s hope this continues.

That something is the next part of the raven!Andrew soulmate story. There’s a bit of a time jump here. But hopefully you’ll catch on to what’s happening.

Here’s a link to the first part.

*******

Andrew pulled the Maserati Quattroporte Ribelle into the only gas station at the exit; they were two hours from Abby Winfield’s house, timed to get there around 7am. That meant they’d drove through the night after leaving West Virginia, creeping out of the Nest past midnight like a pair of thieves – or escapees. However, Ichirou had granted them their (limited) freedom at last, even bestowed upon them the car which rumbled to a stop at the gas pump of some no-name town.

Nathaniel slumped lower in the passenger seat and tugged the hood of his black long-sleeved t-shirt further over his face while Andrew grabbed his wallet, despite the fact that they were the only one at the gas station/mini-mart. “Do you want anything?” Andrew asked his soulmate before he stepped out of the car.

“Uhm, something to drink?”

“One super-size atomic sludge freeze slushie, coming right up, sweetpea.”

The left corner of Andrew’s mouth twitched upward as Nathaniel called him an asshole and more, the insults cut off when the car door slammed shut; that was the most reaction he’d gotten out of his boyfriend since they’d left Edgar Allan. He couldn’t blame him, really, not when one had considered everything that had happened in the last couple weeks.

They’d succeeded in taking down Riko; the mentally unstable prick had finally snapped during the pregame session when the Ravens and Foxes were supposed to face off at the division championship. Considering that his little ‘tantrum’ had led to several players on both teams being injured, it was decided that the final game would be cancelled and the championship awarded to the team with the most points accumulated during the season, which of course were the Ravens. A lot of people weren’t happy about that since they’d looked forward to the face-off between the Foxes (Kevin Day) and the Ravens (Riko), but there was little that could be done in the end.

Especially when Tetsuji announced that he was stepping down due to ‘guilt’ from failing his nephew. Oh, there was a bit of an outcry about what was going on at the Nest to make Riko ‘snap’ like that, but it was mostly overridden by the news of ‘the Master’ retiring and the search for a new coach (as if Ichirou didn’t have one lined up already).

Mostly.

All that mattered was that Riko was shuffled off to some psychiatric center (never to return, not that Andrew would put money down on the prick lasting out the rest of the year), and that Tetsuji was gone, too (he’d give him maybe another year, just so it didn’t look too suspicious, both of them dying close together). Since Ichirou had taken over after his father had passed away in the spring, he’d made it clear that he intended to rid himself of the side branch for once and all; he broke no exploitable weaknesses.

Andrew had been more than willing to exorcise those weaknesses if it meant buying Nathaniel’s freedom.

(Or at least as much freedom as he could manage at the moment.)

With their ‘king’ and ‘master’ gone, some of the Ravens had flown far, far away from their Nest. A couple had been… strongly urged to leave (kicked out). A few had complained about the stress of the program and not wanting to end up like Riko, and been let out of their contracts (a good example of PR). And then there had been Jean, Nathaniel and Andrew.

Jean took the opportunity during one of the many ‘what are your thoughts on Riko’ interviews to announce that Jeremy Knox was his soulmate, so it didn’t come as a surprise to anyone that he accepted an offer to transfer to SCU. Since Aaron blew up all of his (pathetic) social media channels with how he’d found his own soulmate at last and that she was a PSU cheerleader, and Nathaniel always defended Kevin after he transferred to the Foxes, it didn’t shock too many people when Nathaniel and Andrew allowed PSU to release a press release a few days later (finally) that they were leaving Edgar Allan to join their former teammate in South Carolina.

It’s what Andrew had strived for all these months, yet… yet here he was at 5am in a random minimart, shoving energy and granola bars, bottles of green tea, cans of energy drinks, and whatever decent chocolate snacks he could find into the basket hung from his left arm, to be paid for (along with a tank of premium gasoline) by a fancy black credit card courtesy of one Ichirou Moriyama. Dressed in a black hoodie, his stare hostile as he dared the half-asleep attendant to say something as the teenager rung him up, he was half-tempted to demand a pack of cigarettes before he left to return to the car.

Nathaniel would be upset if he resumed the habit, so he didn’t do anything.

(Nathaniel was already stressed out enough with all the changes.)

Andrew grabbed the credit card and bag of goods then left the store to return to the car, and noticed that Nathaniel had locked it during his absence. His soulmate gave him an anxious smile as he fell into the driver’s seat (hmm, very comfortable) and handed over the bag before he returned the card to his wallet then fastened his seatbelt.

“Really? Most of this stuff is junk,” Nathaniel complained as he grabbed a green tea and granola bar for himself.

“Guess I don’t have to share,” Andrew said as he fetched an energy drink and chocolate bar for himself; he felt something settle inside of himself when Nathaniel smiled at the joke.

“You’re gonna have to put up with Kevin soon enough,” his soulmate warned as he unwrapped the granola bar.

“And who do you think is gonna win?”

Nathaniel’s smile softened as he reached over to tug back Andrew’s hood. “Try not to beat him down too much.” Then his smile faded into a guilty expression. “You okay driving the last bit? We can stop somewhere.”

Andrew held up the energy drink. “This will see me through.” He popped it open and took a sip. “Once we get settled in, we’ll work on your driving lessons.”

“Yeah.” Nathaniel nibbled on the granola bar for a moment. “I… this is… I don’t….”

Andrew reached out to slide his hand into the voluminous black hood, to cup the back of his boyfriend’s nape. “We’ve got time now,” he assured Nathaniel. “No one’s going to drag you back to the Nest,” or Baltimore, “and you’ll figure this stuff out.”

