#This isn’t even second hand embarrassment it’s plain horror oh my god help me

[katisbadatnames]

I CANT FUCKING DO THIS IM GONNA LOSE IT

[euphoria-vmin7]

falling for you | jjk headcanon

pairing: dorky jock! jeon jungkook x shy! reader 

genre/warnings: F L U F F, headcanons, ALL BULLET POINTS, this isn’t even a real fic i just had this in my head and needed to post it, ITS ALL FLUFF, literally nothing else but cliche shit, jungkook is whipped, this is just him being a softie, kook is clumsy af in this, did i say FLUFF???

word count: 3,917 (okay so it wasn’t supposed to be this long-) 

-- summary: this is literally just dorky football player jungkook’s entire process of falling for the reader. he’s a clumsy mess in this sORRY

SO...

Your best friend would have to drag you to one of the football games because god knows it isn’t something you’d go to voluntarily. 

You’d much rather prefer to be curled up in bed watching Netflix or reading by yourself. The game is too rowdy, there’s barely any space in the stands, should anymore be said? 

But anyway, it’s been decided that you need to mingle with more human beings, and so you’re forced to stand in the middle of a bunch of shouting and sweaty people with a frown on your face. 

You’re shy. No other way to put it. You get easily embarrassed, especially when meeting people for the first time, which is why going to a football game and making friends is the last thing you want to do. 

Sadly, you end up going, and end up watching star player Jeon Jungkook sprint across the field like a bullet. 

It’s not that you were deliberately staring at him. It’s just he had that aura, you know? So many people knew him, praised him. And you understood why: the boy had everything. 

So you just watch the game, unknowingly getting more and more into it as you see the stakes rise in attempts to win. 

Your school’s team is extremely competitive, and having Jungkook was like the cherry on top. With perseverance and determination, he plays until the time is called and the team is cheering in victory. 

It was actually a fun time, you had to admit. But now that it was over you wanted to return to your own hobbies. 

It is late when you step into the library. There’s barely anyone there. 

The librarian knows you well, as you spend most of your time huddled up in one of the corners with a new book in hand. She waves to you and you shyly smile at her before beginning to browse. 

You take a seat at one of the tables and delve deep into the world of the novel you had chosen. After all, your favorite part of reading was looking through the eyes of someone else. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook doesn’t expect to need a book at this time of night. Only when Taehyung reminds him that he had a paper due the next morning did he rush over to get it. 

After a quick greeting to the librarian, he begins rummaging through shelves of books. He hates how long it takes for him to find what he’s looking for. 

He’s peering along racks when he notices you for the first time. 

He has to physically do a double take because wow

You’re cute. 

The way you’re sitting, knees to your chest, while biting your fingernail with some novel clutched in your other hand. And clad only in your college sweater that was far too big for you, hair up so messily that he could clearly make out stubborn strands that stuck straight up. 

Wow x2. 

Jungkook can feel his curiosity peak. How come he had never seen you before? 

He was sure he’d immediately recognize and remember someone who looked like you. He was curious. So curious. 

What was your name? How old were you? Were you in his year? In any of his classes? Did you know him? How did your voice sound? 

Instead of trying to find out the answers to any of the questions floating around in his head, Jungkook remains hidden behind shelves, browsing for far longer than necessary even after he had found what he was looking for. 

The next time he sees you, you’re reading again. This time, you’re just sitting outside, under one of the trees on the grounds. 

Jungkook doesn’t notice at first, but when he looks again he realizes that it’s you. Mystery girl from the library. 

The whole time he’s chatting, Jungkook’s eyes roam over to glance at you. Today you look different. You’re wearing a ruffled blouse and plain blue jeans. Your hair is up, but this time in a neat ponytail, only a few strands of hair deliberately framing your face. You don’t have glasses on today. Jungkook guessed that you probably had contacts. 

Jimin, one of Jungkook’s older friends, notices his attention drifting. 

“What are you looking at...oh it’s (Name),” 

Jungkook tears his eyes away from you to look at Jimin eagerly. “Hyung, you know her?” 

Jimin blinks. “Yeah she’s in one of my classes. Why?” 

Jungkook can’t hold back a smile. “Who is she?” 

So Jimin spends the next few minutes telling Jungkook what he knows about you. Your full name. How quiet you were, tending to keep to yourself. Your love for reading. Jungkook listens attentively, which Jimin can’t help but notice. 

About a month later, all of Jungkook’s friends are fully aware of his fascination with you. Though they find it hilarious that he has a crush on you but hasn’t spoken a word to you yet. He doubted you even knew he existed. But still, he loves to admire you from afar. 

Today, he and the boys are sitting in the library. Namjoon had said that he had some books to check out, and Jungkook had immediately begged to come with him in hopes of seeing you again. That had turned into all of them going, which had led to Namjoon’s studying plans being destroyed. 

“Just go say hi,” Taehyung sighed, leaning back in his chair. 

“Jungkookie’s shy,” Jimin teased as he listened to the boy’s protests. Jungkook grumbled in return before letting his eyes drift back over to you.

“Alright, I’m done. Let’s go,” Namjoon said, standing up. Jungkook looked up at him. “I can’t get anything done here. Which is ironic because it’s a place made for studying,” 

Jungkook can’t persuade Namjoon to stay, so he finds himself piling up his books in his hands and standing up to leave. 

“You seriously won’t say anything to her?” Jimin asked as they all began walking towards the exit. Jungkook shakes his head no as he stops to adjust the books in his hands. 

“I’m not ready,” is his excuse and Namjoon and Jimin chuckle before they turn to head out. Taehyung had disappeared somewhere but Jungkook didn’t think too much of it. 

Big mistake, because just as Jungkook was about to pass you, he felt a familiar hand harshly shove his back, the force catching the younger male by surprise. As a result, the books in his arms tumbled from his grasp right in front of your table. Jungkook’s cheeks burned as you tore your eyes from your novel and looked down at him in surprise. He would kill Taehyung later. 

To his utter horror, you put your book on the table and bent down to his level. His palms became extremely sweaty as you began collecting the books and he scrambled to do the same. “Sorry,” he muttered, feeling so embarrassed it hurt. But all you did was smile at him and there goes his heart. 

“It’s fine, no need to apologize,” Jungkook smiles shakily at your answer and begins to pick up his stuff. In between, he glances up to look at you. This is the first time he’d ever seen you so close and he could now see the smallest details. The features of your face were so much clearer. He could clearly make out the shades of your eyes, the pores of your skin, every tiny detail that made his heart throb. 

He’s especially enamored by the way your fingers peak out from under your sweater paws. He briefly imagines what it would be like to hold them. 

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly as you hand him his textbook. Jungkook’s head shoots up to look at you nervously. What?! What was it? Was he doing something weird??

All he can muster is a dumbfounded “HUH?” in return and he mentally slaps himself at how stupid he sounds. 

“You fell, didn’t you? Are you hurt anywhere?” you ask and tilt your head to the side. Jungkook can feel his cheeks redden and wants to crawl into a hole. He conjures up his shaky and awkward smile and shakes his head quickly. 

“I’m fine,” his face pales at the squeakiness of his voice. Did his voice really just crack!?

You don’t seem to notice or if you do, you’re kind enough to not mention it. You simply flash him a small smile and nod. “That’s a relief,” 

It’s at that second Jungkook realizes who he’s talking to. That he’s actually gathered up the courage (even if it was by total accident) to talk to you, the girl he’s been so curious about. He’s nervous of course, but you just seem so sweet. And he wants to leave an impression. 

“I’m Jungkook,” he grins, confidently saying his name despite the way his palms are sweating. He wipes one hand against his jeans and balances his books against his hip. Your eyes dart to the side and Jungkook catches the way you begin fiddling with your sleeves. 

“(N-Name),” you mumble. He knows this already, of course. But he still nods along and manages to make his smile a little less forced. 

“Nice to meet you,” he grins and now it’s your turn to blush. Damn, you’re cute. 

“You too,” 

There is an awkward pause in the conversation and Jungkook takes it as his cue to get going. He feels satisfied though. This is the most progress he’s made with you. “Alright then, I’ll see you around (Name). Thanks for your help!” he waves and feels super proud of how confident he sounds. For once he sounds mature and not like a lovestruck teenager. You nod meekly as you look at his dazzling smile before you both part ways. 

Jungkook approaches the exit of the library where the three of his friends stand, watching your exchange. Before any of them can speak, Jungkook reels a strong fist back and punches Taehyung in the gut. The older male doubles over in pain as Jimin laughs loudly. Namjoon grins and looks to the youngest. “Where’d all that confidence come from?” 

Jungkook smiles bashfully. “I wasn’t really confident. I just-” 

“Say what you want,” Taehyung wheezes as he remains hunched over. “But you wouldn’t have said shit to her if it wasn't for me,” 

Jungkook glares at his friend menacingly. “Do you want another one? Because I have another fist available,”

Jimin simpers as Taehyung backs away, clutching his gut protectively. “So hostile…” 

“What did you say?” Namjoon asks as they head out. 

“I just introduced myself and said thank you for the help,” Jungkook shrugs. Taehyung clicks his tongue. 

“You should’ve just asked her out on a date,” 

“Hyung what’s it with you and stupid ideas?” 

“Just admit you’re still scared of girls,” 

The next time he sees you, he’s walking by himself. He notices you at the end of the corridor but you aren’t alone. A familiar male stands across you, chatting amiably. Before he can stop himself, Jungkook is sprinting down the hallway and jumping onto his back. Jimin grunts in surprise as one of Jungkook’s heavy arms sling around his shoulders. “Hey hyung~~” he sings with a blinding smile as he looks down at his friend. Jimin rolls his eyes with a disgruntled grimace and tires to pry the younger off of him. Jungkook then acts stupid and pretends like he’s noticing you for the first time. “Oh! (Name), how are you today?” 

You flush under his gaze and immediately begin fiddling with your sleeves. Though you try and relax because Jungkook is not as intimidating as you expected and he’s actually kind of...nice?

“Uh..I’m good, Jungkook,” 

Jungkook’s heart thuds painfully against his ribcage because wow he’d never thought his name sounded better than at that moment. His thoughts are all over the place. Between staying calm and cool, trying to address his feelings, and wondering what Jimin was doing with you, he was a mess. What should he do right now?

Jungkook and Jimin seemed to be having their own nonverbal conversation and you don’t really know how to react. Before you can politely excuse yourself, Jungkook turns to you. 

“So, are you coming to the game this Friday?” he asks with a hopeful grin and you bite your lip. 

“Oh um...actually I don’t think so,” 

Jungkook’s gaze drops and he pouts. “Why not?” 

Your eyes go a little wide at his whiny tone and how his confident expression had quickly changed into one of a kicked puppy. 

“W-Well,” you stuttered. “It’s n-not really my scene,” 

Jungkook’s eyes softened and Jimin nodded. “Too loud for you huh?” 

You grinned sheepishly. Jungkook smiled down at you. 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to come if you’re not comfortable,” Jungkook smiles and you realize that this boy is actually being considerate. He’s not judging or teasing. He’s considerate. Jimin and Jungkook share another silent look before Jungkook turns away. “See you around, (Name)!” A small dimple creases his cheek as he grins at you and Jimin resumes your previous conversation, not noticing that you weren’t paying attention to him anymore. 

Jungkook shakes his sweaty hair away from his eyes as he jogs across the field. He nods at his teammates as they shout words of encouragement to each other and he surveys the field. He drones out the screaming coming from the crowd. He always does this. Though the cheers are motivating and nice to hear, he prefers to keep all of his attention on the game. 

At least that’s what he would normally do. But tonight, when his eyes drift over to the audience again, somehow he singles you out. There you are in the middle of the roaring crowd, looking awkward as hell as you grip your own arms tightly. Jungkook’s heart leaps into his throat as it registers that you have actually come to his game. And what’s even worse, is that you’re staring right at him. Jungkook trips over his feet a little as he tries to adjust his body to stand in some cool and nonchalant pose, earning a few glances from his team. He wasn’t even exaggerating. Your eyes are on him for the entirety of the game. And he can’t help but grin when he catches you doing your cute little clapping and cheering just a little bit louder as the game goes on. 

And though they did win that night, Jungkook had to admit he was not nearly as focused as he normally was. 

“Okay just be cool. Don’t stress,” Jimin clapped Jungkook’s back as the younger male took a deep breath and rubbed his palms together. 

“He’s right. There’s no need to be nervous. Just be mature about it,” Namjoon says, peering over his book from across the table. Jungkook looks back at Jimin, who gives him a smile and thumbs up. 

“Bet you 25 bucks that you chicken out,” Taehyung smirks and Jungkook flips him off. 

“You got this,” Jimin says, looking at Jungkook encouragingly after harshly smacking Taehyung. 

“You’re right. I got this,” Jungkook repeats determinedly, standing up and puffing his chest out. Taehyung claps with a rectangular smile as Jungkook’s eyes drift to his final destination. You. They’re at the library again today, and Jungkook decided that today would be the day he finally asks you out. You’re sitting at the same table as you were that night Jungkook had first met you. And today he’s finally ready to make his move. He stands up and collects his books in his hands. 

“Good luck, Kookie,” Namjoon grins, dimples denting his cheeks and Jungkook beams. He turns around and begins making his way to you. He’s so nervous he can feel palms sweating against the bindings of the books he’s holding. He feels like he’s hyper aware of everything. He focuses on you and it feels like it takes hours to walk to where you are. Everything about you is perfect today. You look at ease instead of self conscious and you’re once again immersed in some book. He finds that so endearing, how deep you fall into your reading. It’s like you wouldn’t notice anything around you so long as you had a book in your hand. 

It seems that Jungkook doesn’t notice his surroundings either. Just as he’s almost reaching you and placing a confident smile on his face, his boot gets caught in the leg of a chair and he goes tumbling. It’s like he's falling in slow motion and he’s already cursing himself for being so damn clumsy. Jungkook lands with a thud against the carpeted floor of the library, his books scattering in front of him. He hears a light giggle and he groans quietly as he pushes his face into the floor, hoping that it would swallow him whole. Familiar sneakers come into his eyesight and he peers up to see you crouching on the floor, a soft smile on your face. 

“Jungkook..” you sigh, shaking your head playfully. “You really need to stop falling,” 

The athlete’s eyes widen comically and he scrambles to get up into a crouching position, hurrying to help you clean up his mess of books. He awkwardly chuckles as his cheeks flare up in embarrassment. “I know right? Sorry (Name),” 

“It’s okay,” you smile and Jungkook notices the way your cheeks also turn a bit pink. But that happens every time you both talk. You’re just shy, which to him, is extremely cute. “Are you hurt?” 

“Nah,” Jungkook chuckles, the tensions in his nerves easing just a bit. “As you can see I’m always falling, so I’m kinda used to it,” He isn't prepared for the laugh that tumbles past your lips at his statement. Until now he had only heard you giggle or chuckle. But never a full blown laugh. He decided then and there that it was his favorite sound in the fucking universe. 

“Hey (Name),” he asks suddenly and you look up at him with a happy smile. 

“Yeah?” 

“What book are you reading right now?” Jungkook asks, biting his lip gently. His heart is pounding but for some odd reason he feels confident. Your eyes light up and Jungkook’s stomach flips. 

“The Fault in Our Stars,” you answer with a grin. “I’m re-reading it for the hundredth time,” 

Jungkook chuckles before he pulls himself up from the floor and offers you a hand. “Don’t tell anyone, but I cried reading that book,” Your eyes shine with interest and a bit of mischief as you take his hand. Jungkook mentally wonders whether you’ll be disgusted by how sweaty his palms are but he’s more focused on the fact that your hand is actually in his right now. 

“You cried reading The Fault in Our Stars?” your voice has a new tone to it, a playful and almost teasing tone that makes Jungkook’s heart race. 

“Oh come on,” he whines. “Everyone cries,” 

You giggle and nod. “I can’t argue with that,”

“Actually I was gonna go drop this off. Have you read it?” Jungkook asks, holding up one of his books. You peer at it and your eyes scan the title. 

“Hm I don’t think so. Is it good?” you ask curiously and Jungkook feels proud of how much he’s talking because he realizes that he’s just being himself. 

“Oh my god, it’s so good,” the taller male stresses, running his fingers through his hair. “You’ll love it if you like mystery,” You drop his hand and take a seat at your table. Jungkook watches your face for a sign and he mentally cheers when you ask him to sit next to you. 

“I love mystery!” you say excitedly. “What’s it about?” 

Jungkook’s eyes soften as he takes in your excitement. He relays the plot to you, soaking in every facial feature and memorizing every single comment you make. As you continue to talk more comfortably with him, Jungkook realizes just how amazing you are. His nerves dissipate completely as your conversation shifts to some of your favorite books. Then Jungkook is talking about his other hobbies like playing Overwatch with Taehyung and his secret obsession with dancing. Then you’re telling him all about how much you love visiting dog cafes and that the only type of exercise you’d ever do was jogging. Then Jungkook is telling you about how Gureum, his dog, loves his Jungkook’s older brother more than him. And just like that, conversations flow easily between you two and Jungkook wonders why he was ever so nervous. You’re perfect in every sense of the way and he had never imagined that you would be so easy for him to talk to. 

By the time you notice how much time has passed, the library is about to close. Jungkook politely helps your pack up your things and you walk with him to the counter as he returns his books. Jungkook glances at you with a fond smile, his heart beating comfortably yet still beating just a bit more happily for you. You’re still animatedly chatting with him about what kind of dog breed you want to get as the two of you step out into the night. 

“...but I can barely take care of myself so I don't think I’d be good at taking care of a puppy, too,” you giggle. Jungkook laughs as he slips his sweater over his head. 

“I’m sure you’d be able to figure it out, (Name). And I could help you. I have tons of experience with Gureum,” 

“You mean the same Gureum who loves your brother more than you?” you asked him teasingly and Jungkook’s jaw drops playfully. 

