#I’d get this hole scene tattooed on my forehead if I could

[agent-snowflake]

Not me immediately opening tumblr after watching the new episode (s1e5) of Ashoka…

[abundanceofnots]

a little (just under 2k) playground scene with Lip and Ian as dads, as per @pink--and--white's request. i apologize to all actual parents in advance.

“How the fuck did we get here?” Lip asks through a huff of incredulous laughter.

Ian shades his eyes from the sun, turning to his older brother with a look of mock concern. “Your memory that bad already, old man? We drove here.”

It earns him a stinging smack on his thigh.

“Asshole,” Lip retorts back. “You know what I mean.”

Ian’s eyes flit back to the scene before them. “Yeah, I do,” he confirms a beat later, his voice more earnest this time.

This, by far, isn’t a new feeling. Lip’s had the exact same thought pass through his mind countless times in recent years, always in a momentary flash of warmth that filled up his whole chest. It happens all the more often now over the most mundane shit, though.

The first time was, probably, when Freddie was born. Then Ian got married, and Al came along, and Liam got to a good school—and after that followed every other quiet (not literally) evening when the whole family gathered up in the kitchen.

In those instants, Lip would stall himself for just a second, getting lost in the overwhelming sounds and visuals, and think, what the fuck.

He’s getting soft. That’s it, most likely. He’s getting soft and sentimental, going on with his extremely unexceptional life, wondering how in the hell did a piece of shit like himself get so lucky, and slowly becomes someone he’d gladly punch in the face not too long ago.

It hits him hard again, this strange sense of pride and wonder, as he sits next to his baby brother on a bench overlooking a kids’ playground.

This one’s the real deal. Everything here is child-proof and clean, with no syringe or dogshit in sight. Frank or some random homeless guy aren’t lying in a drunken coma by the swing sets. There’s not even one bullet hole in the slide. And maybe it’s not so hard to admit that this is actually pretty nice. That this is them now.

Still, the whole thing is, without a doubt, totally ridiculous. Here they are, Lip and Ian—the college dropout and the ex-con, the true sons of the South Side—sneakily munching on their kids’ packed afternoon snacks.

“Dumb luck, I guess,” Ian answers Lip’s question after some musing and takes a sip from Toe’s pink-colored juice box.

Lip hmms before he bites into a baby carrot. “For us, or them?”

“For us. Definitely.”

They’re just two regular dads who carry around lunchboxes and always have a wet wipe or a pack of tissues at hand, ready to blow noses and wipe off residue chocolate from chins and hands. There aren’t enough words in the English language that would describe how incredibly ridiculous this is, because once upon a time, not too long ago, still, Ian wore a jumpsuit with Dav on the nametag and believed this was it for him, and Lip thought the only way to get through life was by drinking himself through the ordeal.

How the fuck did they get here?

“Freddie! Hey, Freddie!” Lip calls out to his oldest, who hangs upside down from the monkey bars, effectively ignoring him. “Fred!” he tries again with an annoyed sigh, and the boy finally remembers how his ears work. “Can you help your cousin on the slide?”

“Okay!”

With a swift motion, Freddie pulls himself up again to grab hold of a bar, unhooking his knees in the process, and jumps down into the sand with practiced ease. He then immediately gets into a run, coming behind the red-headed girl in black overalls who’s been trying to climb the gentle ramp on her own.

“What was that about?” Ian inquires amusedly.

“Early puberty, I think. He doesn’t want us to call him Freddie anymore. It’s Fred. No Fredster, no Fredtastic, definitely no Fredosaurus. Just Fred. Apparently, I went to bed, and my son turned into a middle-aged man overnight.”

“Oof. That’s rough.”

“Yeah. The next thing I know, he’s gonna get a neck tattoo and his first STI. Al, buddy!” His younger son Alvin, at least, seems to have no trouble with hearing. “You need help? Want me to push you?”

“No, I’m good!” the blond kid shouts back from the swing, and to prove his point, he pushes himself harder off the ground to gain momentum.

Lip scratches his forehead. “They don’t need me anymore,” he comments darkly. “I am officially a bother.”

“You’ve always been a bother,” Ian notes before he stuffs his mouth full of grapes. “Come on, Lip. Freddie’s eight. He’s not exactly packing his bags to leave home. He’s still very much a daddy’s boy.”

“I don’t know, man. When I remember what I was already doing when I was his age….”

“Yeah, but that’s different. They’re not like us. They don’t need to be, and that’s a good thing.”

Ian’s right, but the concept of normal as something desirable, something he doesn’t necessarily need to rebel against, is something Lip may never fully come to grasps with. And neither does Ian, even if he says otherwise.

“We might be getting a dog,” Lip says after a while, pausing before he sinks his teeth into a cheese stick.

“No way!” Ian smirks at him. “Look at you, perfect American family and shit.”

Lip snorts at that. He and Tami are pretty damn far from perfect. “You not thinking about getting a pet? A friendly rottweiler for Mickey, perhaps?”

“No. First, I gotta talk him into having another kid.”

That takes Lip by surprise. He knows Ian absolutely adores his little girl, his mini ginger twin that everyone got to call Toe, short for Tomato, but he also knows the whole story behind how she came to be.

“Oh, yeah? You’d like another?”

“Yeah,” Ian admits, and as his eyes drop to his lap where his fingers fiddle with a paper straw, Lip realizes he sounds ashamed about it.

“Not as easy as poking holes in condoms with you guys, huh?” he jokes to release the sudden tension.

“Hah. No.”

“You told Mickey yet?”

Meeting his brother’s eyes again, Ian gives a noncommittal shrug. “I hinted.”

From experience, Lip knows that hinting in Ian’s case almost exclusively means Mickey is fully aware of his intentions and just chooses to ignore them before Ian confronts him head-on.

“Hopefully, you’ll have another girl,” he tells Ian after a quiet moment filled with children’s high-pitched screams and the steady screeching of a swing set. “It’s a lot more physical with boys. These two are already fighting like we used to.”

“Doesn’t really matter when you’re raising a Milkovich,” Ian remarks before yelling: “Hey, Toe? You wanna have a sip of your juice for me?”

The girl waves at them eagerly as she slides down the bendy chute. Getting to a run right as her feet touch the ground, she comes to a jolty halt in front of them, taking a good, hard look at the juice box as if only now realizing what’s expected of her.

“No, thank you,” Toe then peeps and skips off again.

“Polite,” Lip appraises.

Ian gives a low chuckle. “Fuckin’ weird, huh?”

“With Mickey as her dad? A little.”

They watch the kids play for a few minutes. Ian offers to exchange a cheese stick for three grapes, and Lip negotiates it up to five before agreeing.

“You think he’d be against it? Having another kid?” he asks Ian mid-chew.

“I mean, I wouldn’t blame him, after all the shit with Terry. Maybe with a second kid, he’d think there’d be twice the damage he could do. Dunno,” Ian surmises uncertainly. “I know how hard it was for him to even want a kid, and I get why he was scared. Don’t get me wrong, I’m shitting myself every day when I think of the ways I could fuck this up. But he’s a great dad. You saw him with Toe. She’s obsessed with him. The way she laughs at everything he says makes you think he invented comedy or something.”

Lip’s aware that their conversation turned sort of serious once again, but he can’t help not breaking into a smile. “Sounds like you’re kinda jealous of your husband there, Ian.”

“Oh, I hate his guts,” his brother confirms, only partially kidding. “I’m a fun dad, too, you know.” As if on cue, a figure coming their way catches his attention, and Ian nods to where his daughter’s playing, telling Lip: “Okay, watch this.”

Mickey gestures at Freddie with a finger to his lips, coming around the slide just in time to catch his daughter in his arms with a victorious roar.

“Daddy!” Toe announces the good news to everyone around with a loud squeal.

Ian gives his brother a pointed look.

“Fuck, man,” Lip huffs with mock seriousness. “You tellin’ me she loves her dad? What a nightmare.”

“Yo, lunch ladies.” Mickey suddenly approaches them with Toe at his hip. “How ’bout less chit-chatting and more kid-watching? Think I’d remember if I left my kid with a giant fuckin’ bruise on her forehead this morning.”

“Yeah. She’s had a bit of a scuffle with Alvin earlier,” Ian says, reaching out to soothingly rub Toe’s calf as if said scuffle and the tears it brought weren’t already long forgotten.

“The hell’s he doin’ fightin’ someone half his size?!”

“She started it!” Lip counters weakly.

“Okay.” Mickey’s mouth hangs open for a minute before he finds his figurative footing again. “I guess she had her reasons for that. And you should teach your kids to not fight dirty.”

“I go play now,” Toe informs him then, putting a stop to his rant and his bad mood in one go.

“Yeah! You do that!” Mickey replies as he puts her down, matching her level of enthusiasm. She heads for the extensive pirate-ship-like construction this time, watchful cousin Freddie already on her heels, and Mickey drops heavily next to his husband, letting out a prolonged groan into his hands.

“Tough day?” Ian asks needlessly.

“Igor’s a fuckin’ idiot.”

“Told you he was.”

“And I agree, so drop it, a’ight? Hey, by the way.”

“Hey,” Ian echoes before they exchange a quick kiss.

Mickey notices the juice in his hands then and perks up. “That raspberry?” he checks after he’s already snagged the box for himself, taking loud slurps from it to get every last drop. He finishes off with a belch. “Fuckin’ love raspberry.”

Lip finds that anything he’d say at that moment would only spoil the natural fucking beauty of it, so he just appreciates with a private snicker.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Toe yells from the top of one of the pirate ship’s smaller slides. “Come play!”

Mickey pats at Ian’s thigh. “That’s on you, man. I’m beat.”

Putting his fun-dad face on, Ian heaves himself up without a complaint. “Hey, jellybean! Do you think your dad can fit on the slide, too?”

Toe shakes her head vehemently, giggling as she watches Ian jog toward her. “No, daddy! No! No!”

“What, you don’t think I can?” Ian asks again, halfway through his climb up on the board. “Well, take off your socks now because they might get blown off! I’mma fit!”

“Daddy!” Toe howls with laughter as he bumps his head on one of the low railings.

Beside Lip, Mickey imitates the reaction, both his hand and the phone he’s holding with it to record a video visibly shaking. When he notices Lip staring, his grin falters a little.

“These two jokers,” Mickey complains after he ends the recording. “She always laughs at everything he does like he invented comedy or some shit.”

Lip answers with a knowing smile, his chest feeling full of warmth.

Seriously, how the fuck did they get here?

[bangtanshomura]

PINK | 2/? | pjm

summary: A neighbor as pink and hopelessly romantic as you and an equally pink neighbor like Jimin (but without a thing or two in common), sounds almost perfect together, right?. The only problem? That you are madly in love with him but his tonalities are very different from yours.

pairing: park jimin x female reader.

genre: fluff, angst, (maybe in the future a little of smut? not so sure).

word count: 1992

warning: unrequited love, pinning, so much embarrassment, a looooot of pink hehe, hurt, some mxm with ot7, you know…it happens sometimes.

------

Pink, 'cause you are so very

“Sup with the face, sugar?” Seokjin’s voice pulls you back to reality. Or maybe was Jimin’s text.

“Jimin asked me if he should go on a date with the pretty girl of the coffee shop across the street”

“You are a pretty girl” He points you with a finger, looking at you harshly. “And Jimin always says stupid things, so please, don’t overthink this”

“But I'm not the pretty girl he would consider asking out on a date” your voice is almost a whisper, so genuinely hurt that Seokjin can't help the tug at his heart.

“Well, his loss, I’m telling you” He scoffs “He will see you someday—” Tucks a lock of hair behind your ear with an affectionate smile. “ like, really see you. And I hope it's not too late when that happens”

Everyone knows what a wonderful person you are, including Park Jimin.

The only person who apparently lacks this information is you.

And it's not that Seokjin has any feelings of hatred and contempt towards the now black-haired boy; but he didn’t appreciate the way he lured you to him and then pushed you away.

Actually, even if Namjoon thinks otherwise, he is absolutely certain that there is some reason why Jimin's colors look somewhat... dull.

There must be a reason why despite the subtle -quite obvious in Seokjin's opinion- attraction Jimin feels for you, he doesn't let it develop but also doesn't let it stop.

Seokjin just knows it's like that, it's a feeling,

“I love you so much Jinnie, but I don't want to talk about this anymore” You leave a small kiss in his cheek before you continue talking. “Are you coming for some unhealthy dinner tonight?”

“You know that we will, baby” The wink it throws at you makes you giggle “Namjoon will pick us up ten minutes before we close the store, safety an all, you know my man” You both laugh a little. “Any suggestions?”

“I'm craving a cheeseburger from McDonald’s”

“A cheeseburger from McDonald's will be” It’s a reality, they don’t know how to say no to you. And they don’t want to. “Now, help me with this arrangement, I have never met a bride as demanding as this girl. I swear”

______

"Just when I think you can't get any more idiotic, you come along and surprise me Jimin."

Yoongi’s raspy voice makes him roll his eyes.

“What are you talking about now?”

“You know what. Don’t play dumb with me” He signals his phone with a movement of the head and scolds him with his eyes. Translation: He read the messages. “You can’t keep doing this to her.”

Jimin looked out the window again, exchanging glances with the barista who batted her eyelashes flirtatiously, gifting him a smile that he returned with a smaller one of his own.

She's pretty, he had to admit that. But neither her flirtatious smile nor her long, stylish hair, managed to provoke anything in him.

Not like his small, pink, innocent neighbor.

A sigh left his lips and he returned his gaze to his phone.

“I know”

______

“Are we hungry or what?”

Namjoon enters the shop with his extra-large arms extended, prepare to wrap you two in a bear hug.

“We are always hungry; you already know that hun”

Seokjin takes his face in between his hands with so much delicacy that you want to cry but instead you fake a gagging noise that makes them chuckle and you smile fondly to the presence of their love.

“Let’s go before you suffocate me with so much PDA” You give them a weak smile walking towards the entrance, in a crestfallen manner.

The taller one knows there is something in your voice that doesn't fit the facade you want to sell him, so, he looks to his boyfriend direction with a raised brow and an interrogation mark painted on its face.

His boyfriend answers him with a silent lip movement, a name, clarifying the situation.

Of course, it had to be.

“I cross paths with Jungkook this morning”

“Really? How is he?” Your question doesn’t come as curious as his want’s to, but he keeps anyways.

“You know, hotter than before” Seokjin watches him curious while locking the gate of the flower shop, eyebrow arching and he clarifies his voice. “I might have invited him to dinner today”

Okay, he may not have invited him, but they did crossed paths in a convenience store while the younger one was carrying a bag full of banana milk.

But he will.

“…You did?”

The hesitation in your voice gives him a push.

“Yeah, I mean, is it wrong?”

————

You should have known.

How is it possible that a specimen like Jeon Jungkook exists and on top of that, he is single.

Damn Kim Namjoon and damn his twisted plan or whatever that goes through his prodigy brain.

“You could have warned me that he looked like that!”

“Boring” Namjoon prolonged the ‘o’ “I don’t see what’s wrong. He is hot, you are hot, he is single, you are single. A win-win situation if you ask me”.

“But I didn’t”.

“Irrelevant. We are having an amazing night y/n. You know that I’m not going to force you on a date with Jungkook but I want you to enjoy this moment with me, with us”.

“I am enjoying the moment, excuse you” You murmur.

“No your not. You think that I didn’t see the sadness in your eyes?”

“Nam…”

“No baby, not today” He takes a deep breath and looks at you with so much love and concern. “Please”

Deep inside, you know he is right, that you need a night of rest from the problem in your heart that has Park Jimin as its name.

Jungkook is funny, sweet, attentive and Namjoon isn't lying when he says the four of you are having a spectacular night.

You can see it in your best friend's eyes, the desperation to see you well, happy.

So, you agree.

“But!—” Namjoon waits for whatever that you are going to say “What the fuck with those tattoos? And the piercing? He can’t be real, you created him”

He lets out a thunderous laugh as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Girl, I know”

______

“Thank you so much for having me tonight y/n”

“Oh, no, no” You blush. He chuckles, watching you trying to burn holes in the door of the apartment in front of yours to avoid his gaze. “I-I…eh…Thank you! T-Thank you for coming, like, here, to my house, obviously…oh my god”

You want to slap your face for making a fool of yourself in front of another extremely hot man.

And then, he smiles.

And it's not a smirk or a chuckle that can be interpreted as "I know what I’m doing to you."

It's genuine.

He’s giving you his adorable bunny smile.

“Cute”

If he is about to say something else besides what your brain translated as a compliment, a voice coming from the elevator at the end of the hall momentarily distracts you from it.

“Hey pink”

Although Jimin's greeting is for you, his eyes are intently fixed on the male figure next to you, who watches him curiously.

“Jiminie, you are at home”

Jungkook's eyes travel quickly from Jimin to you, who -with incredible speed for someone so small- runs into the arms of the black-haired boy standing in front of the elevator door.

The gears in his brain working at full power, stopping abruptly when this guy drops the bags he was carrying on the floor so he can wrap his arms around your waist, still throwing daggers in his direction.

Then the realization hits him, and his lips let out an amused chuckle.

This guy must see him as a threat and being honest, he could be.

If you'd let him, that is.

“Yoongi didn't let me escape early, I'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner with you”

The butterflies in your belly do a triple loop at his words.

"It's okay, I understand" You say turning around but not before grabbing one of the bags lying on the floor and incidentally, the hand he keep unoccupied by the other bags, you turn to Jungkook with a smile "Jungkookie, this is Jiminie, my neighbor!"

“Hi, Jiminie the neighbor”

Jungkook extends his hand offering it in a cordial greeting, while Jimin examines him completely to finally put down the bags and shake it without separating his hand that is holding yours.

“Just Jimin”

You don't quite understand why they seem to be having a battle to the death with just their eyes, in the middle of the hallway, while Mrs. Kim passes by and watches the scene with curiosity.

You give her a somewhat apologetic smile and make a small bow before -trying- to take a step to get closer to Jungkook.

Try, because the moment Jimin detected movement on your part, he pulled your hand with a little force -without hurting you of course-, to return you to his side.

Jungkook catches between his lips the mocking laughter that wants to escape from his chest and instead returns his gaze to you, smiling softly.

"I'd love to stay and get to know 'Just Jimin' a little more, but I'm afraid it's a little late" You can watch from the corner of your eye as Jimin rolls his eyes and turns to the side with a pout on his lips.

Weird.

Not the tantrum, you've seen it multiple times.

The moment. Yeah, that's weird.

"Actually, yes. It's late. Jungkookie from college" Jimin says dryly

For some reason your brain fails to organize its ideas and thoughts, they're all scattered all over the floor of what you assume is the control room in your head.

"Sure" Jungkook replies without looking at him, taking a step to get closer to you, snapping you out of your thoughts "Really, thanks for tonight, y/n"

Jimin knows, he can feel it.

His cheeks must be red and his forehead must have the biggest scowl in history.

Because, who does he think he is, Jungkookie from college, to hug you like that?

Even when his hand is intertwined with yours!.

"Oh" Jungkook's warm embrace brings you back to your senses completely. unconsciously letting go of Jimin's hand to return the gesture with affection "Thank you for coming, I hope Namjoon didn't force you to come all the way here."

"Not at all. Actually, I'd love to meet with you guys again."

When you part, Jimin makes his presence noticeable again, taking your hand quickly with a huff.

------

"I thought only Namjoon and Jin were coming for dinner?"

Jimin lets the question out casually, wishing it wasn't too obvious his need for information from the - apparently - new member of your group.

"Oh, yeah, Namjoon found Jungkook by chance and invited him over for old times' sake."

He can see how you arrange some cans in his cupboard, as if you know the place by heart.

Leaning on his kitchen counter, a smile moves over his lips at the domesticity of the moment.

How can you look so pretty and pink, doing something as mundane as stocking his pantry?

And it's this very thought that forces him to take control of the situation. Because he knows that what happened in the hallway a few minutes ago must have confused you even if you don't show it to him.

And it's not something he can afford.

"I see" Running his hand through his hair -a habit he doesn't intend to abandon-, he starts rummaging through another shopping bag as he continues "Did you read my messages?"

He can see you cease your movements and stand still with a bag of candy in one hand.

"I-I..."

"Nevermind" He Interrupts you "Yoongi advised me on one or two things that might be useful."

"He did?"

No.

But you can't know that.

"Yeah, he did."

------

A/N:

For the people who read the first part, I'm sorry for the delay but I've been going through an unexpected and difficult time, so I promise to make up for the lost time. In the meantime I'll leave this chapter here and I hope you enjoy it and again, I'm really sorry!

[scottfuckingreed]

So wrong, It’s right - Montgomery De La Cruz

-

NOT REQUESTED

-

Warnings!: smutty and cute (exactly how I imagine Monty actually)

-

Can you admire something you’re a little afraid of? Is that possible or does that just contradict the entire point? Being the twin sister of Scott Reed means you’re in the jock group a lot. I’m around people like Bryce Walker and Montgomery De La Cruz all the time. I’m afraid of the power boys - men - like that have. And yet, I’m totally struck by them. Doodling around my notepad, I fade back into the classroom scene. Mrs Bradley goes on about how we need to be there for each other, and how to tell if our ‘friends’ are actually not okay even if they say they are. It’s pointless really, because it’s clear no one cares. It’s unfortunate. “Are you taking notes?” A whisper falls into my ear. I turn around to see an ‘innocent’ smile form on Monty’s face. “Why would I be taking notes?” I whisper back with a slight laugh. I’m not sure if some of these boys think playing dumb is cute, or they’re actually just stupid; probably both. “You just look like you’re taking notes,” he shrugs defensively and turns back to his area. I continue squiggling on my page until I feel a breath on my neck. My hairs stand instantly in an unknown way, sending shivers down my spine and a strange feeling in my stomach. “So what are you doing?” He whispers again. Rolling my eyes, I turn to him once again. “I’m decorating my page.” “You’re decorating your- what? Thats fucking stupid.” Sometimes I don’t get Monty’s responses. I know Monty is like that all the time. Rude? But why? The other’s are like it too. I just don’t know who’s genuinely a prick most of the time.

I wander over to Zach, who’s sat with Alex and he’s sat with Clay and those people. I don’t actually have a massive problem with Clay. I think he’s sweet. “Hey!” I smile when I get there. The response from Clay is a slight frown. Jess’ is a VERY small smile. Barely noticeable. “What do you want?” Clay mutters just loud enough for me to hear. “Clay-“ Jess laughs awkwardly. All I can do is smile. I get it. “Okay, I deserve that I guess.” I may have been involved in some ‘teasing’ back in the day when it comes to Clay. But that’s in the past. “I was just seeing if you were coming, Zach?” I shuffle my books that lay in my arms. “Nah I don’t think so, but you can join us if you want,” I love Zach. He’s a bit of an idiot a lot of the time, but his heart’s in the right place. Clay snaps his head very quickly at those words. “I don’t think I’m wanted here, but thanks anyway. I’ll see you guys around.” Walking away, I see Monty waiting for me. “Zachy staying with the pussies?” I roll my eyes and hit him on the arm. “Shut up, that’s not cute.” He chuckles and we walk to lunch.

We meet up with Scott, Charlie, Bryce and Marcus. “Where’s Zach?” Is the first thing Bryce, or anyone, says as we approach. “He’s with Clay and the other dipshits,” Monty laughs and sounds all cool and stuff. All I can do is roll my eyes. What do guys like Monty get from being nasty a lot of the time? “I think Y/N’s been flirting with me,” he adds, throwing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me in close. I imagine he thinks I like being this close to him. I grab his finger and drop his arm away. “Your ego is fucking massive,” I grunt with a smile. I take my water bottle out of my bag. “Almost as big as my dick,” I almost spit my water back out. Bad timing to take a drink. I get a poke on my shoulder, and that’s what does it for Scott. “Please don’t flirt with my sister in front of me!” He pushes Monty playfully on the shoulders. When I see Monty’s eyebrows raise, I know there’s something going on in his head. And his brain like never works. “Oh okay, I’ll just flirt with her when you’re not around then!” And a play fight erupts between all of them. “Alright kids!” Bryce pushes his foot against Monty, which makes both boys tumble to the ground. I swear the boys at the school are children.

Most of the guy’s had last period free - so they’d already gone home - leaving me to get home on my own. I finally leave the hell hole and bump into Monty. “Montgomery!” I smile, nudging my elbow into him. “Y/N, what do you want?” He chuckles. It sounds awkward or nervous, but that’s not Monty. Like, at all. “I was thinking... you could give me a lift home?” I smile innocently. He begins to walk, which his steps are bigger than mine, so I slightly jog to catch up. “Why would I do that?” His eyes scan me up and down. “Because you love me?” I stick my bottom lip out. The smile on his face only grows. He pretty much shakes his head until we reach his beautiful Jeep. I’m actually in love with his car. He doesnt reply. Instead he just stared at me with that grin. “Because I’m really fun to be around?” I ask again. Same response; he shakes his head. “Because I’m annoying and it’ll shut me up?” He raises his eyebrows. “Okay,” he says simply. All I can do is smile when I get into his car. “You’re so chirpy,” he laughs and starts the engine. “I know you love me,” once again, he shakes his head. “You wish.”