Andrew would make sure he did, that Nathaniel got a chance to learn all the things he’d been deprived of, between being locked up in the mansion (death house) in Baltimore then caged in the Nest.

It was quiet while he returned to the interstate (save for the purr of the Maserati’s engine), then Nathaniel let out a loud sigh. “I just… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

No, he hadn’t, and despite that fact, he’d agreed to follow Andrew out of the Nest, to leave behind Jean (his pillar of support for years) to face the unknown. Maybe someone wouldn’t consider it such a big deal, switching campuses and teams, but Nathaniel’s life had been strictly controlled by Nathan and Tetsuji, had been restricted to school and his ‘house’ (the mansion in Baltimore, then the Nest). He’d never once gone anyplace without it being approved first, had never roamed freely, had never been free.

Andrew might have been abused and passed around, but he had been able (mostly) to go wherever he wanted (except while in juvie). Hell, some foster parents hadn’t given a damn where he went, as long as they could collect a check while he was their ‘responsibility’. So Nathaniel out in the big wide world was a shock to the redhead, one that Andrew was trying his best to cushion.

(He was there for his soulmate, someone to ground him, and even after all this time was amazed how Nathaniel’s anxiety settled at his mere presence.)

The last two hours passed mostly in silence, with Nathaniel reaching for Andrew’s right hand after he finished the granola bar and two green teas. Andrew threaded their fingers together while he followed the GPS to Winfield’s house, pleased to grant his soulmate that bit of comfort, especially as the interstate gave way to city roads and then to neighborhood streets.

“It’ll be okay,” he assured Nathaniel. “Kevin said we could trust her.” If not, then Kevin would be eating his own pickled liver.

“I know.” Nathaniel shivered as he glanced at the ranch-style houses that lined the road they drove along. “It’s just… this is so new to me.”

Andrew was quiet a moment before he stroked his thumb along his soulmate’s left hand. “If she’s not an addict of some sort, she’ll be new to me, too.” He refused to think about Cass just then.

Nathaniel gave him a horrified before he shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t, okay? Now’s not the time for our ‘who had it worse’ game.”

“Which I won,” Andrew insisted, even though that wasn’t quite true; it was basically a tie on different fronts.

“Whatever,” Nathaniel snorted, yet the tension left his body and he gave Andrew’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You’ll just go on about sleeping on the floor all the time so you can hog the bed, I bet.”

“Sleeping on the dirty floor, which is why I get to hog the blankets,” Andrew stated in a bland manner.

“As if you’re not gonna hog all the blankets anyway.”

Andrew hummed in a noncommittal manner (yes, he was going to hog all the blankets, thank you) as he pulled into Abby Winfield’s driveway; it was a nondescript split-level ranch, similar to the others on the street, with several Foxes’ flags planted in the marigold and daisy flowerbed.

For a moment, he debated his decision to have him and Nathaniel play for the Foxes, before he decided that it would be even more painful to join the Trojans.

(Dammit.)

He turned off the Maserati’s engine then reached for his cell phone so he could text Winfield that they’d arrived while Nathaniel stared at the house while nibbling on his full bottom lip (not a distraction at all). To his mild surprise, it only took a minute after his message had been sent before the front door of the house opened to reveal a woman in her early thirties, dressed in a light blue robe, her shoulder-length blonde hair tousled and a gentle smile on her face as she motioned for them to come inside.

“Uhm, she looks nice,” Nathaniel said in a quiet voice as he fiddled with his seat belt. From the doubtful tone to his voice, it was clear how well he knew that ‘looks nice’ didn’t mean that the person was nice.

“Stay behind me,” Andrew ordered; his boyfriend gave him a cool look for a moment before he nodded once.

Nathaniel may be the Butcher’s son, may be a Hatford, but they’d worked out over the past year or so (with a bit of trial and error) that Andrew faced the dangers first. Nathaniel was the one who knew Ichirou’s deepest secrets, who the Moriyama heir (and now lord) favored the most, so Andrew took the hits (and took them well, if at all), because if Nathaniel was hurt… well, it wasn’t good for either of them, if that happened.

Andrew protected Nathaniel, because Nathaniel was the one Ichirou needed the most. Nathaniel wasn’t happy about that, but Andrew didn’t know everything that his soulmate did, nor could he step in to Nathaniel’s spot if something happened to the polyglot idiot.

(He didn’t mind taking the blows when he knew his boyfriend was upset with each one that landed, when Nathaniel would gladly take them in his place. Nathaniel – Nat – never took him for granted. Never.)

(Nat was the only one who never did.)

They left the car and approached the small porch, Andrew in front, while Winfield’s smile brightened the closer they got. “You’re a bit early! I’d just put on a pot of coffee when I got your text.”

“No traffic,” Andrew said as he followed the woman into the house; Kevin swore that she was trustworthy, that they’d be fine staying with the team’s nurse until the dorms opened up in June. He wasn’t pleased to live with a stranger for several weeks, but it would attract less attention than if they rented a hotel room.

“I hope it wasn’t too bad of a drive,” Winfield said as she led them to a kitchen painted a bright yellow with yellow and white checkered curtains on the window and a table with six chairs; the aroma of brewing coffee filled the air, and a carton of eggs was set out on the counter. “Coffee will be ready soon, and I’ll make breakfast in a minute. Sit down, I’ll be right back,” she excused herself as she left the room, her left hand clutched on the front of her robe.