“How dare you?” he demands dramatically and smiles when you laugh. 

“Well, I should get going,” you sigh, tugging the strap on your bag over your shoulder. “I’ll see you later Jungkook,” 

Jungkook nods with a grin as you wave to him and turn to leave. But as he watches your back get further and further away, he realizes that despite having been confident and brave, he didn’t accomplish his goal yet. And Jungkook hated that. Feeling a fire run through his veins, he takes a leap of faith and jogs after you. 

“Hey (Name)!!” he calls out. You turn around and raise a brow in confusion. Jungkook gulps as his throat becomes dry and his nerves begin to tingle but he pushes them aside and in the most confident voice he can muster he asks: 

“Do you maybe wanna go out and get a coffee with me tomorrow?”

As soon as he says it his mind goes haywire thinking of all of the different and better ways he could've asked that. Your expression makes him even more nervous and for a split second he wishes that there was a way he could turn back time. But then a slow smile forms on your face and your cheeks turn a glowing shade of pink. 

“I...I’d like that,” you nod, shyly tugging on your sleeves and Jungkook‘s eyes widen. 

“W-What? For real?” he stutters and his brain is yelling at him to shut up and be cool but he can’t because he’s so damn relieved. You nod with a sheepish smile and he laughs. “O-Okay then I’ll see you tomorrow!!” 

“Yeah,” you grin. “See you tomorrow,” 

And all Jungkook can think about as he walks home is how you like your coffee, what books he’ll bring up during your date, and the fact that Taehyung now owes him 25 bucks.

.

.

.

.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 3 (Blueberry Path)

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. Refer to this Masterlist for previous chapters and alternate paths.

Chapter 3: The Preparation (Blueberry Path)

Pairing: Thrawn x reader

Content: Light swearing, reader is an awkward pining idiot, no indication yet if your crush likes you back, but we’re just warming up here...

Length: 1.6k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

It really would be best for you to go to the gala with Thrawn. It made sense. He was an alien and you were the only girl at the Academy willing to be seen with him. And while Eli wasn't exactly popular, you could easily count how many girls would gladly be his date to a dance. It was just that plain and simple.

And yet, far beyond mere logic and tactics, you were so incredibly happy about it.

You were going to a dance with Thrawn.

It seemed like such a silly, juvenile thing to be excited about. Like you were in primary school with a crush or something. You shook yourself as you got ready in front of your little dorm room mirror, trying not to let those emotions show through your dressed-up appearance. You'd managed to find a decent dress on sale, and your hair cooperated with you for once. You definitely looked better than you usually did.

But you wished you looked more... more. You'd be on the arm of a tall, sophisticated, and, dare you say, strapping man for the evening. And even though you all had other duties to focus on - observing and possibly even manipulating your three targets - you still wanted to be a good date for him. Not some meek, homely person who had no business being anywhere near such a god.

You caught yourself in horror. Where were these thoughts coming from? Thrawn was your friend. A quiet, distant friend who was only going to the dance with you out of necessity. His focus was solely on the plan. You'd helped successfully get Arden and Eva to go to the gala together as dates, and already Commander Burdick was pissed about it. Thrawn had arranged a system for how the three of you would observe, and possibly even intervene, to ensure Burdick decided to pin his sabotage on Arden.

The plan. That was all that mattered tonight. Not how you looked or how Thrawn would look or whether he might ask you to dance.... You almost slapped yourself for thinking such nonsense, but there was a soft knock on the door that called for your attention instead.

Your heart stopped, thinking it would be Thrawn arriving earlier than he'd said, but after psyching yourself up to open the door, you found it was only Eli.

"Do you know how to tie a tie?" he asked with a sheepish smile, holding up a wad of navy blue satin. You suppressed a laugh. He had cleaned up surprisingly well, with a suit and cufflinks and everything. The only thing he'd missed was his hair, which was forever an unruly mess. You could take the the boy out of Wild Space, but you couldn't take the wild out of the boy.

"No," you said, but then you chuckled at his defeated look, opening the door wider for him to enter. "But I'll figure it out."

He heaved a sigh of relief as you let him into your dorm. Thankfully you didn't have any roommates; your old one had transferred out of the Navy halfway through the year, and no one seemed rushed to get you a new one.

Eli stood awkwardly in the middle of the room as you took the tie from him and tried to make sense of it.

"Thrawn was no help?" you asked to fill the silence between you. But also, you were curious how much the Chiss may or may not be getting ready.

"He's been out all afternoon. Somethin' about preparing for tonight." Eli rolled his eyes. "And I don't think he meant it the way you and I are."

You chuckled in agreement. Well, if he wasn't doing anything special to get ready, then maybe you didn't need to worry as much.

"You seem pretty excited," Eli commented.

You shrugged, finally getting the tie around his neck and under the collar of his shirt. "I just like dancing is all."

"You're excited to dance with Thrawn?" he wrinkled his nose at you. Not once had you given Eli any indication you might ever be interested in your mutual friend, mainly because you'd been good at hiding those feelings from yourself, too. You didn't want to give him any reason to start suspecting anything now, so you quickly tried to save face as you continued to fumble with his tie.

"I'm just excited to dance. I don't care who my date is. I'll even dance by myself if I have to."

Thankfully Eli took your words at face value and didn't add any more to the conversation. And by now, you were done trying to figure out this tie. You'd looped it around a couple different ways but nothing seemed right. You huffed and let the material fall against his chest.

"I give up. This isn't as easy as I thought it'd be. Sorry."

Eli shrugged as he pulled it from around his neck and rolled it in his hands. "Eh, it was worth a shot. I can go without it, right?"

He held his hands on his hips and did a playful little pose which made you roll your eyes.

"Sure, you look fine to me. Not sure what your date will think, though. What's her name again?"

"Sadie Amiko. She's in a few of our combat classes."

"Wait, she's not the girl who whispers yes after she punches someone?"

At Eli's awkward smile you started laughing, not having connected the dots before. He'd mentioned who his date was earlier that week and had seemed pretty pleased about it, but you had been too distracted by your own happiness to really pay attention.

"Yes!" you hissed with a little fist pump by your hip, in a perfect rendition of your classmate's ridiculous habit. Eli was trying not to laugh, but he'd mocked her for it before so you knew he found it funny.

"Okay, well, she was the only one I knew of who didn't have a date yet, so...."

"Ah, so she accepted out of desperation."

"You're mean," he pouted. "You better not embarrass me tonight. You never know, I could get lucky."

He started making his way toward the door but paused just as he reached out for the handle and gave you a mischievous look. "Maybe you will, too."

Your heart thudded forcefully in your chest. You weren't sure how you managed to keep your composure and respond so smoothly. "If you mean I'll be lucky enough to stop Thrawn from thinking about this plan for five seconds so I can dance, then yeah, maybe."

"That's exactly what I meant," said Eli in such a way that you knew it wasn't. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from completely freaking out. Where was this coming from? Was he just getting back at you from your teasing, or had he somehow detected the feelings you were having such a hard time controlling tonight? 

"Anyway, you comin' with? I told Sadie I'd meet her there at six."

You glanced at the clock in your room, realizing how late it was and the fact you still didn't have shoes on. You dismissed him with a wave of your hand as you frantically looked for your shoes. "No, Thrawn's coming by any second. We'll see you there."

"Alright... well good luck with that dance!"

It seemed like the door had barely closed after him when the knock came, though realistically it had been a few minutes of you fussing with your appearance one last time. You took several measured breaths to try and get the blush out of your cheeks, before you finally went to open the door.

"Good evening," Thrawn said courteously, holding out a hand.

Whatever composure you thought you had left completely vanished. He was dressed in a sharp, immaculate white suit that made his blue skin so much more striking. He normally looked good, even in the unflattering flight suits, but somehow he was managing to look even better now. More elegant, more stunning, more beautiful.

You could feel his eyes boring holes into you expectantly. You hadn't meant to hesitate and make the moment awkward. You forced yourself to swallow and took his offered hand, hoping he wouldn't notice how clammy it was, or how quickly your pulse was racing. He guided you out of your room, turning to align himself next to you, and placed your hand over his arm. You wondered if he had looked into these gentlemanly customs or if they were similar to Chiss culture. Thrawn made everything seem natural, so it was hard to tell. 

"Is everything alright?" he asked as he began leading you toward the gala. 

Shit, you groaned internally. Of course he noticed how flustered you were. Your hand was resting on his bicep and you were fighting to not take note of how firm it felt.  

"Oh yes," you said quickly, trying to save face. "Just worried about the plan, is all."

"I see," he said in his soft and careful tone. "There is no reason to worry. Our plan is solid, and I spent the afternoon putting a few final details in place. We need only play our parts this evening and it will all work out."

You nodded, though you didn't exactly feel better. Thrawn was only playing a part. You knew you shouldn't have expected anything different, but it still hurt to think about, especially now that you were both dressed up and walking so closely alongside each other. You would just have to get over yourself, you decided. Play the part. Get through the evening.

And it would surely be an interesting evening, if nothing else.

Next Chapter: The Party >

Blueberry Path | Thrawn x reader

Cowboy Path | Eli x reader

[pinktwingirl]

Loki Series Rewrite (AKA Loki Series but with Squirrel Girl) Ep 5

INT. TVA COURTROOM - DAY

Sylvie is threatening Ravonna.

SYLVIE

This is it, isn't it? This is where you dragged me after you stole my life. A fitting place, then, to take yours.

Suddenly, Doreen rushes in, carrying several prune sticks.

DOREEN

Here! We're gonna need these.

(She tosses one to Sylvie, then freezes when she sees Loki isn't there.)

Where's Loki?

(At Sylvie's silence, her eyes widen in horror, and she drops the other prune sticks.)

No...

(She rushes over and grabs Ravonna.)

What did you do to him?!

RAVONNA

What if I said the other Loki wasn't dead? Not yet, anyway.

SYLVIE

I'd say you were lying.

RAVONNA

Maybe. Or maybe we want the same thing.

DOREEN

How could he still be alive? You... pruned him!

SYLVIE

More importantly, how will saving him get us closer to who's really behind the TVA?

RAVONNA

It's complicated.

DOREEN

Then un-complicate it.

INT. TVA COURTROOM - DAY

Sylvie and Ravonna are discussing the end of time while Doreen keeps a prune stick trained on Ravonna.

SYLVIE

So how do we get past the void?

RAVONNA

It's impossible. There's nothing for the tem-pad to lock onto. No destination.

SYLVIE

Then we go through it.

Ravonna scoffs.

RAVONNA

That's suicide.

SYLVIE

Then I guess my need for you has passed.

She gets her own prune stick ready as Ravonna's eyes widen in horror.

MISS MINUTES

W-Wait! What about the void spacecraft?

RAVONNA

Y-Yes! The prototype!

MISS MINUTES

Right... I'll get the file...

DOREEN

What's the "void spacecraft"?

RAVONNA

I-It's a spaceship designed to withstand the temporal void. It could conceivably take us to the end of time.

SYLVIE

Find Loki.

RAVONNA

Find the man behind the curtain.

SYLVIE

And kill him.

RAVONNA

Together.

They shake hands. Ravonna tries to pull hers away, but Sylvie keeps her grip firm.

SYLVIE

Miss Minutes, where are the files on this "time craft"?

MISS MINUTES

Uh... Still lookin' hun...

Sylvie raises an eyebrow.

SYLVIE

Nothing?

MISS MINUTES

Th-They're... pretty deep...

RAVONNA

I-It's highly restricted; I might not even have clearance...

SYLVIE

Oh no, I think you would. If it's real.

Ravonna nervously glances at Miss Minutes.

RAVONNA

How long?

MISS MINUTES

Any second now...

Just then, we hear agents bursting in through the door. Doreen grabs Sylvie and they jump behind a desk.

AGENT

(to Ravonna)

Are you hurt?

RAVONNA

I'm fine. But she took my tem-pad.

(She turns to the desk.)

Sylvie? You're not thinking of going on the run, are you? We know where you hide... Sooner or later, we'll catch you.

DOREEN

(whispering to Sylvie)

What do we do?

RAVONNA

It must be so exhausting...

SYLVIE

I'll admit, you had me fooled there for a minute... Or did you get a little real? Did Judge Renslayer really feel betrayed by her beloved TVA?

RAVONNA

Why don't you come back out and we can... talk about it?

SYLVIE

Sure! Just tell everyone else to piss off and we can settle this between us.

Doreen raises an eyebrow at Sylvie.

RAVONNA

Works for me...

The agents close in on the desk.

SYLVIE

What happened to finding the man behind the curtain?

RAVONNA

Tell you what, you come out with your hands up, and I'll put you in a time loop. Something not so bad. You can live out your days in a good memory. 

(Beat)

Do you have any good memories?

After a pause, Sylvie grabs Doreen and stands them both up, causing Doreen to gasp in surprise. Sylvie points the prune stick at the agents, then suddenly prunes Doreen and herself.

INT. VOID HIDEOUT - DAY

Loki is speaking with the other Loki variants in their hideout.

LOKI

No. I'm the same. I'm the same as all of you.

(Beat)

Have any of you met a variant that primarily uses her female form?

CLASSIC LOKI

There are plenty of those. You'll have to be more specific.

LOKI

Um... Short hair... Blonde... Goes by "Sylvie"?

CLASSIC LOKI

Oh, yes, her. She's terrifying.

LOKI

She is! But that's what's great about her! She needs us! All of us!

EXT. VOID - DAY

Sylvie is lying unconscious on the ground. Doreen shakes her.

DOREEN

Sylvie! Sylvie, wake up! Sylvie, can you hear me?

Sylvie's eyes widen and she sits up.

SYLVIE

Where are we?

DOREEN

Uh... At the end of time, I guess. It's... kind of a shithole.

Sylvie stands up.

SYLVIE

Let's go. We need to find Loki.

They begin walking. Doreen takes out her Loki locket and tries to turn it on, but the hologram is blank.

DOREEN

Huh... I guess this won't work in a void where time and space is meaningless.

SYLVIE

What is that thing, anyway?

DOREEN

I made it for Loki. We each have one. I gave it to him so I could see where he was if he was ever in trouble, but... I kind of ended up being the one calling him for help...

(Beat)

SYLVIE

You really care about Loki, don't you?

Doreen blushes.

DOREEN

U-Um... I mean... Yeah, I guess. He's... a good friend.

SYLVIE

Oh, don't try to hide it. Loki may be oblivious to it, but I'm not. It's plain as day on your face.

Doreen looks away, embarrassed.

SYLVIE

It's a shame your life is so fleeting, then. You would be quite the catch, I'll admit. You're a clever girl.

Doreen's face flushes red.

SYLVIE

But you know that whatever you have with him can't last, right? You're a mortal. Trying to pursue a relationship with him... it wouldn't be fair to do that to him.

Doreen looks down sadly.

DOREEN

I know. I just... can't help it, I guess.

SYLVIE

Hmm. Well, I suppose he'll get over it eventually once you're gone. We never stick to one thing - always moving on to the next. That's the best way to adapt and survive.

(Off Doreen's sadness.)

Oh, don't take it personally, dear. That's just how we are. You could say it's... in our nature.

Suddenly, they see ALIOTH spreading behind them.

DOREEN

That... doesn't look good.

Alioth starts to creep closer, demolishing everything in its path.

SYLVIE

Run!

They both start to run, with Doreen nearly tripping over her dress.

DOREEN

Okay, running in this dress is getting really annoying! Do you think you could magic my normal clothes back onto me?!

In a flash of green, Doreen's dress shifts into her old outfit.

DOREEN

Thank you!

They suddenly see a pizza delivery car racing towards them.

DOREEN

Is that Mobius?!

They jump in the car, and Mobius speeds away.

DOREEN

Moby! You're alive!

MOBIUS

Can you shut the door? We still got a little bit of a situation here...

Sylvie slams the door shut. As they drive, a cloud of black magic smoke approaches them.

SYLVIE

Watch out!

MOBIUS

I see it! I see it!

SYLVIE

Really?! Because you're driving right towards it!

MOBIUS

God, you really are one of you... Hang on!

EXT. VOID - DAY

Mobius continues to drive, with Sylvie and Doreen in the back.

MOBIUS

All that time, I really believed we were the good guys...

SYLVIE

Annihilating entire realities, orphaning little girls... Classic hero stuff.

MOBIUS

Well, I guess when you think the ends justify the means, there's nothing you won't do. By the way, you did some annihilating, too.

SYLVIE

I did what I had to do.

MOBIUS

Yeah. So did I.

SYLVIE

You hunted me like a dog.

DOREEN

Um, okay, we've all made mistakes, can we maybe save this conversation for when we're not all about to die?

SYLVIE

I thought we could find Loki down here... But that storm... that thing's likely already got him.

MOBIUS

You really believe that?

SYLVIE

It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters now is getting out of here and finding out who's behind all of this.

MOBIUS

Great. How do we do that?

SYLVIE

We turn around.

DOREEN

Uhh... Sorry, what?

MOBIUS

You wanna go back to the angry cloud?

SYLVIE

Yeah. I think it might be the answer. We're going back to it.

EXT. VOID - DAY

Mobius drives up to the Loki variants. Loki's eyes widen when he sees them.

LOKI

Sylvie?!

He rushes over to them.

SYLVIE

You're alive...

Mobius and Doreen step out of the car. Doreen rushes up to Loki and hugs him.

LOKI

Doreen! Mobius!

DOREEN

I was so worried... Are you okay?

LOKI

I'm fine. How did you...?

SYLVIE

We thought you could do with some backup.

Loki smiles. The other Lokis approach them, putting the others on edge.

LOKI

No, no, no, wait, wait, wait! These are my... friends. Ah... Well, they're um... how best to put this? Uh... Us as a child, us in the future, and us as a... uh... an alligator.