“Do you like what you see?” He smirks at me. I roll my eyes in a rush. “I’m not even looking at you,” I smile and turn my head out the window. I’ve actually watched every tap his fingers did against the steering wheel. I’d seen him nod along to whatever shit was on the radio. Not staring, but in the corner of my eye. Which I think is possibly worse. “I know you are, but it’s okay,” my eyes look back towards him. “I’m gonna have to tell Scotty that his little sister’s checking his best friend out,” I shake my head with a laugh. “We’re literally twins,” is all I can argue.

Monty turns in to the driveway to my house. “Thanks for that, Cruz-y,” he smiles very slightly at my words. Like, VERY slightly. “I guess it’s okay, but you definitely owe me,” I smile back at him and nod. “Of course, you can’t do anything to just ‘be nice’ can you?” I joke, chuckling as I open the door and hop out of his car. “Wait, Y/N,” he shouts out the open window. I watch as the boy gets out his car with something in his hand. “You almost left your phone,” he drops it in my hand. I tap it on his shoulder, and I automatically feel guilty for some reason. I haven’t done anything wrong, or anything I wouldn’t usually do. But I feel guilty. “Did you just, do something nice? For me?!” I drop my jaw with a gleaming smile. “I’m just a nice person,” he shrugs. “Well, I appreciate it,” I feel like I stand waiting for something that’s never gonna happen. I gazed towards the boy for what seems like ages. There was nothing to wait for. It was just awkward blank air. To break the silence, I turn and walk into my house. I’m not sure what else I was meant to do. I run up the stairs, excited to be home, and get out of my ‘nice’ clothes. Sweats and a bralette. It’s time to relax.

I set myself up. Pencils, my sketch pad, and myself laid on my stomach on my bed. Music on. Sometimes I draw from a picture, sometimes from my head, but most of the time it’s just doodles. Today it’s from my head. Just head with eyes and a face and everything. And time flies when you’re invested in something. “Wow,” is all I hear. I jump too much, shooting my head upwards and seeing Montgomery looking over at my book. “Holy shit!” My hand immediately goes over my pounding chest. That was not okay! “You could’ve knocked!” I shout, sitting myself up. “I did, you were just concentrating,” he shrugs and starts looking around my room. He picks up an ornament. I stand up, walking over to him and taking it off of him. It’s only when I get up that I remember what I’m wearing. I feel exposed. His eyes look my body up and down. And suddenly he’s in a rush. “Anyway, I just came to scare you,” and he leaves. Strange.

- A few days later -

A tight black dress. It fits like a glove around my hips, hugging my thighs nicely. This is an outfit that makes me feel like a bad bitch. “I know you’ve worn that dress just to piss me off,” Scott shakes his head as we drive to Bryce’s. Another stupid house party. Although I hate them, I find myself going to every one; enjoying myself too. “I don’t do it to piss you off Scott,” I laugh. He raises his eyebrows immediately. “I know exactly who you dress like that for,” which makes me heat up. Luckily my foundation hides the redness in my cheeks. I don’t even glance his way. I can’t. “Why is everything always about Monty?” It stresses me out that everything is about that boy. “Can’t I just dress up for myself?” I add, rather snappily. Here we are. Bryce pretty much has a car park in front of his fucking house. He might as well have ‘I’m a rich prick’ tattooed on his forehead. “You can, Y/N,” and he gets out the car. You can hear everything from inside the car, let alone walking towards the party itself. Pretty sure I felt the vibrations from the street over. “But did I mention Monty?” Our eyes lock. I swear he said his name? Shit.

Shit music, a load of half naked girls, and too many Varsity jackets? We must be at a Bryce Walker party. I don’t know half of these people here. But I do know Zach! I can’t rush over to him at the drinks table fast enough. “Hey!” I smile. “Y/N, dragged along again?” He asked, handing me a cup. The burning stench of whatever-the-fuck shoots through my nose with just one small sniff. “Jesus Christ, what’s in this?” An adorable smile spreads across his face. He’s so pure I swear. “It’s actually a shorter list if you ask what’s not in it,” he shrugs. I raise my eyebrows, wondering if the boy is smart enough to flirt with me. I leave it at silence, bringing the cup up to my lips. “Everything,” I look back his way. He leans himself down and gets close to my ear. The warmth of his breath does nothing to my body. “I put everything in it. Enjoy!” Is what he finishes with before walking away dancing.

I find myself dancing with everybody and nobody. The fun thing about a party is you don’t need to know anybody. Especially if there’s a lot of people, and you’re drunk. And since there’s everything in my cup, it’s safe to say that I’m a little gone after half of it. “Ah!” I shout and point, seeing a familiar boy across the room. “Where have you been?!” I shout ask. I think I ran over to him. Whatever I did, it happened very quickly. “Around,” he shrugs. And I giggle. What was funny, you ask? Absolutely nothing. But I’m tipsy and a little horny. “Are you drunk?” He laughs, taking my cup and sniffing it. His eyebrows raise, before he even takes a sip, let alone after. “It’s a Zachy special-” “Where’s your brother?” I hardly finish my sentence before he starts shouting his words over the loud music. “I don’t know,” my slightly drunken state is offended by his question. Maybe I’m just annoyed at myself, maybe it’s the fact that everything is about my brother, but it’s more than likely the fact that I wanna be flirted with. And he’s definitely not flirting with me. Rolling my eyes, I just turn and walk as far away as I can before stumbling and embarrassing myself completely. Completely into the arms of Montgomery De La Cruz. “Careful,” the slight giggle shocks me. It was..? Cute..? “Maybe you should sit down for a while,” I realise that I’m still in his arms, which is definitely the last place I should be, so I stand up ‘straight’. As straight and as still as I can be anyway. “It’s okay, I wanna dance!” Smiling massively towards him, I’m shocked when he actually reciprocates the happy look. He never smiles back at me. It must be pity. “You can dance sat down, I’ll come with you.”

I didn’t think I’d be spending a part of my night looking at the stars with Monty, but here we are. Well I’m sat on a sun bed, and he’s stood. The fresh air does a mix of sending the alcohol to my head, and sobering me up a little. Which makes no sense; I know. I’m just drunk. “Fuck, did I drop my drink?” Confusion hits me like a brick. So much so that I start patting my hips at the pockets I don’t have. Which also makes no fucking sense. “I took it off you- why would the cup be in your pocket?” He laughs, taking a seat on the concrete next to my lounger. “That’s cute,” as soon as the words fall out, my hand covers my mouth. “Shit, I won’t hear the end of that. Will I?” His lips press together, shaking his head slowly. “At least you’be admitted you find me cute,” I don’t even have the effort to argue. So I lay myself down.

Before I open my eyes, my head starts pounding. Unfortunately I remember quite a bit, if not all of last night. It’s effort to wake up. So I lay on my back. In a 3, 2, 1, I open my eyes to a ceiling. I might still be drunk, or my eyes aren’t working properly, but that ceiling doesn’t look like mine. “You’re awake!” A voice startles me. There stand Montgomery De La Cruz with water and a pill of some kind. “Fuck, this doesn’t look-” “I slept on the sofa,” and my heart, unfortunately, skips a beat. I lay a glance over to the chair. It’s small. “It’s comfier than it looks,” he shrugs, edging the items towards me. I don’t even know what to say. It’s... sweet? “This could literally be anything,” I squint my eyes at the drug with as much enthusiasm as I can in this state. “Don’t you trust me?” I press my lips together and screw my face up. “I do, unfortunately,” I shrug, and take the painkiller. “Good, lets get some food,” he nods his head towards the door. In my state? No. But I couldn’t turn down his offer.

“I’m curious Monty,” we walk where we can see the beach. Not on the sand, but the path very close. I’m not sure if he’s following me, or I’m following him. “Go on,” he smile, putting a chip in his mouth. Seaside chips are the best. To be honest, everything tastes better at the beach. “How did I end up in your bed?” I smile at my question. My cheeks blush slightly at the question. I must be broken. “Well you just passed out really, so I thought it was the right thing to do,” he shrugs in a very cute way? “Where’d Scott go?” As flattered as I am, Scott should’ve been there. I’m his twin sister. “He got with some slut-” I raise my eyebrows. “Sorry, he got with a blonde girl in a red skirt.” He shivers. A chuckle exits my mouth. “What’s that about?” A smile goes across his face, looking down. I’ve noticed every move he’s made since this ‘morning’. “Red’s such a slutty colour,” he says slowly. Is he weary of my reaction? “Tell me about it!” Only a moment of silence goes by. “Well, thank you,” His eyes lock with mine. “I respect that you didn’t try it on with me, because I definitely would’ve just let it happen,” without debate. Without thinking, he speaks. “I wouldn’t want it to happen like that,” my heart skips a beat. I see the instant regret in his face, but I can’t help but feel warmed by those words. Even so, he doesn’t correct himself.

I spend the rest of my day pacing my bedroom floor. Seeing as I woke up like midday, it’s not actually too long. It felt like it. An hour felt like 3. A knock goes on my door. Although I’m not doing anything, I felt suspicious. So I rush onto my bed and start reading a page of the book closest to me. ‘Twilight’. A classic. “Come in!” I shout. I expected it to be my mum, but it’s Scott. Guilt. Why? I don’t know. I didn’t do anything wrong. Even so, there’s still a feeling of guilt in my body. And it’s heavy. “You never knock,” I laugh nervously. “I wanted to apologise for leaving you at the party. That was a shitty brother move,” he shrugs. As much as I appreciate it, it feels weird. Does he know? I let a moment of silence go by before answering. “It’s fine, at least nothing happened,” looking back at my home screen, I hope that Scott leaves. Of course he doesn’t. He hasn’t asked the vital question. “So... where’d you crash?” Now... I could lie. I feel like I could lie easily too. Only if it’s not a trick question. What if Monty’s already told Scott? Then it’ll look like I’m covering something up. Am I? Nah. “Monty took me to his, but I swear nothing happened,” I almost rush out. Scott’s facial expression doesn’t really change, other than look slightly relieved. “Don’t worry, I trust you,” there’s a pause. “So did you, like, share a bed?” Which makes me smile massively. Only my brother would ask such an awkward question. “He actually gave me his bed, and I think he slept on a chair.” Scott looks surprised. “That chair in his bedroom?” He asks. I nod slowly. “Hmm,” and he leaves.

I spend the rest of my day rewatching Teen Wolf. Let’s not lie, it’s one of the best shows out there! So here I am, crying at how beautiful Stiles is, and my phone starts to ring. Heart: drops. It’s only Monty. For some reason I’m nervous to talk to him. So I hesitate answering the phone. Just do it Y/N! “Hey,” I clear my throat lightly. For context, Monty never calls me. Why would he? We’ve texted on and off about stupid shit. Like ‘is Scott with you’ and ‘can I copy your work’. That’s it. “Y/N, how are you?” His voice echos softly through my ear. “I’m alright, what’s up?” My hair twiddles around my forefinger. “What are you doing right now?” Other than crying at a stupid Netflix show? Other than getting nervous about you calling me? “Nothing, I think Scott’s-” “I didn’t call you to ask where Scott is,” he chuckles *cutely*. His tone made it sound like that was a strange thing to say. Like I said, he’s never really called me before. Not to actually speak to me. “So, what’s up?” I ask again. My body doesn’t seem to know what to do. I go from sitting down, to laying on my back, to my front, to pacing the floor. All over the place. “I was- uh- wondering if you could sneak out?” He whispers mischievously. Eyebrows: raised. I gasp through the phone with a smile. Tutting at him, I lose the capability to speak for a second. I clear my throat again. “Monty-” “Just for a walk.”

Walking to meet Monty was insane. I don’t even know my intentions, let alone his. But somehow it makes sense. The sky is dark, the air blows cold. My joggers keep my legs cosy. My arms, however, were unprepared. I’m not cold though. I’m nervous. The uncertainty of this whole thing is driving me insane. The craziness is eating at me. And yet I don’t know if I wanna face Monty. But I am. He’s ahead of me. My stomach just can’t keep still. Even with him standing right in front of me. Whatever happens, will happen. “I thought you were gonna stand me up, Y/N,” his smile screams nerves, which made me more nervous. A guy like Monty should never be nervous. “I was hesitant to come,” he nods slowly. “But I’m here.”

The chat was just about stupid shit, funny times, and thick with ‘beating around the bush’. I should be paying attention to where we were going. The absolutely insane thing is I trust Monty. I probably always have done. Through the teasing, and the being Scott’s twin sister, I’ve always felt somewhat comfortable. He’d even given me just hoodie to wear. I’m not sure if it’s something to read into, or it’s simply a kind gesture. “Monty... why did we just walk around for like 30 minutes just to get back to my house?” I can’t hold it back anymore. I need to know why I’m here. “Why am I walking the streets with you half 10 at night?” He avoids my eye contact. I realise that he doesn’t plan on answering me right now. I stop in my place, grabbing his hand. His skin soft and warm. I wish he wasn’t so damn hard to read. “Maybe I just wanted to hang out with you?” Shaking my head, I smile at the ground before locking eyes with him again. This time his eyes stay on mine. Neither of us move. “I’m confused,” a smile spreads across his face. “I’ve been confused for a while,” my eyebrows lift in curiosity. A while? Is he confused about the same shit I am? “Explain it to me.” And he just starts walking away from me.

“Monty!” I slightly jog up to him. It’s wrong of me, but I just wanted everything out on the line. I wanted it written in black and white. “It’s hard to explain the fact that I’m pretty much in love with my best friend’s sister,” my heart drops, yet it’s full at the same time. Jaw; dropped. “I- what?” My hands cover my gradually growing smile. His face stays neutral. This whole thing is just insane. “I’m sorry, but I am obsessed with everything you stand for,” and that does it. I know there is an unwritten rule about your brother’s best friend. This makes me entirely shitty. It’s nothing I ever imagined. The silence on my end makes Monty start to walk away. “You know what!” Once again I grab Monty. “Fuck it,” this time reaching for the back of his neck and pulling him close. Our lips magnetise together. Ive never felt such passion and respect from a person. The unbelievable feeling of his fingers crawling to my waist was something I realise I’ve been missing. It’s just one long kiss, and yet it’s so much more than that. Unknowing, I have been waiting for this moment for a little too long. He pulls my body as close to his as possible. I should be considering the fact that Scott could just look out his window. A thought should’ve crossed my mind that this is one of the shittiest things either of us could do. My conscience shouldn’t be clean. Right now, this is all I can think about.

I feel like I should feel guiltier than I do. I was more nervous of Scott catching me than my parents. Scott and I have always been close. We’re twins. We will always be that. But Monty and Scott? What just happened between me and Monty was risky for that. Yet I lay on my bed staring at my ceiling; I’m smiling like a fool. The clock reads 23:39. Just sleep Y/N. I just kissed Montgomery De La Cruz. A simple, but so perfect, kiss. I can’t wrap my head around it, let alone the fact that he said he’s ‘pretty much’ in love with me. Like shit. Is he gonna regret telling me that in the morning? I hope not.

- The Next Morning -

Nerves and a centimetre of guilt pumps through my veins, waking me up at exactly 06:12. I usually wake up at 07:00, so I might as well shower. I know I shouldn’t dress up just because Monty pronounced his love for me. You know I’m going to though. A touch of mascara and tinted lip balm will be subtle enough.

“You’ve gotta stop looking like that,” Scott shakes his head at me as I jog down the stairs and into the dining room. “Scott! You look beautiful sweetheart,” my mum kisses me on the cheek and hands me a plate of pancakes. I can’t even think about eating right now. “She does it just to flirt with Monty,” a metal spoon hits my back. He scoffs. “I do not!” Usually that would be true, but today it’s not. My high waisted shorts sit perfectly on my hips, and my fitted crop top hugs my breasts. I look down at my outfit. I honestly don’t even thinks it’s that bad. “It’s not my fault Monty flirts with me,” I tease Scott. Is that even a joke though? “Fuck, you wish!” “Right!” My mum shouts. Definitely at the swearing. “Just get to school!”

There’s silence in the car. Not even the radio plays a sound. This is where the guilt starts to sink in. “We’re picking Monty up, could you move to the back when we get to his?” Scott asks, cracking the first ‘smile’ towards me today. “Oh I see how it is,” I grunt jokingly, and he actually smiles. I can’t imagine what it would be like if me and Monty carried on. If anything it shows that yesterday was a mistake and can’t happen. Too much would be risked. We don’t live far from Monty, so in seconds we were outside. It hadn’t even sunk in that I have to see him today. Fuck. Slipping out the car, we lock eyes. “Good morning, Reed,” he huskily whispers. His smile captivates me, but I just have to ignore it. Just like I’m ignoring the fact that when I slid past him to get to the back seats, our bodies scraped together: I thought, stupidly enough, sitting behind Scott would mean there would be no eye contact between Monty and I. Boy was I wrong. In the corner of his eye. In the rear view mirror. It would stop if I stopped looking at him... right now that seems impossible.

“Hey Y/N,” Jess smiles at me as I walk past her locker. Strange? But I stop and turn. “Hey, how are you?” I ask, watching her grab her books. “I’m all good. I just wanted to apologise for Clay the other day. He’s just a bit-” “I deserved it, don’t even worry about it.” She presses her top and bottom lips together tightly. “Thank you though,” I open my arms to hug her, which she surprisingly accepts, until I get a tap on the shoulder. Jess releases me. When I turn and see Monty, my heart goes from zero to a hundred real fast. Imagine a boy having such a grip on you. “Monty,” my voice comes out shaky. “Jessica,” Monty nods at her, and he grunts. “I’ll see you later,” she screws her face up at him and walks away. “She’s such a bitch,” he rolls his eyes. THIS is what I don’t like about Monty. I just wish that list was longer than the stuff I do like about him. “Anyway, can we go talk somewhere?”

Panic thoughts rush through my head as I walk out the school with Monty. What if someone starts gossiping about the fact that we’ve left the school to talk? That’s so fucking stupid. Why would people do that? I’m a little nervous. I’m actually a LOT nervous. Breathe Y/N. I take a seat on the wall behind me. “I wanted to know how you’re feeling?” He simply says. I smile down to myself. “You make this so hard, why can’t you just be an asshole to me?” I let out in a whispered chuckle. “Is that what you want?” He brushes the back of his hand against my arm. “What do you want from this?” My question just makes him raise his eyebrows, as if the answer’s obvious. Does he want a fuck-buddy? Does he want a relationship? Is he just trying to fuck with my emotions? I mean, that last one’s completed with flying colours. “You’re gonna hate me for saying this Y/N, but I honestly just want you.” If anyone else said such a thing, I’d tell them to get a grip. This is Monty. Bad boy image with devilishly good looks. The boy you love to hate, and hate to love. He’s not meant to actually swoon for a girl. Is that what’s happening? Holy shit. “I don’t know if that can happen, what about Scott?” He smiles to himself. His body places itself next to me. “This has nothing to do with Scott,” he shrugs. I wish that was true. “All Scott does is warn me to stay away from you. You’re his best friend,” hand goes to my knee. My naked knee. Please move your hand a little higher; no. “I know, but he’d get over it,” I make a ‘would he really’ face at him. It’s hard to believe that. My eyes gaze away from him for a second. I look at the sky and the trees and that school building. Monty’s eyes are the last place I should look. Except my eyes drift back to his in a second. Stomach; drops. He slowly begins to move his head towards mine. I want to stop him. I want to consider the fact that anyone could see us right now. Including Scott. In all honesty, his lips aren’t moving towards mine fast enough. “Montgomery,” my whispered words stop his in his place. My forehead fall onto his. “I’d risk it, for you.”

School is always a drag, but when you’re waiting for it to end it goes 10x slower. Once again, the rest of our people had last period free. This leaves Monty and I the only ones left. I should be avoiding the boy at all costs. But my hearts flutters when I see him waiting at the school doors for me. I can’t even find words. “Hey,” Monty gives me a contained smile, as if he was holding back. I’m already blushing. “Montgomery,” I say simply. He starts moving, so my body automatically follows his lead. I honestly can’t help it. Can you blame me? Have you met the guy?! “Do you wanna walk with me?” Walk with him? Fuck yeah. But we all know what happened on that last walk of ours. For some reason that only makes me want to walk with him even more. I can’t control myself... he must have a voodoo doll or something.

As usual, our chats flow too naturally. I guess we’ve always spoken, but I never realised how well we got on until recently. Have I been hiding these feelings? It wasn’t intentional. But I should be containing my feelings now. I should cut Monty off before we hurt Scott. I wish I could. “How do you feel?” He asks again. Fuck, I wish he’d leave it alone. “That’s a loaded question Monty.” He stops in his place. A thought bubble appears above his head. It’s only for a few seconds. Then he softly takes hold of my forearm, and leads me into an alleyway. This is it. This is where he kills me. Both of his hands go to my wrists, lifting them and pushing me against the wall. This is single handedly the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. His eyes just stare back into mine. We’re so used to just staring at each other at this point. “How do you feel?” He asks again. I feel like I want his body on top of mine if we’re honest. A smug look captivates his face. Can he hear my thoughts? I gulp loudly. I think I’m about to have a heart attack. “Y/N,” he whispers deeply. “Can you just kiss me already?!”

He’s seems almost struck by my words. As if, although he wanted to hear them, he wasn’t expecting me to actually say them. His eyes scan my body intricately, up and down. I could watch him look at me all day. “Monty... did you hear what I said?” I ask. The corners of his mouth turn up before he makes a move. Finally. His lips on mine once again. I’ve been aching for this moment for at least 16 hours since the last, and first, time. Only this time it’s not just a long, still kiss. Within seconds his tongue asks for access into my mouth. The angel on my shoulder makes me hesitate. This is wrong. But it’s so fucking right. The devil, and my entire body, screams yes. His mouth; warm. The massaging sensation of his tongue sends flutters in every place possible. His hands squeeze my wrists tighter before realising them. They move to balance on the wall. Mine go to the bottom of his tee and... I realise we’re outside. In public. Where everyone and anyone can see us. I break away from his spell for a second. It’s somewhat comforting to see him breathing just as heavy as me. My right hand goes to his chest. “Fuck...” I whisper. I lean my head on the front of his shoulder. In the most adorable way, he places a soft kiss on the top of my head. He can definitely do that more often. “Do you wanna come back to mine?” He asks. What a stupid fucking question.

Luckily we were only seconds away from Monty’s place. I felt giggly the whole 3-5 minutes. It’s like I was in a trance. I heard Monty say that he dad was at work, and honestly it’s all I needed to hear. I could think about guilt, l right now, or anything other than the fact that I’ve never needed or wanted something so much in my life. So he unlocks the door. Before we can even get in the building, I turn Monty towards me and jump. My legs wrap around his waist tightly as I latch my lips onto his. This time there was nothing stopping us. Slam goes the door behind us. The wetness between my legs only grows as Monty’s hands cup my ass cheeks. Squeezing slightly, I let a small, breathy moan enter his mouth. He grunts. “Fuck, Y/N,” he mutters between our lips. It’s almost like he stepped foot on the gas. I’m not sure how, but Monty walks us up the stairs whilst we make out, all the way up to his bedroom. Maybe I should be wondering how he’s so good at this. I couldn’t care less.

My back bounces onto the bed. Our lips stay apart for only a second before his body is above mine. Hands smooth up and down from my hips to my waist. His fingers crawl to the buttons of my shorts. He stops. “Is this okay?” He asks. This is the moment. I know, just by that statement alone, that Monty is worth it. It confirms it all for me. My hands cover my mouth in awe. “I fucking love that,” I pretty much squeal. “Monty,” I speak, holding his head between my hands. “This is more than okay, I need you.” His lips attach back onto mine, and he starts undoing my shorts. I wiggle and lift my body to make it go faster, but they just don’t come off fast enough. All I keep imagining is that this is a dream. This is too crazy to be actually happening.

Just as Monty’s lips go to my neck, I hear a buzz. Is that my alarm? No. So this must be real. It is, however, Monty’s phone ringing. Monty pulls himself off of me. I reach over, pick up his phone, and see ‘Scotty’ written across the top. 1. Cute. 2. Fuck. “Imma just ignore it,” he smirks, rubbing his body back against mine. I don’t know what comes over me, but I find the strength and confidence to flip us over. I smile massively at what I’ve just accomplished. Here I am, straddling Montgomery De La Cruz. Does it get any better? His eyes look shocked. “That’s so fucking hot,” he lifts his head to lock our lips. “Shut up,” I whisper against his lips. I slide my tongue between his lips and... a phone rings. “Fuck,” I grunt frustratedly. ‘Scott’ comes across my phone this time. “Fuck, I’m gonna have to answer it,” I speak in a panic. “It’s fine just ignore him,” he reaches to grab my phone. My hand moves slowly away, making his eyes roll. “He could put 2 and 2 together and make 4,” I say simply. Shit. Act natural. “Hey Scott,” the key is to not overthink this. I won’t think about the fact that I’m in a thong straddling him best friend. Or that Monty’s fingers are tracing pattens on my ass cheeks. “Hey, have you seen Monty?” Of course. What other question would he ask? ‘I have actually. He’s currently between my legs. I could pass you on?’ But no. “No I haven’t, what’s up?” I hear a sigh through the phone. Okay Scott, just hang up now. “Bryce is looking for him. Where are you?” I put a bit of pressure on Monty’s chest with my hand, as I sign to stop, but he does not. Instead he squeezes my buttcheeks ever so slightly. This sends a rush of pleasure through my body, and a HEAVY breath out my mouth. “It sounds dodgy your end Y/N,” he laughs. I can hear the nerves in his voice. I know he’s thinking the worst, and it’s actually a reality right now. “I’m just working out.” In my head I can see Scott shake his head at my response. You’d think, as a jock, he’d understand the grind of working out and keeping fit. But no, Scott is naturally built like an athlete. “Well, enjoy that shit I guess?” His voice is uncertain. “If you do see Monty, tell him to come to the house! Bye,” before I can respond, he hangs up. I think I did it.