Considering that they’d been in a car for the last few hours, Andrew and Nathaniel remained standing; Nathaniel shuffled around the kitchen as he checked out the unfamiliar space, his movements jittery with anxiety. Andrew left him alone for a minute, then grabbed the hood of his shirt as he walked past to reel in him. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured in German as his soulmate slumped against him.

Nathaniel nibbled on his bottom lip while he nodded. “It’s just… this is all so… so weird.” He shivered a little before he rested his chin on Andrew’s left shoulder.

While Nathaniel was ecstatic to be rid of Riko and Tetsuji, he’d spent almost half his life in the Nest, and the other half had lived in constant fear while in the Butcher’s house. He was used to following rules (his small rebellions aside), to contained (twisted, stressful, dangerous) environments, to an existence that was anything but ordinary. He knew several languages, he knew how to take apart and put together a gun while blindfolded (and to shoot it), he knew dozens of ways to kill a person and how to maneuver through a good bit of the crime syndicates in North America (knew enough to bring down a good bit of the crime syndicates in North America), but he gazed in confusion at several appliances in Winfield’s kitchen, couldn’t drive and was floundering without Jean’s presence (even though he had told his partner to go join his soulmate).

Adjusting to the ‘real’ world was going to be quite the adventure for Nathaniel Wesninski.

(Andrew found it ironic as hell that he was the ‘well-adjusted’ one in that regard out of the two of them.)

Andrew had taken to massaging the small of his boyfriend’s back, which had prompted an appreciative murmur, right before Winfield returned to the kitchen, her cellphone in hand and dressed in pink sweatpants and a white t-shirt. “I’ve never heard David so cheerful this early on a Saturday morning, he-oh!” She smiled yet again to see them so close together, the expression tender; Nathaniel only pulled away a little so he could watch her movements. “He said he’ll be here with Kevin soon, so I guess I better make a lot to eat!”

“Uhm, thank you,” Nathaniel said in a quiet voice. “And thank you for letting us stay here.”

“It’s nothing, I have Foxes in and out of here all the time!” Winfield motioned around with an egg in her right hand before she cracked it into a large bowl. “Let me get this started then I’ll show you your room and you can bring your stuff in.” She gave them a wink while she continued to crack the eggs. “Kevin said you’ll be sharing a room, right? That means Aaron won’t be sleeping on a couch when he arrives.”

“Yes,” Andrew agreed as he gave Nathaniel’s right hip a quick squeeze then let go so he could pour himself a cup of coffee; there were mugs set out by the coffee machine, along with a small pint of cream and a bowl of sugar. He held up the pot before pouring a second cup, which he did after Nathaniel nodded.

He’d just prepared his drink to his satisfaction (with Nathaniel wrinkling his nose over the amount of sugar and cream dumped into the mug) when Winfield stepped away from the stove. “Okay, now for a quick tour.”

They’d already seen the living and dining room from the kitchen, so she took them down the long hallway to their bedroom for the next several weeks, pointing out the linen closet and bathroom along the way. The room had a queen-sized bed, a nightstand and a small dresser that would easily hold all of their belongings during their stay, decorated in pale cream and blues. Nathaniel blinked a couple times after entering the room, probably never having witnessed something so… ‘homey’ in his life, while Andrew could put up with the lace curtains and flowers on the bedspread since the space was clean and not painted black.

Winfield next showed them the lower level as they went to the car for their belongings, which housed the washer and dryer, along with a den with a television and gaming console (which would make Aaron happy when he returned from visiting Nicky in Germany), and a treadmill (which would make Nathaniel happy) along with some other exercise equipment. While she returned to the kitchen to resume making their breakfast, Andrew and Nathaniel fetched the few bags they’d brought with them from Edgar Allan.

Most of the belongings were Andrew’s, were what he’d taken to the university back when he’d been a freshman and what he’d collected over the last two years (mostly books). Nathaniel owned very little in the way of personal items, and they’d both agreed to leave behind as much as they could that was tied to the Ravens and Edgar Allan, so he didn’t have anything other than a few changes of clothes, a suit gifted to him from Ichirou (necessary for when he was called on for ‘business’), things he required for school and those rare personal items.

Shopping was at the top of their agenda.

It didn’t take them long to unpack; they returned to the kitchen to refill their coffee mugs and help Winfield (well, Nathaniel offered) set the table. Shortly after that was done, the front door of the house opened and a loud voice called out. “Abby! Get your sutures ready, there’s a mouth I need you to sew shut!”

“But it would be so much better if we-“

“For the last time, we’re not completely revamping the practice schedule! Another word out of you and not only will I sew your lips shut, but I’ll take away your keys to the court!”

Nathaniel shuffled closer to Andrew as David Wymack, coach of the PSU Foxes, stomped into the kitchen, a large box of what appeared to be donuts held in his left hand; he was dressed in dark blue sweatpants and a faded orange and white t-shirt with the team’s logo on front. Right behind him was Kevin, dressed in his usual black jeans and a black t-shirt, who smiled when he caught sight of the two of them then rushed over to give Nathaniel a hug.

“You look good, both of you do,” he told Andrew’s soulmate, who allowed the embrace for a couple seconds, while in the background Winfield chided Wymack about the whole ‘sew mouth shut’ thing. “Glad to be here?” Once he let go of Nathaniel, he gave Andrew a polite nod in greeting.

“It’s much better than the Nest,” Nathaniel hedged, which really wasn’t much of an answer since juvie had been better than the Nest, in Andrew’s opinion. Still, Kevin didn’t seem to pick up on it, especially since his father decided to join the conversation right then.