Sylvie raises an eyebrow.

LOKI

It's... best not to question it.

Doreen gasps.

DOREEN

There's a Baby Loki???

KID LOKI

Don't call me that.

DOREEN

Okay, Baby Loki!

Kid Loki scowls at her.

EXT. VOID - DAY

Mobius is chatting with Doreen as Loki and Sylvie talk.

DOREEN

So... I guess we're... going after the giant cloud thingy. No idea how we're supposed to do that, but okay.

MOBIUS

I don't know, don't you usually command a giant army of squirrels?

DOREEN

Yeah, normally, but I only brought these three along with me.

(She points to Tippy-Toe, Monkey Joe, and Mr. Lieberman.)

Taking down a giant magical monster might require a little more than that...

Mobius glances at a chipmunk bounding past them.

MOBIUS

There's a squirrel.

Doreen raises an eyebrow.

DOREEN

That's not a squirrel; that's a chipmunk.

Mobius shrugs.

MOBIUS

They're the same thing.

DOREEN

Excuse me?! They are not the same thing! They're completely different!

We cut to Loki sitting with Sylvie.

SYLVIE

Mobius isn't so bad. And Doreen is... well, Doreen. I can see why you keep her around.

Loki raises an eyebrow.

LOKI

Don't tell me you've just been flirting with her this whole time?

SYLVIE

I'm sorry, I thought you said she was just an acquaintance?

LOKI

Oh, shut up.

Sylvie smirks. After a pause, her smile fades.

SYLVIE

It must be nice... to have friends. 

They glance over at Doreen and Mobius, who are still arguing over the difference between a squirrel and a chipmunk. Loki laughs.

SYLVIE

I don't have any...

(Beat)

I don't have... anyone.

Loki smiles.

LOKI

Well, you and I are the same. My friends are your friends now.

Sylvie smiles.

EXT. VOID - DAY

Mobius is saying goodbye.

MOBIUS

Sylvie... I need to apologize... for everything the TVA's done to you. And Loki... I'm sorry, too. It wasn't fair of us to put you through what we did. And it wasn't fair of me to judge you for your past. Not when you're trying to be a better person now.

He extends his hand to Loki. Instead of shaking it, Loki hugs him.

LOKI

Goodbye, my friend.

MOBIUS

(whispering to Sylvie)

You're my favorite.

Sylvie grins. Doreen hugs him as well.

DOREEN

You go get that jet ski, you hear?

MOBIUS

Sure will. Well, see you later!

He heads out the portal and leaves.

@drawntothedarkside

[rvmmm21]

. you know who i am? part end .

*yawn* i can now sleep for a while. thanks guys! if you read this all the way through, can i get some pocky pls? i’m craving it right now.

part 1′s here.

part 2′s here.

[badgirl/bully!joohyun x freshman!seungwan]

...

Seungwan, the poor fool, would never have guessed.

She thought she was in deep? Hah! Joohyun was yelling at her to stop wading in the kiddie pool and come join her in the deep end.

If only she’d been able to see past her own emotions to realise it was Joohyun who had started this whole mess by making them partners all those weeks ago.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seulgi, like any sane human being, disapproves greatly when Seungwan lays her options down on the table one morning.

“Mmph!” she grunts, shaking her head and hastily swallowing the last mouthful of sashimi before staring at her delusional friend, “no, absolutely freakin no way.”

“I-I mean it’s more like paraphrasing…” Seungwan offers, shrinking into herself when she sees the other girl grow more frustrated by the second.

“Stop it, Seungwan,” she interjects, massaging her temples to soothe the ache, “you literally told me you were planning to ‘lift quoted texts and mush them together’. I mean, come on, that’s plagiarism plain and simple. Stop trying to defend it.”

“B-but Seul, I don’t have a choice!”

“Really? Cheating? Hello, is Son Seungwan home? This isn’t you, Wan-ah, you sound crazy! And so is she! And that’s literally – ah wait, no that makes it perfect… aish forget I even said anything.”

Seungwan mirrors her concern. “I think she might have actually made me insane, Seul. I’ve never thought about cheating… ever!”

It’s true. Seungwan’s always been a tucked-in shirt, pulled up socks, neatly ironed uniform kind of girl. She currently feels like the biggest hypocrite. Seulgi’s scoff triggers her rambling again.

“I-I don’t know though, it’s like… it’s like the more we work together, the more I wanna be together! A-and not even like be together as in girlfriends or anything… just, I dunno, spend time with her. I wanna be around her constantly… and stuff. I think I might fail this semester cos I can’t stop thinking about her. But… I have to do better, cause if I fail, she fails. A-and I’ll never let that happen.”

Seungwan’s expression screams ‘whipped’, and it pleads for some sort of reassurance, but Seulgi’s fresh out of stock at the moment. She’s too shocked by what she’s just heard her twit of a roommate tell her. When she finally finds her tongue, it’s not to give her friend the reassurance she so desperately seeks, but to simply ask.

“But do you want to?”

Huh?! The girl screams in her head. Do I want to what? Plagiarise? Have a cup of tea? Tell Joohyun to stay ten feet away from me because whenever she’s near I just want to grab her by the face and kiss her silly?! Or perhaps I need to be demanding she pay my hospital bills because my heart is –

“Be her girlfriend.”

Oh, wow, blunt. But when you put it like that…

Slowly, Seungwan looks up at Seulgi; looking like she’d been caught with her hand in the metaphorical cookie jar; guilty as hell.

“… mm… can you repeat the question…?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The flip side of the coin isn’t looking so shiny, either.

Joohyun finds herself all caught up in thoughts of Son Seungwan; the girl she’s wanted since day one, but the girl who also managed to properly steal her unguarded heart while she was busy acting all aloof and in control. In control was something she definitely wasn’t, right now. And as much as she should be out, guns a blazing, to retrieve what’s been stolen from her, she can’t help but not want it back. Somehow, she feels as though it’s safer in Seungwan’s hands.

Clumsy, weak-hearted girls were certainly in fashion, and Joohyun is dead-set on getting hers.

“Yah!” Sooyoung swats at the hand that’s just stolen her one of her last Pocky sticks, “that was the longest one! I was saving that till last!”

Joohyun ignores her, thoughtfully nibbling on the chocolate coated biscuit as she contemplates her next move. She glances over at the other girl upside down on the bed, blocking random Instagram followers with her feet up against the wall and an open packet of crisps by her head.

“Jennie,” she deadpans, “do you think I should do it?”

The girl barely takes a second to look back at Joohyun before swiftly pinching the actual last Pocky out of Sooyoung’s grasp. They both pay no mind to the frustrated yelling from their flabbergasted friend as she storms off into the kitchen to throw away the empty box. She leaves them in peace.

“I dunno,” Jennie shrugs coolly, returning to her blocking spree, “but you better stop playing with your food. Didn’t your mum tell you it’s rude?”

Joohyun rolls her eyes. “Yah, I told you, I’m not playing. I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a chance with her.”

“So do it,” Sooyoung re-enters the room, already chomping on a fresh box of snacks, “stake your claim. Get her before those others do.”

Joohyun perks up, a glare frosting over her pretty face. “What others?”

Sooyoung smiles at Jennie, knowing their lovesick friend has fallen for it.

“Oh you know,” she cracks on, “those hordes of people I saw outside class once. They were all lining up to confess to your  Seungwan, love letters and everything.”

Joohyun realises she could tackle Sooyoung right now, but she chooses not to. Instead she turns to face the girl who looks smug as ever with a mouthful of crisps.

“Ha ha, very funny,” she scoffs, “oh yeah, and I lied. I did drink your strawberry milk the other day.”

Sooyoung’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Hyun!! I knew it wasn’t Haetnimie!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Seungwan often found herself dreaming about it; as if she couldn’t decide whether it had really happened or not.

The first time Joohyun kissed her.

…

Joohyun scans the landscape for her study buddy today. Strategically situated in the furthest, quietest corner the bustling café has to offer, she takes impatient glances down at her phone set face up on the small, round table. Late, as usual, she thinks, rolling her eyes as she flicks her phone screen on and off for the sake of something to do.

Finally, her impatience is fizzled away by the tinkling of the small bell at the stop of the door, indicating a new patron.

Late and clumsy, more like, she corrects herself, a smile crawling up her face as she watches the harassed-looking girl spot her with an embarrassed wave and begin to make her way over, books cradled in arms and a tube of string cheese between her teeth. Joohyun can’t stop a giggle when Seungwan thinks she’s knocked someone’s latte off their table with her bag strap. She bows over and over, spluttering disjointed apologies only to find out the cup is still perfectly on the table and the people are now looking at her in pure amazement.

Oh god, another one for the books then, Seungwan sighs, turning her beet-red face away from them and slinking on.

Eventually, she’s settled down across Joohyun, who’s been waiting, she realises in horror as she checks the time, for 15 whole minutes.

“Sorry I’m late,” her breathless smile and tired eyes have Joohyun subconsciously softening at her sincerity, “I didn’t get much sleep last night, and oh–! Have you eaten, unnie?”

Seungwan digs into her school bag, and, with a happy little ‘ta-da!’, pulls out a nicely cling wrapped, homemade oatmeal cookie.

“I decided to bake, instead,” she cheerfully chirps, breaking off a portion of the baked treat and offering the bigger half to her raven haired senior, “I bake these a lot, you should try!”

Disappointment nudges Seungwan’s heart when Joohyun glares at her, suddenly aware of the sting in her bicep from still holding part of her cookie out in front of her. She tries not to let it show, but the disappointment quickly turns into something else when she sees that all too familiar smirk flower on Joohyun’s pretty lips.

“You should feed me.”

Seungwan shivers at the expectant stare she’s fixed with while the other girl remains composed as always. Annoying. Before she has time to respond, her knee collides with the underside of the table, loudly clinking the metal cutlery and causing a few heads to turn. It takes everything in her not to look down where she just knows Joohyun’s foot is ever so lightly grazing her pant leg.

Joohyun blinks innocently at Seungwan’s rapidly reddening face as she’s forced to apologise profusely yet again, this time for something she’s actually done.

“Unnie…” she croaks, trying to calm her racing heart.

“What?” Joohyun cocks her head. She promptly picks the cookie out of the girl’s fingers and takes a bite, “serves you right for keeping me waiting.”

Seungwan lets out a breathy groan and begins flipping the pages to where she’s bookmarked.

“Mm, this is really good, Seungwan.”

Cadbury eyes light up at the praise and Seungwan stops annotating to cap her highlighter.

“R-really? You like it? Oh that’s great news! I’ll make you some more! I can!”

Joohyun chuckles and nods. Seungwan’s puppy eagerness melts her more than she cares to admit. The way any sort of positive affirmation she throws her way has her excitedly tossing aside whatever she’s doing. Not that it matters anyway, Joohyun’s more than happy to take rightful precedence over stupid assignments and due dates.

“Good. Best I’ve eaten in a while.”

…

“So that’s what I’ve interpreted here. Going off what he’s written in this paragraph, I think he genuinely believes he’s right.”

It happens somewhere between ‘genuinely’ and ‘right’.

Smooth and secretive.

Like the hushed whisper over the din of a crowded room.

Fingers tug at her collar and a pair of lips press into hers from across the table. She’s caught completely unawares, and Joohyun’s lips are gone before she can even get used to them. She watches in shock as her senior sits back down, not even giving her a second look as she returns to annotating the next paragraph.