I let out a deep breath of relief. “Scott said that if I see you I should tell you to go to our house,” Monty pretends to throw me off him, but instead he flips us back over. “You can go if you’d like,” I mutter, slowly sticking out my bottom lip. I’m lying. My legs tighten around his body. His eyes widen. “I think I’m gonna stay with you,” he smiles, planting his lips back onto mine. He continues to kiss down my neck, just like he was before we were interrupted. “Montgomery,” I’m not sure if I regret stopping him. Theres just one thing I need more than this foreplay right now. Eyes: locked together. Fuck. He makes me nervous. I feel like it’s my first time all over again. “Can you just, like, fuck me now?” I giggle. I hardly finished my sentence before he pulls himself off me to go into a drawer. A condom. To get comfy, I move myself to his pillows. To think, a couple of days ago I woke up in this room panicking because I thought I slept with Monty. Now I’m about to.

He rummages the condom on in seconds. I’ll worry about the fact that he’s clearly very experienced later. “Is this good?” He asks. I could make a silly joke about how ‘he hasn’t started yet’. But I know exactly what he means. And it’s so fucking cute. My hands reach for the back of his head, pulling his lips onto mine for just a peck. “This is perfect.” Eyes are locked together, he leans down and rubs his nose on mine. The palpating going through my body is concerning. And somehow, just when he starts entering, it feels real. This only probably ever crossed my mind once. I steady my breathing as he pushes himself further inside me. Not a virgin, but definitely not a slut. In my opinion anyway. He notices me trying to get comfortable and plants his lips on mine for one long kiss. Humming vibrates from his lips onto mine. I want this moment to last forever.

Breath. Monty stays still for just a second, and pulls his lips away from mine. His right hand sweeps a strand of my hair out of my face. I reach my right hand up to his face, caressing his cheek and smoothing my thumb against his bottom lip. “You are,” pause, “so beautiful,” he says boldly. It wasn’t whispered. It wasn’t a question. I could hear he meant it. Montgomery De La Cruz thinks I’m beautiful. Without warning, he starts to pull out. My mouth gapes more and more. You know that point where you’re on a rollercoaster and you’re waiting for the drop... that was the anticipation for Monty to start thrusting. I’m a mess underneath him. When he does start, I feel myself coming apart at the seams already. His lips go back to mine, my arms stretch around his neck to pull him closer. Our tongues dance around. This was a ‘finally’ moment. The steadiness of the thrusts was perfection. It wasn’t rough, but it was nowhere near slow. And gentle. Everything about this boy was gentle. I don’t know if anyone has ever seen this soft Monty. I want this Monty all to myself. And right now, he’s mine. I wanted, and I needed, him as close as I could. My legs probably couldn’t wrap around his waist any tighter.

My entire being wanted to hold on for as long as I could, but this boy has some serious tricks. I feel like I’m quite stubborn so I could hold off. Monty’s right hand smooths down my hip, down my thigh, and hooks under my knee. As he lifted my leg slight higher, I knew I couldn’t hold on. “Fuck,” I pretty much squeal into his mouth as he reaches my g-spot. My abdomen bursts with excitement. My eyes glance at him biting his bottom lip very discreetly. His lips move from my lips to the side of my neck. I close my eyes for a second to just soak this moment in. I never thought I needed to feel this close to Monty. The pace increases by 2x at least, and a long lost knot begins to form in my stomach. It’s as if my body can sense the boy’s need to release. I think we’ve both been waiting for this moment for a little longer than we think we have. “Please tell me your close,” his husky voice tingles my neck. “Oh my god!” I moan loudly as my climax... finally. Connected. We continue to ride out each other’s highs. Wow.

My head lays against Monty’s chest. I know this can’t last forever. At some point I have to go home. When my heart stops racing, I sit up. “Do you regret it?” Is the first thing Monty asks. I smile to myself slightly. I shake my head slowly. “I kinda wish I did,” I shrug and turn my body towards him and cross my legs. “What do we do now?” I ask with a nervous giggle. He just stares at me. I’ve never been looked at like that before. “Scott’s gonna have to get over it. You’re too beautiful to keep it a secret,” cheesy, but fucking cuuuute. “Shut up. You’ll start making me believe it in a minute,” I push his chest lightly. Monty takes my hand and pulls me close to him. “You’re beautiful Y/N.” It’s hard to make jokes when the most handsome person is staring you dead in the eyes. My cheeks heat too quickly. “So, I heard you kinda like your best friends sister... how’s that working out for you?” I whisper. He opens his mouth, smiling massively for a second. “I actually say that I’m in love with my best friend’s sister. You should get your facts right.” A grin bigger than my head itself forms. “Wow, sassy Monty’s got,” I tease. “I mean it, Y/N. I’m in love with you.” I open my mouth to respond, but no words seems to form. I gobsmacked. Most of the times when I say I’m speechless, I’ve still got shit to say. I don’t know what to say to that. “Fuck, Monty,” I whisper. I nudge my nose against his chin. “If it turns out it’s because I look a little like Scotty, I’m gonna be pissed,” I laugh. Once again, Monty flips us over and puts his body between my legs. He put his tongue between his lips, licking them very sexily I might add. “That’s just a bonus,” my mouth drops open before pulling Monty’s lips down onto mine once again.

[jt-artsandfics]

Mantis blades and Gorrila fist pt 7

Warning: smut, sex scenes, sexual content, swearing.

~~~~~~~~

V pulls out the tray with the potato pasta bake in it as he dance A little to the light music playing in the background. Oda is sitting watching from the lounge as V moves around. This is the most comfortable he had been outside of when he was with Hanako. Oda was enjoy the some what soft presences that was now between him and V, they weren't at each other's throats, well not in a fighting way.

V makes his way over to Oda before flopping down onto Oda's lap. The Arasaka ninja rolls his eyes with a light smile ad he pulls V into his lap more. Vex places a soft kiss on his forehead before his nose and then his lips. Oda hums in approve, V pulls away and runs his fingers thought Oda's hair as he leans into him. "Dinners done just about to dish it up, would you like a big serving?" Oda nods as V gets back up and moves over grabbing two plates. Vex dishes up dinner before walking back over to Oda.

"Here you go, hope you enjoy" they both sit down and eat together. Eventually Oda looks up and over to Vex. "Vexrin, you said you wished yo and me something early what was the question?" V sits for a second thinking about how he was gonna ask the question. " one of my friends from back before I was Arasaka, he is kinda like my dad friend. He has asked if you and I would be interested in... a double date of a sort" Oda's stares indifferently which made Vex a little nervous.

"Are you sure you wish for me to meet someone this close with you" Vex smiles and nods. "Yes i would like you two to meet. And I also really want to meet Vishnus partner. I know that this had only started yesterday but I think it be nice to take you on a date too" Oda let's a smile slip onto his face. "I'd like That" they finish eating in a comftable silence. Oda went back for a second serving and they sat together. Vex had made his way over to cuddle up to the Arasaka bodyguard, V leans up and kisses Oda on the nose again.

"I also have a present for you" "and what might that be" Vex kisses him on the lips before standing up and walking over to the bed, V leans down and opens the cupboard underneath the bed before pulling out the strap and some other pieces. "I may or may by have done a bit of shopping. This" Vex picks up the bondage rope. "This is for you to uses at some point if you want" Oda sits looking intensely at V. "You got that for me?" Oda asked before his eyes looked over to the strap.

V nods as he pulls out some other stuff. "After last night I thought it was only fare if I got something that I could use on you due to me not having Th st right parts" Oda stand up as he walks over to the bed. Vex show Oda the other stuff in the in the draw. Oda's eyes go a little wide seeing some of the stuff but all up doesn't seem to fazed. "So tonight I was thinking I give you a treat but only if you think you can handle it Oda~" the Arasaka bodyguard leans over and kisses him, Vex drops the strap on the bed as he runs his hand thought Oda's hair.

He can feel The other mans breath hitch as he tugs on his hair pulling in closer. V runs his hands down from Oda's hair to run over his cybernetics and then down the front of his suit. Vex climbs up into the other mans lap and starts to undo the suit. The Arasaka ninja rolls his hips agaisnt Vexrins making the blue and red haired man moan. V finally gets the suit off before working his hands on the buttons of the white shirt Oda wore under it. He had to admit the bodyguard looked good in a suit but damn did that armor do things to him. Moves his hands up under Vex's shirt, Vex lifts his arms enough for Oda to slip the shirt off. Oda quickly works on unding Vexrins belt before undoing the zipper of V's pants, Oda  tugging them down his hips along with V's boxer.

Vex throws his head backward as Oda pulls him forward. "You know this is meant to be me fucking you" Vexrin huffs out, Oda smirks little as he lifts Vex over his face, he grabs V by the hips before pulling him down onto his face. "Fuck Oda!, I know I said at one point I'd love to sit of your face until you pass out but I do have plans for tonight" Vexrin moans out as Oda runs his tongue over the blue and red haired mans thigh. "V im gonna say this once, shut up" Vexrin rolls his eyes before grinding his hips down onto Oda's face. One of Oda's hands makes its way over to rub Vex's clit as he runs his tongue over his entrance.

"Fuck! oda" he moans out as he feels fingers move further down until one pushes into him. Oda pulls his fingers in and out of Vex as he continues to eat him out. V can feel Oda's tongue more and more each time, Vex grabs onto Oda's hair and pulls earning him a loud growl from the man under him. "Oda please enough" with that the pale eyed man looks up before removing himself from V. Vex let's out a painted breaths. Oda sits back up only to have Vex pounce onto him, lips met in a hungry fight teeth clashing and pulling at lips. Vex gets off the bed before pushing Oda down on the bed stomach on the mattress as he pins the black haired man down by the hips. V reaches into the draw pulling out a set of handcuffs.

"Pick a safe word that you will say if it gets to much and I will stop the moment you say to" Vex says as he grabs both Oda's arms and pulls them behind his back, he puts the cuffs on Oda and begins to kiss his way down his lovers back. "Soy bean, my word is soy bean" with that Vex moves away from Oda. "Say I'll be back" Oda was still face down on the bed handcuffed, he could roll over but he stayed where he was. After about a minute he felt Vexrins hands run over his shoulder and down his back tracing the tattoo on his back. He pulls Oda up to rest on his knees ad he makes his way onto the bed. Oda didn't know what he was expecting but Vexrin resting on his knees in front of him wasn't what he expected but it was sure was a sight to see.

V runs his hand thought Oda's hair and grips onto it as he brings him down until his lips brush the strap. "Open your mouth Oda" the Arasaka mans eyes flick up to the Merc as he flicks his tongue out and licks the tip of the strap. "Good boy" he opens his mouth more and takes the strap little bit by little bit. Oda's eyes flick back up to V the pale grey almost looking light blue. V's hand runs thought Oda's hair more before he grabs onto he back of his head.

He can see his lovers eyes roll back as he lets out a moan around V's strap. V let's out a moan as he runts into Oda's mouth. " Fuck your a good boy aren't you" he can hear the whine from Oda as he pulls out of the man's mouth letting him catch his breath. "Easy, breath" he moves Oda to lay back down on his stomach and moves to be behind him. Vexrin reaches down into the cupboard and pulls out the mint lube and opens it and squeezes the cold gel onto Oda's ass. He can see the raven haired man flinch very lightly at the contact of the gel. V begins to rub it into his lovers hole starting gentle as he opens him up gentle with a finger.

He can feel how tight Oda is and can hear the moans and wimpers. "That's it Oda your doing great" V encourages as he pushes a second finger into his lovers. Oda pushed back on him, breath heavy as he pants. "V what is that it feels... tinglely?" V continues to use his two fingers stretching him before he finally adds another. Vexrins other hand moves around and grips onto Oda's cock, he runs his hand over the tip. He can feel Oda shiver against him. "Vex please I need you" that was enough to make V stop. He pulls his hands away from Oda's body it earns him a small cry from the man.

V grabs the lube squeezing some onto his hand as he grips the end of the strap. He runs his hand over it spreading the lube before squeezing more onto Oda's cheeks. "You ready for this Oda? Remember the safe word if it gets to much" Oda nods his head and with that Vexrin presses the head of his strap into his lover. "Fuck!" Oda's head flys back as Vex presses himself into the other man. The mercs hands going to different places on the ninjas body.

One grips around the cyberwear of Oda's neck the other find it's way back to his cock. V can hear the choked moans and crys from the man under him as he pulls out a little before thrusting back into him. Vex moans as the friction on the strap. He leans over Oda bringing them back into a kiss as he start to move more, small thrust and runts into his lover as his hand works the other mans cock.

Oda's senses are all over the place there's to much pleasure from everything. He can feel The drool running down his chin as he pushes his face into the mattress, his hips push back into V trying to get the Merc to go harder and faster. " Vexrin please more!" He moans out, V begins to rub into him harder moaning has he does so. Light touches and kisses down Oda's back as he fucks The Arasaka man harder. His hand grips the man's cock, said man thrust into his hand which taking his lovers cock. "Fuck Oda. Look at you" V moans out looking now at Oda.

Said man snarls as V pulls our of him, the blue and red haired man rolls Oda over onto his back grabbing both his legs and pushing them over his shoulders as he slides back into Oda. The mercs is relentless, going hard and fast as he pants. Oda's eyes were closed as he clenched around the plastic cock. "That's it good boy Oda, come for me" and that made him lose it as he runts into V's hand as he rides out his orgasm. V slows his thrust until he completely stops letting Oda catch his breath, the Merc pulls out of his lovers leaving a trail of kisses down his chest before claming his lips.

"Fuck Oda, we are doing that again att some point" Oda groans as he's rolled back onto his stomach onto to have his hands freed from the cuffs. "V you fucking owe me big now" that makes Vex laugh, said man stands up pulling the strap off of him with a moan as his end comes out. Once it's taken off he finds his way back onto the bed wirh Oda. He pulls the raven haired mans head to rest on his chest as he runs his fingers thought his hair.

"I'm more then happy to take anything you do to me next, but for now lets, let you wind down and sleep" Oda dosent argue as he pulls V closer, he leans up kissing him hard leaving a small train of them down the neck to the tattooed man. "Thank you Vex, that was fun" 

~~~~~~~~~

I'm half asleep doing this it took longer then expected becuase I wanted to make it a long chapter so enjoy.

Tag list @simping-for-sandayu-oda @gvitch @v-is-for-witch @hippiefricked @inkrabbit @shitposting-for-the-soul

[frangipanidownunder]

100 degrees of separation: fic

For @perplexistan who requested: M and S at the UH, where there is no air conditioning, and it is a record-setting, sweltering summer day. Set post season 11? Rated T, I guess.

By lunch-time it was 95 degrees and the temperature was still creeping higher. The ceiling fan whumped pitifully, simply spreading the misery around the kitchen. Even with the blind firmly closed, the heat wedged itself against the window and permeated everything. The clock on the wall titched slowly, as though the minutes were being squeezed through molasses to tick on.

Mulder peeled his forearms from the table and brought the sports pages with him. Scully puffed a wisp of stray hair from her forehead, smiling at his grapple with the newsprint. As she leaned across to help him, his attention was trapped by the bead of sweat trickling down her cleavage, weaving over the spray of rose freckles, and all his irritation at the humidity evaporated, as he watched it disappear into the V of her tank-top. He licked his lips.

“Thirsty?” she murmured, in a tone that suggested she knew exactly what had caught his eye. “We need to stay hydrated.”

“Kinda,” he said, finally removing the last of the newspaper.

“I know you love the game, Mulder but you didn’t need to tattoo it on your skin. She took his hand and twisted his arm over. “Look at that,” she said, her voice perkier, “Yankees beat the Red Sox 11 to 1.”

He read the print that had marked the heel of his thumb and along the grooves of his wrist. “Severino finished 13 and 2. Not too shabby, Scully.”

“Whatever you say, Mulder. I’m going to make iced tea. Care for some?”

“Sure. Price finished 9 and 6. But I can’t make out the Washington scores.” He rummaged through the ripped paper but ended up flinging strips into the air where they wafted momentarily on the rising heat like ticker-tape before settling willy-nilly over the table and floor. Scully sighed and he couldn’t make out if it was because she was standing in front of the open refrigerator or if it was a precursor to her snapping at him to clean up his mess. Taking no chances, he set about gathering the remnants of the pages and scrunching them into a ball.

“Don’t even think about throwing that at me,” Scully said from deep inside the ice box.

His mother used to say something about women having eyes in the backs of their heads and as a small boy it used to creep him out enough to stop him sleeping. When his sister was born, he turned her over just to check. Scully let the door shut and turned just as he closed the gap between them. He gathered her in his arms and welcomed her cool front.

“Ice, ice baby,” he sang, rocking his hips side to side with hers. She played along for a moment before shrugging away from him and setting the ice cube tray on the table.

“Grab that for me,” she asked, nodding at the ornate mason jar on the side. “I’ve added mint and lemon. Should be really refreshing. My mom used to make this recipe for us…” She looked up at him, eyes a little wetter than before and he tossed the paper ball into the trash can, nodding his understanding at her. It still cut her. It cut him too, their cumulative losses over the decades. If he had learned anything from their experiences, it was that they were each the only person in the world who truly understood the other. Love was nothing to do with it, though it helped. For the most part, anyway. 

He watched her drop ice into the jar, took the brewed tea and poured it over the cubes so they crackled and split a little. The lemon slices rose up the sides along with the mint sprigs and the aroma put him in mind of midsummer evenings in the Red Stag’s beer garden listening to Wimbledon commentary as the Pimms pitcher sloshed on the rickety, silvered table-top.

Like the smell, however, the cool action of the drink dissipated far too quickly and after ten minutes, they were both sweating again.

“Hyperhidrosis,” she mused, pressing a wet wad of paper towel to her forehead and chest.

“If that’s your medical diagnosis,” he said, unsticking each thigh from the chair, “how does one combat its symptoms?”

She scoffed and flopped back, angling her arms at 45 degrees, circling her wrists back and forth. “Someone tell Mother Nature to dial it back in a little. She’s being a bitch.”

“She’s a bit pissed at our inability to address the climate situation and I’d say she’s got fair cause.”

“But humidity at over 90 per cent, Mulder, that’s more than a bit pissed, that’s white-hot rage.”

“Hm-mm,” he said, turning over his cell. “If it gets to 100 degrees, I’ll expire. How do Aussies live like this?”

“They have a/c everywhere,” she said.

“Uh-huh, they probably even have it in their refrigerators.” He tried to laugh at his own joke but the heat stole it from his mouth.

“More people die from the cold in Australia than the heat. Their housing isn’t built for the winters. Temperatures in the south of the country are low outside of the three months of summer. And you won’t expire, Mulder. Not on my watch.”

There it was again. That understanding, that support. Her answer about deaths in Australia didn’t really surprise him. Housing in England was similarly deficient, just for the heat, not the cold. Radiators and terraces and wall to wall carpets helped heat homes during winters, but he remembered nights in Oxford where July humidity kept him awake, tossing and turning in his bedsit while the beat of a rave rose and fell from the neighbouring farmland. He wasn’t sure about the mortality rate but it always felt like Death was laughing at the poor souls crushed into tiny living quarters.

“What’s the hottest you’ve ever been, Scully? Aside from that time you wore that sleek black skirt suit where I could see the outline of your stocking top.” He chuckled at her mock-offended expression.

“Rescuing you from Arecibo is pretty high on the list of Times Dana Scully Nearly Melted.”

“You didn’t rescue me.”

“What would you call it, then, Mr George ‘Proof of Contact’ Hale?” Her voice rose up the scale of indignation a notch.

“I didn’t ask you to come. We weren’t even partners then. You just…invited yourself. And, by the way, I got us out of there like a Hollywood stunt driver.”

“I had to have months of physio to straighten my spine after that little trip to the rainforest. Jesus, Mulder.”

“You drive like that all the time,” he countered.

“Do not,” she snipped, and pushed her chair back. “And invited myself? Really?”

She disappeared for a bit and he lay his head down on the table but a pool of warm sweat gathered on his skin so that his forehead slipped away, juddering across the surface. He looked up as Scully came back into the kitchen and blinked away the droplets that ran into his eyes. “Are you putting linen in the freezer?”

“Yes. And no, I’m not mad. You’ll thank me later.”

She disappeared again and when she returned the next time, she was carrying a scalpel and a pair of surgical scissors.

“You are mad,” he said, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Just not the insane kind. What have I done, Scully?”

“Nothing yet. Get me two empty water bottles.” He did and she nodded to the scalpel. “Puncture holes in them at regular intervals and then cut the bottoms off.” When he’d finished, she’d come back with a ball of string. He watched as she tied the bottles, upside down, to the back of the fan, looping the string through the holes and around the grating.

“I take it back,” he said, “this is a work of genius.”

She grinned, hair plastered to her face, skin sheen with sweat and in a flash, it took him back to that graveyard in Bellefleur. “I’ll get the ice.”

“And some salt. And pour more water in the ice tray,” she called after him.

Side by side, they sat cross-legged in front of the fan as the cool air blasted them. His cell registered 100 degrees and he flashed it to her.

“You saved me,” he said.

“Again,” she said, smugly.

“Who’s keeping score?”

“You are.” She batted his hand away and let her head hang back, the curls of her frizzed hair straightening when the fan blew over her. Her nipples protruded tantalisingly and he shifted on his seat.

“What’s the coldest you’ve ever been? Icy Cape? Antarctica?”

She turned to him. “No,” she said, tilting her head. “It was when you let Agent Fowley back on the scene.”

“Ouch,” he said. “No anaesthetic for your surgical barbs.”

“Shut up, Mulder. I’m getting cool.”

“Hmmm, you’ve always been cool, Scully.”

Her giggle was girlish and his temperature rose despite her makeshift air conditioner. “Any chance of a…?”

“In this heat? Absolutely none,” she declared, but he could always melt her icy edges so he closed his eyes, held his silence and bade his time. Their deep understanding would get him past her 100 degrees of separation.

[cynnymonsnaps]

Let the Tides of Change Come

Pairing(s): Carlos de Vil/Jane/Oc, Ben/Mal, Evie/Doug, Gil/Jay

Word Count: 2,062

Summary: Sometimes the power to rewrite things comes in the form of jumping right into the Descendants universe and giving everyone a piece of your mind.

Doug's stereotypical nerdy band kid shtick? Out the window it goes. The adults not knowing how to do anything right? Not on my watch. Kids being stuck on a prison of an Island? You're all coming with me now.

For Micha, they've taken on the grueling task of heading to the surface to help teach the kids of Auradon and the Isle that it's okay to talk things out and to not give into the rules and expectations of the older generation.Will someone at least give these teens a moment to breath in between saving the kingdom please? Jesus.

[This series goes through all three movies as well as the main events of the books to fix some of the unexplained happenings in the timeline. A very long winded story to fill the void in my heart of there being no more Descendants. *sobs*]

Warnings: Mentions of drowning.

A/N: Posting this on tumblr too so it can reach more people, but welcome to my new series!  I’ve already got all the plot laid out in a doc on my computer so it’s all a matter of time to sit down and actually write the beast. Anyways, enjoy!

          From the darkened gloomy waters emerged Uma, daughter of Ursula, dressed to the nines in golden sea themed jewelry and a sequin dress with the Isle of the Lost behind her. Seeming to notice the camera she turned towards the screen, swaying to the waves of the ocean with a sneer across her lips. “What?” The teal haired girl who leaned in closer, her golden seashell necklace glowing in the night. “You didn’t think this was the end of the story. Did you?” She gave an evil cackle before slowly sinking back into the murky depths of the sea, leaving no trace of her in sight. Before I knew it, the screen faded to black and the credits were rolling as a cover of “Kiss the Girl” played. From the comfort of my wheelchair I lazily watched the credits all the way through, having watched the movie multiple times to know it was the end.