“I have never seen this one,” he gave Kevin’s dark hair an affectionate tousle, “so wide awake this early when practice isn’t involved. I thought I’d have to drag him out of bed, but all it took was hearing that the two of you were here and he got up right away.”

Kevin frowned as he attempted to restore order to his hair then gave a gentle shove to his father’s side. “We’ve been waiting for them to join the team for how many months now,” he complained; Andrew ignored the father-son bonding (or whatever it was) so he could investigate the box of donuts, with Nathaniel right behind him despite the fact that he disliked sweets. Wymack noticed Nathaniel’s ‘clinginess’, especially when redhead didn’t grab a donut for himself.

Then again, Nathaniel had been cagey around the man whenever they’d met (when the Ravens had played against the Foxes or at the district banquets), under the premises of Nathaniel talking to Kevin (supposedly to come back to Edgar Allan). He’d made sure to stay out of Wymack’s reach the entire time they’d given an update about how things were going with Riko, wary of any adult male who reminded him of Nathan Wesninski.

“The board will be happy to know you’re finally here, considering the fits they threw over me holding open two spots on the team so late.” Wymack slowly backed away and leaned against the counter, his tattooed arms folded across his broad chest. “Though they feel it’s worth the aggravation in the end, considering we signed two more Ravens.”

“Ex-Ravens,” Nathaniel murmured as he gave Andrew a queasy glance for the large bearclaw he picked from the box for his second donut, the cream-filled one already devoured.

Wymack huffed in approval while Kevin glared at Andrew (and was blithely ignored). “Yes, exactly. You two are officially Foxes now, your gear’s in your lockers and your numbers locked in.” He gave them an amused look while Kevin appeared smug. “You’re lucky your numbers were available, though part of that is nobody wanting to touch #3 and Renee being willing to change her number for her last season.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes while he swallowed a bite of pastry. “Why did she do that?” Players tended to be attached to their numbers for some reason, not that he gave a damn about his own, even if it was tattooed on his left cheek.

Wymack glanced at Kevin before he spoke. “Because she’s not planning on joining to the pros once she graduates; she enjoys playing Exy, but she accepted the scholarship so she could get a college degree and she believes what we’re doing here with the Foxes. She feels that you’re more invested in the sport than she is, so she’s fine with changing on her number.”

Didn’t that sound like everything he knew about one Renee Walker (at least officially)? Andrew didn’t give a damn about Exy, it was just something that had allowed him to get out of a bunch of boring therapy sessions, to keep an eye on Aaron, to give Aaron a chance of a university degree, to allow him near his soulmate, to protect said soulmate….

It gave him Nathaniel.

So what if he ended up playing it for the next decade or so? Nathaniel would be by his side (except for the year where he went to the pros and Nathaniel remained behind for his last year in university) while he ‘suffered’ through it all; it didn’t matter what number he wore on his uniform or what team he played for as long as his soulmate was there beside him.

“It’s just a number,” he muttered before he tossed another piece of pastry into his mouth.

“You know it’s more than that,” Kevin argued as he rubbed the ‘2’ on his left cheek. “There might not be a Perfect Court anymore, but we’re still considered among the best players in Exy. There are… certain expectations for us.” Judging from the way he glanced at Nathaniel then back at Andrew and Wymack’s expression hardened while he talked, he didn’t mean their fans.

Kevin might not know where all the bodies were buried or had played a major part in taking down the side branch, but he still answered to Ichirou in the end.

“We’re well aware of what’s expected of us,” Nathaniel said as he stared Kevin down.

It was quiet in the kitchen after that, until Winfield cleared her throat a couple minutes later. “Breakfast is ready so why doesn’t everyone sit down?” She gave them a nervous smile as she motioned to the table; once they shuffled toward the chairs, she brought over a large pan filled with scrambled eggs, cheese and hashbrowns, followed by a plate of sausage.

Nathaniel eyed the meal with trepidation, but at least helped himself to the egg mix, probably thinking with longing of his usual oatmeal and fruit, while Andrew would have been fine with the donuts. He noticed that Winfield and Wymack bore the same soulmate marks on their forearms (what looked to be a daisy-like flower and tower), which might explain why Katelyn Day had kept Kevin a secret from the man. Winfield told them that they could help themselves to whatever was in the kitchen or make their own meals, and that she was willing to cook around any dietary requirements.

“Ah, we don’t want to bother you,” Nathaniel said as he picked at his food (at least until Andrew gave a light kick to his right ankle). “We don’t eat anything too complicated, just….”

“I’m familiar with Kevin’s diet,” she told them as she gave their friend an affectionate look. “And he told me that you like fruit. “We’ll work something out that’ll fit in with what you’re used to but won’t be as strict.”

“Or flavorless.” When Nathaniel gave Andrew a narrow look for the complaint, he rolled his eyes. “Try to tell me that you weren’t bored with steamed fish and rice.”

The left corner of Nathaniel’s mouth quirked upward as he flicked aside another piece of hashbrown from his eggs. “I think all that chocolate you eat ruined your tastebuds.”

And who was it that gave him said chocolate, often smuggled into the Nest? Andrew huffed as he scooped up the potatoes to eat himself.

“So, your uniforms and gear’s ready, it arrived the other day,” Kevin said as he pushed his empty plate aside. “We can start practicing tomorrow, I’ve some ideas that-“

“No.”