Seungwan can’t believe Joohyun’s ignorant to the fact that she’s just unfolded her origami heart like no one has before.

~~~~~~~~~~

The blaring of Jessie J’s ‘Price Tag’ piercing her peaceful Sunday morning has Seungwan flailing to grab her phone off the table top. She has to swipe three times after playing hot potato with the device before she finally manages to answer the call.

“Hello,” the screen is cold against her ear as she groggily answers.

“Oh hello? Seungwan? Did I wake you? I’ll call later – ”

Joohyun’s husky voice registers in her brain and she shoots up so fast into a sitting position she feels slightly light-headed.

“No no no!” she exclaims a little too enthusiastically, running a hand through the tangled mess on her head and palming swollen eyes, “I’m awake it’s fine. We can talk. Is… is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s okay, don’t worry.”

Joohyun sounds like she’s smiling over the phone, but Seungwan doesn’t get her hopes up. The other girl continues. “Yeah, probably should’ve texted you earlier to tell you I was coming by your dorm, but I was picking something up at the shops anyway so I thought I’d drop by and try my luck.”

“Oh, I see,” Seungwan isn’t sure if she wants to ask if this is about what happened at their latest study session but her nerves dampen a little when Joohyun chips in.

“You left your pen at the café so I’m just returning it.”

Ah, okay, Seungwan thinks. She’s weirdly upset at the fact that Joohyun’s pretending nothing had happened between them. Perhaps she toys with people this way. Perhaps Seungwan’s just another notch in her string of empty loves. Irritation pinches into her chest at the prospect. Couldn’t miss high-and-mighty take into account her feelings for once? It’s not like she could just change Seungwan’s life like this and not expect to take an ounce of responsibility.

It’s absolutely unfair. She almost wants to scream into her phone, but Joohyun’s voice stops her before she can even open her mouth.

“… oh and. We need to talk.”

Okay, there it is. Commanding and concise; what Bae Joohyun does best. She doesn’t know if she should be jumping for joy or locating the nearest exit, but she nonetheless finds herself hastily shuffling to her wardrobe to throw on the first pair of trousers and hoodie she finds.

“Uh sure, unnie… give me ten minutes? I’ll be down. Did you want to meet at the shops?”

“No it’s okay. Just meet me downstairs, I’m waiting.”

And she hangs up.

…

With how fast Seungwan brushes her teeth and gets herself dressed, it should be in the Guinness Book of World Records for the quickest thing anyone’s ever done for love. There’s no time to fiddle around with contacts today so she rummages through her drawer for her only pair of chrome steel-rimmed glasses.

She brushes past Seulgi who’s sitting on the sofa having breakfast. The girl’s eyes suspiciously follow her harried friend as she rushes out the door, crinkling her nose at the distinct waft of perfume that lingers after she’s gone.

Seungwan spots Joohyun leaning over the railing outside her dorm. She pauses before pushing the huge glass doors open, shaking her head with a sigh. How does someone make mum jeans and a white t-shirt look Vogue-worthy?

Joohyun sports the faintest smile when she sees Seungwan jogging over to her; her pin-rolled sweatpants, fluffy Uniqlo hoodie and unruly bed hair making her look nothing short of adorable. Dumb little sleepyhead, Joohyun mumbles just out of earshot.

“I’m glad I woke you up bright and early,” she chuckles at the girl who’s bent over next to her, clutching the railing to catch her breath.

Joohyun gets a quick ruffle of soft, caramel hair before Seungwan straightens up. She holds the black ballpoint up to the other girl, who accepts it with a small thankful nod.

“Thanks, unnie,” Seungwan says, not really interested in the returned possession. She really wants to ‘talk’. “So uh, you wanted to… talk?”

“Ah, yes. Um…”

Joohyun blinks a couple times, seemingly at a loss for words. She seems not  to know what to do with herself, darting her gaze here and there, lightly rapping her fingers against the cool metal bar. Her sudden awkwardness is more than justified, though. After all, confessing to the victim of her bullying has never been something to cross Joohyun’s mind. For once, she’s the one tripping over herself. For once, she’s the one caught completely off-guard.

Even the gentle morning breeze feels awkward. Seungwan starts to think that ‘shopping’ is looking more and more like a cover up for something else.

She inwardly beams at the way Joohyun currently embodies everything she’s felt this entire time. However, she decides if she is ever going stand up for what she believes in, it’s now. Taking a deep breath, she mentally thanks Seulgi for her advice on how to appear like less of an idiot in front of the person you’re deeply in love with.

“Unnie,” she begins, “I need you to tell me honestly. What are we?”

Joohyun opens her mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. She’s still at a loss for how she could possibly convey what she wanted to in this moment. Goddamn, she curses, why can’t I just go back to bullying this little nerd? When did life screw me over like this?

She stays silent as Seungwan so confidently lays the cards out for her.

“Because I know how I feel… and…” her tone falters momentarily, her natural awkward self threatens to barge in again but she manages to shut the door on it.

“… and I… I like you.”

The confession is significantly quieter than anything she said before, but Joohyun hears it through a megaphone. Her eyebrows arch up and she turns to face the girl who’s had the courage to do what she’s wanted to do all along.

“Seungwan…”

She looks at the other girl who’s silent; waiting.

“I-I don’t know how to…”

“Then don’t.”

Her breath hitches when Seungwan’s fingers interruptedly caress her pink cheek. The shorter girl slowly leans in, and Joohyun gladly lets her take the lead.

Eyelashes flutter and the world stops altogether, when Seungwan presses her soft, pillowy lips to hers in a positively heart-attack inducing kiss. It’s tender, luscious and Joohyun can’t get enough. She takes in everything she feels; the tip of Seungwan’s nose gently poking her cheek, her fringe tickling just below her eyebrows and the hand now resting on the small of her back, drawing her in for more.

A shared cluster of fireworks go off behind both their eyelids.

Seungwan pulls away first, gracefully meeting the gaze she was once terrified of. Joohyun’s smiling now, and she doesn’t miss the way it reaches her eyes. It’s much easier to speak her feelings when she isn’t being shot at with death glares.

Yet she suddenly feels shy, withdrawing completely and scratching nervously at her arm. “Unnie… I was wondering if I could uh… you know…”

Of course Joohyun knows. The tables turn yet again when the elder girl finds herself a new assertiveness to wear after that kiss. Sweet lips curl into a knowing smirk, much like the one she usually exhibits. “Be my girlfriend?”

Fresh rose petals sprinkle over Seungwan’s cheeks as she meekly nods.

Joohyun laughs, grabbing the surprised girl by the wrist and melding their bodies together, hand cradling Seungwan’s nape.

“Silly freshman,” she says fondly, leaning in to playfully peck her on the nose. “You were always mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Seungwan flings her pen into space for the umpteenth time today when Joohyun leans over from her position on the bed and gives her a kiss. She should be used to it by now, but it’s just something about those mysterious eyes and the velvety voice that she can never quite acclimatise to. It’s something about that specific shade of maraschino cherries on Joohyun’s lips, and the fact they taste even sweeter when they’re pressed against hers. Everything’s too sudden, and it has her light-headed and reeling each and every goddamned time. Grumbling, the younger girl squirms around for a while before she sprawls out with the fattest heart eyes, muffled thuds from socked feet kicking a tantrum into Joohyun’s wooden floorboards.

“Ahhhh unnieeee,” she squeals, wriggling around like a deranged worm, “please stop distracting me, we have to get this done!”

Joohyun smiles at how she looks like a kindergartener who’s just had their lollipop taken away. You know the one, when they’re all grumpy but so cute to watch.

“Get it done then,” she says unhelpfully down at Seungwan’s red face, grinning at the exaggerated sigh she receives for it.

“You’re not helpinggg-ahhhhhh,” Seungwan rolls around helplessly, and Joohyun merely laughs at her partner turned human mop.

“It’s not my job to help, Wannie. I’m the bully, you get bullied. That’s the deal, so don’t you forget it.”

Pft, yeah sure. This time it’s Seungwan who can’t stop the budding laughter as she recalls the past few weeks with this girl.

It takes about five seconds for Seungwan to un-starfish herself and drag her upper half up into a sitting position again; her mouth may say stop, but those rosy cheeks, that sulky school-girl pout and messy hair absolutely begs for another.

“Only joking, freshman. I’ll help you. But only cause you’re cute. And you’ll owe me, big time,” she teases before darting her eyes to the corner behind the other girl.

Seungwan’s eyes light up at the offer. “Thank you, unnie. Let’s get star– ”

“Hey Wan, what’s that over there?”

“Huh?”

A teasing smirk and a fraction of a second later, Joohyun has Seungwan staring up at the ceiling after her spine does a 404 error, rendering her a boneless heap of lovesick gurgles and deserted thoughts.

And it was only a kiss!

“Unnieeee!!”

The never peaceful study session dissolves into a small insult battleground; playful, of course.

The fun might’ve just begun, but their open books and un-analysed literature stare up at them in disbelief; forgotten yet again.

Joohyun’s had enough of watching from the clouds and proceeds to get off the bed to join Seungwan on the floor. They tussle around for a while, before Joohyun’s hovering above her. She’s just staring down, something that happens so often but never fails to make Seungwan squirm in discomfort, all shy and self-conscious. Joohyun doesn’t care, though. She simply smiles; she can ignore all the playground insults hurled at her, the tiny fists half-heartedly pummelling at her arms in an attempt to get her to move off. Hell, she can even ignore Mr. Lee’s stern warnings about failing the class if she keeps turning up late, or Sooyoung’s hollow threats at tattooing ‘I’m a thief’ across her forehead when she’s asleep unless she stops eating her food when she’s not around.

There’s a lot Joohyun can ignore, and plenty more she’ll choose to in the future.

But she can never ignore the girl who clumsily left her taro tea fingerprints all over her heart.

[fictional-worlds-are-exquisite]

i am out there!! i'm glad you liked it! i'm definitely trying out the recipe you left in the tags. it sounds way better than just banana and peanut butter. i always have to pay a lot of attention when i type banana because i've ended up with "bananana" way too many times

i was planning to run straight to your askbox the second i saw you replied but then the end of the semester happened and it killed me. hopefully i'm done with it now

i do exactly the same thing with height! if you tell me your height in feet i have absolutely no idea how tall that is. if you say that in centimetres that's easy. i mean you're 155cm so that's 12cm shorter than me. when you told me that in feet i was like okay cool i have no idea how much shorter than actually is

i love birds!!! so that seems awesome! i am now titling you the queen of birds. and i'm glad your vacation was good! i think i saw a couple of posts you made about it so it definitely does seem like a lot of fun! and did you ever figure out completely what that see through animal (?) in the sand was? i had no idea stuff like that even existed so now i'm invested in knowing what it is

i am 100% hiring you for my coming out party i'm throwing in a couple of years. it's gonna be fun. if we don't get immediately kicked out i promise good food and some spicy drama between my homophobic relatives and my accepting relatives! and my brother's, who i already came out to, dry commentary

i was definitely not the one you told about burma trails! but from the tags i'm just gonna say how is that allowed and why does it seem like a weird type of torture? i hate it, i probably would've had a heart attack 3 seconds in

oh yeah i actually can't tell most of the time if the memories from my childhood are actual memories or if it's just a combination of having seen photos and heard stories about it

my glasses prescription is fine i think. my eye doctor said that i get headaches from glasses because... well i tried to explain this and then deleted it all because it was a very scientific explanation when she said it and i zoned out pretty much halfway through and even the part that i did understand i can't translate to english! but it has something to do with the fact that with contacts it's enough to move my eyes in the direction i want to look at and with glasses i have to move my whole head and my brain got so used to contacts that it overdoes it with the eye movements when wearing glasses? i dunno. this is the best i can do in explaining it

i must admit i'm very jealous of the never snows part because while snow is pretty to look at it's absolutely freezing! for the past week i slept under a duvet, three blankets while wearing pants and a long sleeve shirt and i still woke up cold. because for a couple of nights it was around -22°C. it's great

ohhh you got pretty lucky as a kid then! my kid self would have absolutely lost it at getting the equivalent of 5/10 bucks. i probably would have bought so much candy

excellent!!! hope you’re enjoying the vague void from whence you came! i’ve never said whence before in my LIFE i wonder if i used it correctly. anyway. the actual recipe was way more specific but once i saw ‘2 frozen bananas’ and looked at all the sliced bananas in my fridge, having no idea how many there were, i just started improvising sdfkhsdfs. I’d be interested to try it with yoghurt though if I can get some dairy free plain stuff, I’m sure I can somewhere. Banana used to be my biggest problem when I was younger. Then I learnt words like occasion and necessary and embarrassed and I realised the more english I tried to learn, the worse my life was gonna get. And I was right. On the bright side, developing an inability to ever spell occasion correctly made banana seem a lot easier to handle.

that is fair. end of semesters are rough. i cannot function during them at all. i hope everything chills out for you!! i’m not sure how the school year is over there but maybe it’s break time? that’d be nice. but rest in peace anyway, enjoy being dead! they say necromancy is frowned upon in all societies but I reckon it’s just called making a friend when you’re dead so maybe you wanna take that up as a hobby! I’ve heard it’s nice this time of year!

yup! sometimes I’m like oh you’re 5 foot 4? that sounds way taller than me. but it...it really isn’t...it’s like an extra 8cm or something. which adds up! but in my head I was picturing a MUCH taller height. In my head I think I picture 6 foot and 5 foot 4 as the same height, now that I think about it.

!!!!! my first order as queen of birds is to meet a morepork face to face so we can chat about the price of pork these days. yes!! the first half was nice but the second half was really fun. my best guess is still that it’s a salp? Maybe? So many salp pictures are massive groups of them but like,, from what i can tell of singular photos,,, it was maybe that? I guess the only other possibility is it’s just some clear jellyfish but salp does seem more likely. At first I was like oh duuude boob implant for the ocean!! but then I realised it actually seemed kinda alive and was probably an actual creature. my bad.

excellent. i’ll break any tension by dropping the vampire act for the mouse act. will do backflips for cheese. will bite ankles for homophobic comments. Will pull a knife out of god knows where, not to threaten anyone, just to clean my nails with to make everyone nervous. I offer many services. I’m flexible. And I love me some good food.

I actually DON’T know the reason behind burma trails. I really don’t. The reason ‘it’s a fun activity!’ seems a little fake. if it’s a fun activity then why did Mrs. G. tell us a horror story about the forest before we went out to navigate said forest at night, blindfolded, surrounded by wildlife and parents supervising (*cough* waiting for the opportunity to jump out at you *cough*) with a teacher at the end waiting to scare us. So we can learn how to navigate the forest in the dark? So we learn how to follow a mysterious rope INTO the forest at night? seems dodgy to me. school camps be like [drives you out to forest] follow this rope and don’t take your blindfold off. like. bruh. i almost DID have a heart attack one time, I got stuck like something was holding my leg. First thought-ah, must’ve got my leg stuck in a big stick. Second thought-maybe this is one of the parents fucking around, it feels more like a grip than a twig. Third thought-I cannot get my leg free no matter what I do what the fuck is HAPPENING so I started crying out for help. When they FINALLY came they found nothing my leg was caught on so that was fun. love that for me. I was able to move as soon as they arrived. That’s not weird at all. anyway.

I think most of my early memories are just from stories I’ve been told and photos I’ve seen. My memory tends to be horrible I highly doubt I remember that one time I was eating dirt from the garden out in the yard gleefully. I just saw the photo evidence. mm spaghetti. bone apple teeth. my character hasn’t changed at all since I was a wee babe.

ohhhh okay. I think I get what you mean by that. Thank you for trying to explain! That’s really interesting. I guess I do move my head a lot with glasses. Although I have massive glasses so it’s probably easier for me to just move my eyes where I want. I reckon with smaller glasses I’d have to move my head way more.

the temperature comment is so funny because during the heart of winter i tend to sleep with a sheet, a blanket, a duvet, then 2-4 blankets on top while in a long sleeve shirt and long pants and sometimes bed socks and often a hottie (i’ve never realised how that sounds out of context...a hot water bottle...is calling it a hottie normal or is a my family thing? is this a nz thing? now i’m questioning myself). in my uni accommodation last year we didn’t have proper heating during most of winter and well. there was a quilt added to everything else. every blanket i could find. how cold does it get here in winter? rarely ever past 0 degrees celsius. I would literally die in your position, clearly. I could not survive that. Props to you for making it through aha.

yesss. Before when I found five dollar notes it’d be on the street and I’d be like oh no! Mum we have to hand this into the police station! It’s a lot of money, someone will be looking for it! Understandably she was like,, lindsey they might miss it but there’s not really any way you can find them,,, I still refused to spend it. That was like my first time really getting that much money for myself. The dairy on main street sold lollies for 10 cents each and they had like, 30 different lil glass boxes so you’d go I want 3 of 26, 5 of 7, ohhh and 5 of 13 please! I dunno if they’re still 10 cents each but I thought it was the best thing ever as a kid. I think I wanted to save the money though sfdjsdkfhs put it in my piggy bank to save up for something ‘super cool’. Aka probably like a neat soft toy to sleep with sdfsdkfs.

[illwork4anime]

Excerpt from Done with Love Ch 4

Scene: Secret in the Flower Shop / Shogi with Shikamaru

Just sharing some of my favorite scenes from my In-Progress fic! Hope you guys enjoy!

Done With Love - Ch 4 [FF | AO3]

Ships: Hints of Shikasaku

Scene Summary: For Sakura’s genjutsu training, she must memorize details about the world around her in an artistic way rather than analytically. However, while at the flower shop, Ino spills a secret that has Sakura looking at Shikamaru in a new light.

Sakura is trying to see the world in a new light, with the eye of an artist rather than a scientist. It's going horribly.

She spent an hour yesterday browsing through flowers and journaling their details. How Violet petals transition from yellow to white to purple, how the textures of the petal were softer than smooth stems and the difference between the smell of a rose and a lily. Somehow the journal still came off more as a botanical case study than art.

It wasn't a total waste though. She'd got to spend some time with Ino at the Yamanaka flower shop.

"So, how's it going with Shika-ma-ru?" She asks, drawing out the last two syllables in his name. Sakura rolls her eyes, glancing up from the Violets.

"Fine, I guess. We haven't killed each other yet." She answers with a shrug.

"Sounds like sexual tension to me," Ino sings, and then adds, "If you guys just slept together, you'd get along so much better."

Sakura scoffs, "Gross, Ino-pig."

"Come on, you don't think Shikamaru's a little cute in a bookish kind of way?" Ino asks.

"We're just friends, Ino. I've never thought of him like that." Sakura answers, not looking up from her flowers this time.

"Yeah, right. I saw you guys at that restaurant, and you were way to cozy to just be friends." Ino argues, leaning over the counter.

"What's your deal with him, Ino?" Sakura says, frustrated. "Are you jealous or something? I feel like you're reading way too into this."

"Me? Jealous?" She scoffs, but Sakura narrows her eyes at her.

"Yeah, I think so." Sakura says. Ino shakes her head a few times. "I mean, what was with the whole 'Shikamaru prefers blondes' comment? Don't try telling me that wasn't referring to yourself."

Ino's mouth drops open. "Forehead! Why do you have to remember everything?" She pouts and answers, "So Shikamaru had a little crush on me when we were genin, but that was like so long ago. And we only kissed like one time and it doesn't even really count since he didn't use tongue."