           I loved the Descendants series with all my heart. From its catchy music, to it’s colorful and eye-catching costume design, to the characters who grew alongside me as I aged. Even through all its little plot holes and Disney-ified solutions I had stuck with the series for a whopping 4 years, never losing the passion I always had for it. There was something about the concept of the next generation of Fairy Tale characters and sticking them in a multiverse that was so eye catching. It was the same reason I liked Every After High, RWBY, Once Upon a Time and the many other iterations of the same concept. Which was why I felt pretty frustrated with Disney and how they wrote some of their characters. True, Descendants was marketed to a children’s audience, so there had to be some liberties taken and some things had to be dumbed down, but I wished they had done more with the story and its characters. There were so many ideas that could’ve been bounced off, it was almost a goldmine of storytelling.

Take Doug, son of Dopey, for example. He was always portrayed as a nerdy band kid who didn’t know how to get the girl he liked without being creepy and clingy. He had very plain fashion sense and hardly ever spoke to help the plot in anyway. A basic throw away character in all reality. I could see through, that Doug was just as silly as his father in his own story and always seemed to pop out more when dance scenes come on. He would move his body in a way that seemed like there was a firecracker that wanted to be let out, sharp moments here, exaggerated expressions there. The boy knew how to have fun and it was such a shame that the writers hadn’t let it shine through his personality or lines. Such a waste of material.

I had much hope that Descendants 3 would somehow right these wrongs though. The release date was nearing, and I’ve been saving myself from any spoilers like the trailers or any music videos that Disney released. I wanted to have a fresh pair of eyes when I dove straight in. And if anything, I knew that I’d have a fun time just experiencing the last movie in the trilogy.

           Stretching out my tired body, I got up to look at the digital clock on the table. A bright “2:00 AM” blinked back at me and I knew it was time to head to bed. I was always a night owl, so it was common for me to stay up until the early morning, but the premier was only a few days away and I needed to fix my chaotic sleep schedule before then. How else could I watch along with the cast all the way through? Closing everything off I gave one last yawn before headed to bed and falling into the soft sheets. Drifting to sleep faster than I expected, I hadn’t even realize anything was amiss when I felt the brush of liquid surround me. It was when I felt the water gently rise when I furrowed my brows in confusion. “Funny. For a dream this kind feels a little too real.”

I tried to open my eyes to wake up, but found a heavy force keeping them shut. “Huh?” Trying to move my arms this time, it felt like no matter how hard I tried to raise them, some sort of pressure was keeping them locked to my sides. Alarm bells were ringing in my head and I felt panic rip through me as the water rose faster. “Fuck! Is this how I’m gonna die? Death by drowning in my sleep?” With my effort to break free failing and the feeling of water rising almost past my face, I couldn’t help but take in a deep breath before fully being submerged. The whole situation filled me with dread as I was left helpless with nothing to do but wait for the end to come.

But it never did.

-

In my wait I could hear the distant muffled call of a name above me.

“-ha”

A sense of relief washed through me as the voice called out again seeming a little closer than before.

“-cha.”

If only I could just move something, anything to catch their attention, maybe they would be able to save me from this nightmare. With one last try I went to get up, putting every inch of energy into my limbs.

“Micha!” A hand shot through the water, grabbing onto my arms and helping me break through the surface. I couldn’t help but gasp for air and flail my arms to try to keep afloat, but what was I to do when I almost drowned? “Calm down child! You’ve only swum down for a few moments and you act like you’ve been under for decades. If you do not calm down, you will take in the water.” The voice scolded with a hint of concern. Just like the voice said I accidentally gasped a bit of water in my freak out and made myself cough in an attempt to get it all out again. “By the gods, let’s just get you to shore so you can collect yourself.” The voice huffed. Once again, I was pulled along in the water, kicking my legs weakly to try to get back to shore as fast as I could.

           Trudging out of the water I laid down on the cool earth, facing the sky as I tried to slowly fill my lungs with air again. The air was surprisingly fresh, and, in the distance, I could actually hear the sounds of wildlife. They helped me ground myself and it almost felt like the heavy presence I’d felt in the water disappeared into thin air. At least that nightmare of a situation was over now.  As I sighed in relief, having a little moment to myself before I felt the voice kneel down beside me. “Have you collected yourself?” The voice called out again. Opening my eyes, I was greeted by a man who looked to be in his late twenties frowning down at me. He had long piercing white hair that pooled over his shoulders and soft indigo blue eyes that seemed to make me feel safe and secure. His skin was a russet, reddish-brown and there seemed to be blue tattoos marking his right pec. There was a slight familiar feeling about him and his tattoos, but I couldn’t quite place my finger on it. “You usually never lose yourself when venturing the waves. Was there something that frightened you?”

           “Uhh.” You awkwardly let out unsure how to answer exactly. My hesitation caused his frown lines to grow harsher, like he’d been frowning for a long time. Not wanting to anger him I quickly sat up, but because of my fast motions I got a little lightheaded. He immediately steadied me with a firm grip and his eyebrows seemed to furrow. If he kept that up, he’d probably get so many forehead wrinkles. I looked around where the two of us were and found that we were somewhere I’ve never been before. “Where… uh.” I coughed out awkwardly. “Where are we?” He gave me an incredulous look, like maybe the water had gotten to my head or something. I didn’t really know what to say though. I’ve never been to such an open and natural place with waterfalls and stone ruins before, having been surrounded by tall buildings and concrete streets my whole life.

           “Michael, we are in Atlantis near one of the coves you love to explore ever since you were a child. Do you not remember that?” The man gives me a suspicious look when I almost went to shake my head but quickly nod when I caught myself. I’ve heard of Atlantis before, having read it in my history books from school, but there was no way I’ve ever been here before in my life. And who exactly was this Michael? I heard him calling me Micha earlier too, but that wasn’t my name. I quickly shake myself out of his grasp and go to the edge of the water, being careful not to fall in. Didn’t want another drowning spell when I had just woken up.

           I couldn’t believe my eyes. On the surface of the water I saw a similar pair of soft surprised indigo eyes staring back at me. A soaking met mop of white hair on my head as lines of the same blue tattoos ran just under my right eye and my left shoulder. My skin color was the same russet reddish-brown as the man’s and I looked to be about 10 or so. I reached down just to make sure this wasn’t a hallucination and as I did, the little girl in the reflection did the same, causing the surface to ripple. As I did so a little blue crystal with a dim glow dangled in front of me. Wait a minute.

White hair,

Blue eyes,

Glowing blue crystal,

Atlantis.

Oh my god. Was I in the lost empire of Atlantis right now? Did I literally get transport into the Disney universe? But this isn’t my body… Oh my Jesus and a fry stick! Did I die and get put into someone else’s body?!?

           “Did you hit your head on one of the rocks when you swam down there?” Out of nowhere the stranger took my head into his hands and searched for any bumps or bleeding while I was having another mini freak out. He slightly man handled me here and there which I didn’t take too kindly towards. When he found nothing, he went to feel my forehead as if I could have gotten a fever in the short time I had been in the water. “You seem alright physically, and your temperature is just fine. Maybe you’re gotten a screw loose?”

           “Hey!” I brush off his hand and give a small scoff, in response he chuckled to himself. I gave him a little glare and proceeded to ring out my hair a little. I still didn’t know who he was and wasn’t too keen on letting him get too close, but at least I now knew where I was. Now the question was, why was I in Atlantis?

           The stranger watched as I made some distance between us and sigh. He didn’t know what I was thinking exactly but with how strange I was acting it he thought it was best not to do anything too extreme. He also went to ring out his hair and went to grab us some towels that were lying to the side. He handed me one before making speaking up again. “We should head back to where Mother and Father are. I’m sure they could come to a better conclusion as to what is going on then I can.” He motioned for me to follow him and slowly started to make his way over to an open path. I was reluctant to follow him at first, but at the mention of “Mother and Father” the idea of going along with him wasn’t too bad if somehow, I could get these new parents of mine to introduce me to Milo and Kida.

I just hoped they were still around for me to talk to.

[lululawrence]

2018 Fics Written by lululawrence

Master Fic Masterpost / Buy me a Coffee?

A Dream is a Soft Place to Land (5k)

“It’ll be like a perpetual sleepover, Lou,” Harry had said. “It’ll be great.”

And it was...except it also meant that Louis’ long time, barely there crush on Harry had only grown into a full fledged, real life version of playing house where Louis all too often found himself pretending he and Harry really were together when they definitely were not.

Or the one where Harry might have told his friends that he was dating someone and has to show proof for their party on New Year's Eve. His best friend and roommate Louis is the obvious choice...but things don't exactly go as planned.

We Made a Start (2k)

“Hey! I thought your phone got taken away after that stunt you pulled in Chem,” Louis said brightly, relieved her best friend was going to rescue her from her awful reading assignment, even if it was only temporarily.

“It was taken away after that stunt she pulled in Chem,” a voice that definitely wasn’t Harry’s said.

“Oh...hi, Anne,” Louis greeted, suddenly nervous. Anne had never called Louis before, not when Harry wasn’t already at Louis’ house for a sleepover or something.

“Hi, Louis,” Anne continued. “Based on your greeting, I’m afraid I already know the answer, but I have to ask.” Anne’s voice was obviously filled with worry despite the fact she was trying to veil it with calm. “Harry doesn’t happen to be at your house, does she?”

Or the one where Harry's hiding, Louis knows just where to find her, and more comes out of the evening than either expected.

Tell Me That You've Got Me (3k)

In some ways, Harry felt like Louis was his older sibling as much as Gemma was. He certainly showed just as much affection as Gemma did. Whenever Harry would succeed in something they knew was difficult, both Gemma and Louis would celebrate by placing a loud, smacking kiss on Harry’s forehead.

As they got older, Gemma pulled back her affections. She was tired of her brother constantly hanging around, and she found ways to elude him. Harry couldn’t blame her, really. The hardest part for him, though, was not being able to be around Louis as often.

Louis never withdrew his physical affection like Gemma did, though. He continued giving Harry kisses on his forehead, much the same way he did with the ever growing number of younger sisters he had at home, to say hello and goodbye. Harry had come to rely on it. Gemma would bid him hello and goodbye with a soft smack on the side of his head, and Louis would kiss him wherever her hand had landed.

Or the one where Harry was always Louis' best friend's younger brother...until they grow up and once innocent forms of affection come to mean a little bit more.

I Don't Mean to Frustrate (14k) 

Louis didn’t always feel like he had to hide. His family had known he would likely present as an omega from the time he was young and, despite the fact that male omegas were rare and had all the usual prejudices against them plus some, his loved ones were always caring and supportive.

Looking back on it, Louis sees quite clearly that had things gone differently, had three very specific scenes in his past played out with even a slight adjustment, he would likely be living his life as a happy and out male omega. Dwelling on that too often wasn’t good for him, though, because the fact was, they had happened. The outcome had been what got him where he was today: in the middle of a world tour feeling absolutely exhausted and needy, but not being able to tell anyone, not even his bandmates.

Or the one where Louis is an omega pretending to be a beta, but what happens when Harry, his (pining) alpha best friend, learns his secret?

How Much My Heart Depends (6k)

Louis is an alpha working as a fraud analyst who keeps having Bad Days. Harry is an omega working in Quality Support who shares a cubicle wall with Louis and only wants to help. Maybe this is the perfect chance for them to finally meet face to face.

I Will Care For You (15k)

“Afton, I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” Harry whined. “I’m going to adopt her, but I have no idea how to take care of her when I’m here as much as I am and I can’t really afford to raise a child on fewer hours. My family can only help so much, but I’ve already been relying on them too much this past week.”

“Oh, Harry. Just get yourself a nanny.” Afton threw out the suggestion and Harry sat up. How had he not considered that?

“How much do you need to pay a nanny? If I cut some expenses, I might be able to handle that, if they lived in. Would they expect more of me, since I’m an unmated alpha? Like, they wouldn’t think I’m some dodgy alpha looking for a nanny to become a bondmate or anything, would they?”

“Shut up, Harry,” Afton demanded. If she wasn’t a beta, Harry almost felt like she might have put some alpha timbre into her voice with that line. Either way, he did shut up to listen to her as she continued. “Reach out to Louis. He’s our usual sitter and he’s lovely. He’s come on some hard times, too, so you could probably convince him to work for you for cheap, especially if you’re having him live with you too.”

Hold Me Tight and Don't Let Go (19k)

Louis’ mind was whirling and a mess of information about application deadlines and talking to his mom about options he had for next year and the failed test and how she might react when he gave her the news. Louis was near his spot and he knew as soon as he got there he could let the tears and frustration flow, but when he turned the corner to his special space his whole body froze.

“Who’re you?” Louis bit out. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That came out way more harsh than he was intending. “Sorry, I just-”

Louis was interrupted by the boy, previously curled in a tiny ball and crying into his knees, stumbling to his feet, saying something Louis couldn’t understand, and wiping away at the tears. He straightened his glasses, grabbed his bookbag, mumbled something a second time, and then he literally ran off.

Or the one where Louis is barely holding himself together when he meets Marcel and an unexpected friendship might be just what both of them need.

Can We Talk for a Moment? (15.5k)

It was widely known that alphas were never as common as betas or omegas. It is believed the reasoning for that was safety for their packs. Each pack could only have one Alpha, and in order to keep order and make sure there was no mistaking who was in power, once the successor had been named, other alphas would be forced out of the pack.

The populations grew, as was to be expected with time and all manner of developments, and while the packs got larger and joined together, the number of alphas never increased.

Harry didn’t care for the reasons behind the phenomenon. In the end, it didn’t really matter. All he knew was he was the only alpha within about a thousand mile radius, and he was a complete and total disappointment.

Or the one where Harry is a shy, nerdy alpha, Louis is a loud omega punk, and there's more to both of them than their reputations.

I Like Digging Holes (6.5k)

As soon as the video loaded, Harry practically choked on his tongue. It was a video of Louis writhing on his bed, moving his mouth to something. It was probably a song they had played, because he had tagged Harry specifically saying, “Thank you for my Morning Jam!” in bold white text.

All of that was great, but Harry really couldn’t get past the fact that Louis was topless, his tanned and tattooed torso looking like it was glowing as he sang along to whatever song it was.

“Harry,” Zayn said, snapping his fingers. “Oh my God, what is going on over there?”

Harry looked up from his phone, wide eyed with his cheeks burning. He truly had no idea if they were live again or not. He’d lost complete sense of his surroundings and time thanks to Louis’ erotic video. Harry knew he hadn’t meant it that way...or at least, he assumed Louis hadn’t...but it didn’t change the fact it absolutely was.

“You’re back on in five,” Liam said. “Pull yourself together, Harry.”

Or the one where Harry and Zayn host the Breakfast Show and Louis is a popular YouTuber who catches Harry's attention.

Back to How it Was (52.5k)

Harry carefully stood up and was on his way to the window to look outside when he ran his hand through his hair, and it stopped entirely too soon.

He froze then began fervently patting all over his head. Where was his hair? He’d been growing it out for a couple of years now and it was finally almost to the length he’d had as a goal the entire time. How could it have gotten cut off overnight?

Harry rushed over to the mirror hung on the wall adjacent to the window.

Oh shit. What the hell was happening? Harry leaned closer and saw that not only was his hair cropped shorter than he’d ever wanted to go again, but it looked like he had the beginning of crow’s feet by his eyes. Those definitely weren’t there yesterday! And what happened to his tattoos? He still had some of them, like the star and the letters he’d gotten for his mum and Gemma, but most of the rest were missing and there were a few he’d never seen before instead.

What. The. Fuck.

Or the one where Harry goes to bed angry with his bandmates and wakes up in a universe where One Direction was never formed and he has to find a way back home. Home definitely has nothing to do with his best friend and bandmate, Louis. That would be ridiculous.

Not the Desperate Type (6.5k)

“First of all, I’d like to tell you how disturbing it is that you’re this familiar with your neighbor’s sex life,” Liam said, amusement lacing his tone.

“Fuck off,” Louis said, laughing.

“Second, that is really very sad. How bad is the stomping? Are you sure your neighbor doesn’t like it fast like that?”

“With the amount of cleaning the guy does, I think he’s taking out his sexual frustration on the cleanliness of his apartment. I can’t imagine the guy makes enough mess to require daily vacuuming.”

It sounded like the guy was actually moving furniture above him as he was sweeping now. Damn. Did Louis miss the seven minutes in heaven or was the guy angry because he didn’t even get that much pleasure today?

“I’m kinda afraid with the amount of noise he produces while cleaning that one day I’m gonna look up through my ceiling and be able to see him.”

“Tell him we wish him a better sex life and that we’re rooting for him if you do.”

Or the one where Louis' neighbor has a series of unfortunately short sexual experiences and Louis can hear every. Single. One.

Just Enough (to Feel My Body Come Alive) (14k)

As soon as the door closed behind him, Louis leaned against it and let out the breath that he’d been practically choking on just moments before. He’d been able to hide behind his metaphorical armour until Harry, the barista, had approached the table. That one moment somehow cracked Louis open enough that he’d felt a surge of joy for just a second, and that second was enough to scare the shit out of him.

He couldn’t let anyone in like that, not even for a laugh. Especially not another cute boy.

What Needs to be Done (10k)

Harry continued walking in the direction he’d been headed before he found himself at a break in the woods. That...wasn’t right. Had he gotten turned around?

“Where’s the sun?” Harry muttered to himself as he looked around. The entire world was in shadow and the sky covered in clouds.

“Not going to be able to find the sun for the rest of the day, mate. I expect it to rain here shortly.” a high voice said, startling Harry. For the second time in ten minutes, Harry made a sound very unbefitting of a dragon as he careened towards the earth.

This time he wasn’t sure he should bother getting up again.

“You better watch yourself or you’ll end up killing someone. I’ve never met such a clumsy dragon.”

Harry blinked and looked around.

“Looking for me?”

Harry looked directly below his head and sitting right beside his clawed foot was an incredibly sassy looking hedgehog.

Or the one where Harry's a dragon, Louis' a hedgehog, and maybe if they come together with other new friends they can get the spells reversed.

I Knew From the First Time (6k)

Harry: NICHOLAS I MIGHT CRY THIS GUY IS PERFECT Harry: HE STOOD UP FOR THIS ADORABLE WOMAN WHO REMINDS ME OF BARBAEA TO TAKE JKS SEAT Harry: Unfortunately this means I don’t have as good a view of him now BIT STILL

Nicholas: You’re a horny bastard who needs to get laid. I am not trusting your judgement on men at the moment.

Harry: I will have you know I have excellent taste in men, horny or not. Harry: Besides, you’ve gone far longer without getting laid than I am currently at, so whose judgement should we not be trusting, hmm?

Nicholas: I don’t like what you are implying, thank you very much Nicholas: But seriously. I’m not going to believe how beautiful this man supposedly is without a photo

Harry: Grimmy. Are you implying I should take a sneaky pic for you??

Or the one where Harry definitely doesn't take a sneaky pic of Louis on the Tube. Absolutely not. (Except maybe he does.)

Something Classic (5.5k)

Marcel did not peak in high school. High school was full of dress codes and bullies and he never would have made it through if not for Zayn and Liam.

College has finally arrived, and Marcel is excited for his chance to finally be able to express himself in ways he wasn't able to before. He never could have accounted for how leaving his high school uniform in the past could change everything.

Especially once he meets Louis Tomlinson.

The World will Open its Arms (4.5k)

Harry scrubbed at the countertop. It wasn’t even dirty, but it was three in the morning and the girl who was supposed to relieve him over an hour ago never showed. He was now on hour ten of his shift and his feet hurt and his back ached and he was trying not to cry, thanks to more fucking judgmental alpha truckers who could smell it on him.

Of course they could. He practically lived at the diner. The entire place reeked of it.

Unbonded pregnant omega.

How I Feel Inside (9k)

From the time they were young, Louis, Harry, and Niall all knew their secondary genders. Louis was alpha, Harry was omega, and so was Niall.

Louis was the oldest and also an early bloomer. The day before Thanksgiving at the hormonally insane age of thirteen, he had needed Harry. He always did, but then he was humping a shirt Harry had left behind at their last sleepover while he popped his first knot.

Louis = Alpha. Check.

Harry’s presentation was far more talked about. He was sixteen and sure he was coming down with the flu in the middle of gym class when Louis came barging in. Harry was confused, but as soon as he smelled Louis, he dropped fully into his first heat in the middle of the gymnasium.

Harry = Omega. Check.

Niall was different, though. He always had been. He didn’t mind it, he took great pride in it usually. But then they had graduated and he still hadn’t presented. Maybe he was just a late bloomer. But maybe he wasn’t an omega at all.

So, Niall = Beta. Check.

But then a month into the fall semester of their senior year, Niall disappeared.

We've Come Too Far (14.5k)

“Harry! I can’t believe we’re finally meeting! This is great!”

Harry breathed in and Greg smelled like fabric softener and mint. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but that combination was even better than he’d hoped for. God, he was ridiculous.

As they walked into an unmarked room, Greg yelled, “Louis! Come meet your partner in crime slash competition!”

Harry looked at Greg in confusion.

“That doesn’t even make sense, Gregory,” a voice called. As the man drew closer, Harry almost choked on his tongue. How was it even possible to be in the presence of the two most beautiful men in the UK? It was absolutely Not Fair.

Or the one where Harry has had a crush on Radio 1 DJ Greg James for years before he finally has the chance to meet him. What he didn't take into account was the beautiful intern that just might overshadow Harry's interest in Greg.

I Just Wanna Give You Love (18.5k)

Graham Norton appeared on the screen introducing his guests and out of nowhere, everything in Louis’ world was turned upside down.

Louis gasped as he intently took in the man on the screen, smiling and waving from his seat beside Sir Ian McKellen.

“Oh my God,” Louis said before it all sank in as to what it meant. “Holy fucking shit!”

“Louis William, you watch your mouth,” Jay said. “What has got into you?”

Feeling like a madman, his palms to his cheeks, Louis couldn’t help the tears of surprise, relief, and fear as he turned to his mum. “What colour are his eyes? What do you call that colour?”

“Louis, are you telling me that the man on the screen, Harry Styles, is your soulmate?”

Or the one where the world is in black and white until you meet your soulmate, but Harry is world famous and Louis is...well...not.

(That’s Just) The Way I Am (17k)

There was no way Harry would want to bring anyone out for an introductory trip like this. The fighting between himself and his father was sure to be be worse than usual and father still hadn’t accepted Harry’s pansexual identity. Harry wasn’t dating anyone at the moment, but at this point he almost wished he were dating a man just so he could incense his father.

The door jingled, pulling Harry’s attention away from the window and to the man who had just walked into the cafe.

Now that was exactly who Harry should try bringing home. The man was dressed in ratty black skinny jeans and what was obviously a self cut tank top that used to be a Stone Roses t-shirt. His black chucks had holes in the canvas, indicating exactly how old they were, and his maroon beanie wasn’t in much better shape.

The more Harry studied the man’s smoky eyeliner rimmed eyes and the lipstick he had swiped on to match his hat, the more Harry started hatching an idea. What if Harry really did bring this man home?

This is a Rainbow War (15.5k)

“So what are we doing?” Niall asked as he slipped in.

“Harry seems to really like rainbows,” Louis said, purposefully vague. “So let’s go ahead and make sure he’s really in the spirit.”

Louis untaped the flag he’d used to hold it together and showed Niall what he had inside. He’d been keeping a wide variety of flags from each show and gathering them until he had enough to cover Harry’s entire dressing room with them.

“Oh this is going to be great,” Niall said with a chuckle.

“Oh my God,” Shawn said excitedly. “It’s going to look like someone puked pride flags all over a campsite.”

“Exactly,” Louis said.

Or, the one where Harry's a famous singer, Louis is part of his road crew, and after Harry gives Louis a special assignment regarding rainbow flags, things maybe turn out a little differently than either of them planned.

Can I Have Your Attention, Please? (16k)

Forty-five minutes later found Nick dancing and singing along to the awful hold music that played as he still waited in queue to speak to someone as he made himself some avocado toast. Luckily, in the time he’d had waiting for a human to speak to, he’d been able to scrape together two work outfits that would hopefully be enough to tide him over until he got his own luggage back.

“Someone needs to fucking answer the phone!” Nick sang loudly and off key to the jazz music playing out of his phone’s speaker. “I want my own shampoo back,” he continued as he swung his head around and twirled with the avocado back to the fridge. “I don’t like Fifi’s bodywash and her moisturizer makes me break out!”

Staring to full on shimmy back to his perfectly made toast, the call disconnected and left the kitchen ringing in the silence.

“Bollocks,” Nick sighed.

...or the one where Nick develops a crush on the man whose bag he accidentally grabs at the airport. It is obviously just a coincidence that the man shares a first name with the pop star whose Instagram Nick lusts after as well.

Great Minds (They Think Just the Same) (8k)

This entire thing was going to be an utter failure. Why had Louis agreed to this? Why had he allowed Harry to convince him it was a good idea? He didn’t know anything more than the basics about being a DJ, and while he wanted to learn, he’d hoped he could get a bit more instruction. He’d had a bit back in 2012, but Louis also thought it would be more hands on than just the few verbal instructions Nick had given him before he kicked off the show.

Nick Grimshaw, whom Louis absolutely one hundred percent refused to call Grimmy, was sitting across the table from him, bopping about looking adorable in his headphones as he laughed at tweets and texts that were coming in. Too bad he was a dick.