Kevin gaped at Andrew for that flat denial, while Wymack held his mug between his hands and leaned back in his chair, Winfield got up to clear the empty plates from the table and Nathaniel stilled. “What do you mean, ‘no’? You came here early to-“

“We came here to get out of the Nest, since it’s crawling with reporters and we’re no longer Ravens,” Andrew reminded Kevin and Wymack. “And to give us,” more Nathaniel, “time to adjust. Which means Exy’s going to wait a bit.”

“But-“ Kevin, the Exy addict that he was, turned to Nathaniel, the other Exy junkie at the table. “Don’t you want to get back out on court as soon as possible?”

Nathaniel let out a slow breath and scooted his chair away from the table until he could bring his right knee up and hug his bent leg against his chest; he looked so small and uncertain while hunched over like that, looked so helpless, but Andrew knew that it placed his hands near the knife holstered around his right ankle. “You forget that Jean and I had next to nothing that wasn’t given to us by the Moriyamas,” he reminded Kevin. “Andrew and I need to go shopping tomorrow.”

“You can-“

Wymack cut off his son with a stern look before he nodded at Andrew and his soulmate. “The court’s not going anywhere, get settled in first. I can give you the team’s p-card if you’re low on funds.”

“Did you see the car outside?” Kevin muttered, appearing upset over having his Exy playtime denied, only to wince when Winfield get a slight smack to the back of his head before she rejoined them at the table. “Ow!”

“We’re fine,” Nathaniel answered while Andrew shook his head; while he wasn’t a big fan of accepting handouts from anyone, especially a Moriyama, he figured that Nathaniel was owed for all the work he’d done over the years so Ichirou could pay for a few new wardrobes (at the least).

“Right, how many times have I-“

“Dad, the car!”

“Leave them be, David, I’m sure they’ll ask for help if they need it.”

Wymack scoffed at that remark but dropped the subject after giving Andrew and Nathaniel a dubious look; the rest of the meal passed in relative silence. Before Wymack and Kevin left, Wymack handed over a set of keys to them, which apparently would let them into the Palmetto Court (so would the lock picks in their possession, but there were some things their new coach didn’t need to know). “Call me when you’re ready to practice so I can show you around and give you the code to get in.”

“It’s going to be great to be on the same team again,” Kevin said in passing. “I’ve got all these ideas for us.”

“Don’t scare them away, you moron,” his father chided as he shoved Kevin toward the front door. “It’s not too late for them to run for the hills.”

Kevin mumbled something about it being all right, his voice cut off by the door closing behind him.

Nathaniel stared after the two men, a slight smile on his face, only to twitch when Winfield stood up from the table. “It’s so nice to see Kevin excited again. He’s been a bit depressed about the championship game, but you coming here has cheered him up.”

“Oh.” Nathaniel shared a look with Andrew; they knew that Kevin, for some strange reason, had been upset over the whole ‘Riko locked up’ thing (what had he thought would happen to the psychotic prick?), but they let Winfield think whatever she wanted about the matter. “Uhm, we can help,” he offered when she started to clear off the table.

“No, it’s all right, why don’t you two go rest or something?” she told them. “You look tired. I’m going to let the dishes soak then run some errands.”

Andrew didn’t need to be told twice (not that he wanted to do chores in the first place); he grabbed his soulmate’s left hand and pulled him away from the table before Nathaniel got them stuck washing the dishes or something equally lame.

The bedroom door had a lock on it, but it was the basic type found in most houses and could easily be broken with a bit of effort; Andrew resolved to get a better one while they were out shopping tomorrow. For the time being, he piled their bags in front of the door, so at least they’d have some warning if anyone tried to enter the room while they slept.

Nathaniel sat on the bed and watched him ‘barricade’ the door, a slight smile on his face. “Suspecting Kevin to burst in here to drag us off to court?”

“Would you even put up a fight if he did?”

“Hmm, maybe not if it’s after our nap.” Nathaniel tilted his head back as Andrew approached the bed, his smile growing as Andrew combed his fingers through his soulmate’s unruly hair.

“Why do I put up with a junkie like you?” Andrew murmured as he rubbed his thumbs along Nathaniel’s elegant cheekbones.

“Because I’m your sweetpea,” Nathaniel reminded him, amusement and affection bright in his pale blue eyes.

Andrew made a gagging sound as he pushed his soulmate down onto the bed. “The lack of sleep has made you delirious. Take off your clothes.”

“That doesn’t sound like we’ll be sleeping then.” Nathaniel laughed for the first time since Jean had left for California, the sound short but teasing, when Andrew threw his own shirt at the idiot’s face.

“I’m about to smother you with a pillow,” he threatened as he shoved down his jeans (and refused to be unaffected by the sight of Nathaniel shimmying out of his own pair, those long legs bared and pert ass- not now).

“I thought we were supposed to talk about new kinks beforehand.”

Andrew sighed as he slid between the sheets (baby blue, but soft so he’d bear with them). “Nat… shut up and sleep.” His boyfriend got like this sometimes when he was stressed, would be one flippant comment after the other in a show of false bravado. Nathaniel’s wry smile faltered for a moment, then he curled up close to Andrew while giving him an almost pleading look.

Clicking his tongue over the idiot’s concern, Andrew pulled Nathaniel against him. “I’m going to gut Kevin if he does break in here,” he said while he removed his armbands (to tuck beneath the pillow), once his soulmate was settled against his left side.

“Hmm, okay. He should know better, though, after I threw a knife at him the one time.”

Huh, Andrew hadn’t heard that story yet. He made a mental note to ask about it after they woke up, then pushed all thoughts out of his mind (everything they had to do, Ichirou, Kevin, the Foxes, checking up on Jean…) so he could fall asleep, Nathaniel’s breath and slow even against his shoulder.