"Wait, seriously?" Sakura abandons her flowerpot and strides over to the counter where Ino is leaning. "Why am I just hearing about this now?"

Ino waves a hand. "Because it was hardly a blip on the radar. Plus, it was when we were still fighting over Sasuke, so it's not like we talked ever."

"That's a huge blip! You kissed your teammate." Sakura presses. "Oh my god, Ino, was that you're first kiss?"

"So, what if it was?" Ino says defensively.

"Ino!" Sakura shrieks.

"There have been many more and many better since then. Trust me." Ino says.

"God, isn't it awkward working with him now?" She asks, imagining if she'd ever kissed Naruto and then had to face him every day for training or missions. She shudders.

"Not really. It was just a moment and we both know it. Sometimes it's better to get something like that out of your system. What can I say?" Ino shrugs. "It's not like we'd ever have something come out of it. The Yamanaka, Nara and Akimichi clans aren't allowed to have relationships anyway. Something about preserving the Kekkei Genkai."

She suddenly feels bad for Ino. No one should be able to tell you who to love. What if she had really loved Shikamaru and been forced apart?

"Don't give me that look, forehead," Ino says after glancing at the pity on Sakura's face. "I mean, sure, at the time it was a whole 'star-crossed lovers' feel, but I am like so over that. We never would have worked out anyway."

Sakura nods, feeling a little better. Until she remembers Choji, who seems to not be over it at all.

"I'd never date a teammate anyway, even if we were allowed. That's just too much overlap between work and play." Ino finishes with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

Poor, poor Choji.

"That reminds me," Ino recalls, "Did you really mean what you said about being done with Sasuke?" Giving her a probing look.

Sakura prickles, "Yes, is that really such a surprise?"

Ino looks at her like she's grown a second head, "Well, yeah! Your whole life was Sasuke and then out of nowhere you're 'over him'." Adding air quotes.

"Not just him. I'm done with relationships in general." Sakura responds.

"That I don't believe for a second." Ino states.

"Well it's true." Sakura insists, "I'm way too busy for a relationship anyway. I've got a lot riding on this training and I won't put myself on hold again for some guy who's probably just going to end up hurting me when it's all said and done."

"You're so cynical." Ino says judgmentally. "Not everyone has the same emotional baggage as Sasuke. You can't base your whole love life off him."

"It's not about him. It's about me, for once." Sakura counters, turning her nose up before saying, "I'm focusing on myself for a while."

"Boo," Ino heckles, "That's what they all say and its never true."

Sakura huffs, and returns to her journaling, knowing Ino was way too stubborn to quit. Why bother even trying to convince her otherwise?

***

Now, as she's sitting across from Shikamaru at the shogi board in Nara forest, the combination of Ino's confession and trying to catalog everything she looks at has her studying Shikamaru too closely. Distracting herself by observing the wood grain in the shogi board and the shine of the grass only goes so far. Before long she's back to memorizing the color of his cheeks in the sun or suppressing a mental picture him and Ino in a lip lock behind Training Ground 5.

She doesn't realize she'd been staring at him until he gruffly says, "You're move." His eyes are cast to the side, not meeting hers and his cheeks are a little pink.

"Sorry," She says, quickly returning to the game.

Compared to when she started playing, she was leaps ahead now. She hadn't won any games yet, but she'd come close, proof that she was learning. Although she'd never admit it to him, Shikamaru was right about this game being helpful. It made her think about everything more strategically and had really helped her out in her spars with Team Gai.

She selects her move quickly and sits back, chin resting in her hand again waiting for his turn.

She tries to focus on the board and plan, but her gaze gravitates to him again. His eyebrows are drawn together in the familiar way, and she knows his eyes are looking 20 moves into the future. His eyes are a clear, warm brown, just lighter than the boarder of the shogi board. Something about them is sharp despite the soft shade. Maybe the shape or the quickness in their movement?

Either way, she was starting to see what Ino described as 'bookishly cute'. If she'd seen his face on a stranger, she wouldn't look twice. Now after spending so much time with him, his features meld into something so familiar and so Shikamaru, she can't help but feel he's actually quite handsome. She'd never noticed before.

The conflicting sharp cheek bones and jaw line against the soft tones of his skin and eyes were balanced somehow. The way his lips are perpetually turned down at the corners was somehow endearing after a while. Even his chocolate colored ponytail she notices actually has streaks of chestnut that come out in the sunlight as the breeze blows it. Alone, each feature is plain, forgettable, but somehow together they come alive in a way that had her shoulders relaxing and her chest feeling light. Looking at him felt natural, like coming home after a long day. It felt safe.

"What?" He says softly, finally meeting her gaze. "You're staring,"

He's blushing again and looks down at the shogi board a moment later, eyes glued to a single piece.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just a little tired today. My mind keeps wandering." She lies, turning her attention back to the table. The truth about her assignment and Ino's confession are too embarrassing to share. Taking a few moments to refocus on the game, she remembers her strategy again, and makes her move. It's a good one.

Shikamaru makes a disapproving 'tsk', scowling in a way that's more of a pout for him. "I was hoping you wouldn't do that." He mumbles, crossing his arms.

She tries to suppress the smile rising to her face. One, she's insanely proud that she's getting good enough to be frustrating. Two, something about the unguarded expression on his face is just so cute.

She should feel horror at the thought, but her chest is just light. Now that she's seen it, she can't unsee it. Her eyes bounce between the board and him, guessing at what move he could be planning and reading each expression as they flit across his face.

'I could move that there,' one seems to say, 'but then…that won't work' another counters.

She lets out a quiet laugh through her nose, accidentally drawing his attention again.

"What?" He says a little more forcefully this time.

"Nothing, you're just so cute when you're concentrating." The truth is out of her mouth before she can stop it, and Shikamaru goes bright red, mouth wobbling between his pout and a smile and his eyes drop to the board again. Sakura grins.

"You're making fun of me," He huffs, mouth finally settling into to pout.

"Maybe," she says impishly. Shikamaru grumbles something sounding like 'troublesome' under his breath, and makes his move, cheeks still pink. He never really recovers, and for the first time its Sakura who wins.

He accuses her of cheating, but Sakura insists it still counts.

[holdthosebees]

Memento Mori

A/N: Here we are again! Reposted w/out the horrifically embarrassing typo, which I’m sure y’all would have forgotten about if I hadn’t just mentioned it. Shoutout to @screechfoxes for reminding me! Anyway I’m still thinking about Mike Crew/Oliver Banks, and I will be until I die. Fic is rated M for mild, nonexplicit sexual content and canonical character death. 

It’s storming on the day that Oliver meets Michael Crew, which feels appropriate enough. Later, Oliver jokes that, if Mike were more of a drama queen, he’d think he’d done it on purpose: the lashing rain, the heavy wind, the crack and roll of thunder shivering through the air. A summer storm, out of season. It’s driven away most of Oliver’s usual customers, the alternative kids and the middle aged hippies; he’s rearranging a display of cat-themed tarot cards for the fifth time for want of something better to do when the bell above the door rings.

The vertigo is immediate. Oliver raises his eyebrows as his stomach lurches; it had been a while since something impacted him like this. Ever since point Nemo, physical sensation has been... not numb, but dulled, certainly. Even the anxiety, once a constant companion, doesn’t leave him nauseous the way it used to. Then he registers the smell of ozone, and he sighs.

The man in the doorway is short and narrow, with a friendly, square face and sandy brown hair dripping rainwater onto his forehead. He’s dressed down for the weather, no raincoat or umbrella, and above the collar of his plain blue button-down Oliver can see a branching white scar.

“Good afternoon,” Oliver says, to be polite. “Anything I can help you with?”

“Oh, I’m just browsing,” the man says. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers, as if to indicate how uninterested he is in touching anything. “I’ll try not to drip on your stuff.”

“That’s very thoughtful,” Oliver says. Then, because he feels a little silly, playing retail associate with a fellow monster, “Sorry--you’re Michael Crew, right?”

“Guilty as charged,” Michael says, with a quirk of a smile. “But please, call me Mike. Who was it that told you about me? Simon? Jude?” He looks at Oliver’s expression, and laughs. “Figures it would be Jude. She’s such a gossip, that one.”

“I suppose,” Oliver says. His conversation with Jude hadn’t been long, but it had left an impression. He’d felt rather like she was trying to recruit him into some sort of alliance, and when he hadn’t been receptive, her demeanor had been... unpleasant. She’d mentioned Michael--Mike--as something of a casual acquaintance, and so he’d expected him to be somewhat like her: so full of gleeful malice that it oozed out the edges.

“Anyway. I figured I’d drop by, see the man who hijacked Harriet’s plans for Point Nemo.” Mike punctuates this with by giving Oliver a slow once-over, up and down. Oliver smiles reflexively. It’s hard to tell whether he’s being threatened or checked out; neither option is as daunting as it might have been, once, but if Mike is planning on starting something he’d rather they not do it in his shop.

“Oh,” Oliver says, “sorry about that. I wasn’t exactly thinking much, at the time.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sea water under the bridge.” Mike says, and smiles, taking a hand out of his pocket to wave the matter away. He has a nice smile, Oliver thinks. Not too wide, not the tooth-baring threat that most of the avatars he’d met seemed fond of. Nice. “To be honest, I don’t have much to do with what the Fairchild’s are up to, these days. I don’t really bother with the macro. Yes, I know, ironic.”

“Seems very reasonable,” Oliver says.

“I thought you’d approve. Your lot doesn’t bother with that sort of thing, right?  Everyone dies, after all.” His smile quirks up at the corner; a shared joke between two dead men.

“Memento mori,” Oliver says. He’s beginning to suspect that he actually is being chatted up, a suspicion confirmed when Mike asks him out for a pint a few minutes later. He considers saying no, citing the shop: it’s too early in the day to close up, after all. But there aren’t any customers coming, and Mike’s cute enough, and it’s not like he has many options. And it’s been a very, very long time.

They talk shop a bit over drinks--”Most people just don’t understand how big eternity actually is,” Mike says, all quiet intensity, and Oliver finds himself nodding along--and then, tentative, like he’s actually nervous, Mike asks Oliver over to his flat.

Oliver hesitates. He hasn’t gotten mixed up in any of the inter-avatar politics; he’s had no need to, and an entanglement just seemed like a pointless bit of risk. Besides, he’s always found the delight in death and pain paradoxically distasteful. He loves it, worships it, recognizes it as the truth that underwrites the universe; that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it.  

But Mike seems reasonable enough, and he’s handsome in an anemic sort of way. And there’s--something, in his eyes, the tilt of his jaw, an echo of defiant exhaustion, a coldness that Oliver recognizes. He is fairly cold himself, after all.

Going to bed with Michael Crew is--well, it would be overwhelming, if Oliver were capable of being overwhelmed. Touching his skin is vertigo, is free fall, the first crack of thunder when a storm breaks. Oliver licks the scar on his chest and tastes ozone. He can only imagine what Mike feels, touching him. They aren’t human, anymore; their bodies are vessels for something monstrous and huge, beautiful in their horror; but they can still sweat, and bite, and gasp so gently at the shock of sudden pleasure. Afterwards, Oliver lays his head on Mike’s chest and is relieved when he doesn’t feel a heartbeat.

It becomes almost a regular thing. They don’t date. They don’t have a relationship. The part of themselves that could be given to another person was already dedicated to something else; Mike will never look at anyone the way he looks up at the night sky, and Oliver will never feel as sadly tender about anything as he does when he sees the soon-to-be-dead walk past. The secret that Mike keeps is that the world is very big; the secret Oliver keeps is that your experience of it will be small. The space they make fits somewhere in-between.

The truce that they keep between them is simple. Mike comes by the store every few months or so. They make smalltalk, discuss the state of the powers, have sex sometimes. It’s nice. Mike, it turns out, is just as much of a homebody as Oliver; he lets the silences between them stretch on, doesn’t both texting ahead, doesn’t make demands of Oliver’s time. This is, of course, ideal. It is hard to care about investing in another person when you keep in the center of your heart and in your bones the knowledge that they, too, will die.

But still. It’s nice. One evening Mike swings by the store just before closing, and Oliver looks at his grey eyes and narrow shoulders and feels--something. It isn’t joy, and it isn’t exactly lust, and it’s certainly not love--Oliver does remember what it was like to be in love, although the memory feels like a reflection in water, murky and warped and far away. But something unclenches, somewhere in his chest, and he smiles without thinking when he says hello.

“Hey,” Mike says. His hair is a mess, sticking up in all kinds of windblown directions. It suits him. “I brought you something.”

“Oh?” Oliver says. Mike isn’t the gift-giving type; they aren’t exactly in a gift-giving business. Mike nods, rooting through the pockets of his faded grey trousers. What he pulls out looks at first like a lump of pale rock, but Oliver can feel the cold emanating from it, familiar and soft. He holds out his hand, and Mike presses the lump into it.

A chunk of bone, worn smooth, the pockmarks of its structure exposed all along one side. A piece from the spine of a sea creature long extinct. Oliver can feel the layers of dead things condensed on the ocean floor, the sediment of thousands of years of endings. It was, not the last of its species, but second to last. With it died the last chance they had.

When he closes his eyes, he sees the dark ocean stretching out forever.

“Thank you,” he says. He rolls the bone back and forth, savoring it. “It’s--very nice.”  

“You’re welcome,” Mike says. He sounds uneasy. He puts his hands back in his pockets, shoulders hunched. He doesn’t seem self conscious, not exactly, but--this isn’t something that they do, and they both know it. Still, Oliver smiles as he tucks the bone into the pocket of his work slacks, and after a moment, Michael relaxes again.

“Drop by my place, yeah?” he says. “When you’re done closing?”

Oliver doesn’t ask why he doesn’t want to linger. When Mike opens the shop door the is a rush of wind strong enough to tug at the covers of the paperbacks on display. Then the door shuts and the bell rings, and Oliver is left in stillness.

He rings up his last customer, a middle-aged woman buying a crystal pyramid and a book on chakra manipulation. There is a black tendril wrapped around her middle, and Oliver allows himself a moment to feel the soft, cold whisper of his god. It feels good. He knows, intellectually, that he might have felt guilty about that, once.

He closes up, and goes to Mike’s flat. Mike has a cup of tea and some takeaway already waiting for him. While they eat Mike tells him, in dreamy snippets, about his trip to the ocean. The sea, he said, that was big, but the sky--the perfect black, stretching on forever, unmarred by light pollution, the incredible, indifferent distance of the stars--that was something else. He closes his eyes while he speaks, savoring the memory. Oliver doesn’t ask what happened to the sailors he was with. He doesn’t have to. All the avatars serve the End, in their own ways.

They go to bed. When Mike removes his shirt Oliver sees a new scar, a patch of raw red skin in the shape of a handprint on his shoulder. Mike’s mouth twists when he notices Oliver looking.

“Had a bit of a disagreement with Jude Perry,” he says, wry. Then he frames Oliver’s face in his hands and kisses him, all sudden intent, and Oliver feels the vertigo again, twisting with arousal in the pit of his stomach. He smiles.

Afterwards, they lie together, Mike’s head on Oliver’s chest, Oliver’s fingers tangled in Mike’s hair. This is another thing they don’t usually do, the cuddling. Mike’s not a cuddly person, just like he’s not a clingy person, or a gift giving person, or--arguably--a person at all. Oliver finds himself remember the last time he did this. Years and years ago. In bed with Graham, who he didn’t let himself think about for so long that it became an unconscious habit to repress.

But his memories are hazy and confused, another life, full of feelings that no longer fit in his body. And there are details that he can’t line up: what color was Graham’s hair? His eyes? It’s all fading away, now, tangling and strange, like an old movie in a foreign language. Oliver gives up. He closes his eyes and lets himself drift, listening to the quiet rush of Mike’s breathing.

He dreams. In his dreams he is in the middle of the ocean, water like black glass stretching out in all directions. Forever. And above it the sky, the black and endless sky, full of cold and distant stars.

The water rolls. A huge wave, a wall: the back of some great creature, larger than a ship, than a whale, its bulk enough to change the entire landscape without breaking the surface. Oliver sees miles of barnacle-ridden skin, a single sunken eye. And around it, familiar as breathing: the tendrils of death, black and fleshy, like the arms of a kraken drawing it down. The behemoth groans, and the world shakes.

Oliver wakes up. At first he thinks he is still sleeping: he smells salt, and can feel the press of one of the death-tendrils against his hand, fleshy and cold. But no. He is awake, in Mike Crew’s flat. The smell is Mike’s hair; he hasn’t been able to wash the sea off of him, yet. And the touch--

There is a tendril around Mike’s neck.

There is nothing else to do. Oliver presses his mouth to the top of Mike’s head, closes his eyes. Then he slides carefully out of bed and begins to dress. Mike won’t wonder why he left. He won’t notice anything amiss, not until tomorrow, maybe, or the day after that. However many days it takes. Oliver pulls on his trousers and feels the lump of bone press against his hip. He does up the buttons on his shirt, pulls on his coat. It is raining. A soft, light rain, streaking down the window in the grey dawn.

He stops at the doorway, looks back at Mike’s small frame curled up under the comforter. One hand grasping at the pillow.

“Rest well,” Oliver whispers. Then he turns, and closes the door behind him.

[lucifer-lacroix]

Interview with a Witcher

Geraskier Fanfic  - Geralt X Jaskier - Drama - Romance - based of games and tv series - Future plot - When a Vampire shows up in Novigrad, things at the theatre get more dramatic as Geralt and Jaskier explore their feelings for each other.

The wild plains of Redania were filled with monsters, and corpse eaters as Geralt of Rivia travelled to the city. Jaskier, his long-time friend and ally had opened a cabaret in the city. A tavern once called the Rosemary and Thyme had transformed into the lavish theatre known as the Chameleon. It has been one year since the theatre opened and Geralt headed to the anniversary show — a grand performance to make up for the cancellation of the opening night. Priscilla, Jaskier long-time girlfriend and the fellow bard had recovered from her injuries and even though the assailant who attacked her was never found she was ready to perform. Geralt had hoped Ciri would make it in time for the show at weeks end, but since she became a full-fledged witcher herself, she would frequently run off on her own. Geralt was starting to worry since she should have arrived by now, the Wild Hunt was gone, but powerful monsters remained, and the political order was getting heated again. Geralt constantly reminded of the dangers on the road after fighting off an ancient forest spirit whose head was currently strapped to his saddle. The bloody antlers were catching the attention of the guards while he crosses the gate into the main strip. Roach trudged up to a three-story theatre house draped in red. A group of performers out front were singing and dancing to greet them. "Toss a coin to your witcher." They started singing, and Geralt let out a long exasperated sigh as he manoeuvred Roach up to the watering trove. Once he dismounted Geralt felt the strain of his injuries which cause a limp in his gait as he walked up to the doors tired from little sleep. The joyous tune of his song making him smile despite his best efforts to conceal it.

"Welcome back, Geralt!" "Nice to see you, a witcher." "Have you come to the show!?" Their voices called for his attention.