Or the one where in an attempt to get the Breakfast Show back to the number one morning show in the country, the BBC brings on Louis as a co-host with Nick. They only thing is they don't really get along... until they do.

You’re Here, Where You Should Be (5.5k)

Harry gave her mother a wide, pleading grin and finally gave up on her hair. It had been only a marginally decent hair day anyway. No one here cared if it looked nice or not, so messy bun it would be.

Hands caught in making sure all her hair was up and not held so tight as to give her a headache, Harry (naturally) had her arms up when she froze in shock.

Louis Tomlinson was in her family room.

Or three years after having last seen her best friend, Louis shows up at the Christmas party Harry's family throws every year. Old feelings might not be as buried as Harry had thought.

Nowhere to Land (23.5k)

“Harry,” Gemma said slowly and softly, like she was afraid of startling a frightened animal. “What exactly do you remember of the past few weeks?”

Rubbing his forehead, Harry scrunched his nose up in confusion. “Was I acting really off? Cause I’ve felt so strange for weeks. I remember most of it, but it’s all fuzzy around the edges, like I was there, but not really.” Harry put the glass down and looked back at her, feeling a little sheepish. “That’s quite mad, isn’t it?”

Gemma shook her head and reached out for Harry, wrapping him in a tight hug. “No. Not mad. Makes perfect sense. Welcome back.”

Or the sequel to Back to How it Was where other Harry has returned to himself with only foggy memories of the past few weeks. He finds himself with a new workout routine, recordings of interviews he doesn't fully remember choosing to do in the first place, and a budding relationship with a man he remembers from the X Factor but doesn't really know now. Doing the best he can, Harry tries to put the pieces together of what happened and where he's going to go from here.

[whitehorsetiger]

Werewolf Ways

Fandom: Voltron

Pairing: Klance

Rating: E

Word count: 4.6K

Summary:  Keith is a witch. His brother Shiro was savaged by werewolves a year ago, causing him great pain and monthly transformations into a monster. It's rough, but with the support of his boyfriend Lance, he manages. However, Lance is keeping a secret, a secret that might tear them apart.

“I have to go,” Lance said, stretching.

Keith groaned, tightening his arms around Lance’s chest.

“No, I really have to go,” Lance said, prodding Keith’s side.

Keith really didn’t want to move, he was comfortable splayed on top of Lance. His head rested on Lance’s chest, soothed by its steady rise and fall. But Lance really did need to get home, he had a family thing and if there was one thing Keith wouldn’t do was keep Lance from his family. So, with a groan, Keith pushed himself up onto his knees. Lance sat up, one foot resting on the floor. Leaning over, Lance pressed their lips together in a soft kiss. Keith hummed, rubbing their noses together.

“No, I really need to go,” Lance said, patting Keith’s thighs.

Keith sighed, smoothing his hands over Lance’s shoulders. 

“I’ll see you Wednesday?” he asked.

Lance nodded, swinging his legs off the sofa.

“It’s the full moon tonight, so be careful,” Keith reminded him, standing up.

“Yes, I’ll watch out for werewolves,” Lance rolled his eyes, smiling indulgently.

Keith frowned, pinching Lance’s side.

“You’re dating a witch and you don’t believe in werewolves.”

Lance laughed, “It’s not about not believing, I just don’t think there are any here.”

“Just, be careful,” Keith said, pressing their foreheads together.

“Yeah, yeah, ok,” Lance grinned, pressing their lips together, “I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Keith replied softly.

Keith stood on the doorstep until the lights on Lance’s car vanished around the corner. He sighed slightly, leaning against the doorframe. Something pushed against his legs, Keith looked down. His black german shepherd, Yorak stood at his feet, looking out to where Lance had gone.

“Come on, we’ll see him again,” Keith said, grabbing his collar and pulling him back in.

Yorak wined, before padding over to his bed and laying down.

“Don’t give me that look,” Keith huffed, “I can’t make him stay here.”

Well, technically he could, but none of those ways were particularly ethical. Or legal.

****

The two of them had met when Lance had walked into Keith’s shop, looking for something to help with his love life. Not that he needed it of course, no way, he was not having any trouble, just, didn’t hurt to have a helping hand. At first, Keith had assumed Lance had been after a love potion, he’d seemed like the type. As love potions were basically magical date rape drugs, Keith was not too happy about that. That meeting had ended with Lance and Keith in a yelling match and Lance storming out without buying anything.

A few hours later, Pidge stormed in. She was, not happy. Turns out, Lance was her friend and he was just after something to help with his love life. Pidge then went on a very long rant on how Lance’s last girlfriend had been cheating on him with two different guys throughout basically all their relationship, how Lance had come into Keith’s shop looking for something to make him feel better and Keith better get him something or she’d never forgive him. Also, if he dared to tell Lance she did this, she would never forgive him.

So, a very confused Keith ended up giving Lance a rose quartz charm and selling him some peppermint tea. The charm did its job, just not in the way either of them were expecting.

****

“Hey Shiro,” Keith called as he walked into the house.

“Hi Keith,” Shiro called back.

Keith followed his brother’s voice to the living room, rustling the paper bag in his hands.

“Did you bring the tea?” Shiro asked, smiling weakly.

“Yeah, do you want some?” Keith asked.

Shiro nodded, “And some painkillers.”

“Ok,” Keith said, smiling weakly.

Keith’s smile dropped as he entered the kitchen, gnawing his bottom lip as he moved around the room. Tonight was the night of the full moon and, it was going to be rough. A year ago, Shiro was savaged by werewolves, leaving him covered in scars, missing an arm with his hair having gone pure white. It also caused him a massive amount of pain the day before and the day after the full moon, along with the transformation that forced them to lock him up in Allura’s basement as he shifted between a monstrous wolf and his human form. Soothing tea and painkillers was not the ideal solution, but it was the only one they had.

Keith dropped next to Shiro on the sofa, watching carefully as he hissed in pain while moving.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine,” Shiro said, poking Keith in the arm, “How’s Yorak?”

Keith let out a long breath.

“Yorak is good, still as excitable as ever. He tried to knock my alchemy table over yesterday.”

Shiro snorted, before wincing slightly.

“I can imagine, thank goodness for magic right?”

Slumping deeper into the comfortable cushions, Keith shook his head.

“Yeah, I’d been working on that for a week, the last thing I needed was for it to break over the floor.”

“It’s not dangerous is it?” Shiro frowned suspiciously.

“Um, no,” Keith said.

“You don’t sound so sure,” Shiro crossed his arms.

“It’s not, I swear,” Keith said.

“Unless?”

“Not at all.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Ok, maybe if it’d broken it would have been a problem, but it’s fine really.”

“Keith.”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“Keith.”

“Fine.”

They had a stare down.

“Drink your tea,” Keith grumbled.

Shiro rolled his eyes, “I swear, if you burn the cabin down.”

“I won’t burn the cabin down,” Keith said, “I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Right,” Shiro dragged out, raising his eyebrow.”

“How’s the teaching job going?” Keith asked, crossing his arms, “Fixed the projector yet?”

“Don’t change the subject and you know that wasn’t my fault,” Shiro protested.

“I’m not and sure it wasn’t,” Keith said.

Shiro smiled, “You know, I saw your Lance the other day.”

Keith narrowed his eyes, “Who’s changing the subject now?”

“Come on now, like you don’t want to talk about your stunning, adorable boyfriend,” Shiro grinned.

“Shut up,” Keith groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“You wouldn’t stop gushing about him before you got together,” Shiro laughed, before doubling over in pain.

Keith immediately moved, resting his hand on Shiro’s back.

“I’m ok, I’m ok,” he gasped.

Keith let out a long breath. He wasn’t, Shiro really wasn’t ok. But they had to deal with it, they didn’t have a choice.

****

Keith really didn’t want to go out, honestly he was exhausted by the events of the full moon and just wanted to sleep. But Yorak needed a walk and he did really want to see Lance, so here he was. Yorak was trotting alongside him, tongue hanging out as he looked at everyone who passed. Most people were giving Keith a wide berth, he knew he looked rough. The several stones in his ears and the magic-imbued tattoos poking above the collar of his jacket probably weren’t helping. Yorak suddenly darted forwards, tail flicking rapidly from side to side. Keith stumbled slightly as he was pulled forward.

“Hey boy,” Lance said brightly as Yorak bounded up to him.

Crouching down, Lance opened his arms. Yorak bounded forwards, jumping up so his paws were on Lance’s shoulders. Keith couldn’t help but smile as Lance laughed, wrapping his arms around the dog.

“Hey human who owns my favourite boy,” Lance said, smiling up at Keith.

Keith rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets.

“Awh, pouty,” Lance said, standing up and poking Keith in the cheek. Keith slapped his hand away, lips twitching up slightly at the corners. 

“Come on cutie, I’ll buy you a cookie,” Lance said, looping his arm around Keith’s shoulders.

Keith flushed, leaning into Lance’s side “I’m not cute.”

“You’re adorable,” Lance said, squeezing him closer.

Yorak was still trying to jump up at Lance, entire back end wriggling. Lance pushed him down gently.

“Come on then,” he said, pulling Keith along, “Let’s go get some coffee!”

Keith smiled at Lance’s enthusiasm, shaking his head.

Yorak charged after his tennis ball, snapping as it rolled away from him. Lance was laughing, long legs stretched out in front of them on the grass. Keith let out a long breath, sipping his coffee. His mind was starting to settle a little, with Lance’s bright laugh, the smell of grass, the fresh air and Yorak barking happily. The dog ran back, dropping his slimy tennis ball in Lance’s hands. Lance wrinkled his nose, before throwing it again. 

“I can’t believe he plays fetch with you,” Keith grumbled.

“That’s because he’s a good boy,” Lance cooed.

“He’s not here, he can’t hear you,” Keith scoffed.

“Doesn’t change anything,” Lance nodded seriously.

Keith knocked their knees together, dropping his head on Lance’s shoulder.

****

Keith lived in the middle of nowhere, there was the dirt road leading up to his cabin, his cabin, his garden, then nothing but forest around it. Keith liked it like this, the quiet, the peace, the lack of other people’s magic. The middle of no where was the best place for perfecting magic, also Yorak really enjoyed it.

Yorak was digging around in the dirt, Keith wasn’t all sure what for, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. His head popped up suddenly, and he yipped.

“Yorak?” Keith asked.

His ears flicked forwards and backwards, nose twitching. Suddenly he jumped out of the hole he had been digging, shooting off into the forest.

“Yorak!” Keith called, sprinting after him.

They sprinted and dodged through the trees, Keith had no idea what he had seen. He was going to loose Yorak if he wasn’t careful.

“Yorak! Come back!” he shouted, swearing loudly as he almost fell over a root.

Yorak vanished over a small hill, barking loudly. Suddenly he went silent.

“Yorak!” Keith shouted, stumbling down the hill.

He froze, staring in shock at the scene in front of him.

It was the middle of the afternoon, four days after the full moon. Why then, was there a huge werewolf laid out in the forest. It was dying, chest raising and falling inconsistently with wheezing breaths. Yorak was snuffling around, getting closer and closer to the werewolf.

“Yorak, no come here,” Keith called.

He completely ignored Keith, getting closer and closer until he was right next to the wolf. Keith fully expected the wolf to turn around and attack him, but it didn’t. Yorak looked at the wolf, then Keith, then back at the wolf, whining. Approaching carefully, he scanned his eyes over its form. Blood was oozing from four bullet wounds in its chest, back leg trapped in a sliver snare. It didn’t look good.

The werewolf’s eyes flickered open as Yorak nudged him, picking its head up slightly. Its eyes glowed yellow for a second, before landing on Keith. They shifted from yellow to green, to blue. A very familiar bright blue. Keith’s felt like his heart stopped, no, no way.

“Lance?”

Collapsing to his knees next to the wolf’s neck, he rested his hand on the thick brown fur. 

“Lance,” Keith croaked.

The wolf picked his head up further, tongue flicking out to lick the side of his face.

“Lance,” Keith said softly, because it was him, he knew it was him.

Lance’s head dropped back to the ground with a loud wine, panting roughly. How, how had he not realised sooner. It was so obvious, the avoidance of Keith during the night before, the night after and the night of the full moon, his avoidance of silver and his incredible healing abilities. Keith felt a little stupid. Keith shook his head, damn it, Lance was dying. It didn’t matter that Keith was currently freaking out, it didn’t matter that Lance was a werewolf and didn’t tell Keith about it. Well, not right now, because Lance was dying and he needed to do something.

Scrambling for his phone, Keith shakily dialled Shiro. It only took a few seconds for him to pick up.

“Keith?”

“Shiro, I need your help, in the woods behind my house,” Keith said.

“What? Keith? What’s wrong?” Shiro replied.

“It’s not me, it’s Lance. Just, get here, it’s easier to explain when you’re here,” he said.

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Shiro said.

“Oh, bring some wire cutters.”

“Why…you know what, I’ll find out.”

It took much too long, much too long with Lance’s breath getting shallower and shallower, blood oozing out of the wounds on his side, eyes becoming bloodshot as the silver made its way through his system. Yorak had snuggled up to his side, whimpering softly. Lance’s eyes slipped closed again, his body twitching slightly.

“Come on Shiro,” Keith said softly, “Hurry up. You’re going to be ok Lance, just, hang on.”

“Keith?!” oh thank god.

“Over here Shiro!” Keith shouted back, “Try not to freak out.”

“That’s not, reassuring,” Shiro called, sounding very close.

He suddenly appeared from the tree line, he froze, mouth dropping open. Keith couldn’t imagine what he was thinking, seeing a big werewolf with Keith by its neck and Yorak snuggled up beside it.

“Keith? Explain,” Shiro finally found his words.

“It’s Lance,” Keith said, standing up.

“That’s Lance?”

“Yes.”

“Oh god.”

“Help, please.”

Shiro closed his eyes, before letting out a long breath.

“Ok, you’re going to have to cut the snare off,” Shiro said, holding out the wire cutters, “I’ll hold him down.”

Keith nodded, trying to distance himself from the situation. Panicking would not get him anywhere.

Grabbing the cutters off Shiro, Keith moved towards Lance’s leg. It looked, horrible. The snare had long ago broken the skin, well on the way to breaking the tendon. Hopefully, once his silver poisoning was cured it would heal. Shiro straddled Lance’s chest, using his flesh and prosthetic hands to pin down his hips.

“Go for it,” he said, “This is going to hurt buddy, so just hang on.”

Keith nodded, reaching out for Lance’s leg. He slipped the cutters under the snare, Lance squealed. Shiro moved one hand to hold Lance’s leg as he kicked out, thrashing desperately as he yowled and cried with pain. Snapping the cutters closed, Keith tossed them to the side and peeled the snare away. Shiro let go of his leg to allow Lance to pull it away.

“We need to get him back to the house,” Keith said, “I can treat the rest there.”

Shiro nodded, “You need to calm him down, he’ll bolt.”

“Lance,” Keith said, moving up to the wolf’s head, “Lance.”

His eyes snapped open, glowing yellow. Lance jerked forwards, fangs bared. Keith jerked backwards, but Shiro’s hold on him didn’t faulter.

“Lance, Lance you need to snap out of it,” Keith said, “Come on.”

Lance’s body convulsed, blood splattering out of his mouth as he slumped back to the ground. His eyes faded back into blue, body going completely limp.

“We good?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah, let’s move,” Keith said.

Lance was heavy, but with Keith holding his front, Shiro holding his back end and Yorak guiding them they made it back to the cabin surprisingly easily. Lowering Lance onto the living room floor, Keith stood up.

“Watch him,” he said to Shiro before sprinting to his alchemy table.

Using the key around his neck, Keith unlocked the cabinet beside it. Pushing aside some of the bottles, Keith pulled out a vial with a capped needle and syringe taped to it. He was unbelievably grateful that he’d thought to make an antidote to silver poisoning a while ago, after all, it took a week to brew. Grabbing his tweezers off the bench, he ran back to where Lance was completely limp. Shiro was checking him over, lifting his eyelids.

“I don’t think we have long,” he said.

Keith let out a long breath, “I don’t need long.”

Lance was so far gone that when Keith dug the tweezers into his wounds to pick the bullets out. Lance couldn’t heal with them in him. It took come time but finally the fourth one clattered out onto the floor. Drawing the contents of the vial into the syringe, Keith hoped this would work. He was sure he’d made it properly, but had not had a chance to try it out. Finding a thick mass of muscle in his leg, Keith stabbed and injected the mixture right into it. Lance’s body went very still and there were a few seconds where he stopped breathing, until he started to thrash. Shiro and Keith quickly backed off, avoiding Lance’s flailing limbs. Eventually, his body went still, chest rising and falling steadily in sleep. Shuffling forwards, Keith carefully lifted up Lance’s eyelids. His eyes were blue and not bloodshot, that should mean he was cured and now they just had to wait for his body to heal itself.

****

Keith and Shiro sat up with Lance all night, taking it in turns to watch him. Starting slowly, Lance’s wounds started healing. By the time dawn of the next day rolled around, they’d all closed up and the fur had grown back. Around nine, Lance’s eyes flickered open. Both Shiro and Keith froze, watching him cautiously. Lance shook his head, shakily pushing himself up to sit. He looked between the two of them, tail flicking from side to side slowly. Keith shifted towards him, kneeling in front of him.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Lance’s tail wagged faster.

“You feeling ok?”

Lance bobbed his head it what was probably a nod.

“You think you can change to human?”

Lance tilted his head from side to side, Keith wasn’t all that sure what that meant.

“I’ll go get some breakfast,” Shiro said, standing up, “You want something Lance?”

Lance bobbed his head again.

“Alright, see you in a bit,” he left, and Keith and Lance were alone.

Lance slumped back down onto his front, body jerking slightly as he tried to turn back. Keith looked away, he didn’t really want to see his boyfriend part way between wolf and human forms. It took some time, probably more than normal.

“Keith,” Lance suddenly said, voice rough, “Keith I’m sorry.”

Keith turned to look at him, Lance was filthy, naked and looking terrified. Keith pulled the throw blanket off the sofa, tossing it over Lance’s form. Keith didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what he was feeling. Everything was just a complete mess, but over it all, he was so, so glad that Lance was alright.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Keith asked.

“I, I was going too,” Lance replied, “I know how much you hate werewolves, so I wanted you to actually know me first. But, the longer I put it off, the harder it was to tell. I’m sorry.”

Keith was shaking, he didn’t know whether he was going to yell or cry.

“I…I can’t believe you did that, you should have just told me!” Keith snapped, warmth running down his cheeks.

Both, it turned out it was both.

“How could you keep that from me!? I thought you trusted me,” he said, trying not to completely break down.

“I was scared,” Lance admitted softly, “I was so scared I was going to lose you, I know it’s dumb, I know. I do trust you, just, no one outside of my family knows, not even Hunk. I…just…I know. I’m a coward, I would understand if you wanted to break up.”

Keith felt his heart break a little.

“Do you want to?” he asked.

“No, Keith, no,” Lance shook his head, “I really don’t.”

“I don’t either, Lance, I just, I need to think,” Keith sighed, “You…you’re a werewolf, I don’t know how to feel about that.”

He wiped his eyes furiously, hiccupping softly.

“Yeah, ok,” Lance nodded.

Keith let out a long breath, before diving forwards into Lance’s arms.

“I’m just happy you’re alive,” he mumbled.

Lance let out a long breath, “Honestly? I thought I was a gonner. I must’ve followed your scent.”

“Yorak found you,” Keith said, “It’s one of the ways I knew it was you.”

“He’s a good boy,” Lance mumbled.

“Yeah, he is,” Keith nodded.

****

It had been a week, one week of him not seeing Lance. They hadn’t broken up, both of them were very clear on that. Keith had needed time to think. Parking up his motorbike, Keith looked up at Lance’s apartment building. It was a bit of a shithole, which was why they mostly met at Keith’s place. Lance didn’t know he was coming over, so hopefully he was in.

Making his way up the stairs, as the lift was broken, Keith smiled at the thought of seeing Lance. One of the biggest conclusions Keith had come to in their week apart, he really missed Lance. Missed his stupid face, missed his stupidly adorable messages that always made him feel better, missed snuggling up together and all the other silly romantic stuff. So, when he knocked on the door and Lance opened it, he couldn’t help but fall forwards into the other man’s arms.

“Keith?”

“I missed you.”

They sat together on the sofa, knees pressed against each other. 

“I’ve not completely forgiven you,” Keith said.

“Yeah?”

“But I probably will.”

“Yeah?” there was a bright smile on Lance’s face.

“Yeah, you’re too cute not to forgive.”

“Awh! Keith!” Lance cooed, “You say I’m the sweet one.”

“You are,” Keith rolled his eyes, “But, no more secrets.”

“No more secrets,” Lance replied, pulling Keith into a tight hug. 

Keith pushed him down so the two of them were splayed across the sofa, resting his ear over Lance’s chest.

“You’re able to control your transformation?” Keith asked.

“Yeah, to a certain degree,” Lance mumbled back.

“Do you think,” Keith paused, humming thoughtfully, “Do you think you can help Shiro? With his?”

Lance paused, running his fingers up and down Keith’s spine as he thought.

“I don’t know, I had a think about it when you told me about him,” he said, “I think I might be able too, but everyone reacts differently so until I try I won’t know.”

Keith propped himself up so he could look at Lance’s face.

“Will you try?”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

****

Keith smiled lightly as the bathroom door opened, tilting his head slightly.

“You want some company?” Lance asked, voice still rough from his transformation.

“I suppose you could,” Keith said idly.

The shower door opened and a warm hand rested on Keith’s hip.

“You better not have just covered me in dirt,” Keith threatened lightly.

“Well…I wouldn’t say covered,” Lance laughed.

Pinching Lance’s hand lightly, Keith grabbed and shoved him under the stream of water. Lance protested lightly at the rough treatment, but relaxed as Keith set about scrubbing the dirt from his skin and hair.

“How was it then?” Keith asked, carefully scrubbing Lance’s hair.

“Good, Shiro’s been doing really well, he’s practically part of the pack now, the hunters have moved on and we managed to clear most of the snares and traps they’d set,” Lance said.

“That’s good,” Keith said, rinsing the shampoo out before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Lance hummed, “Yeah, it’s nice being able to roam the woods without having to worry.”

“I can imagine,” Keith smiled, grabbing the conditioner, “You hungry?”

Lance hummed, hand moving from the small of Keith’s back to his ass.

“Starving,” he said, squeezing the flesh.

Keith inhaled sharply, before shaking his head.

“I meant food, it’s important you eat,” he said.

Lance groaned, “I know, but, this first?”

He said, smoothing his other hand to grab the other cheek. Keith groaned, resting his head on Lance’s collar.

“Fine,” he sighed, “I guess.”

“It must be so hard for you,” Lance shook his head.

“I hate you,” Keith laughed.

They giggled like teenagers all the way back to Keith’s bedroom, kicking Yorak out before Lance collapsed on the bed.

“Am I doing all the work then?” Keith asked, rifling through the bedside draw for lube and a condom.

“Yup,” Lance said, putting his hands behind his head, “I’m just going to lay here.”

Keith snorted as he clambered onto the bed, tossing the condom at Lance’s face and clicking open the lube, straddling Lance’s stomach.

“Rude,” Lance huffed.

Keith rolled his eyes, leaning down to press their lips together. He sat back up, coating his fingers in lube before reaching around to prod at his entrance. Sliding one finger in with a deep moan, Keith’s head dropped forwards onto Lance’s chest as he worked himself open.

“Fuck,” Lance said softly, rubbing his hands along Keith’s back, “You’re amazing.”

Keith’s eyes fluttered as he slipped a second finger in, twisting and spreading as he thrusted back on them.

“Lance,” he groaned, scratching lightly at Lance’s bicep.

Lance’s hand slipped into his hair, pulling slightly. 

“Hah!” Keith cried out, arching his back and slipping in a third finger.

With a bit of probing he found his prostate, causing him to shout. He pushed his hips back, rubbing his cock on Lance’s stomach. Lance’s arms moved from where they were rested on Keith’s back and in his hair, sliding somewhere behind him. Likely rolling the condom on.

Eventually, Keith was confident enough to slide his fingers out, sitting up. Rising up on his knees, Keith shuffled back to line himself up with Lance’s cock. Lance’s hands moved to rest on his hips, squeezing the flesh there.

“Ready?” Keith asked, rubbing the head of Lance’s dick at his entrance. Lance nodded.

Keith began to lower himself down, making sure he kept his eyes open so he could watch Lance’s face. The stretch was good, Keith’s favourite combination of pleasure-pain. It hadn’t been long since they’d last had sex, so Keith slipped smoothly down until he bottomed out. He moaned, finally allowing his eyes to slip closed as he got used to the stretch and basked in the feeling of Lance so deep inside him.

Cracking his eyes open, Keith began to gently rock his hips. Lance inhaled sharply, cracking one eye open slightly. He smiled shifting his hands around to grip the muscle of Keith’s ass.

“Come on then, show me what you’re made of,” he purred, adding a wink.

“I will leave,” Keith said, beginning a steady rise and fall.