*******

Yeah, I just couldn’t see writing yet again the whole ‘we’re gonna take down Riko’ storyline, so I skipped it. Now to show Andrew and Nathaniel joining the Foxes (and obviously, the impact that has on them, especially Nathaniel). Aaron will be joining shortly, and Jean will show up long-distance-wise for now (can’t pull him away from Jeremy now that he’s finally with his soulmate).

Oh, and Kevin obviously has a really good relationship with Wymack here. Confessing the truth earlier helped a lot in that regard (something Jean and Nathaniel got on Kevin to do).

I guess I gotta come up with a title for this? *sighs*

[thecassadilla]

Change of Pace - Chapter 2

Pairing: Kristanna

Chapter 2 on AO3 

Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,332

Summary: With her sister’s blessing, Anna takes a step back from her royal duties and finds herself working for a ski resort nestled in the mountains. A chance encounter with the resort’s maintenance technician leads them down an unexpected path, as they must work together to plan the resort’s annual ball - and maybe fall in love in the process.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Sorry to leave you all with a cliffhanger last week! This chapter picks up on the same day but from a different perspective ;). I’m thinking I’m gonna update on Tuesdays every week if that’s cool? Or should I try to update more often? Also, if you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you enjoy the holiday safely! Sorry for all the asterisked words - tumblr likes to censor and remove posts from tags if they have “bad” words in them, but the uncensored version is on AO3. Enjoy!!!

There were very fews words that Kristoff Bjorgman would use to describe his life; miserable, mundane, ordinary. From the minute he woke up in the morning until the minute he went to bed at night, he wished he were someone or somewhere else.

Nobody stayed in Valley of the Living Rock - often shortened to Valley - if they could help it. The main draw to the area was Valley Ski Resort, which was nestled in the mountains. For decades, the town flourished during the winter months, but suffered as warm weather drew near due to the resort’s influence. Most of the people who stayed in town year round lived above their means, as it was difficult to find and keep work when the money practically dried up in the summertime. That all changed when the resort began to expand - adding amenities such as a pool, archery, horseback riding, and a multitude of events that attracted people during the hottest months of the year.

After the resort expanded, the local government decided to put money into the town itself, enticing visitors to venture away from the resort during their visits and see what the town had to offer. Tourists began to appreciate Valley itself as a picturesque, quaint town they could visit during their stay at the resort, and money began to pour into the local economy. Deciding to take full advantage, the decision was made for the main street to be transformed to a “Winter Wonderland,” with the storefronts adorning themselves with string lights, wreaths, and pine garland in the colder months. Business boomed and as the years went on, more and more people came to visit.

For Kristoff, life in Valley was bleak. Abandoned at birth, it was difficult to navigate the foster system as a small, generally “unwanted” child. He was bounced around a lot in his early years before becoming one of the lucky few who managed to find a family willing and able to foster him until adulthood. But people talked, and in small towns like his, that gossip traveled fast. By the time he made it to high school, he had hardly any friends. The only good thing that had ever happened to him - aside from his family - was his ex-girlfriend, Joslyn. She moved to Valley in their senior year of high school, and was as much of an outcast as he was. They became fast friends and eventually started a relationship. She stuck around for a few years and attended the local community college while they dated, but like everyone else who had the opportunity, she eventually moved on. The breakup was amicable and he admittedly missed her from time to time, but also understood that where she was going was bigger and better than what Valley - and he - had to offer. 

As a junior in high school, he’d managed to snag a job at Valley Ski Resort as a janitor, and then after he graduated, he took courses in plumbing, electricity, and heating, ventilation, and air conditioning in order to be promoted to a maintenance technician. It was a year round job with sh*tty pay, but it put food on the table and he had to take whatever he could get. On the bright side, it was a step up from cleaning bathrooms and mopping floors. There was no escaping Valley, for a person like him.

He didn’t mind the work at all, but there were few words to describe how much he loathed the hotel. The people who visited were willing to spend a fortune on the amenities, but were generally unkempt behind closed doors. He could think of several occasions where he’d nearly slipped on a used c*ndom after being called to a guest room for maintenance, or how frequently the pipes would clog because people were determined to flush non-flushable items. 

But still, he went to work everyday, and waited to go home. He did what he had to do and he hated every second of it. The only advantage of working at the resort was the employee ski pass that came along with it. He frequently spent his weekends navigating the slopes and had worked his way up to expert-level. Coasting down the side of a mountain was freeing. For those few hours, he could put aside the monotonous life that he lived and could focus on what was right in front of him. 

On this particular day, he had a sinking feeling about heading into work. He just knew that something bad was going to happen - he could feel it in his chest. He debated calling out, but because he couldn’t afford to miss a day without pay, he had to go in, bad feeling or not. The feeling only got worse as he climbed out of his car and stared at the main building in front of him.

The interior of the resort was in desperate need of an upgrade; faded, worn-out gray carpet covered the floors of the lobby area, and old-school style wood paneling laced the walls. The guest rooms in the central building remained the least expensive as a result of this, and as part of the resort’s expansion process, dozens of stand-alone cabins were built on the property. Difficult to maintain, but guests were willing to pour money into spending a week in a luxury cabin with the same amenities as a hotel but with the added benefit of a home-y feel. 