Inside the theatre, on the second floor, Jaskier glanced out the window hearing the commotion outside and spotted his comrade. "Geralt's here!" he cheered, "The letter said he would be here two days ago." Jaskier excitedly rushed down the stairs and out the door his arms open in welcome. "Geralt, you made it!" he exclaimed, "Good to see you, Jaskier." Geralt replied as he came in for a hug. "Part of me was expecting you not to show up, but the rest of me knew you would not be able to resist… oh my lord, what is that smell?" Jaskier attempted to pull Geralt into a hug but stopped just short as he noticed not only the foul stench but also his tired eyes. Geralt's arm flinched when Jaskier touched him, fresh injuries which stained his armour red. "I'm fine." Geralt said to quell Jaskier worried expression. "Come follow me, let us find you a place to sit and relax. You must be hungry, and I have plenty of delights to fill the empty belly of a hero who has come home." Jaskier excitedly lead Geralt into the Chameleon, "Tell me where you have been what have you seen where did you go? I want to know all!"

"Well, recently I travelled to Skellig. Took up a few monster contracts including a Leshen that had made its territory near a small village, the elders believed it to be a god protecting them, but it would hunt and kill those who tried scavenging in the forest. One of the elders wanted me to perform a ritual to please it, but the rest of the townsfolk paid me to kill it." Geralt started his story as they walked into the theatre decorated with tasteful paintings and elegant art. Jaskier was dodging around tables even though his nose was down in a book. Pictures of the mummers, lord and ladies of note and show posters lining the walls along with a few coats of arms. A banquet of food set out as the many patrons picked from the buffet as they drank merrily together. "This place is amazing." Geralt motioned impressed with what a high-class establishment Jaskier owned. Jaskier however, was distracted by Geralt story while scribbling down notes before being snapped out of it.

"Isn't it?" Jaskier beamed with a flourish of his pillowed sleeve proudly."  I'm excited about the show I have been working on it for months!" Jaskier exclaimed and showed Geralt his notes as he fixed a tilted frame on the wall. "It has been a while since I heard one of your… stories." Geralt said in his monotone voice looking at the inventory list in Jaskier's book along with story ideas in the bottom corner. They went to the back and sat at a private table. "Alas, not everyone thinks my stories are so great." Jaskier sighed and offered Geralt a seat sitting directly across from him with interlaced fingers, pensively looking at his notebook. "What works better? If a frog is a prince, would he be wearing a crown or wearing a cape?" Jaskier asked while a barmaid served them a round of ales. Geralt quickly picked his up and chugged it in one long swig. "Why do you ask?" Geralt suspiciously asked with a belch as the bard pondered.

"Just curious, minor play details listen, I know you're tired, but I have one, teensy, tiny, little favour to ask. It's to help the show," Jaskier pleaded. "I just sat down." Geralt said as he thumped the glass onto the table. His face twisted with annoyance but Jaskier innocently eyed Geralt. The Witcher bites his cheek, "ugh, What is it?," he sighed in defeat and crossed his arms on the table.

"Don't tell me you're in trouble again? Is this another bandit heist to swindle another rich lady?" Geralt asked a little sarcastically as he took Jaskier's ale this time and sipped it. He was getting the hiccups from drinking too quickly each jolt, making him wince in pain. "Much worse," Jaskier exclaimed. He leaned forward getting closer to Geralt. "A new King came to town and then completed slaughtered my dream with a bad review! I wasn't paying him much mind when he arrived six months ago, but his opinions seem to be detracting patrons from the district entirely. Madam Irina is struggling to fill the seats because of his crass, thuggish, bullying antics."

Jaskier's voice was a low whispered hiss as he spoke. "I feel if you were to have a word with him, he might change his tune. If the great Geralt of Rivia could maybe 'persuade' him into giving me another chance?" Jaskier said full of bravado. "That's it?" Geralt asked, curious when the twist was going to come. "You just want me to talk to some snub nose King who insulted you?" Geralt tried to hold his breath now since the hiccups were getting worse and he didn't want to look like a pansy who couldn't handle his drink because of a broken rib. "He said my work was boring and derivative. It's affecting my business and my sanity! W-wait wait Geralt are you alright?" A concerned look crossed Jaskier's face as he noticed Geralt holding his breath. He flagged down the barmaid. "Can you get him some water please?" Jaskier called out as Geralt held his clenched fist in front of his mouth and cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed that Jaskier noticed. "Thanks, it's nothing just a couple new scars," he said with his eyes cast down and sipped the water that the barmaid quickly brought over. "Have you tried writing something the King would like?" Geralt asked but stared at Jaskier's over-expressive face now stunned with horror. "I—- I— hmph!" he fumed, a slight blush crossing his checks "How dare you to assume I have not tried. The man is an unreasonable Buffon." Jaskier glared. "Please Geralt, I need your help, he's a complete monster." Jaskier ranted as Geralt raised an eyebrow. "I'm not joking, he is!" Jaskier said rather loudly before looking around at the witcher hunters who were currently chatting with Zoltan. "I think he is a vampire," Jaskier stated in a whisper.

"Don't be unreasonable! Less you see how gossip is the poison that spews from your mouth. You can't just go around accusing people of vampirism in the middle of the city of Novigrad. Do you know how many witch hunters are out there looking for a reason to kill someone?" Geralt got rather mean, as much as Jaskier's antics could get out of hand. Vampirism was a serious matter, but there was a look in Jaskier eye that Geralt could read to be true. The brunette's pleading eyes were wide like a dog begging for attention. Geralt huffed and covered his face by combing his fingers through his hair. A small blush of his own, he willed away before his pale skin betrayed him to show emotion. "What do you want me to do?" Geralt asked, knowing there was no sense of debating the matter. "I assume you have a plan? Does this King Lucifer seem like a man who has found a seat of authority over you? What's his deal? You know I have grown wiser to the antics of politics. I have been introduced to him the more powerful faces in town, including the big four." Geralt said, rather proudly. Jaskier furrowed his brow, "Ever since Whoreson Junior went missing the criminal empire had been all a buzz when the Great La'Croix family moved to town. They say he is King of a faraway land escaping monsters that ravaged their home. Lucifer is rich, and I want to invite him to the show. The big four are no more since Lucifer has been winning hearts everywhere he goes. All I need is one more chance to impress him, to be on his good side as I sing his praises while Redania takes Nilfgaard. I can't go alone either… as I said, the man is a monster. It wouldn't be safe! The wolves and bats are enough to hint it's a dangerous place and you taught me to steer clear of that shit." Jaskier stopped the mid-story to see the grim expression on Geralt's face." Truth be told I did tried to go through inviting Lucifer on my own but could never bring myself to reach the estate out of the sheer fear he was going to eat me or worse dismiss my talents to my face this time, but if you are with me. I know he won't refuse."

"So send him a paper invite? Why do we have to go to him in person if he is this dangerous?" Geralt asked, if Lucifer was a vampire, Geralt needed to investigate. "I've tried, I think he has some sort of alliance with King Radovid in the efforts against Emperor Emhyr. He's proud, secluded and off the grid with a fleet of his own. Such a common invitation would insult him further, He needs to know I care about his opinion and respect. Lucifer is still a King even though he isn't at home." Jaskier sighed, feeling a little defeated. "If what you say is fact and not some overblown fiction, you shouldn't even go over there. Give me an invitation, and I'll go alone. Where is the estate?" Geralt asked and pulled out his map and spread it out on the table so Jaskier could point it out. Geralt loudly yawning as Jaskier circled a mountain on the coast with a pencil. The booze made Geralt tired, and the fresh wounds from his last fight had barely healed, and he reeked of seaweed and rotten fish. "Don't be silly, I'm coming, and that's final plus this should be a trip for the morning. You need a bath first," Jaskier stated and took a few strands of Geralt's dirty, white hair between his fingers and made a face. "Thanks, I hadn't noticed." Geralt said with a comedic sneer. "Maybe a nap too," Jaskier added when Geralt glared back at his cheeky smile. "You will be rested, fed and presentable to deliver the invitation as well as a sample what fortune's favour has granted me." Jaskier popped a few grapes in his mouth as he winked. "I don't need a nap!" Geralt said but was betrayed when another yawn hit him, so he punched the table knocking the candelabra over. Geralt quickly snapping his fingers making all the flames extinguish as the candles broke and scattered about on the floor. "Dammit fine! Where's the bath!?" he asked, causing a bit of scene. It was out of character, but it had been a long time since they were together. For some reason, the conversation was revolving around diplomacy and bureaucracy when usually Jaskier wanted to know more about Geralt's adventures. Geralt waited for Jaskier to stand and lead the way to the upper floors but they sat there for a quiet moment as Jaskier studied him. "You're a bit more boorish than normal, are you sure everything is okay or am I not allowed to ask?" Jaskier crossed his arms waiting for an apology. "It's nothing. I'm just sore." Geralt finished his ale with a chug and fell back into his chair like a grumpy bear. "Nothing? Knocking a flower pot over is nothing. It seems like you uprooted an entire tree." Jaskier commented making the same face as the life-size portrait behind him. Geralt finally noticing the audacious mural of Jaskier wearing pumpkin pants while slaying a dragon. He then stood up abruptly making the glasses on the table shudder before he peeled open a gash in his armour. There was more than one wound Jaskier was made aware of as Geralt's armour had been sundered. "Ooof, and you won this fight, right?" Jaskier shuddered at the sight. "Against the Leshen, yes." Geralt said and exited the table and headed upstairs not waiting anymore.

Up the stairs, Geralt entered a beautiful hallway decorated with masks and drapery which lead to a spacious suite with couches and a hookah. The inn rooms transformed into cabaret stage where musicians sat around playing songs rehearsing and reciting poetry. It was a marvel to behold at how much had changed in a year. "Hi, Geralt!" "Hey, baby!" "When am I going to get my solo?" A group of dancers waved and shouted to get their attention. Geralt recognized some of them and motioned back sheepishly. Jaskier was stumbling over a couch out of place. "Oi! Get this place cleaned up my Guests are arriving and this place looks like a nekkers nest. Maybe when you can prove you are more than children, you will get a chance at a solo." Jaskier let out an exasperated sigh.

Once at the top level, Geralt spotted Pricilla sitting in the bedroom with the door open. Her beautiful voice was humming songs while her back to them. Jaskier picked up his pace and brought Geralt to their bathroom, a spacious place with stone and tiled floors with a rather elaborate tub sitting under a draped window. The same red and brown colour scheme in the towels and a gold candelabra which Geralt lite with his magic. "Oh, thank you!" Jaskier exclaimed. "Not going to lie, this is such a nice house." Geralt crossed his arms and looked around the room. "Do you like it?" Jaskier asked with a proud smirk before busied himself to get the water prepared. Geralt took his time to investigate the stonework and tapestries in the room. Jaskier hummed a tune and shoved some fragrant soaps into the Witcher's hands. "Now get undressed and wash, you smell like you've spent the night in a bucket of fish heads!" Jaskier tuts wagging his finger as he prepares a towel.Geralt fumbled with all the loose knick-knacks Jaskier handed him and set them down, one of the delicate vials of lavender oil falling off the chair which Geralt caught it mid-air. "Okay, okay!" Geralt said as he removed his elegant swords from his back. Once free of the restrictive leather armour Geralt stretched out before peeling off his black cotton tunic. The wounds had closed, but the raw skin still healing and tender. Jaskier darted around the room in distraction, so Geralt snuck upon him. Now able to silently creep in his bare feet until he was right behind Jaskier, who didn't notice him peeking over his shoulder into the drawer. "Do you have enough towels?" Geralt asked his lips right next to Jaskier's ear. "Ge—Geralt!" Jaskier shrieked, jumping a little. The bard startled, as he spun around with towels in hand to face with Geralt and his lack of clothing. Jaskier should have expected this, but he was still surprised by it as he scanned the hunky man in front of him. Geralt's broad, muscular chest scruffy with hair and scarred with residual dried blood. He was getting an up-close and personal look at some nasty looking wounds that were still trying to heal. Jaskier tried not to stare at Geralt even though he had seen him naked before. This time, his body was riddled with scars so many he could not count. The fresh scabs on his chest looked like something had crawled into Geralt's skin and back out again near his ribcage and neck. Geralt followed Jaskier gaze to the wound and he covered it with his arm. "You know I've missed you, right?"

Geralt asked before briskly walking away to the tub to start unbuckling his dagger belt. Geralt looking over his shoulder as he put his dagger down and caught Jaskier's eye while he was removing his pants. Jaskier could feel the heat in his cheeks as he met Geralt's gaze, but he could not look away. "I missed you, too. Things have not been nearly as interesting without you around," he said, trying to sound calm but ultimately failing. Jaskier was drifting his gaze away and fixating on Geralt's back muscles as he climbed into the tub completely naked. The entire time Geralt had not looked away from Jaskier and sunk into the cloudy water to hide. "Mandarine and Rose petals? You're spoiling me." Geralt said. "You must want to impress this, Vampire?" Geralt question as Jaskier started to get flustered. "I want his approval. Lucifer has too much influence." He huffed, "I'm also the one that has to smell you this week so of course, I would rather you smell of roses than monster guts." "Why do you care so much about how I smell?" Geralt said as he held his breath and ducked under the water entirely. He was scrubbing his face and hair while aggressively splashing about in the tub, making a mess. Jaskier watched on in horror. "No! Just no!" He grabbed a bottle of shampoo from the side of the tub and poured some into his hand. "Stop, stop," he commanded and stood behind Geralt and took ahold of his hair, "You're hurt. Let me help." Jaskier sighed and started lathering up Geralt's hair. "Hey!" Before he could fight, Jaskier's fingers were already entangled in his ashen locks massaging his scalp. "You don't have to do that." Geralt said and leaned into his hands. The soft sigh from his chest one of pleasure as Jaskier's nimble fingers relaxed him almost immediately. The content smile on his face, Jaskier noticed while washing his hair lovingly. An awkward silence between them for a beat.

"Can I ask you something?" Geralt blurted out to break the silence. "How are things with you and Pricilla? Everything you had hoped from a settled-down life?" Geralt asked, getting rather personal. Jaskier thought for a moment about Geralt's question. "We've been alright… Having Priscilla back from the hospital has been a joy, but her range has changed, she's more of an alto now. I've had to rewrite a few songs for her," Jaskier said as he started rinsing the stubborn blood and dirt away to reveal the pure ashy white colour of Geralt's hair. "Yennefer and I… well… I broke things off. For good this time. Other than that Ciri's doing great as a Witcher, A born naturally, I can barely keep up with her. She took down a gryphon on her own." Geralt sounded glad, but it was always hard to gleam his mood. Especially with how quickly he changed topic away from Yennefer. The revelation of Geralt relationship with Yennefer and how it was all over quickly skipped before Jaskier could respond. His fingers had stopped moving as he lost himself, but almost as soon as he finished, Jaskier started again. The silence of the moment beginning to get awkward. "Ciri is a good kid. I miss her every day… I am sorry to hear about you and Yennefer," he commented. The way Geralt slumped his shoulders and fiddled with the rose petals in the water, crushing them in his fingers one by one. It was clear Geralt wanted to talk more, he usually likes the silence, but the awkward pause was excruciating. Geralt pulled his head away from Jaskier. "It's fine, you know I think I can handle the rest of this myself," he said, realizing the tension in the air. "You must have some sort of business to handle downstairs." Geralt said trying not to look at his friend. "Things downstairs can wait a moment. You aren't telling me something. I thought you were in love with Yennefer." Jaskier pressed.

"I'm sorry I told you it would be a blessing to have you taken off my hands." Geralt blurted out rather loudly as if he was arguing. Jaskier's face fell as he rinsed his hands. That memory has been pushed away for many years, but the pain of heartbreak was still fresh. He would be more upset if Geralt weren't bringing it up to apologize, but it didn't make the conversation hurt any less. "I guess that's as close to an apology I'd ever get from you…" Jaskier's voice was quiet. Geralt went redder than a burnt pig in the sun, and he spun around in the tub to face Jaskier. "I am so sorry! That's not how I wanted to say that!" He panicked and stood up to meet him. Then immediately sat back down, forgetting he was naked. "No! Fuck! Shit!" He cursed and slapped the water with a fist splashing recklessly. "I appreciate healthy conversation between friends, but I am going to need a moment," Jaskier said with a blank expression since he couldn't face Geralt. The nudity had nothing to do with it. "Finish cleaning up. I'll be down the hall," Jaskier left the room, leaving Geralt alone in the tub.

Geralt submerged himself in the water, hoping a drowner would come and finish him off finally in this moment of dread. He screamed under the surface and came back up out of breath. Clean enough he jumped out of the tub, leaving the fish stank behind. He approached the clothes Jaskier brought out for him, then looked back to his beaten but still high-quality armour and stared for a moment. Geralt picked up his swords, donned his helmet and went out the door. "A vampire's castle is no place for you." Geralt whispered to himself before taking off down the stairs and left the Chameleon. Before Geralt could reach the stable, Zoltan stopped him at the door. "Geralt old pal! It's so good to see you it's been nearly a year hasn't it?" Zoltan asked, going in for a pat on the back, before Geralt could reach Roach. Another figure appeared in the doorway, Priscilla who donned sour look on her face. "Geralt of Rivia, you would leave as quickly as you arrive and not even say hello to me?" She asked. The sour look on her face dropped to reveal a smile. Geralt looked between the two of them in panic, the immediate entourage of people trying to get his attention right when he wanted to disappear. 

"Somethings come up I need to leave," he quickly said as he broke away from Zoltan. "But ye just got here." Zoltan looked to Pricilla with a curious look. "What happened?" he asked. "Jaskier found me a contract; it's urgent." Geralt blurted out aggressively, hoping they would take the hint and go away. Pricilla looked confused about what had happened and hurried back inside to find Jaskier upstairs alone in his room — sitting slumped over in his music chair with his lute propped against the wall out of reach. "What's going on? Geralt just left in a hurry without even saying hello. Said you gave him some sort of contract? Can't he just come here to relax once in a while?" Pricilla questioned Jaskier, who seemed unresponsive as he stared at his boots. "Jaskier? Did something happen?" She asked, putting her arm around his shoulder. Jaskier looked up at Pricilla. "He ran off without me?" Jaskier sighed and stood up, "That idiot. I'll be back shortly." Jaskier said, giving Pricilla a gentle kiss on the forehead and without grabbing his lute headed out. He wasn't going to let the Witcher face the vampire on his own, especially after that conversation. End For Now Chapter 2 (here) For more fanfics go here

[bnhascribbles]

Better Late Than Never

Kirishima x Reader

Music AU, Fluff, Pining; A (late) birthday present for the vibrant @sunlikesthis!  Kirishima is precious and SO ARE YOU MY PAL.  YOU’RE FRIEND CAN’T FINISH STUFF ON A DEADLINE SO HAVE SOME FOOLS THAT HAVE THE SAME PROBLEM.

Words: 3K

Warnings: Swearing (only slightly because Bakugo)

The first thing that strikes you is the fact that it is absolutely freezing in the hall.  Then again, that was the case at all of these concerts; the AC always seemed to be cranked up to “Antarctica,” and the fact that your clothes are sopping wet only helps the chill seep into your bones that much faster.  The second thing you notice is that the lights are already out, the stage already lit up, the quintet already...performing?  No, they couldn’t be—maybe they were just warming up.  With the lights off.  For a silent crowd.  You hang back against the wall, checking your phone and doing what you can to cover up some of the light from the screen.  When you see the time, it takes all the restraint in you not to gasp over the sound of the group onstage.