“Sure you will,” Lance said, “It’ll be just s bad for you as for me.”

Keith snorted, “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

He smirked, starting a rhythm of rising up until only the head of Lance’s cock remained inside before dropping all the way back down. Lance’s moan was drowned out by Keith’s shout of pleasure. Keith continued this movement, letting out sharp, breathy exclamations of pleasure. Lance shifted his hips around, changing the angle until he managed to hit Keith’s prostate. Keith practically screamed, back arching sharply.

Lance’s hands slipped between Keith’s ass cheeks, smoothing down until his finger rested against Keith’s stretched entrance, feeling where they connected. Keith hissed, shuddering slightly. Lance pressed, not quite slipping inside but adding just a bit of pressure.

“Lance,” he hissed.

“Keith,” Lance mumbled back.

“Close,” Keith said, before crying out.

Wrapping his hand around Keith’s dick, jerking him off with quick flicks of his wrist. With one last drop of his hips, Keith shouted as he came. Lance jerked up into Keith’s body a few more times before spilling inside the condom. Keith dropped his head down, panting. Lance reached up to push Keith’s sweaty hair away from his face, resting the palm of his hand on Keith’s cheek. Leaning into it, Keith let out a long breath.

“I love you,” Keith said softly, turning to press a kiss to his hand.

Lance smiled brightly, sitting up to press their lips together.

“I love you too.”

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

Day One: A Bounty For Two [Aram x Regan]

Yeah, I’m horribly late with my first entry of ockiss18/OC Kiss Week. My full time job and plans with friends and my boyfriend make typing up the ficlet harder to do. I almost had this one done Friday night but it was getting late and I needed sleep for work. :/

But here is Day 1 for ockiss18, featuring my SWTOR bounty hunter Regan Sedae and @gaiden1974‘s smuggler Aram Dakarii. Enjoy!

This fucking bounty better be worth it.

The crate was bumped and jostled about, causing her head to collide with the solid wooden walls while her horns scraped the lid. Her limbs ached from being twisted around in an uncomfortable position for so long. Why she agreed to this hare-brained scheme was beyond Regan, especially since there had to have been an easier way to smuggle her into the target’s private estates. But the smuggler she contacted days ago who knew the layout of the target’s fortified manor as well as security system, suggested she had to be concealed within in the cargo, for she’d be recognized as one of the Imperial’s fear bounty hunters on sight alone.

“After all, there aren’t too many over six feet tall, female Zabrak bounty hunters in the galaxy,” the smuggler, Aram Dakarii, had explained, a cheeky grin forming upon his lips while his eyes were alight with humor. “No offense.”

“None taken. Then if I can’t be seen until I enter the compound, what do you propose?”

The smile widen. “How flexible are you?”

Stupid, fucking smug bastard probably had a bigger crate and neglected to mention it. I swear, if we’re not almost at our destination, I’m bursting out of this like an irate Jack-in-the-Box.

Normally, Regan kept her cool and practical mindset for long periods of time (unlike her older sister, Goneril, who was impatient and loathed to be kept waiting), but being contorted into a pretzel knot followed by constant, gracelessly maneuverings were doing no wonders to improve her already  sour mood. At the end of this assignment, she was heading to a spa.

In the midst of her internal grumblings, the lid to the crate opened and instinctively, Regan brandished her blaster up into the face of a startled but amused Aram Dakarri.

“Whoa! It’s me, Aram! No need to blast me in the face, especially since I helped sneak you into the esteemed, snooty Nastalia Argoria’s wine cellar. For drinks, she sure has some fine taste.”

“We’ll take a few of them for our troubles,” Regan answered as she awkwardly and stiffly climbed out of the box. “And was smuggling me like this really necessary? Couldn’t you have utilized a longer or larger crate?”

He shrugged. “Then I’d have to use a coffin. And try explaining to Nastalia’s many guards why the delivery boy has a dead body ready for burial in his supply vehicle.”

Regan sighed, stretching out her sore arms and legs. “Point taken. Now, down to business. Show me the layout of this entire mansion and the grounds. We only have one shot at this.” She set a holo on top of the crate she was previously in and a basic blueprint of the luxurious house in question was projected--courtesy of her smuggler-in-crime when they first agreed to work together to take down Nastalia Argoria and split the bounty. He didn’t care about why the Imperial Empire wanted this businesswoman dead (the Empire was never keen on people stealing data from their top secret projects or housing traitors), he wasn’t into sides or allegiances, or the politics between the Empire and the Republic. His loyalty to her and this mission could be bought with a multitude of credits and an honorbound contract he’ll refuse to break, eve if Nastalia herself attempted to bribe him. That notion was rather comforting, given to how rare it was for someone who didn’t fight for either side to stay true to a hired job. Aram’s honor made her mission easier, for the Zabrak fathomed Aram wasn’t the type to stab her in the back. The front maybe, but never the back.

“Security is tight along these floors--” he gestured to the bottom, third, and top floor-- “but the servants are too preoccupied with preparations for the banquet tonight to care enough to keep a vigilant watch for any unwelcomed guests. We might be able to sneak along unnoticed but that could be risky. And I’m not sure where Lady Fancypants is holed up.”

“I have a hunch. Yet first, we’ll need to disguise ourselves so we can move around the manor freely.”  

And that was how the two of them ended up procuring everyday clothes from the laundry room and posed as the head caters  for tonight’s banquet. Somehow, there managed to be clothes that fit Regan and she found a schick, colorful silk scarf to drap around her head and partly cover her mouth to hide most of her Zabrak tattoos and the twin crescent scars on her mouth. Her blaster was hidden amongst her loose blouse and pants while Aram concealed his around inside his boot. The security guards hassled them only briefly and then let them through to the next hallway once they announced they were the caters Miss Nastalia hired and they needed to discuss business as well as good arrangements.

Just as Regan suspected, her target was in her room, finalizing her outfit and appearance for tonight.

“Are you going to shoot her the moment she admits us into her chambers?” whispered Aram as they briskly strolling down the halls. “That’s going to cause some ruckus and attention that ends with us getting chased and shot at. Have any escape plans?”

Despite herself, she grinned at his queries. “That’s a ‘yes’ to the latter.” Without offering any explanations, she knocked on the door, only waiting for about ten seconds prior to an airy, bored voice beckoned them in.

“Finally, there are some people in the business of arriving early,” droned out Nastalia Argoria as she applied blush to her face, motioning for the two of them to sit. “Everyone else is lagging behind and I fear the florist and decorator will rush their work since they won’t be here until twenty minutes after the agreed time.”

“What a pity,” Aram responded with feigned sympathy as he and Regan quietly retrieved their pistols.

“Some people cannot comprehend time management,” added Regan, continuing the act as she narrowed her paralysis dart on the unsuspecting woman. “Or the consequences in crossing the Empire.” The dart flew from her gauntlet and embedded itself into the woman’s back. Her target dropped like a fly and Regan approached her as Aram stood guard at the door.

“Scream and I’ll shoot,” she ordered. The socialiste whimpered. The dart paralyzed her body but her tongue could still wag. “Where are you housing the Imperial traitor and data you stole?”

“I-I don’t know!” stammered out  the no longer bored, annoyed businesswoman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“They always don’t,” mused Aram out loud as he crossed his arms and smirked at the scene unfolding before him.

“I don’t have to listen to you lie with every breath you take,” growled Regan, smacking Nastalia across the face with the end of her blaster. Her pained cry startled Aram for a second or two but he said nothing, not appearing like he cared enough to interfere with her methods. After all, he still wanted half of that bounty prize.

Her target continued to whimper as an ugly, dark bruise began to form and Regan rolled her eyes at Nastalia’s antics--her acting fooled no one. Just when she was about to push her again, the Zabrak bounty hunter heard the sound of jumping and Aram firing off his blaster. She lept and then rolled away, aiming her blaster at the intruder who came from the bedroom. One look at the new woman’s face, a human sporting a tight bun and pursed, thin lips, confirmed the bounty hunter this was the traitor she was hired to kill. Aram was distracting her long enough for Regan to get a decent shot in, her finger squeezing the trigger with ease. Both her and his blaster fired at the same time--her hit got the traitor in the temple while his shot struck her shot. The traitor latently sank to the ground, head first into the carpet. Nastalia sighed in exasperation.

“How useless…” she grumbled. “So now that you killed your traitor, can you please cease this abhorrent interrogation. I don’t have the data or whatever information you’re searching for.”

“Check the corpse and see if there is anything on her. If you find nothing, take a look in the bedroom.” ordered Regan, ignoring Nastalia’s words but watching how that woman’s eyes darted anxiously to the bedroom once more, like something precious was in there she needed to watch over.

“You know, I’d be more interested in checking out your bedroom,” Aram remarked drolly, sending her a wink when she rolled her eyes. Funny, usually she’d be scowling at people’s attempts to make a pass at her but Aram was tolerable. Not mention he was roguish and attractive  for a human, particularly with that long jagged scar running down his features. A man with scars impressed her, for they told her small stories of his life and what battles he fought, molding him into a more experience man. She wondered if he had any more elsewhere on his body.

“That’s a conversation for another time, when we’re done with this assignment,” Regan chided, neither flirting back or discouraging his attempts. The Zabrak bounty hunter was still trying to figure this perplexing yet oddly charming smuggler out. Certainly they were allies now but anything could change once their partnership was at an end.

While Aram first searched the dead traitor and found nothing, he proceeded to the bedroom, Regan continued to observed the Nastalia lady and trained her blaster squarely on her forehead. The snobbish businesswoman wasn’t going to talk about the data she stole but she still was clearly in the mood to chat about anything else.

“I still cannot believe a pair of filthy, scruffy scumbags like you managed to trespass my premises and fool my guards! Clearly, I’ll have to change my security once this is over.”

A feral grin slowly spread itself across Regan’s black tattooed, scarred lips, allowing her stance to relax in a casual manner to throw her target off and let the fear sink in. “What makes you think you’ll be alive once I found what I came here for. I was given two bounties to settle, not one.”

Nastalia’s eyes widen at the implication and before she could holler for help, Regan jammed her scarf into her mouth and practically down her throat, relishing her victim’s twitching and garbled attempts at speech now she was properly gagged. “Aram, can you hurry it up? We don’t have all day!”

“Slow and steady wins the race, Regan. But lucky for us, I found where Miss Fancypants keeps her safe. Easy to crack.” The smuggler emerged from the bedroom, dangling a datapad between his thumb and forefinger. “Looks like we hit the jackpot, if this is the stolen data you sought.”

There was no mistaking the alarm flashing in the target’s eyes as he handed the datapad over to Regan, who smirked victoriously as she scrolled through the contents of the files. Each and every page was marked by Imperial scientists and military agents, and a few Sith. After all the trouble that went into infiltrating this estate, it was relief to have crucial Imperial information back in her hands and away from people like Nastalia Argoria to sell to the highest bidder amongst enemies of the Empire. And she couldn’t wait to spend credits on a much needed relaxation.

“This is definitely what we came here for,” Regan confirmed, pointing her blaster at the limp businesswoman, who was trying to scream with her gag right before she was shot point blank in the forehead. Silencing that schemer would send a clear message to everyone else who might plan to house traitors of the Empire who made off with Imperial secrets.

“That was quick,” remarked Aram, gesturing to the now dead Nastalia. “Is that how you usually operate?”

“When it’s necessary. I don’t want us to overstay our welcome because sooner or later, people are going to wonder why she hasn’t emerged from her chambers.” She tilted her head over at a nearby window. “And that’s our escape plan.”

Aram whipped his head from her to the window and back at her, his eyes widening so rapidly in shock that Regan could hardly resist to grin cheekily at his reaction. Now it was her turn to put him through an not ideal strategy!

“I’m not jumping out of that window, there is no way we’ll land without breaking any bones.”

She scoffed. “Who said anything about jumping? I’m a fucking bounty hunter, we have jetpacks.” For emphasises, she pulled the loose fitting blouse up over her head and yanked it away, revealing a set of advanced jetpacks strapped to her back. The smuggler let out a low whistle as he studied their getaway device.

“How the hell did I miss that before?”

“Because you were too busy staring at my ass to notice.”

Warm, rich laughter bubbled out of him at her ripostle. “Touche!” The chuckling then faded as he observed the jetpack once more. “I only see one. Are you going to carry me or do I have to hold on?” He didn’t bring up the possibility that she was leaving him behind, which hadn’t crossed her mind until now. Aram made a better friend and foe and besides, she was beginning to warm up to him.

“Just wrap your arms around me and hold tight--I’ll do the same. And don’t be startled when the jetpack roars to life.”

The smuggler appeared positively gleeful at her choice of words, his grin so wide and suggestive Regan almost craved to smack it off his face. Key word almost. “That’s more than I ever expected to share with you. The more I hoped for when all of this was over and done with was a kiss.”

She arched one incredulous eyebrow. “Really? Just a kiss?” came her dry respond as Aram followed her earlier instructions and gripped her back tight, his legs prepared to encircle themselves around her thighs. Their faces were now closer than they had ever been before and she noticed what a deep green his eyes were. They reminded her of the jungles of Dromund Kaas or the hills her and her sister Goneril ran around with  their father when they were children. That was a memory she hadn’t pondered about for a long time.

“Well, I can’t be too greedy,” admitted Aram, still sporting that cheeky grin of his. “After all, we only have known one another for about a week and not everyone is willing to kiss something they just met, or even go further than that.”

As if on cue, her jetpack roared to life, the heat from the engines warming her rear and legs as she stepped towards the double balcony windows, lifting both her and Aram up high and over the stone sculpted balcony. With such incredible force and speed, they were able to leave the opulent, privately ensconced estate beyond in the matter of minutes, ignoring the passersby outside who stared up at them in absolute wonder and confusion. Her exit strategies were never quite subtle.

“We might have to blast our way to your ship,” she warned Aram  through the blaring of the wind and her jetpack’s humming. “There is a chance Nastalia’s entries might realize something is wrong.”

“They’re not that clever to make the connections that soon. They will give her another hour and by then, we’ll be long gone.” At her inquiring look, he elaborated. “I may have stolen or broke in Miss Fancypants’s manor before. They will don’t know it was me.”

Regan Sedae wondered if those guards did not truly care about their now deed mistress or they really were that incompetent. Or Aram Dakarii was that good at his job

Due the strain on her jetpack of carrying two persons instead of just one, she was forced to land earlier than intended and they used speeders to return to the docking center to get back to Aram’s ship. What they did not plan out was for a customs officer blocking their passage and preventing them from leaving the planet with ease. They needed a cover story, one that wouldn’t provoke an avalanche of questions and suspicions.

“Oh, my boyfriend and I were just her for a little lover’s retreat!” Regan answered with a feigned sweet voice to the officer’s first query. Impulsively, she grabbed Aram’s face with both hands and kissed him fully on the lips, displaying the image of a passionate girlfriend who couldn’t get enough of her lover. While Aram didn’t expected the kiss at first, he was quick to join in and keep up the act. One of his hand snaked itself up her back while the other rested firmly on her left hip, their height differences making the impromptu kiss interesting to perform. His tongue teasingly forked itself across her slightly parted lips and in return, she let out a little moan against their kiss, refusing to let him outdo her in this charade of theirs. After a half of a minute of them kissing and trying to top each other in terms of intensifying their ploy, they broke away to face a very tired and annoyed customs officer.

“That’s great,” he replied sardonically. “And where are you two heading now?”

“Tatooine,” Aram answered swiftly. Tatooine was technically their destination to collect the bounty so at least, that reply was true. He then clasped his hand around Regan and brought her hand to his mouth, lingering over her knuckles in an airy, tender manner. “I cannot believe my vacation with my gorgeous honeybun is over.”

Her eyes flashed at the cheesy nickname. Two could play at that game. “Me neither, smoochie-poo. At least we’ll be alone and together on the ride back home.” As she spoke, she watched the officer out of the corner of her eye. The man looked entirely fed up with their overt display of affection. Perfect!

“Take your kissing party inside your ship. Safe travels.” grumbled out the customs officer and waved them through.

Once they boarded his ship and could relax, Regan placed both hands on her hips and cut him an incredulous, ill humored glance. “Honeybun? Really?”

“Don’t look at me, you call me smoochie-poo! Mine was at least cute.” An impish glean sparked in his verdant eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “Would you instead prefer if I had called you sugar tits?”

The Zabrak tried to maintain a straight face yet failed, a snort escaping her restraints. “Do that and you’re a dead man, Aram.”

Chortling and then, a nod of understanding was his first response. “Fair enough.” And his lively verdant eyes were now full of mirth and intrigue. Compared to her first ride with him, the return ride would be much more comfortable and easier to enjoy.

But like hell would she get in a crate again to sneak into a target’s home again!

[mazecraft]

Rachel in the Dark Room Ep 2

Warning:

Spoilers for Life is Strange and Life is Strange: Before the Storm.

Trigger Warning:

This fanfic will have disturbing images, including scenes of kidnapping, date rape, drug use, violence, sexual content and adult language. Recommended for mature audiences and viewer discretion is advised:

“Rachel?” Chloe sounded alarmed. Rachel was standing with her arms folded in the junkyard Chloe seemed to like so much. “What are you doing way over here?” asked Chloe. They didn’t often come to this side of the junkyard now that they had their own little space set up inside the abandoned managers shack. At first it had been fun coming here with Chloe. It was a place where they could be alone most of the time and plot their future and dream. Right in front of her, there was an old orange block letter “Hotel” sign covered in dust. Some of the paneling was broken and the lighting elements were visible through the cracks. She thought of her dreams of traveling the world and being a star as she looked at the sign. But it was broken and discarded. Was that what would become of her dreams?

“I’m never going to get out of this place, am I?” she finally said. She turned to face Chloe and scowled. “All you ever do is come up with excuse after fucking excuse and now I’m trapped in this junkyard with all the other trash!” Chloe’s face looked stricken and hurt. But her face hardened a moment later and her hands clenched into fists.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? I told you I was good to go when I got the truck registered and you decided we should wait after all so you could finish at your precious Blackhell!”

(God, she was so beautiful when she was pissed. Where is she now? Where is she…)

“You said your career would ‘sink like a Galleon full of gold’ if you left too soon.” Chloe continued. “Now that we’re broke and you don’t have daddy’s money, suddenly it’s my fault?” Utterly exasperated, Chloe punched a rusty oil drum next to her, splitting her knuckles open. “Fuck!” she yelled. She grabbed an empty beer bottle, and threw it at an old school bus, shattering one of the few remaining windows. Rachel watched her stalk off, feeling like an asshole because she knew Chloe was right, but too proud to follow her. At least, not yet.

The raven flew down out of the evergreens swaying on the edge of the property and landed on the ‘H’ of the hotel sign. You should have gone after her. Rachel folded her arms and turned away from it, rolling her eyes.

“I’ll make it up to her later.” (I promise you Chloe I will).

That sounds like it would have been fun. The raven hopped down to the ground and began pecking at the ground. Rachel looked over her shoulder and smiled at the raven’s insinuation. Her smile soured when she saw blood seeping out of the ground and soiling its beak. Rachel stared in fixated horror as a face was slowly revealed bit by bit as blood washed the topsoil away. First the forehead where the raven was pecking mercilessly, and then an eyebrow, followed by an eye staring lifelessly into the sky. As more and more of the face was revealed, Rachel began to scream uncontrollably.

“No! Oh god, no! Not her!” Her voice cracked as she continued to scream wordlessly. Even as she fell to the ground balling her fists over her eyes, she couldn’t get the sight of Chloe’s face ripping apart where the raven had cracked her forehead open.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

∞

Long Beach, Rachel was seven years old. Her parents, Rose and James Amber were sitting in foldout chairs under an umbrella on the beach while Rachel played in the sand with her Barbies. The peaceful sound of the waves washing up on the shore was a soothing backdrop to the cries of seagulls and murmur of other people, punctuated by the occasional laugh or friends calling out to each other splashing in the water. Rachel dug a hole with the plastic shovel.

“Let’s lay down right here” said Rachel in her best ‘Ken’ voice. She laid the Barbie on top of the Ken doll in the hole and stared at it blankly seeming to consider it uncertainly. Suddenly changing her mind, she picked him up and tossed him angrily into the sand bucket and turned it over. She then carefully buried the Barbie in the hole with the sand as tears welled up in her eyes. Her crying intensified and gets the attention of Rose who comes over to her and asks her why she is crying.

“Barbie is buried in the ground,” Rachel sobbed. Rose hugged her helplessly, giving James a questioning look.

“Rachel is in touch with some reality beyond the gilded cage.” James said sadly, quoting a song from one of his favorite bands. “Cast in this unlikely role, ill equipped to act with insufficient tact.” He turned to Rachel and said, “One must put up barriers to keep oneself intact.” Rachel cried that much the harder for her young heart had never known such grief. All the seagulls on the beach suddenly flew into the air, crying out in what sounded like panic. A raven flying in their midst caused a jumbled mess of feathers and broken wings as they crashed into each other to get away.

∞

A blurry shadow with a familiar voice stands over Rachel taking her picture. “It pains me to hurt you in this way,” the voice says. “But I’d do it again and again and again to keep you…mine.” She is confused again. The shadow moves closer and further away from her like waves on a beach. For a moment she is on the beach with her dad building a sand castle, then hiking in the Cascades, then riding a train with his arm around her in Paris on the way to the Louvre.

“I loved you dad. Why did you lie to me?”

“Oh, that’s too precious.” The shadow said as it washed up on her shore. The shadow’s face became clear. Its eyes were hidden by the reflection of light off the black rimmed glasses. A neat trimmed beard and short messy brown hair. The appealing façade of a monster. “Why is it that everyone around here wants me to be their surrogate father? Not that having you call me ‘daddy’ doesn’t give me a certain thrilling je ne sais quois.” The shadow chuckled.

“Poisonous slave, got by the devil himself.” Rachel mumbled. She wanted to scream and slam her fists into his smug face until he choked to death on his own blood. But she was so tired. She couldn’t fight past the drowsiness. She gathered every ounce of will she had and channeled it into trying to stand up. But the best she could manage was to raise her head. Her vision slightly cleared but the room seemed to stretch to infinity all around her.

“Ah, Prospera. How fitting. ‘All your charms are o’erthrown and what strength you have’s your own. Which is most faint now tis…plain to see? You must now be confined by me.” The shadow chuckled at his own ad-lib. “Too bad I came to Blackwell too late to see you in the Tempest. I heard you were really good.”

“She really was.” Another voice said. Rachel looked past the shadow to see a woman in her middle years, but the worse for wear, with long blonde hair. She was wearing black ripped up jeans and a Misfits t-shirt under an open red flannel. The arms of the flannel were rolled up revealing a sleeve of tattoos, and she was sitting on the couch shooting up heroin. She smiled at Rachel, her teeth yellow and her eyes, black caverns. “Don’t worry my little star. Now we can finally escape everything together. No more sorrow, no more pain, and especially no more guilt! We are and always have been nothing. Soon, nothingness is all there will be. After all, the stars are all dead…even you. Love and life were a mistake and this is the solution.”

Jefferson laughed.

“You aren’t real! This is not happening. You’re both…a lie,” she said.

Jefferson paused with a needle full of ghb half way toward her. “On the contrary, we are more real than you are about to be if reality is defined by what exists, and what doesn’t.” She should have been afraid, but his words just infuriated her more. Rachel’s rage emanated from her like heat from a furnace. Her anger burst into a shockwave and the apparitions of Jefferson and Sera blew away like ashes on the wind, leaving her in the silence of the dark room, its quiet hum and sterile shades of white and black a comfort after the nightmare. She was beginning to think the room was the only true thing left.

The shadows moved clockwise around the room until they coalesced into the raven perched upon the back of a chair. Why do you keep coming back here? There has got to be a way to escape this, she thought. I won’t give up. I don’t have to become my parents. I don’t have to be a cheating liar or a nihilistic junkie! Amusement like sparkling electricity bloomed in Rachel’s mind and she stamped it down with her anger. “I’m glad you think this is funny, carrion eating motherfucker!”

Sorry, spilled milk. If you think you can pour yourself back into the bottle then don’t let me stop you.

(To be continued...)

Link to next episode in the comments

mazecrafted (c) 2018

[creativitytoexplore]

In the Land of the Rain Gnomes by Harrison Kim https://ift.tt/2Zs6XQa A retired social worker takes his lady friend for an adventure in a creepy ghost town accessible only by boat; by Harrison Kim. 