He walked in through the employee entrance, which happened to be situated right next to the lobby area but was only accessible from the outside. Down a long stretch of hall and then to the left sat the maintenance office. One of the perks of the job was that he didn’t have to wear coveralls like he did when he was a janitor; just dark-colored jeans, a company-provided shirt with the hotel’s name stitched onto the front, and work boots. He dropped his jacket in his locker, grabbed one of the work cell phones so that the front desk could reach if he was needed for a repair or other issue, and walked into the main office, where his boss, Andrew, was scrolling through his email.

“Hey, man,” he said.

The other man glanced back for a second before returning to his work. “Hey, Kristoff.”

“What’s on the agenda today?”

“Nothing crazy,” Andrew responded. “A couple of rooms complained of low water pressure, so we’ll have to check that out. It’s probably calcium buildup that’s clogging the showerheads, or a clog, or something. But aside from that, it seems like it’s going to be a pretty normal day.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

He didn’t mind working with Andrew; he was quiet and kept to himself, which Kristoff appreciated. It was easier to work with someone who didn’t waste half the day with gossip or other nonsense. Having a job was about getting work done, after all.

Andrew had a list of the rooms that had been experiencing the low water pressure from the front desk complaints, so when he finished answering his emails, they set off to figure out what exactly was happening and why it was happening. “I bet another pipe froze again.”

“This hotel is so old, do they even realize that the pipes probably have to be replaced?”

“They know, they just won’t listen,” Andrew said, shaking his head. “This is going to be a losing battle for the rest of eternity.”

Just as they made it to the first floor of guest rooms, a call came over on Andrew’s work phone. They stopped in the middle of the hallway so he could pick it up. 

“Hello, this is Andrew from maintenance,” he answered, scrunching his face up in concentration. “They said the water smelled bad? Did they say if it was a weird color or anything?...okay, we’ll look into it. Thanks.”

“Another water complaint?” Kristoff asked, once Andrew had hung up the phone.

“Yeah, something weird is going on today.”

“Probably a frozen pipe, like you said.”

They knocked on the door of the first guest on their list, and a woman answered. “Are you the maintenance guys?”

“We are ma’am. The front desk told us that your water pressure is low, do you mind if we come in and take a look?”

The woman shook her head. “I didn’t say low water pressure. I said no water pressure - as in, there’s no water, at all.”

The two men exchanged a worried glance before Andrew spoke up again. “Do you mind if we have a look?”

The woman didn’t answer, but stepped out of the way so they could walk into the room. They went into the bathroom, and attempted to turn the faucets to no avail. 

The woman was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Well?”

“We’re trying to figure out what’s going on, ma’am. We’re going to check in with a few more guests and the front desk will get back to you.” 

“I’m taking my family skiing, and all I have to say is that the water better be working when I get back or someone will be getting an earful from me. I did not spend all of this money to wind up in a room with no water!”

They nodded in an attempt to placate her and as soon as they made it back into the hallway, she slammed the door in their faces. 

“God, I hate this place,” Kristoff muttered.

“I don’t understand how people on vacation can be so f*cking miserable. Management will make sure they get a more expensive room on the house if there’s nothing we can do about it, so I don’t really see the point of throwing a fit.”

“I know. It’s kind of disgusting how entitled some of these people are. I understand the frustration, but don’t yell at the people who are trying to figure out what the problem is.” Kristoff shook his head. “Let’s go to the next one.”

The routine seemed to repeat itself; the rooms were occupied by extremely angry guests who were experiencing a myriad of plumbing issues - either little or no water pressure, foul smelling water, or rust-colored water.

“Something big is going on here. Bigger than just a frozen pipe,” Andrew deduced, after visiting several guests’ rooms and being called a few more times by the front desk. “I can’t figure out what it is though.”

“Do you think a pipe burst somewhere?” he suggested.

Andrew shrugged. “I can’t imagine where. There are guests in basically every area of this hotel and no one has called about a leaking ceiling. Unless it was something in the basement.”

“We should go check.”

The two men scrambled to the basement, but as cold and neglected as it was, there were no signs of water damage anywhere. Just a lot of dust and noise from the systems that were housed down there.

“I’m stumped,” Andrew admitted, throwing his hands in the air.

“It has to be somewhere in the building. None of the other buildings or lodges have complained about issues with their water, right?”

The other man skimmed the list in his hands. “Nope, just this one.”

“Are there any places that guests and employees normally wouldn’t go during the day? The lobby’s fine, the children’s center is fine...wait, what about the ballroom?” Kristoff snapped his fingers.

“Oh sh*t, we should check the ballroom,” Andrew agreed. “No one goes in there unless they’re having some kind of an event.”

“I bet that’s where we’re going to find our problem.”

They raced back up to the first floor and passed the front desk to the corner of the hotel that housed the ballroom. Andrew searched through his massive ring of keys before locating the one that unlocked the doors. 

“Holy f*ck,” Kristoff gasped, his eyes widening at the site in front of him. 

The entire room was destroyed. The ceilings had caved as a result of the massive amount of water that had pooled from the burst pipe. Nearly everything in the room had been destroyed from either the water damage or from the impact of the broken pieces of ceiling landing on it. The walls were moist, and there was a considerable amount of water remaining on the floor. 

“How the hell did no one hear this?!” Andrew bellowed.

“This...is bad,” Kristoff said, shaking his head. “This is thousands of dollars worth of damage.”

“I need to get Bonnie on the phone,” Andrew said suddenly, walking away from the scene.

Kristoff continued to stare in the meantime; the room was significantly damaged. First and foremost, the pipes would have to be replaced - immediately. They were already going to be spending a large amount of money for the repairs, and they definitely couldn’t afford to lose the income that guests would bring in by occupying the rooms in that building. They’d have to drain the water that pooled on the floor, rip out the carpet and gut the walls, throw away all of the destroyed tables and chairs. 