You were late, and not in the fashionable way either, if that rule could even be applied to musical performances (it can’t).  The rain—it must’ve been the rain.  People always forgot how to drive when the sky got even a little cloudy, and you could never trust buses to arrive on time, even on sunny days.  You thought you’d accounted for that.  Keyword: thought.

The musicians were already well into their piece and you’d just walked in and slammed the double doors behind you like some sort of moron that’s never been to a recital before.  You become acutely aware of the eyes on you—the old woman shaking her head in the corner, the mother and son glaring daggers at you as you just stand there, frozen and looking just a little too casual in your soaked tee and sneakers.  The way they saw it, you were probably the poster child for “what not to do as an audience member.”  Your head throbs, the weight of the sheer embarrassment threatening to topple you and create an even bigger scene.

With legs like jelly, you shuffle down an aisle, crawling over more than one frustrated concert-goer and sinking into the first empty seat you find.  You can still feel their stares though, and somewhere at the back of your mind, a little voice tells you to stand right back up and nope out of there before anything can get worse.  It’s tempting, but then again, listening to it would mean you’d have to do that weird seat-waddle thing through the aisle again.  Your shoes are full of water too—there’d definitely be some sloshing on the way out, and that wouldn’t really help make your escape any more subtle.  It would also mean you’d be breaking your promise to Kirishima.  That would be worse than any amount of embarrassment you could ever experience.  You might be a disaster, but you were a disaster that supported your friends, dammit.  That meant that your personal policy on tardiness at recitals was a bit more lenient today—a “better late than never” sort of deal.  

Hands pressed firmly to the sides of your face (like that’ll do anything to hide you from the looks), you peer up at the stage.  Kirishima’s there beneath the blinding beams of light, sitting right of center-stage with his trumpet propped in his lap.  He looks impossibly casual—in his element—even decked out in a suit and tie instead of his usual cargo-pants-and-crocs getup.  Casting a quick glance at Bakugo across from him, then to his music below, Kirishima lifts his instrument to his lips, begins to play.  You’ll never understand how he does that, how he just performs and forgets about the hundred pairs of eyes trained on him while he does it.  You know from experience (some of it very, very recent) the way that any sort of attention could shake a person, make them feel like they’re breathing underwater—dizzy and nauseous with lungs that can’t seem to do their job right.  But you suppose that’s the difference between him and you.  He’s meant to be a frontman: his sound is strong and his disposition perpetually sunny—he’s the sort of person that people flock to without even realizing it.  And of course he has to be humble about it; Kirishima couldn’t just be an egotistical jerk like Bakugo.  No, he had to be perfectly kind, perfectly charming, and perfectly out of your league.  In regards to friendship and...anything else.

Not that you need more with Kirishima.  Friendship is fine.  Friendship is awesome.  Sure, that intense look he gets whenever he practices makes something curl up on itself deep in your belly.  Sure, whenever he gives you one of those playful pats on the back, you wish he would linger for just a little bit longer. 

Sure, you can’t seem to shake the image of his hard body melting into yours—a fantasy where your hands are knotted into his wild hair, dragging him in closer as you gasp, finally begin to understand what all those long hours spent perfecting embouchure and technique were good for when he starts to—

But friendship.  Right.  Your friendship with Kirishima is perfectly acceptable.

The piece ends in what feels like a minute.  You barely notice.  It takes thunderous applause all around you to snap you from your trance, and you join in clapping before anyone can find another reason to accuse you of being disrespectful.  The group stands, instruments at their sides, and they bow, but you’re hyperfocused on Kirishima.  He’s squinting into the audience, nose crinkled and sweat dripping down his forehead.  Searching.  You can’t imagine it’ll do any good; you’re not in the seat you’re supposed to be in—the one he’d reserved specifically for you—and the blinding stage lights shining down on him probably don’t make looking for any one particular person easy.  Still, the silent moment of recognition that passes over his face when his eyes scan over your area of the crowd makes you think, just maybe, he sees you there.  Kirishima grins wide, lopsided, and you can feel your heart do a minuet in your freakin chest.  Because he looks good when he does it.  Really good actually.  And he isn’t looking away, even when he sits—when the rest of the quintet starts fumbling through their sheet music in preparation for the next piece.  

It takes a subtle, but firm, kick to the shin from Bakugo and a whispered something from Sero on his right to get Kirishima back in his “performer mode,” emptying the valves on his instrument and flipping through the paper on his stand.  Kaminari and Ashido turn to each other with these smirks plastered across their faces, and it’s barely a second before that earns a murderous glare from Bakugo.  Their smiles don’t fade, not even a bit, but they shift in their seats, sitting up a little straighter.  The damage is done though—you feel fuzzy and hot and hopeful.  And maybe you’re reaching, but you think you see a bit of a pink color creeping up Kirishima’s neck.  That’s only fuel for your fire.

The rest of the concert passes in a blur.  You can’t say you exactly remember standing up for the final applause, nor elbowing your way out the hall and into the lobby, nor walking outside and looping around the building to stand, shivering at the backstage entrance.  Your damp clothes feel like they’re covered in icicles by the time someone finally swings open the door, nearly knocking into you in the process.

The encounter is a surprise for both of you, so much so that for a second, you’re seriously concerned Ashido is going to use her French horn case to bludgeon you.  Thankfully, she only gets as far as drawing her arm back in preparation for the swing before a bit of light from inside reaches your face.  Ashido lowers her “weapon” and clutches her chest in relief.

“Oh my god,” she pants, leaning on the doorframe for support, “oh my god, oh my god, you scared the shit out of me.  I thought you were gonna murder me or something.”

You swallow hard, choking down most of your own shock before speaking.  “I could say the same for you.  Do you always swing first and ask questions later?”

Ashido lets out a short laugh, having caught her breath a bit.  “Only when the other person looks like the fuckin’ grim reaper.”  She blinks and gives you a once-over.  “Seriously, how are you not actually, like, dead?  Or at least frozen?  You’re soggy and...where’s your coat?”

“Didn’t have time to grab it; had practice earlier today, so I ran home to drop my instrument then booked it to the bus stop.  I still wound up getting here late.”  You sigh, remembering the horror of it all.

“So you were late—big deal.  You know, it’s fine to miss a concert or two if you’re busy.”

“It is a big deal, Mina.  And it’s not fine to just be a flake when—.”

“—when Eijiro is the one inviting you.”  Ashido finishes your sentence, lips twisting up into a familiar smirk—mischievous and all-knowing.  Your brain shoots into panic mode at the suggestion, and you frantically search for anything witty or sarcastic or just plain contradictory to shoot back with.  You’re at a complete loss though, your mouth forming the words without any sound coming out.

“Just get inside already.  Things’ll never get interesting between you two if you die of frostbite now”  Ashido ushers you through the door and into the warmth, still doing absolutely nothing to contain her smug expression.  When you scowl, she rolls her eyes and gives you a gentle shove forward.  “Kidding, kidding.  Come on, ever heard of a joke?”

“No.”  You deadpan, peering back at her over your shoulder.  Ashido gives you another shove, and you’re about to tell her off, but before you can, you’re colliding with something—something that feels like a boulder wearing a suit jacket.

Kirishima grabs your shoulder as you bounce off his chest, steadying you before you have the chance to fall back too far.  Ashido cackles the entire way out to the parking lot—you can hear her shrill laughter long after the door slams behind her.  

“Hey!” Kirishima greets you a little too loud, obviously caught off guard by the whole scene.  It only takes him a second to recover though, and once he does, he flashes a toothy grin and gives your shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Fancy bumping into you back here.”  

You groan.  “Puns don’t suit you, Eijiro—leave em’ to Kaminari.”

“Aw, really?  I thought that one was pretty good, though!”

“Nope.  Stick to trumpet; if today’s concert is any indication, you’re way better at that anyway.”

He chuckles and ruffles his hair with his free hand, smile softening a bit.  “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me too.”  You say, a smile forcing its way across your lips.  That always seemed to happen when you were around Kirishima, and you like to pretend you don’t know already know why.  “The rain slowed me down so I wasn’t even sure I’d make it in time.  But better late than never, right?”

“Right.”

There’s a moment of silence between the pair of you—the sort that happens when neither person has the slightest clue how to continue the conversation.  You definitely weren’t going to be the one to say “see ya’” or “bye,” mostly because you really didn’t want to; Kirishima had been busy all month prepping for today, and seeing as you hadn’t even gotten to speak with him before the recital (once again thank you so much public transportation), you were seriously falling short of your “Kiri Quota” for the week.  Consequences associated with a failure to meet it included: an empty feeling in your chest, an unexplainable preoccupation with the color red, a sudden desire to google pictures of crocs, and the inability to stop thinking about how good his lips would feel if he’d just lean in a little and—

No!  Bad!  You need to stop doing this—stop daydreaming, stop making up these impossible scenarios in your head.  Your crazy games of what if were the reason these awkward silences even started happening in the first place.  

One little comment from Bakugo had been all it’d taken.  Seriously.  One exasperated exclamation of “just fuckin’ get together already” shouted in a drunken stupor had been enough to create a rift between you and Kirishima.  Which was ridiculous really, because if anything was meant to happen between the two of you, it would’ve happened already.  One of you would’ve abandoned all your fears of horrible embarrassment and a wrecked friendship and would’ve just gone for it.  That's the way it worked, right?  Because if it didn’t...well then, hell, you didn’t know what you were supposed to do.

The buzz of the lights is almost deafening.  Kirishima shifts in place while you clench your jaw tight in a desperate attempt to keep your teeth from chattering.  

“Are you—”  You both begin at the same time, then stop abruptly.

“You first.”  The two of you do it again, laughing nervously when you end up copying each other a second time.

“You cold?”  Kirishima offers.  You raise an eyebrow and his eyes drift down to your folded arms, hands nestled tightly beneath your armpits.  The moment you notice his gaze, they fly out, adopting a frantic, placating gesture.

“Oh, I’m fine!  My clothes are just a little wet from earlier and you know how the staff likes to turn up the air, even when it’s negative whatever degrees outside.”  You shove your hands back to their original place.  “It’s alright—really.”

Kirishima nods like he understands, but still pulls his hand back from your shoulder and shrugs off his suit jacket.  

“Eiji—”

He cuts you off before you can finish.  “I was actually thinking it was hot in here.  Besides, I’m gonna be hauling chairs and stuff and I don’t need to sweat while I do it.”  Kirishima reaches around you and places his coat over your shoulders.  “So this works better for both of us, right?”

You huff, but that’s the extent of your complaining.  Because it is warmer—you can still feel the residual heat from Kirishima’s body lingering in the fabric.  You try to pretend that fact doesn’t make the hairs on the back of your neck prickle.

You clear your throat, resolving to ask your question and distract yourself.  “Are you sticking around to pack up?”

Kirishima sighs, heavy.  “Yeah.  There’s not a ton to do, but Katsuki will kill me if I leave before him.  As it is, he’s already pissed that Mina bailed on us.”  

“I can help if you need a pair of extra hands.”  You offer.

“Nope.  You’re my guest, so I’m not gonna have you lugging around our stuff for us.  That’s what Hanta and Denki are for.”

“But I’m—”

“We’re good.”  Kirishima assures you.  “With the four of us, we’ll have it done in, like, 10 minutes.  Just hang tight and, if you’re willing to wait, I’ll give you a ride home.”  He extends his hand outward towards you.  “Deal?”  

You take it, but make sure that he can see you rolling your eyes when you do it.  “Fine, I’ll wait.”

Kirishima gives your hand a firm shake.  But once that’s done, he doesn’t let go.  When his thumb brushes up against your knuckles, just barely there, you tell yourself it’s chance—he has something he’s forgotten to say and he doesn’t want you rushing off into a dressing room before he can say it.  When he rubs at the bottom half of his face with his free hand, covering the beginnings of a blush, you convince yourself it’s because he really is hot—in the temperature sort of way, of course.  When his face seems to drift in closer to yours, agonizingly slowly, millimeter by millimeter, you discount that as...well, you don’t have an explanation for that yet.  At least, not one that won’t get your hopes up.  

Still, you can’t help it.  You find yourself chewing on your bottom lip and leaning in, determined to meet him halfway.

Before you can, a gruff voice calls out from beyond the stage door.  “Take your fuckin’ time, Kirishima!  Not like we’re waiting for you or anything!”

Kirishima practically throws your hand and hops back, expression looking almost guilty as he peers over his shoulder, then back at you.  Then he laughs, but it’s completely forced.  Awkward and full of tension.

“Uh, I’ll be right back.  So just—” he rubs furiously at his jaw, “—don’t go anywhere, okay?”

“I’ll wait right here.”  You say, scratching at the back of your neck and praying that your feeble voice doesn’t betray you.  

Kirishima nods and, as you watch him hurry away, your insides are churning.  Damn Bakugo for starting this fiasco, and damn him for not letting you see it through to the end.

Thankfully, you don’t have much time to feel sorry for yourself.  Kirishima groans just as he reaches the stage door.  He presses his clenched fists to the wall beside the doorframe, just for a second, then turns on his heel and faces you once again.  His expression is much different than it had been before.  It’s intense—like the look he gets when he’s practicing.  When he has a goal in mind.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.”  He says, his voice gravelly and strained.

Kirishima stomps back over to you in a hurry, and before you have the chance to question him, he takes the sides of your face in his hands.

“Better late than never?”

You understand the meaning of the question immediately, and your pulse beats wildly for it.

“Better late than never.”  You exhale, pressing your forehead to his.

And then he kisses you.  Hard.  You suppose that his way of making up for lost time.

[ificouldau]

Section 1 - Chapter 8 [End of Section]

> 64% of you chose to hangout with Junhui.

36% of you chose to hangout with Wonwoo.

“Jun, wait!” You whisper loudly, reaching a hand out in his direction as the boy disappears into the bushes. Wonwoo remains curled up quietly by his tree, not even bothering to look up from his book.

Jun is completely out of sight now, and you manage a heavy groan before dashing straight off into the trees behind him. There goes your chance at getting on Wonwoo’s good side.

It’s dark and lonely for a minute as you hurry through the forest, focusing on the meowing and distant footsteps ahead.

“Junhui!” You call into the air, trying not to be too loud. The camp is somewhat far back now, and it’ll take a while of walking to get there. Something in you wants to scold Jun, for running off like a child, until a surprising sight causes you to stop completely in your tracks.

There he is, crouching silently on the ground a ways ahead, his back facing you and the cat curled up comfortably by his feet. He pets her rhythmically with one hand, zoned off into the distance before him, sneakers flat on the ground and knees hugged tight to his chest. You head over with a frown.

“Jun… What the hell?” You say, crouching on the floor in the same position beside him. “We should head back before someone-“

There it is, the reason he’d stopped. You shut your mouth suddenly as you follow his gaze ahead. A wide river winds steadily across the snow, frozen solid out in the cold, littered with snowflakes and glistening a million different shades of blue in the moonlight. The ice looks like clouds, in a breathtaking- almost soothing- sort of way.

Out of all places in this moment, it’s here where you suddenly feel safe.

The cat stands back up with a soft purr before ducking under Junhui’s hand and hurrying back off into the trees. He watches it leave before staring forward again, and you open your mouth to speak without really thinking through it first.

“This river makes you feel weirdly calm, too, right?” You ask. Jun doesn’t turn to look at you.

“Yeah,” He says. You continue your train of thought. “I think this is the first time I haven’t felt scared.”

Junhui doesn’t say anything, so you don’t either, and the two of you sit and stare ahead mindlessly for a long moment. A while passes until you’re eager to break the silence again.

“How about you?” You ask quietly. “Are you scared?”

Jun still won’t look at you, and he doesn’t say much for another long while. You almost forget the thought before he finally decides to reply.

“No,” He says simply. You nod your head.

“Me neither. Even at the village I was scared. I’ve been terrified until now.”

“Why?”

You blink blankly at the question. A couple nights of pure horror… bloodshed, murderers in cloaks, waking up only to fall into a constant run for your own life. “What do you mean why?”

“You know your way around somehow, everyone seems to help you, thirteen boys are protecting you, and no one else gets to choose what we do. Why should you be scared?”

The sudden bombshell settles uneasily in your heart. He’s right, but for some reason, it hurts to hear.

“Junhui...“ You begin, only to close your mouth without knowing how to respond.

“No matter who wants what, no matter who says what, a bunch of boys follow you around like no one else exists. Not even each other. You don’t even know us. And we don’t know you.”

Your gaze drops to the ground, cold wind brushing across your face. Jun doesn’t look at you still, and you know the boy would never hurt a fly, but this is the first time you’d seen him so talkative, yet so upset. He’s always so gentle and lost in his own mind, yet for some reason you’re shot down by the way he truly feels.

“Look,” You say in defense, fumbling your words as if the world were watching, “I didn’t… I just want to go home, okay? Just like- just like you. All of you. Fuck.”

Tears are falling now, and you bury your head in your arms at the realization of it. It’s embarrassing, and it’s overwhelming. You didn’t expect this, especially not from Jun. Life feels a world away again.

“I just wanna go home,” You whisper into the cloth of your sleeves. You’re scared again all of a sudden. The air feels a thousand times colder than before now. “I miss my apartment. My mom. God, I even miss my dad, and it’s been years…”

The forest is quiet as you cry to yourself, taking the moment in with shaky breaths and steady tears. Every second of every day comes flooding back like a storm, burning your heart with painful memories, and happy ones, and sad ones too. Everything is so scary now. The world feels like it’s closing in.

You feel a hand brush lightly down the top of your head out of nowhere. It disappears for a second, then returns, a comforting gesture reminiscent of childhood in a way. You lift your gaze to see Junhui, unmoved in the exact same position beside you, staring off into the icy river but patting a hand atop your head this time.

“When I was younger,” He begins softly, “I used to go to a river in my town just like this one. Except it wasn’t frozen, and there were always people talking walks by the water.”

You listen intently.

“I would go with my mom all the time. We would lay out a big blanket and have picnics on the grass, and I would cry when it got dark and we had to go home.”

The moonlight shimmers along his proud nose and glossy eyes like a painting. He smiles into the water as he speaks, every word as gentle as the last.

“After I moved to another country, she would send me pictures of my brother by the river, and I would whine again and again that he could never take my place. That all the rivers in the world were ours, and I’d never share one with anyone for as long as I lived.”

The boy falls silent, glancing down at the ground beneath him with a smile, then back up at the ice ahead. You pout a bit in curiosity.

“Why did you leave?” You ask. Jun grins.

“To live with the twelve idiots you’ve been stuck with all this time.”