Decaying isn't that bad. It's a unification with your beginnings, a melding into the earth, a relaxing absorption where you do nothing but rot. The ego humbles itself before this ultimate dissolution, this disintegration of body and mind, this unthreading and wasting towards lightness. I live in the ghost town of Nitnat Falls. I pace its abandoned, crumbling streets under drizzling skies, bed down on tree boughs at night, cool and damp in my lean-to under huge cedars. I've cut myself off completely from my old life. This wasn't quite what I had planned for my retirement, but it's stress-free. I've never felt such calm, such a letting go. I trace the lichen patterns growing from my navel, and wet my face in the mist. Two months before I arrived in Nitnat Falls I'd retired from thirty years as a social worker at Riverview Psychiatric Hospital. I was ready for a lift from the bondage of routine, a permanent vacation from listening to people's delusions, being exposed to their madness day after day. I looked towards a life of travel and good times with my new friend Amanda, a thin, elegant lady semi-retired from the real estate business. This first trip of our relationship involved taking a boat up the remote west coast. The cargo boat stopped at fishing camps and Indian villages to deliver mail and supplies. Its halfway destination was Nitnat Falls, an abandoned pulp mill town located under towering mountains, with only a score of diehard inhabitants left living in a few moldy, crumbling buildings set against a view of dark clouds. I wanted to re-experience my adventurous youth, explore remote places. I'd always been fascinated by local history, and the story of Nitnat Falls intrigued me, how it began as a planned village built for the mill workers, laid down eighty years ago in one huge period of construction. The industry thrived until the company went bankrupt in the Seventies. More rain fell here than any other place in North America, no way in but by boat. The ruins of a hotel and indoor swimming pool molded away. Residential streets slowly lost their neat rows of houses to storms, floods, and decay.

As our boat pulled into Nitnat Falls, Amanda and I viewed the pulp plant's abandoned, skeletal hulk, its mossy, collapsed roof and smashed in windows open against the drizzling sky. The vessel anchored to deliver mail and other supplies for the diehard twenty-five inhabitants, and to give adventurous tourists a chance to walk the town while the ship's workers took their lunch break. "Get back by four," Earl, the tattooed, snuff-chewing captain told us. "We leave on the dot, whether you're back or not. If not, we'll pick you up in two days on the return trip." He spat out a wad of brown goo. "This is not a warning, this is a promise." We stepped off the ferry and into the drizzle. I wore my giant backpack, stuffed with food and a sleeping bag in case of emergencies. A short, grey-bearded man pushing a homemade cart full of scrap metal stood at the end of the rotting pier. He said, "Hello Mr. Frattura. What are you doing up here?" I almost tripped into a hole. "Ron Cardinal?" I exclaimed. I couldn't believe it. After all the trouble I'd gone to escape thirty years of job stress and burnout, the first person I encountered in this wilderness was an ex-client. "You bet!" he confirmed. Moisture dripped from his filthy baseball cap. "I thought... I thought..." "Yeah, that I jumped off a bridge. That was a ruse, man. I needed some time to disappear, find a new life away from what you call civilization." He regarded Amanda and I with one hand over his forehead. "You came to check up on me?" "I'm retired," I said. "We're here on an adventure tour." "Pleased to meet you, Ron," Amanda said, presenting her most congenial smile. "We won't tell anyone you're here," I assured him. I glanced towards the town. I could just make out high mountains closing in on either side, like granite pincers. "Does it ever get completely light?" I asked Ron. He grinned. "No, Mr. Frattura. The rain gives us back our own shadows." He paused. "That's where I like to see my darkness, on the outside." Ron appeared far more gnomish than I'd remembered. His ears stuck way out from his unkempt curls, his smile widened huge and wet, revealing a few missing teeth. "There's no drugs up here. I'm clean," he said. "Congratulations, Ron. We're going to take a walk to the old dam. The boat's leaving in a couple of hours." "Don't go too far," said Ron. "Time has a way of getting away on you in these parts." Amanda laughed uneasily. "We have two hours here," she said. "You must be very strong to pack that wagon around." We hiked the main street running uphill from the harbour; Ron stared after us, tightly holding onto his cart so it wouldn't roll down into the sea.

"That dam once provided power for the town and mill," I told Amanda. "Apparently, it's a work of engineering genius." I didn't tell her, but the coolness of the mist ahead attracted me more than viewing the dam. Greyness enveloped us as we walked hand in hand past the shell of the old grocery store. Beside its fallen and shattered sign, a rusted-out logging truck lay on its side. I felt lighter and lighter, all the locked-up thoughts and images of thirty years working with the mentally ill lifting as we climbed higher up the main street. "Jackson, this place kind of scares me," Amanda said. "Don't you think the mountains are closer now than when we arrived?" She paused. "And what about bears?" "We're more likely to see porcupines," I said. I told her that the squat, quilled creatures roamed Nitnat Falls at night, chewing on plywood and rubber to keep their teeth worn down. "Otherwise their incisors will grow right up through their jaws." "Sounds creepy." Amanda gave a nervous laugh. She stayed skinny and fit, gregarious and hyper, in contrast to what I considered my laid-back calm. Our relationship was a case of "opposites attract." She began to talk about how much Nitnat Falls properties would be worth on the real estate market if a European investor seized an opportunity. I felt an urge to move in silence. Her talking pierced and interrupted my enjoyment of the ghost town ambiance. We hiked by the old hotel where a few lumber-jacketed men sat around a camp stove lit on a table in the doorless lobby. Amanda waved at them. "Would you like some porcupine stew?" said a skinny rail of a man with a huge stubbly jaw, stirring the contents of his cooking pot with a pair of deer antlers. I moved closer, could see black mold along what remained of the plaster walls beside him. I glimpsed the bubbling mass in the pot. "Thanks, but we're here for hiking," I replied. "Smells good." "Suit yourself, you're welcome anytime," the man nodded. "Thanks for the offer," Amanda called. "That food stinks," she said to me as we left. "Like rot."

We climbed up past the remains of the outdoor swimming pool. Big cracks fanned out from its cement bottom. The tallest black toadstools I'd ever seen grew from these fissures. As we moved past a crumbling brick fire station, the mountaintops disappeared in the mist. Skeletal remains of houses gaped through from time to time, and a few rusty, bent street signs announced each corner. "We must be almost up at the dam by now," Amanda said. "To me, it feels like we just left the boat," I replied. "Time's moving so fast." She let her hand free from mine, then clasped it again. "Do you hear a drumming?" she asked. "Like something trapped in the earth?" I stopped and listened. "There is a weird sound," I agreed. "Could be my heartbeat." Amanda grinned slightly. "That would be a good sound," she said. "This feels like a dead place, Jackson. It'd take quite some initiative to get tourism to invest here." "It's a ghost town," I told her. "It's supposed to be dead." The further we moved into the mist, the calmer I felt. My old world had been so cluttered and frantic. Over the years I'd absorbed all the information and stories that psychiatric patients told me. I'd been on the scene during dozens of critical incidents, and witnessed the aftermath of scores of suicides and assaults. This constant exposure to troubled, often shattered lives affected me deeply at first, then after a while it all became normal. "You have to detach," my boss once said. "Or you'll end up like them." I tried to follow the boss's advice. After work, I'd hike for hours in the mountains. Then I'd drive home, turn on the TV, and watch history and adventure shows. Below that routine there remained a constant anxiety. Keeping the memories in closed-mind compartments caused difficulties. I awakened often in the night, sweating and yelling out of nightmares set in the psychiatric hospital. Within these bad dreams I often couldn't tell if I was the patient or the staff, if I was the one out of control, or the one controlling. Here, though, the mist penetrated through me. cooling the fever of the years. "Shouldn't we be getting back?" asked Amanda. "The dam's just up this way," I continued. I could hear the spillway roaring. We rounded a corner to view the cascading, violent water, and above it a white-capped grey lake curving around under granite cliffs. I could indeed hear a pounding here, coming from inside the dam. "Maybe that's the drumming you heard," I said to Amanda. "The old turbines still work." "It's quite a savage land," she replied. She tried to laugh. "Now I know why it's not a great real estate market." "In its heyday, it was like anywhere else," I stated. "When we go back, we should check out the old bowling alley." "You're really stuck on this place," Amanda said. "You've got the whole map of it in your head."

I took off my backpack, pulled out my camera and snapped some photos of the dam. Amanda checked her phone. "We've got to return now," she said. "It's twenty minutes until the ferry leaves." "Alright," I nodded. "We can jog down the hill." However, I couldn't exactly remember the route, even though Amanda just told me I knew the town well. "I'm sure it's this way," said Amanda. "No, we go down here!" I shouted, louder than necessary. I very much wanted to see that old bowling alley. We walked along some side streets, I couldn't resist taking photos of the old crumbling porches, roofs thick with moss, mushrooms poking out through gaps in the rot. A sweet odour wafted through the trees, like chocolate or patchouli, then disappeared. "What a stink," Amanda coughed. "I wonder where that's coming from." "They closed the pulp mill forty years ago" I told her. "So it's not from there. I did smell chocolate, but it's gone now." "Come on, Jackson," Amanda insisted. She held her nose. "Let's go. That captain meant what he said." We heard the cargo ferry whistle, and were stepping quickly past the old hotel when the mist lifted for a moment and we glimpsed the boat moving out into the inlet. "I told you we were late!" Amanda leaned against an old railing, it fell back and I grabbed her. She sat against a tree, breathing hard. "It's ok," I said. "We can stay here a day or two. I brought the tent." I indicated my backpack. "There's an extra-large sleeping bag in here." "I don't like this place," Amanda said. She took out her cell phone and pushed some buttons. "Just as I thought. No service." She began to run down the street, waving at the boat as the mist closed in again, shrieking, "Stop! Stop!" "Let's not panic," I yelled. I'd already scoped out a place good for a tent on the way up. My pack contained candles, food, survivor blankets. "We're prepared for a night or two," I shouted at Amanda, who was still running for the wharf, though our boat had already rounded the corner of the inlet. At the waterside, Ron Cardinal sat on a broken sewer pipe, gutting a fish. "You guys missed the boat!" he exclaimed. "I told you the hours can get away on you." He wiped his hands on a filthy towel. "Especially if you're committed to the shadowlands." "Is there any other way out of here?" Amanda pleaded. "Do you know where there's a washroom?" Ron nodded. "Yeah, I've got a pit toilet and a CB radio up at my cabin. You could call a helicopter or a float plane. It'll be expensive, even if they can get through." "Let's do it, Jackson," Amanda said. "It's only a couple of days," I told her. "We can live here free from noise, in perfect silence, away from all distraction. It'll be a Zen thing." "There's a terrible stink in the air," she said. "I can't detect a thing," I said. "Apart from a slight perfume." "Neither can I," Ron agreed. "Lots of off-the-boaters say they smell the surfer stink from the old pulp mill, but if you stay here a while it goes away." "There hasn't been a functional mill here for forty years," I said. "It stinks more like rot," Amanda told me. "Like dead bodies." She lifted her head and listened. "Can you hear that pounding?" "Native legends say these mountains have beating hearts," Ron said. "It's a calming place to be if you hallucinate," He laughed, tilted his head in Amanda's direction, and winked at me. "They say the pounding drowns out all the evil spirits." "I don't hallucinate," said Amanda. "I know what's real and what's not." I felt light headed, almost high. I stood up and breathed deep in the misty air. "So fresh here," I said. "What's wrong with you?" Amanda ran up onto the wharf and scanned the horizon. "Do any hunters come in on float planes? We could get a ride with them." "She's always looking for the easy way out," I whispered to Ron. "In the end, there isn't any." He seemed so friendly and open, squatting there with his wet fish knife, successful and happy with his catch of the day. I felt I could ask him anything. "Do you still hear voices in your head?" I said. He shook his head "No. Everything's clear for me now. I'm completely normal in this ghost town." He grinned, showing his black edged, yellow teeth. "I caught three fish today," he said. "All you do here is relax and fish, and then eat the fish." Amanda ran back from the wharf. "I need to use your CB radio, Ron," she stated. She turned to me. "We have to call a helicopter. I'll pay for it." "It's no problem," Ron said. "Come with me, tourist folks." He picked up his fish and threw them in his cart, then began pushing the cart up the hill. Amanda followed closely, I dawdled behind, admiring the skeletal walls of the old pulp mill. "They're still pretty solid after all this time," I thought.

Ron led us up towards the lobby of the moldy hotel, where the three skinny, long-haired fellows we'd met before sat on cracked white plastic lounge chairs eating their stewed porcupine. I stopped; Amanda strode on, her expression set in frown mode. "Do you guys hear any drums?" I remarked. "Yeah, man," said a short, big-eared guy, holding a tiny steel fork. "It's something to do with the dam, how the water bangs those old turbines." I ran to catch up with Ron and Amanda. "Those guys told me something very interesting," I exclaimed. "What would be interesting is getting out of here," Amanda coughed. Ron led us into a small refurbished cabin, with a roof and sides of many colours. I felt the cool, slightly slimy walls. "You've got a bit of mold in here," I told him. "I've taken pieces from the other houses, built myself a hovel," he grinned. "But yes, the spores get everywhere." "What about electricity?" I asked. "I have a gas generator, I fill up the can when the cargo boat comes in." I looked into Ron's misty, red-veined eyes. We smiled at each other. He was so much improved from his days back at the hospital. As a psychiatric patient, he could barely string two coherent sentences together. He remained unshaven and ragged, sure, but who needed to shave or wash up here? "Where's the CB radio?" Amanda asked. Ron came out to the front porch carrying it and laughing to himself. "I'll call, but choppers can't come in here," he giggled. "They won't fly in mist. And it's always misty." "How the hell do we get out of here then?" Amanda said. "Why did you say you could call a helicopter?" Ron hesitated. "You were the one who wanted to call," he told her. Amanda sat on the ground, her hands over her face. "This is crazy," she said. "You tell us one thing, then you tell us the opposite." "Would you like some fish?" Ron asked. I felt sorry for Amanda, though she was a bit too hard on Ron. She couldn't appreciate the joys of the wilderness. The place made her sick, she perceived it so much differently than I. Ron stood behind her laughing, holding a greasy frying pan. "Sure, I'll have some fish," I told him. "Thanks for inviting us."

I put the tent up under some giant cedars, and let Amanda use my sleeping bag. I didn't have much use for sleep in such a mysterious, intriguing place. I spent the night walking among the waddling porcupines, following them through the darkness. I sat with my back against a disintegrating backhoe scoop, watching the mist swirl as morning light tried to penetrate the inlet. I witnessed a couple of bears lumbering around the hotel lobby, sniffing where the men cooked their meat. I chuckled at their huge, ursine shadows dominating what used to be luxury accommodation. When I strolled down the street to be closer, they snorted and kept moving along the waterfront. "You seem very friendly," I called out to them. "Don't go away."

Amanda spent most of the next day in the tent, trying to get her phone to work. "I can't stand that stink," she said. "You could be hallucinating," I told her. "I hope you don't have a fever." I liked the damp closeness, it kept my thoughts and anxiety contained. I relaxed deeply as the foggy ambiance surrounded and held me. Amanda developed a persistent cough, then a cold, and a serious wheeze. I'd never felt healthier, striding the hills of the town with a gnarled old stick Ron said came from a cedar root that penetrated his cabin's crawl space. On leaving day, I slowly packed up the tent. "I'm exhausted," Amanda whispered. "How could you do this to me?" She had barely talked during the two days, and wouldn't eat the freeze-dried food I provided. She did drink a lot of Ron's hot tea, which I never told her was made from tree moss. "You fit in here, Mr. Frattura," said Ron, as I said goodbye. "I like the place," I said. "There are long term side effects," Ron continued. He put a finger to his lips, "Sssh," and we stepped out to the sagging porch. "See this?" He lifted up his shirt. I observed what looked like wet lichens patterned in wavy lines flowing out of his belly button. "What are those?" I asked. "They seem to be moving slightly." "It's the Wasting Away." Ron traced his little finger over the grey patterns, then lifted his finger to his lips and spoke in a whisper. "It's all inside me now, just starting to come out. Happens to everyone here." He grinned. "But the more it happens, the better you feel." "So you're turning into some kind of plant creature?" I asked. "I'm shedding all my stress and anxiety," he continued. "I'm becoming part of this place, and it's becoming part of me."

Amanda and I stepped up the ramp to the boat. Earl the skipper grabbed both her arms and she leaned on him, coughing. He lowered her to the deck. "Thank you for saving me, sir," she said to him. "Now I need an actual coffee!" She shuffled towards the passenger area without another word, my sleeping bag wrapped around her bowed, stooped shoulders. "She looked so tall and elegant, getting off the boat," said the Skipper. "But now..." He gestured, "Come on, get on board." "I dunno," I said. "Do you have a few cans of soup and a camp stove I could buy?" "You need to order by computer," he grinned. He pointed to the shore. "Or you can buy stuff off that guy." A short, stocky long jawed man from the hotel lobby leaned against a hand-made wagon, piled high with assorted objects. I waved. He gave a big toothless smile and saluted by lifting a bent piece of pipe over his head. "Do you really want to stay in Nitnat Falls?" Earl asked. He chewed hard on his snuff wad. "It'll suck you in. Lots of folks have just plain disappeared into the moss." "I don't think I belong out there," I said. "There's too much light." I paused. "Do you at least have a spare couple of blankets?" "Too much light!" The Skipper laughed, and spat his snuff into the harbour. "You're gonna leave your lady behind?" "She's pretty sick," I told him. "Yeah, she coughed like she had bronchitis," the Skipper agreed. "Do you detect something rank in the air?" I asked. "Like sulphur?" "Yeah, I can smell it," the Skipper nodded. "Anyone who doesn't live here can. People say it's the ghost of the old pulp plant," he guffawed. "If you can't smell that, then you've been at Nitnat Falls too long." "When I sniffed," I told him, "the air was perfume." "I'll tell your lady friend you're staying," the Skipper said. "I can throw you a tarp."

I shouldered my belongings and headed down the wharf, stepping carefully to avoid the rotted holes. I never looked back. Amanda was an extrovert, always reaching for brightness. She was outwardly healthy, undamaged that way. She never saw the world like me, through the eyes of others' delusions. I liked her confidence in objective reality, in the value of real estate and money and success, but in the end, I chose the shadows. There was no pretence there. "You were a good social worker," Ron told me as we sat on his cabin porch, listening to the rain and eating mushrooms with seaweed fried in porcupine grease. "Mr. Frattura! You crossed over to our side." "Please, call me Jackson." I lifted up my stained shirt. Below my belly button, I thought I could see a tiny bit of grey lichen poking out. I pulled my shirt back down, released the image from my mind. I would live within the moment, and accept this reality. I stepped from Ron's porch into the Nitnat Falls rain, let the cool ghost town mist wet and wash me through and through. Then I continued walking, clean and free. Up the road, between two towering mountain peaks, the remaining dam turbines shuddered, drumming a steady beat against the river.

I thrive in this mountain darkness, even as I disappear into its ground.

[the-han-governness-blog]

Tea Leaves Zen and MC don't work out pt1

AN: mystic messenger has me worried Zen will never have eyes for just the MC which is messed up but true.. This is an exploration into why I feel he can never be my one true end. Fic format! Part one!!

It might’ve been the excitement of seeing a face like his and getting to know the story behind it for once.

It may have been that time he held onto your wrist and pulled you to the roof, your fear of heights calmed by the lost look he gave the stars that night.

Maybe it was the time he saved you from the hacker you now see whenever you visit Luciel’s apartment; that now lost boy in soft sweaters, harmless as a fly.

Whatever your reasoning was, it was as sure as sunrise that from the moment you met Zen you loved him. There was no question about it even now, even when you were sitting here on Jumin’s couch in the middle of the night, questions you hadn’t dared ask in the chat manifesting themselves in your chest and making you want to cry out in pain.

Elizabeth the Third was a peculiar cat, and now that you knew her well enough for her to cuddle up to you, she hadn’t come down from your arms once since arriving at the lavish penthouse. You don’t really remember how you got here, did you know the address somehow?

Wait yes, you and Zen came here for a Gray station showdown with everyone else just a few months ago… Didn’t you? Was he unhappy even back then? Images of his smiling face just made you shiver now;. It was hard enough to see his face everywhere you looked on the streets, you didn’t want to think of him. -meow- -meow- Elizabeth was sitting up on her hind legs, her tiny paws swiping at the tears running down your cheeks. Honestly she could be so perceptive. Sometimes you wondered if she wasn’t some sort of psychic. She meowed again, turning away from you to jump out of your arms for the first time today, as the door to the house clicked. Jumin Han was home. You brushed aside your tears and made to get up to greet him, but before you could stand properly there was a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down.

“Relax, I can see you’ve been crying all day, you don’t need to stand for me. You’re a guest not a maid,” the way he said your name made you breathe in sharply. There was once a man who said it sweetly too, and he wasn’t here now. He wasn’t coming back.

“I heard what happened you know. I was in a meeting with Father when one of the interns turned on the TV in the other room.” the deep monotone of his voice tightened a fraction, and you took his pause as an opening,

“I’m sorry again for coming here Jumin, I just can’t face him right now.” your voice was shaky from all the crying, and you heard more than saw him shuffle around the couch and settle himself down next to you.

“I just thought it’d be nice to be somewhere where nobody is going to ask if I’m ok. I don’t want comfort…. I just want to put it back together.”. By it you meant your heart but Jumin didn’t hear it as such and scoffed,

“don’t you dare tell me you’re getting back together with that scum, he really doesn’t deserve your consideration as it is.. You should have kicked him out.” His voice was gruffer than usual, but he reached for your hands tenderly. “don’t do that just because of him” you hadn’t noticed it, but he was tugging your hands open. You’d been digging into your palms for hours now, the crescent shaped marks were an ugly purple, the skin beginning to bleed in some areas. It was an ugly sight. You laughed a little, when Jumin pulled you up by the wrist and guided you to the kitchen.

“it doesn’t even hurt, you know?” He turned on the water in the sink, testing the temperature before placing both palms underneath the running water, It had been two long years since joining the RFA, and by now you’d seen Jumin caring for a drunk Yoosung, delivering soup to Luciel’s apartment when the twins were sick, literally chasing down an angry Zen, so it didn’t surprise you that he could be so caring now that you were a blubbering mess. Granted he’d never had cause to be so attentive to you in particular, but the rhythmic purring at your feet, in time with the hands wrapping bandages around your palms was soothing in a way you couldn’t describe. When you finally looked up at him, you realized he had said something and you hadn’t responded yet.

“Zen’s house has too many memories. He knows where Rika’s apartment is. I couldn’t keep him out if I’d tried. This was the only safe place I could think of.” he nodded, he’d guessed as much when you’d appeared on his doorstep.

“I know, that’s why I brought you here.” So that was how you got here. You remembered now, you’d gone up on the roof of your home, still in shock when you heard a voice call up to you, pleading with you to come down. You only looked down because the voice was one you’d never heard so loudly.

“Come down, miss the car is waiting!” Driver Kim had come personally to pick you up. A few guards had come into the home to help you pick out what you wanted to take. Jumin had called you, before anyone else had and said “just take what you need, you can stay with me.” you’d left the wedding photos, you’d left every dress you’d ever worn to his events, but you’d kept the ring. It was strange not wearing it. You’d removed it the moment you’d gotten here, and were still unsure what to do with it.

“ guess it’s good you guys didn’t get those matching tattoos last Christmas like Luciel suggested, right?” He was as terrible with jokes as always, and Saeran’s caustic personality hadn’t helped much. Still, you smiled and shook your head, glad for a little humor.

“that might’ve been harder to take off, laser removal is expensive.” Jumin raised a brow at that, and you could almost hear Zen scoff in the back of your mind. Of course the trust fund kid, no Director now, wouldn’t worry about price the way you and Zen had in the beginning of your relationship.

“Has he tried to call you?” Your hands fully bandaged, you had the freedom to shrug as casually as you could and said,

“He’s been calling me nonstop, if that’s what you’re asking. I blocked him after the 30th call.” He nodded, leading you to the couch again now.

“ His manager called me a few times today ;she said your couples quarrel was interfering with his acting and if I could please take you home.” Elizabeth the third leapt into your lap, her purrs drowning out some of the anxiety you were feeling at the sound of that.

“I don’t ever want to see him again, Jumin.” your voice was meant to sound strong and final, but he and Elizabeth caught the waver of uncertainty in it, and she snuggled closer to you now, still purring. Jumin reached into your lap to pet the cat and said,

“Elizabeth is right, he really doesn’t deserve such a forgiving creature.” How he knew what you were thinking was no mystery. It seemed every time Zen’s fame got bigger, there was a new co star or leading lady clinging onto his arms after rehearsal, during his label parties, of which even after the marriage you hadn’t been allowed to attend. There was always a new woman with him when he called to say he loved you and while you’d never believed a word about Echo Girl, you saw bites and kiss marks you hadn’t left before his extended trips on his collarbone. You saw the way his shift would gaze at your forehead and not into your eyes when he explained it was for a kiss scene. He’d taught you that trick when you first started dating him, after you’d told him you were too nervous to look his mother in the eye.

The fact that Zen strayed regularly wasn’t something he had ever admitted to, nor was it one any of the RFA were privy to either ;whenever Jaehee mentioned how much in love Zen looked with his partner, you could only smile when she said it must be because he loved you so much. Yoosung’s girlfriend would sound so amazed you weren’t at all jealous and you’d laugh that he was looking at you all the time so how could you be? Jumin was the only one who never asked about your relationship, and because he never asked you didn’t lie about Zen’s gaze either. You think deep down he knew what you were hiding. That loving gaze was for the whole wide world. Not just you.