When Andrew came back a few minutes later, he was not happy. “Bonnie is on her way and she’s having a cow.”

“Can you blame her? This is a nightmare.”

“I need to see if I can get any of the other guys in today. They’re going to be p*ssed.”

“I’m here and I’m p*ssed,” Kristoff scoffed. “I knew I should’ve called out today.”

“Good thing you didn’t because I would’ve had to haul your a*s in anyway.”

“Yeah, right. Zach calls out once a week and no one ever does anything about it. The rest of us are forced to pick up his slack all the time - if I called out once, it wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“Trust me, Zach isn’t going to be employed here for much longer.”

Bonnie finally arrived a moment later with a panicked look on her face and interrupted their conversation. “What the h*ll happened?”

“See for yourself, boss,” Andrew answered, motioning to the entrance to the ballroom.

Bonnie peered inside before staggering back and raising her hands to her face. “Oh my god.”

“The damage is severe, Bonnie. The repairs are going to be time-consuming, and you’ll have to postpone any events that they were planning on holding here,” Andrew spoke up. “Most importantly, the guests in this building have to be relocated until we can replace the pipes.”

Bonnie nodded, and for the first time that Kristoff had ever observed, she was totally speechless. In all his years of working around her, he’d never seen her so quiet.

“I’m working on getting my other guys in here,” Andrew continued. “This is not going to be an easy fix.”

“Alright,” she said, before pointing at Kristoff. “You go tell the front desk to start working on getting the guests out of this building and then come back here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes once his back was turned; this was not his job. He wasn’t an errand boy. But because he wasn’t trying to lose his job, he begrudgingly followed her instructions. Once he arrived in the lobby, approached the first person he saw at the front desk, a brunette woman with thick black eyeliner who he recognized from high school.

“Hey, you need to -”

She raised a finger, but didn’t look in his direction. “Hold on, I’m helping my guest.”

“This is important.”

“Sir, you should get in line.”

He glanced over at the line - which was long, because it was checkout time, of course - before interrupting again. “I have orders from Bonnie -”

That seemed to catch her attention. “Let me get my manager out here.” 

“Thanks.”

A few moments later, the manager appeared from a door behind the front desk. “How can I help you?”

“I work in maintenance,” Kristoff explained. “Bonnie needed me to tell you that guests can’t stay in this building for a couple of days. A pipe burst and there won’t be any water in most, if not all, of the rooms.”

The manager's eyes widened. “O-okay. What about the restrooms on this floor? Or the restaurants and the bakery?”

“We’re not sure what the situation is with those areas of the hotel.”

She nodded. “Okay, well keep me posted. There are a lot of places on this floor that require the use of water.”

“Has anyone called to complain from any of those places?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, we’ll keep our fingers crossed that they’re unaffected, but I’m sure Bonnie will be in touch soon.”

“Thank you.”

He gave her a slight nod before turning around and walking back towards the ballroom; for the first time that day, someone had actually been appreciative and not downright condescending about the situation. He was just glad that she didn’t rip him a new one like all of the guests had earlier. 

“Good, you’re back,” Bonnie said once he finally made it back to the ballroom.

“Any updates?”

“I just made contact with the people in the event planning office,” Bonnie explained. “They’re coming down now. I need you to wait out here for them, so you could tell them about the damage. The annual ball is in three months and this was their venue.”

“I should probably start clearing stuff out of there,” he insisted, hoping to remind her that he was not her personal secretary or a professional bearer of bad news. “We can’t start gutting it out until the water is drained and all of the damaged furniture is removed.”

“You need to stay right here,” Bonnie said snidely, placing a hand on his shoulder before walking away.

“Is she serious?” he wondered aloud, his mouth agape. He really was her errand boy, wasn’t he?

“Hey man, Scott and Dan are both on their way in now,” Andrew said, approaching from inside the ballroom. “Liam and Eli are outside doing snow removal. I’m trying to get in touch with a couple of the other guys, but some of them have to be in for the overnight shift. Management has to take pictures of the damage for insurance reasons before we can touch anything, but we should be able to start getting rid of the furniture later today.”

“I have to wait here and break the bad news to the event planners,” he responded bitterly. “Because I’m not the maintenance guy today, I’m her errand boy.”

Andrew shook his head. “She’s really pushing her luck. She should be the one to tell them since we warned her that the pipes would need to be replaced a long time ago and she brushed it off.”

“You know, I had a gut feeling that today would suck. Wish that I could’ve been wrong.” 

“Should’ve checked the calendar, man. It’s Friday the thirteenth.”

He scoffed. “I’m not superstitious.”

Andrew shrugged before taking a few steps backwards. “I’m just saying.”

As soon as Andrew’s back was turned, he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. It was quite the coincidence that this had all gone down on a day historically known for the bad luck it brought. He reminded himself that he didn’t believe in that stuff; this was a real life situation that had only happened because of sheer negligence from Bonnie and the other people who ran the hotel. If they had just listened from the start and had replaced the pipes when Andrew recommended they should, they wouldn’t even be in this mess. He didn’t necessarily believe in curses either, but at this point, he was convinced he’d done something wrong in life that warranted this misery. 

Until he spotted a gorgeous redhead he didn’t recognize being dragged in his direction by the half-a-head shorter lady he knew from around the hotel, and he was suddenly aware of a new sensation different from the misery and dread he was used to - a hopeful fluttering in the pit of his stomach.