His new manager wasnt very different than the rest. She told you to stay home to avoid distracting her client. She explained away overnight stays on set. She would call you when Zen was running late because he’d stayed with you too long, and she was always there to remind Zen no you couldn’t come to this premier because his leading lady didn’t have a date yet. You hated her guts, and yet there was something to be thankful for. It had been the recording she had sent you and the press that had pushed you out the door, after all.

“what is the news saying about him? "the answer was bound to be painful, but you had to know. Was he happy, was she? He stopped petting the cat, pulling back to lift your chin to meet his gaze. He looked solemn, remorseful. But Jumin Han was not a liar.

"They are over the moon that the nations top idols are teaming up together. The film they recorded will air in July, a month after their wedding so everyone can see their love unfold onscreen twice.”

“twice?” your chest was tight. It was getting hard to breathe.

“She wants to film the wedding.” you hadn’t looked down at your lap yet, and Jumin was still holding your chin when he continued. “They want the baby to be born in wedlock.”

Baby.

Living breathing child.

His child. With his eyes. With his face. With her…

It was like the world was crashing and you were falling down a deep dark hole. You grabbed Jumin’s hand still resting on your chin, so you could force it off of you, so you could open your mouth and scream but he held you fast, still speaking.

“He proposed to her an hour ago. The fans are ecstatic.” you were digging your nails into his arm now, the cat in your lap forgotten as you fought for escape.

“He told the reporters he broke it off with the RFA coordinator long before he met her.” when he finally let go of you, you were gasping and sobbing, clawing at Jumin’s shoulders as you shook with rage and anger. He held you as you cried, rested your head on his shoulders until your arms gave up and curled around his neck instead.

“no no no no..” it was the only word that made sense to say. He rubbed soothing circles into your back, and whispered now,

“ he doesn’t deserve you, please… Please don’t look back"but this instead of comforting you made you cry all the harder. If the wedding was in June that meant the thing Zen wanted to call you about last week and he couldn’t get the courage to do so might’ve been divorce. It meant this wasn’t some elaborate ruse the media had schemed up; Zen had really fucked up.

The recording was one you took here and handed to Jumin when he first welcomed you to the penthouse. He was all business back then, asking about which lawyer you wanted to represent yourself and Zen. He was convinced the media was trying to hurt C&R’s reputation by slandering the face of the company with false rumors of romance, and why wouldn’t he think so?

You’d just sat there with him, used the laptop Jumin didn’t know how to turn on, and pressed play. The grunts and moans echoed in the large office space, and for the first time in all his life, Chairman Han blushed.

"Wait for it.”. You weren’t looking at the screen, you couldn’t stand to look at the position Zen had this beautiful girl in, hips thrusting to meet her own, perfect in ways you couldn’t ever be, with hair deep as night and tangled in his perfectly shaped hands.

“He likes it when you beg for it.” the woman writhing atop her husband acted on cue, asking for it begging for something only you were supposed to have a claim to.

The panting was loud and there was a pause where Zen caught his breath.

“He’ll pull out when he’s about to come, and then-” the intense moaning sharpened to a feminine cry,

“he’ll go in as deep as he can before he comes.” Jumin wasn’t looking at the video in front of him. He was looking at you, at the tears slipping down your cheeks.

“he’s not that great an actor, Jumin.” it was the first time he’d ever held you, sobbing into his arms and it hadn’t been the last since you began your stay here. It had been less than a week, but already you’d cried more than you had your entire life. You hadn’t stepped foot into the chatroom yourself, it had been Jumin who had to break the news to everybody else. Saeran had destroyed the tripter bot Luciel had made ;and replaced it with terrible headshots of the actor. Jaehee had taken her pictures and Zen dvds and locked them away. Yoosung had tried to kick his ass of all people, and he had a black eye to show for it. Seven had tried to verify the video footage as fake, but when he confirmed it was real he blocked Zen from the chats. V kicked him out of the RFA and while he was still under C&R contract, he was scheduled to be replaced by Saeran by the end of the year. The young shy man was surprisingly good with animals, and candid shots of himself with Elizabeth in V’s new art exhibit had given him some noteriety. Luciel worried, but the mint contacts and grey hair did much to disguise his looks.

Everyone was on your side, and you were grateful for their support. Still, this was too much. Did he mean to keep you there in his apartment, while raising a family with her?

“I’d never let you go back home to be that kind of wife” apparently you’d spoken aloud, and the anger in Jumin’s voice was hard to miss.

“Seven and Saeran have hacked into his accounts. Half of his assets are now being wired into a separate bank account should you want it. Jaehee drafted the divorce papers herself.Yoosung wants to buy you an attack dog ” you laughed, it was all so like them to take action like this when you were feeling down.

“I have to find somewhere to live, don’t I?”. You were still holding onto Jumin,. Worn and weary from all the crying you’d done. He was still rubbing soothing circles into your back, catching the way you were still shaking and settling you down. He huffed, your name a whisper in his baritone voice

“You’re not a burden. You could have stayed with any one of us, you know.” the people in the RFA had welcomed you with open arms, and every single one of them had offered you a place to stay including Saeran, and it had been the sweetest thing. V still felt bad about the apartment incident and had offered to lease you one of your own if you wanted, but none of them seemed right, and it wasn’t until Jumin insisted you could stay here to watch Elizabeth when he was gone that you agreed. Clever man.

“I’m glad you’re here with Elizabeth the third and I. You’re safe here.” your arms tightened around his neck, but your tears had run dry by now.

“thank you, you’re very kind.” the words came out as a whisper, but he nodded, head coming down to rest atop your own

“you haven’t touched the food the chef made you.” of course. The man who ruled with an iron fist over his employees and went without breakfast most days was about to lecture you over lunch and dinner. You laughed,

“you’re so strange.”

He laughed at this, but pressed on.

“Seven accused me of starving you when he hacked into the CCTV the other day.”

“what, he’s watching me again?” you lifted your your chin to look into Jumin’s deadpan gaze.

“you haven’t spoken to anyone except me for days, you’ve even got Saeran asking how you’re doing.” you bit your lip. It was true, and you guessed that Seven missed you in the chats too since your phone had been on airplane mode since coming here.

“Tell Seven to hack my phone so he won’t call. I’ll get on the messenger then.” you saw one of the cameras in the home twitched, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“nevermind, he got the message”.

-meow- Elizabeth stretched on your lap lazily now, shifting over to rest in her owner’s. Jumin was still holding you, and you were enjoying the sound of his heartbeat. He made you feel calm and safe. You didn’t want to explore why exactly, but for now it was all you needed. You leaned further into his touch, nuzzling against him until your breathing slowed.

“Let’s go tuck in a princess.” you felt your body shift, carried up and eventually set down.

“It’s ok, I can sleep on the couch, Elizabeth ” you weren’t sure what he was laughing at when he pulled the covers on top of you, but you didn’t pause to think how a cat could’ve carried you to bed. You were already falling asleep when you pulled on his sleeve and said,

“Don’t go yet Elizabeth” bringing his hand up to your face, you tucked it against your hand and finally fell asleep.

It was the first time since the incident you slept through the night.

[the-goat-writer-blog]

Segment of Novel for Y2 University Seminar (Draft for Assessment) (2015) #2

I hate my job. I really don’t think I’m cut out for this. Only two minutes ago I was introducing myself to a homely old lady at her doorstep. Now I was bounding and leaping for cover behind living room furniture, from a volley of various hurtling ornaments, all the while looking like a tremendous fool, I’m sure. Somewhere between here and there I had rather typically misplaced my wand; lost to the sea of scattered objects at my knees. To add to the lunacy of the situation, one of the improvised missiles had struck the overhead light, damaging the wiring. I know what you’re thinking; so the light went off and now it was a little dark, so what? But that’s not what happened. The cable now hung by a single wire thread, causing an infrequent and terribly disorientating strobe effect; this resulted in the room alternating between brilliant light and total darkness. If you’ve ever tried to find a lost, dark coloured item on a disco dancefloor then you may understand my increasingly hopeless frustration.

Books, CDs, miniature busts came one by one over me as I made a dash for the safety of the sofa. Candlesticks, cups, a bulky telephone (which of course caught me around the head, ouch), and a couple lamps came next. What more was there for my devious adversary to throw?

‘Dr. Percival!’ cried Mrs Hennessey from behind (or perhaps beneath) a pile of mostly broken crockery. ‘Isn’t there something you should do?!’

‘I’m working on it,’ I called, over the ruckus of the scene. It had gone on long enough now, I thought, there was no sense blindly stumbling around the room in search of a wand I was sure to never find – in fact, if I continued like this I might find myself a hospital bed before long – after all, the average size of the objects soaring over my head had been steadily increasing. I quickly formulated a plan.

Preparing myself for the onslaught which I was about to face, I stole a cushion from over the sofa and braced it before me like a shield. Then, standing fast, I vaulted the sofa in a single step and hopped onto the coffee table before it. I raised the cushion shield to protect my head from above. I still felt the force of a dozen objects bashing the shield face; it was almost enough to throw me from my perch, but I now had a clear view of the entire room and I wouldn’t need it long.

‘Cartha shvest!’ I exclaimed. Kindle, Flame, in the modern tongue. My head swivelled and scanned the room.

On my first complete spin I saw nothing. Not a flicker. A picture frame whizzed by my ear. I scanned again, slower this time.

There. I could see a soft glow escaping from a pile of something below the fireplace. Seizing my chance I hurled my trusty shield in the most likely direction of my foe and made a quick dive for the glow. The cushion had missed, and for that mistake I took a painful pummelling as I fished into the pile. My finger met what I knew to be wood and I grasped at the dark. A moment later, I unleashed from the pile my flaming wand and turned it toward the source of the oncoming projectiles.

‘Percux!’ I bellowed. Propel.

Bang!

The fire I had conjured at the end of my wand had launched like a rocket toward my enemy, and in a fortunate turn had struck him too. The soft thud of the creature’s small body hitting the rug signalled the end of the duel.

‘Ho! You’ve done it! You’ve got the bugger!’ cried Mrs Hennessey gleefully, finally poking her head up from the small mountain of crockery. ‘Is it… dead?’ she then asked, after a moment.

Still panting I struggled to my sore feet, clutching my wand still tightly in my right. There came no sounds from the corner where the creature had fallen. I took this to mean it was safe to get closer. First, however:

‘Restora afina.’ I pointed at the still flickering light above. A silent thread of pure blue light left my wand and circled the wire; it wove between the frayed copper strings and began to re-entwine them. Restore, Fine. The light settled to a dimmer, more pleasing gold; the same, I recalled, from when I had arrived.

‘Oh, tha-’ Mrs Hennessey had begun but halted, the room was now illuminated and she had seen the extent of the awful mess in her once very neat living room. ‘Bloody hell.’

I paid her no mind; I had come to expect a degree of mess. And that degree was: “a lot”. Instead, I had made my way, cautiously, to the site of my now motionless foe.

Lying on a clear portion of the mint green rug, (by the way, ew), was a small blue creature. The body would’ve been that of a man scaled down to around the size of a watermelon, if not for its oversized head, hands, and feet – and of course the bat wings, fangs, pointed elfish ears, and tattoo-like markings which ran from its forehead to its toes. But apart from those things I’d say it was quite like a man. A man-thing. Although it might have been a woman-thing. The blue was close to sapphire and, upon closer inspection, I noticed the skin was quite strange a texture; almost scaled, though much smoother and flexible.

Despite my inarticulate way of describing the blue man-thing, (to which I have my own momentarily shaken disposition and your lack of familiarity to blame, reader), I was actually quite knowledgeable about the creature which lay before me. Its name I definitely knew. It was a Mystlethwayt harpy.

Surprisingly dangerous creatures, harpies. They have no predators, and no real prey, since they don’t eat or kill for any other reason. This results in a great deal of free time for a short-lived yet powerful being; free time which is most commonly spent with their families. However, occasionally a harpy becomes separated and, like in the instance of poor Mrs Hennessey, can bind itself to a witch or wizard for its own protection and enjoyment. A binding such as this cannot be undone, it is the promise of magic: the harpy will protect its bound-mate, though will also make their life hell. Not maliciously, harpies are by no means cruel or evil creatures; it’s just in their nature. Dizziness, fatigue, and drowsiness can all be symptoms of a harpy’s unwanted affection – the bond is oddly physical and almost parasitic in its affect, draining the host’s energy to ensure the host cannot attack or escape the harpy. The easiest way to break this binding is to kill the harpy. This happens often, and has contributed to the slow decline of harpy sightings in Britain over the last century. What are the other ways to break it? Well, killing the bound-mate would also suffice technically. And thinking about it, it definitely would have been much easier. But lastly: a bond can be broken by a very long and complicated casting of a very old and wordy spell. Unfortunately the spell only works if the harpy is in the presence of another harpy during the time of the incantation. Fortunately, this is my fifth harpy case this week.

You may be wondering why I didn’t just kill it. Because I didn’t. Fire is no serious threat to a magical creature, unless it’s a magic chicken or something specifically weak to going up in flames. No there aren’t actually magic chickens. The force of the spell had simply knocked it unconscious. And a good thing it did, since harpies are a nuisance and bloody tricky to catch in a net. Anyway, in answer to the question: it’s because it’s my job. I may despise being a doctor but a doctor I am. I treat the sick; loneliness is just another ailment. Truthfully, the harpy is as much my patient as Mrs Hennessey; it’s not a crime to be lonely. It is however an ailment as potent as any disease, bewitching, enchantment or infection.

I drew from my bag a clean jam jar, and with a quick wave of my wand, engorged it to a more reasonable size to accommodate the harpy. Then, as the creature had only just begun to stir, I scooped it gently into the jar and firmly closed the lid. Next I took to cutting small holes in the lid for breath with my wand pressed to the metal. Egrosa and Fini, Punctas, Ashta; meaning: Grow, and, Finite, Puncture, Metal.

‘Who’s going to pay for all this?’ Mrs Hennessey whined. The old woman had been grumpily muttering to herself until now; still surveying the recoverability of her possessions, one at a time placing the survivors on the coffee table. It was so far a thin collection.

I shrugged. Mrs Hennessey’s contract with the WICA (Wizarding Insurance Co. Albion) would cover any damages to her health or the health of any others in the home as a result of my visit and subsequent actions. I did not however, account for property damage.

‘It’s likely the harpy was the cause of your tiredness lately, Mrs Hennessey,’ I said, hoping to change the subject. Each time the old woman inspected another broken item I felt a compelling desire to wrap up and make haste for the door. ‘The creature will be accompanying me to my office. Once I’ve broken the magic binding it to you I will send word. Your symptoms should cease soon after that.’

‘How long will that be?’ she asked, apprehensively eyeing the jar I had tucked under my arm. ‘And what’ll you do with it after?’

‘A day or so. And I’ll make arrangements for the harpy to be taken into Lowely tomorrow. The keepers there will no doubt be able to reintegrate it to a community of its own kind.’

I could tell this wasn’t the answer Mrs Hennessey had been looking for; her brow and lips had tightened slowly as I had spoken.

‘Bloody pest it is. Just kill it and be done with it. Look at what it’s done to my poor old living room!’ she spat angrily, gesturing incredulously to the destruction around her.

  You might be wondering at this point why I’d become involved in all this at all. After all, in what sense does a harpy problem constitute a medical issue such that a doctor is required? I’ll explain.

In the wizarding world the number of issues associated with medicine are greatly increased. While I do deal with simple ailments such as a broken bone or a breakout of rabies, my duties also include: breaking hexes, enchantments etc., the symptoms of which often present as medical issues; resolving possessions and hauntings; and lastly of course, repelling, controlling or exterminating magical creatures which the presence of might cause declining health. Why all this under one umbrella profession? Because the WICA are lazy. And greedy. Training and hiring more doctors to treat everything works out cheaper than training, specialising, and then hiring a smaller number of workers for each a much smaller range of duties. If you’re ever confused as to the reason behind something government run, take my word for it that it always comes down to money. And I do mean government, not the private sector. The wizarding government is funded, and therefore run, almost exclusively by the WICA.

What’s to stop doctor’s from specialising on their own? Well, nothing. But do so at your peril; breaching the WICA medical officer contract would invalidate your medical license. And if that wasn’t bad enough, since the WICA write the paycheques, you’re only source of income would be your patients. Good luck making a living off of that.

(Another attempt at a piece for my Y2 assessment. I think I wrote this after a Harry Potter movie marathon and just wanted something wizard themed. I feel like it went okay, although I’m not sure about the bizarrely political last couple paragraphs... I have no intention of moving forward with this, though there is a lot of planning attached: something to do with Arthurian Legend...

P.S: I hope these titles aren’t getting confusing.)

[trustmebreezy16]

CHAPTER 53

JADA

   Me and Rooster are back together for a good three months. It was mid-November, and I was incredibly happy. We had so much fun together. I still have my own place I don’t plan on moving in with him just yet. I think it’s better this way, and I turned the other bedroom that was ole girls room into Rima and Rayna’s room.

  I’ve been getting them more and more just being a mom to them. And I have been getting to know Rayna more and sometimes I need to call Rooster and ask a question but other than that things are perfect. Right now Rooster was here and he just got done helping me put the girls to bed and we were waiting on my brother to get here to babysit for me.

  “You haven’t noticed?” I asked

   “Um, no. I’ve been more interested in your, um, eyes.”

  I closed my eyes. “Gee, I could have sworn you’ve been staring somewhat lower. What color are my eyes, Rooster?”

  Rooster kissed me on my forehead. “You can open your eyes, baby. They’re a nice soft brown.”

  I smiled and put my arms around Rooster’s neck. I kissed him softly on the lips. “Thank you for the compliment. I don’t believe anyone’s noticed my eyes before.”

  Rooster smiled. “You have a pretty face. And I like the way your hair frames your cheeks.”

   I kissed Rooster again. “Mmm, Rima is right, you are sweet she said that the other day.” I said and he smiled then touched his heart. My dad and brother finally showed up and took the girls to let us be alone, but my dad did tell Rooster to keep his hands to himself then they left. They left  so we could do homework together. I was marveling at his new hair, which was still black, but he'd gotten a few subtle blonde streaks. It was so sexy. Not only that, but he was wearing those horn-rimmed prescription glasses—because we all know those people who put them on even though they have perfect vision—with his hair dangling in front of his face, wrinkling his nose at his complicated math homework. We're talking calculus, AKA pointless confusion.

 I was reading a book for one of my English classes, highlighting the sentences that seemed important. But I was so not focusing. Rooster was sitting there in his short-sleeved Atreyu t-shirt, looking like a grown scene kid, with that sleeve tattoo winking at me. He actually looked like he was doing work, too, the way he kept furiously rubbing the eraser bits from his page. I tapped my highlighter against the page, trying to focus. Fail.

  "Rooster, how's it going?"

  He gave me the thumbs up. "Almost finished. How about you?" He said, without looking up.

  I shook my head. "I can't focus. Maybe I need to go take a shower or something."

  I kid you not, his eyes popped open wide as soon as I said 'shower.'

  Rooster took off his glasses. "Right now?" he asked

  I sighed. "Yeah. It's one of my many ways of procrastinating."

  He chuckled. "Just masturbate."

  I hit him with my book. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

  Rooster scoffed. "Duh, of course. You know how hot it is to see a girl play with herself?"

  "I'll be right back."  I said I quickly grabbed a change of clothes and went into the bathroom.

  Turning on the hot water, I swiftly stripped and got inside, enjoying the heat. I loved taking showers before I had to take on a task. It was like I was going to determine my plan of action. But first, I needed to wash my ass.

  Of course, I didn't exactly go through with the washing of my ass. Instead, I thought about how Rooster was in the next room doing homework, and how I could easily just call for him to come in, and we'd fuck the living shit out of each other so hard.

  I was masturbating in the shower, just thinking of everything we could do, like he wasn't right there! I don't know if it was me being paranoid about him wanting me for sex or my being nervous because I'd never had sex with a white guy, but I always felt like something made me nervous about being with him.

   But there was really nothing to worry about. My pubes were shaved, I had no armpit hair, and as far as I was concerned, I had a nice body. So while I'm fingering myself and maneuvering my legs so I can hit my spots just right, the shower door opens, and there's Rooster.

  He sees me, completely wet, one hand clutching a boob, the other one fingering my pussy. And the look on his face was probably the sexiest/happiest I'd ever seen.

  "Oh, so you took my advice." He said I nodded. I moved my hand, but Rooster guided it back.

  "No no, keep going. I wanna see this you never did this for me." He wiped his wet hand on his jeans and leaned on the wall. Then he leaned forward, his dry hand caressing my tits. "beautiful."

  I looked away and back at him feeling a bit shy. "Rooster, I—"

  "You're so fucking hot," he uttered, looking at my naked body, water still spilling all over it. I saw him growing hard in his jeans.  I played with my pussy a little more, watching Rooster lick his lips and bite his nonexistent bottom lip. After a few minutes, me almost cumming, he started undressing.

  "Fuck this," he said, wriggling out of his jeans. "I'm coming in there with you."

  "Rooster, I don't have a condom, I don’t wanna get pregnant not just yet" I said

  He took off his shirt. "I got one. But I'm not gonna fuck you yet." He shimmied out of his boxers. Rooster stepped into the shower and pressed me to him. "Your tits feel so awesome against me, I missed you" pushing me a back a little to touch my erect nipples.

  He stuck his tongue out, and we started making out. He pushed me against the wall and sucked my neck, then ran his tongue all the way down my body until he got to my vagina we haven’t had sex since his birthday so that was 3 months ago. He shoved two fingers in my mouth and instructed me to wet them up. When I finished, he slowly inched them into my vagina.

  "I like seeing you play with yourself," he kissed me. "So fucking hot. Does that feel good?"

  I moaned, "Yeah, don't stop." I said what pissed me off is he actually did.

  Then he grabbed his fingers and sucked them. "You taste good, babe."

  Rooster grabbed my washcloth lathered it up with my freshly acquired apple-scented liquid soap. He washed me, stopping every few seconds to kiss me and compliment my body. I noticed how he lingered for such a long time at my vagina, but I didn't care. While he was washing me, I played with his dick, which I missed so fucking much. Rooster's deep, manly moans made me never want to stop stroking. I couldn't exactly get to it because of the limited space in the shower.

  We'd have to take this to the bed he turned off the water after cleaning all the soap off of me, then we started making out, him leaning me against the shower so we could finish kissing. I played in his wet hair, grabbed his ass, and stroked his dick. As we were still kissing, Rooster guided me to my bed, grabbing a towel on the way out. He wrapped me in it and wiped me down quickly, like he didn't want to waste any time.

  "You're gonna have to keep it down. Quiet hours just started," he warned, before kissing me, pushing me further on the bed. Rooster ran a hand through his wet hair and then shook it a little, some of its water droplets hitting my body.

  "Hmm, you sound like you missed me," I teased, watching him drop to his knees and spread my legs.

  "I did miss you, if you would just move in with me we could always be around each other." Rooster was stroking my pussy before he went in for the kill. And once he did, I let out a highly embarrassing squeal. He looked up. "I said keep it down, woman!"

  Before I could even say anything, he was licking and sucking my clit Rooster was able to envelop my whole clit into his mouth, flicker his tongue at it, suck on it just enough where it didn't hurt, and then fuck my hole with his tongue. I came in one minute. Then again. And again. And...you get the idea. After the third time, I had to use a pillow. My legs were shaking, my toes curled so hard that they gained a cramp, but I was too in the moment to care.

  When I thought I could take it, grabbing my tits and squeezing my nipples, I removed the pillow. Rooster was looking right up at me, his gorgeous eyes practically twinkling while he did his business. I saw him use his spit as lubricant, and when he pulled his tongue back, there was a line of saliva connecting him to me. He came back and motor boated my pussy. And that's when I reinstated the pillow.

  About fifteen minutes later, and I must have came a good ten times total. I was totally wet, and I swear I was dripping on my bed. He got up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and ran his tongue from my navel up to my mouth.

  "Damn Rooster, I guess you missed me more” I moaned.

  He chucked while we were kissing. "Yes told you." I laughed at him, and then I got up so I could repay him. He was still a little wet from the shower, his sleeve tattoo glistening pleasantly. I actually had to stop for a moment and look at him he was and is mine then he crawled in the bed with me and looked at me and started palming my head, stroking my wet hair.

  “Rooster” I said but was cut off when he kissed me.

  "I don’t wanna use a condom. If you're pregnant I'll be at your side no matter what happens, preferable as your husband. Better yet, let just get married." He said

  Smiling blissfully in his arms, "Are you asking me to married you? Is that a wedding proposal I'm hearing?" I asked

  "Yes, and I'll get the ring I picked out last week. And you can official accept me as your future lord and ruler. Owww. Do you have to bite my nipple?"

  "You deserve it." Running my tongue over his nipple to soothe the bite mark, I looked up into his eyes. He had such wonderful eyes. "You're so romantic, to ask a girl to marry you after eating the soul out of her. I would want you at my side as my husband too, the question of lord and ruler, keep dreaming.” I said

 “So will you marry me Jada?” he asked again looking me deep in my eyes waiting on my answer.