Huh. Somehow, the thought of them living together never came to mind. The thought of them doing anything in fact, other than fighting murderers and running away, never came to mind.

You wonder to yourself who the boys are in their ordinary lives. Junhui finally turns to face you.

“What about you?” He asks. “What did you like to do when you were little?”

“Uh…” There’s a lot to say, of course, but you keep your words limited for sake of his attention span. “My mom says I was on trips a lot, with my dad. We’d go sledding, and I had an obsession with snow angels for some reason. I don’t know, I don’t really remember any of it.”

“He doesn’t take you anymore?”

“No, no. He left before I was old enough to actually know him.”

“Oh… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It was a long time ago anyways.”

You both trail off into silence for a long while. You realize Jun’s hand isn’t on your head anymore, then remember what he’d said about the other boys and them living together. The thought of them being regular people, in a normal house doing normal things, is almost weird.

“What was your life like before all of this?” You ask suddenly.

Jun chuckles softly and turns to you. “So you really don’t know?”

You look up to meet his gaze, unsure as to why you would. You don’t know whether to feel embarrassed, or curious, or just plain confused.

“Hoshi said you didn’t know,” He continues, “but I thought he was kidding.”

“Well-“

“If you’ve never seen any of our faces before, you must be living under a rock.”

You frown again, dumbfounded. Insulted, somehow.

“Shut up,” You mutter. Junhui only smiles.

“Maybe it’s better that way. But you’re gonna feel like a loser when you get home and my name is everywhere.”

You have no idea what he’s going on about. The boy only greets your confusion with a laugh, and eventually silence falls again. You both gaze off as icy wind whistles through the trees.

“When you get home, what’s the first thing you plan on doing?” You ask suddenly, steering the conversation in a new direction before Jun can bully you for your cluelessness any further. He thinks over the question for a second before responding.

“I’ll probably fly home to visit my family. What about you?” “I think I want to stay with my mom for a while. I don’t think I can live alone after this.”

“Lucky me to have a bunch of dudes in my house,” Jun says, stretching his arms out quickly before returning to hugging his knees. A random thought occurs to you then and there. 

“How the hell did they take thirteen boys all at once...?”

You can see Junhui process the notion for a while, staring up at the sky as he tries to recall the memory.

“I remember all of us getting into the car late at night, and then it started driving in the wrong direction... And we were yelling at the guy in the front to stop, but he just drove faster. And I don’t know why, or how, but we all started slowly blacking out. I remember. Seungkwan just fell forward, and everyone was screaming, and then it was Jihoon, then me... and that was it.”

You take a second to relive the past as if it were your own. In your case, you’d merely fallen asleep in bed and awoken to a fresh hell. The fear of all thirteen watching one another lose consciousness, fully aware that they were being kidnapped, is unimaginable.

Jun quickly reads the pity in your face, pushing you lightly on the arm.

“Hey,” He says reassuringly, “Don’t think about it. We’re all gonna get home soon, and be a hundred times more careful around cars, for sure.”

“Yeah.” You mutter doubtfully. Jun shakes his head. “As long as we keep following you, I know we’re gonna be okay.” The thought of it makes you feel worse somehow. Every moment they’d fought through different opinions, through wanting different things, occurs to you all at once. No matter what the boys say, they really do follow behind you blindly. The trust these kids are so willing to throw in a complete stranger is overwhelming. Negative thoughts keep piling upon you, until you eventually turn to Jun with a frown.

“Does Seokmin hate me?” You ask out of the blue. Junhui raises an eyebrow.

You try your best to explain. “I mean… We’ve disagreed on everything from the start. Even though he’s been the kindest, he always wants to hide, and I keep making him run…”

“So he hates you?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to like being around me anymore. Jeonghan, too. His leg’s gone to shit because of me.”

“Then they probably hate you.”

You shoot Jun an irritated glare, and he raises his hands in defense.

“I’m kidding,” He says. “None of us hate you. And we won’t…”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“...as long as you keep making the right choices.”

You shoot the boy another look, but he laughs this time, reaching forward to ruffle your messy hair.

“We trust you,” He smiles, “Okay?”

Your heart fills with worry again at the thought of all the others in danger. Thirteen lives on your shoulders is a whole new shitload onto the mess you’re already in, and if you can’t get them all home safely, you’ll never be able to live with yourself.

Jun does his best to reassure you. “Why do you think we’ve followed you until here? You think a bunch of handsome, strong boys need a little girl to survive? We could’ve left you out to freeze from the start.”

“Wow.” “You’re genuine. No matter who you fight with, who thinks of you in whatever way, we all know that for a fact. I think I’d even trust you with, like, ordering my food.”

“Would you?”

“No, not really.”

“Wow.”

You both glance up just then as a familiar meow emerges from the trees. The forest cat is back, snowflakes littering her dark fur as she trots towards Jun once again. She curls up between the both of you, cozying up in the snow by your feet.

“Clingy one, huh?” You smile as Jun reaches down to pet her again.

“Mhm.” The cat purrs softly as you both fall, yet again, into silence, staring off into the cloudy ice as the moon rises further along the sky. The peace of the moment hits you out of nowhere. Such sudden happiness, despite such a lowly time. Here you are, surviving and getting by on a thread, yet relaxing under the twinkling stars while the others sleep unknowingly back at camp. Thirteen complete strangers, who you can somehow consider a burden, heeding your orders like students with no better move to make. Yet in the same way, thirteen friends... friends who demand your safety just as much as their very own.

And beside you, one of those many friends, spending his night sightseeing at your side rather than taking a break from this hell.

“Hey,” You whisper as Junhui turns to look at you, “Thanks.”

He cocks his head to the side in confusion. “For?”

“A lot of things. I don’t know. Just… thanks.”

“Hm.” He faces forward again, petting the cat with a steady hand. “In that case, thank you, too.”

“For? “If you didn’t know, then why do I have to?”

He really is good at finding little ways to ruin moments. You roll your eyes at the boy and try to put the conversation back in its place. “I mean it, Jun… Thank you. For everything. For popping up out of nowhere and scaring the shit out of me all the time. Shadowing me like a guard when I go off by myself. And especially for following this cat to the river and bringing me along too.”

A slow smile spreads across Jun’s face as he turns to ruffle your hair again.

“Thank you for coming,” He jokes. “Would’ve fallen into the river or something if I was alone.”

The image of him slipping straight into the icy water makes you laugh. He laughs along for a while as well, before quieting down with a soft sigh. You turn to look up at him as he smiles into the sky, pondering some kind of happy thought that almost makes you happy as well, despite not knowing what it is.

“When this is all over,” He asks, “You wanna get some Chinese food?”

You can’t help but burst into laughter again, nodding happily as if this would all be over tomorrow. He turns back to face the lake with a grin, and you do too. It feels so quiet and peaceful out here, in a way you didn’t think you’d feel for a long, long time. Somehow, it even feels like an ordinary night. Sitting out under the stars, watching the trees rustle in the wind and the moonlight twinkle off of the icy river before you… all with a friend by your side, to make you laugh and tell you stories as if the world had stopped turning.

You feel safe, for once.

Even after all of the horrible shit you’ve stomached through, you feel safe. Something in you seems to have fallen into place, and you realize that no matter what, you’re just happy to be alive. To be here, in this moment, with all the decisions you’ve ever made and all the regrets you’ve ever had far behind you forever. You’re here, and you’re alive.

There’s no turning back now.

[nightwingwhatdidisay]

“Jason and the Words That Burn”

Summary: jaykori/dickkory, AU where Jason Todd is a thief with an ear for poetry. 

ff.net ao3

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Chapter 1: The Words of King [Chapter Summary: Jason runs into Kory after a drunken bender]

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I never pointed out to her the irony of breaking up with me for being a thief, when it was something I stole that won her heart in the first place.

A poem, of all things.

It’s funny how poetry is the most embarrassing thing in the world, until it has the power to pry your sleepy eyes open in the middle of an American Literature class, all because your professor recited a configuration of words you didn’t know existed.

But by the time I finally sat up to listen, the professor was speaking farther and farther away from the poem, and I couldn’t recall any of the words I had just heard. Only the way they made me feel.

Whatever he said, it forced me to look at her.

She was sitting a few rows down in a seat that hugged the left wall of the classroom, leaning her head against the window. It was an 8am class and the sun was just beginning to pour in, its light spilling wildly through her auburn hair like fire.

Now I’m not an idiot; I knew Kory Anders was way out of my league. But that’s the power of a pretty girl way out of your league, she can have you in the campus library at 11pm flipping through a whole damn book, trying your luck anyway. When I found the words that clicked, I tore the whole page out, jammed it into my pocket, and left.

The next morning, I watched from my seat, hood pulled over and face propped in my hand, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, but failing to stop the furious bounce in my leg. She rushed in a few minutes late, wringing the rain out of her hair and sliding into her usual seat, surprised to see something waiting for her.

I’d Sharpied everything out except for those twelve words, and from where I was sitting, I could only see thick bars of black on the paper. I remember watching her pick it up, and suddenly thinking what a shitty idea it was. As far as plans for picking up girls went, this plan wasn’t just plain terrible, it was fancy terrible; it was terrible with raisins in it. I lost the rhythm of normal breathing, mortified with the realization that I’d actually written my name on it.

And just like that, the curl of her lips hit me right in the gut, and I swear I was seeing stars.

... ...

I remember the first time I kissed her, I stole that too.

It was during a time when I thought a quick kiss in the dark from a stranger at a college party was as close as I was ever going to get to a sun like her. I thought I was dreaming when she grabbed ahold of my jacket as I was pulling back, drawing me to her for more.

Starfire. My pet name for her. I’d wait outside until her classes ended and call out to her, loving the way she’d wrinkle her nose at the name. I liked to whisper it into her ear at the worst moments, like in the cinema, waiting for a change of scene to illuminate her face so I could see the flush in her cheeks. It’s the name that spilled out of my mouth—along with a string of dark words—whenever she’d spend a night at my place and the writhing of her body under me left me with no self-control.

I dated Kory with the uneasy feeling that it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t. There was no way the universe would let me have someone like her for long. I stole that time anyway.

But Kory Anders was a criminal justice major, and the boss hated that the most. It’s just a matter of time, he assured me. Just because she’s climbing up your leg now doesn’t mean she'll stay when she gets wise about the job.

He was right, of course. She didn’t stay long when she found out the truth. But by the time it was over, love had already infected the bones.

I don’t know. I’m drunk.

... ...

I slide the empty bottle back at the bartender and drop the cash on the counter, grabbing my pack and leaving with a wave of my finger. I can’t stay long; the cash—40k in clean stacks—burns through my bag and all I want to do is throw it in the safe at my place until the boss and his men pick it up in the morning.

I figure I’ll sober up after a good shower, and I’m relying on muscle memory to get me back home. By the time I fall out of the elevator in my building, I argue sleeping in the hall for a second, until I worm my way to my door and jam the key into the doorknob repeatedly until finding the hole.

My jeans and shirt are off without a thought and I’m yanking the fridge door open, squinting through the light to see what could help me with my drunchies. I don’t even recall buying lasagna, but I don’t think too hard on it as I inhale the whole thing in seconds.

By the time I drag my body to the bathroom, I’m stark naked, and I let the shower run hot until I pull myself in, wincing a bit when it hits a fresh wound I’d earned from tonight’s heist.

A memory opens: me piling suds on top of Kory’s head while she runs her fingers over my body.

“Where’d you get this one?” She asks, thumbing at a fibrous scar on my shoulder.

“Motorcycle accident,” I lie, as I sculpt cat ears out of the bubbles.

“And this?” She’s pointing at my chest: clean white lines the boss rewarded me with for being stupid on a job.

“Boy scout dare,” I say dismissively. When my masterpiece is done, I bend down to kiss her forehead.

“What do I look like?” She asks.

I step as far back as the shower will allow me so I can marvel at her, grateful that I get to be the guy who sees this brilliant girl naked, wet, and in cat ears. “Like a kitten, Kitten.”

And suddenly I’m on my knees for her, pulling her leg over my shoulder and letting the numbers on my water bill rise.

Holy shit.

It’s the scent of the shampoo that sobers me right up. I look around in horror: epsom salts, bath bombs, bottles and jars of girl potions in an array of feminine colors that make me want to vomit at the realization. I rip the curtains aside and hurl my body out of the shower. In a panic, I’m pulling my boxers on and rushing out of Kory’s bathroom.

But God is dead, my friends. I hear mumbling out in the hall and the doorknob starts to wiggle before I can reach my shirt. A line of light cracks open as two figures enter and I dive wildly into a nearby closet of her hallway.

“Hm. I thought I locked this,” Kory says absently, and I hear the door shut.

“You think someone got in?” Asks a vaguely familiar voice. “Let me look around for you.”

“What a gallant way to get yourself into my bedroom,” Kory commends with a laugh.

“I can get you a better place in my building, Anders,” says the voice, not giving into her tease. “Something about you living here rubs me the wrong way.”

“And me living in your building will rub you the right way?” Her voice is playful. The other voice stammers and she’s laughing again. “Relax, handsome. I’m just a forgetful girl. Let me put on some music.”

An Elvis Costello song begins to play as their exchange ends and the whole thing makes me bitter, because (1) I hate the way Kory is comfortably Kory no matter what guy she’s with and (2) I fucking introduced her to Costello.

Insert kissing scene here, I imagine, as the room goes silent for a while and there’s the soft sound of fumbling and small giggles escaping Kory’s mouth.

“Anders… the essay.”

“Mm? Oh sorry,” Kory says, and I see her figure pass by. She returns with an open laptop balancing on her bicep as she taps her password in. “I’m having a problem with these three paragraphs, and as far as citations go, I’m completely lost.”

I hear the dip of the couch and the clacking of keyboards, and suddenly they’re both in their own collegiate zone when I begin to think: I’m naked in a closet, with my clothes scattered in various rooms of my ex girlfriend’s apartment; I have a backpack of stolen cash in the same room as two criminal justice majors; and in the kitchen lay my jeans, its pockets holding an unsilenced phone that can go off any minute, a wallet with all my IDs, and a Glock 17.

I’m in the middle of contemplating how truly fucked I am when I hear the guy’s voice. “Damn, I forgot a laptop charger.”

“I think I have an extra one. Sit tight.”

I don’t have much choice when Kory opens the closet door and sees me. So I pull her in and slap a hand over her mouth. “Keep quiet, cutie—oof.” I receive a knee to the baby-maker and it takes everything within me to keep from keeling over. I watch the recognition hit her eyes.

“What are you doing here?” She asks when I drop my hand.

“Accident. I swear.”

She eyes me with suspicion, but accepts the answer, and I begin to wonder how badly I must reek of alcohol for her to believe me.

“I’m fine,” I say, looking away. It comes out defensive.

“You’re naked...” she points out mildly. “And wet.”

I shrug. “Made it to the shower.”

The look she gives me is a mixture of anger, wonder, and pity.

“Listen,” I say, suddenly irritated. “I don’t wanna ruin your cute little study date here. Just help me get my shit together and I’m out.”

“I want my key back.”

“Fine.”

A voice calls from the living room. “Anders? Charger? My laptop’s living on a prayer.”

Kory gives me a look and pulls a white cord from a shoebox on the overhead shelf and steps out of the closet. “There’s an outlet behind the couch,” she tells him. “Let’s move it aside so you can plug in.” She says this loudly and slowly and I recognize my cue. I hear the sound of the couch sliding over carpet and—like a college girl in a co-ed dorm who forgot her towel after a shower—I run.

I slide into the kitchen and I see that my jeans are inside-out in front of the fridge, and I fish for the balled-up sock in each leg before slipping them on. My phone is still tucked in my back pocket, and I quickly switch it to silent mode before it becomes any type of inconvenience. I give myself a pat down and freeze at the realization that my gun isn’t in my pockets.

Fuck.

Kory appears down the hall, looking into the closet and discovering I’m no longer there. When she turns and sees me in the kitchen, she lifts up a shirt in her hand and raises her eyebrows, simultaneously saying Is this yours? and Are you serious?

When she steps into the kitchen, I snatch the shirt from her and shrug it on.

“Where are your shoes?” She asks.

“I have no clue,” I answer honestly.

Kory throws a sharp expression over her shoulder and walks back into the living room.

And just like that, my phone flashes a notification: Change of plans. Picking up stash tonight.

Shit.

I’m in the middle of typing up an excuse that I think will hold when I hear Kory’s voice. “I don’t know if my works cited page is in MLA format.”

“Well I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

I glance at a butter knife on the counter and imagine harakiri-ing myself with it. But something catches my eye: a piece of paper tacked onto the refrigerator with a magnet. I move to touch it, gaping in disbelief, when I hear Kory’s voice again.

“D-dick.”

My blood chills at the name as I fly to the edge of the kitchen entrance and peer into the living room. Kory’s pinned to the floor with her dress hiked up to her hip, running her hands through black hair as he licks my girl’s neck. I see her tremble in pleasure and all of a sudden I’m down for a good throat punching.

“Dick, let me get us some wine,” she says, then shivers.

“Don’t need it,” he mumbles, as he runs a trail of kisses down her chest. But she slides herself gracefully out from under him and brings his lips to hers. “Two minutes,” she whispers into him. “Promise."

They end up making out for a little longer and I pry myself away from the sight, grabbing the wine glasses from the top shelf and pacing wildly back and forth. She enters the kitchen, a little flushed, pulling her dress back down. “I’ve moved your shoes to the door. Get ready to go.”

“Grayson?” I say, almost spitting out the name as I place the glasses in her hands. “You’re hooking up with Dick Grayson?”

“It’s truly none of your business.”

I open the fridge door for her and she ducks for the wine. “He’s a prick, Kory. He’s Daddy’s Money. He’s the type of guy who can pay his way through the system if he hits a kid with his Lambo under the influence. Wealthy people like Grayson think they're above the law.”

“You’re a thief. Do you happen to see the pot and the kettle in that?” She asks as she grabs the bottle, but her eyes widen in shock, and she pulls out my gun from the fridge. Kory looks back at me incredulously and I immediately take it from her.

“At least I work for my stash,” I mumble sheepishly and tuck the gun in my jeans. Kory orders for the bottle opener. Without looking, I pull at a drawer and gesture for her to hand me the bottle.

“He’s a criminal justice major too,” she defends, as I twist through the cork. “Top of the class, volunteers on the weekends, networks of friends—”

“Well I’ve never been a billionaire before, but I bet I’d be good at it too.”

“No, instead you move through life with a gun in one hand and the orders from your boss in the other.” The cork shoots off into nowhere with a clean pop and she holds out the glasses for me to fill.

“So that’s what happened between us?” I mutter, as I pour. “Dating a bad guy is conveniently checked off your college-girl bucket list without you having to be aware for most of it. And now it's time for Boy Wonder, who walks around campus with his Father’s money and a huge—”

“Dick,” Kory calls out to the living room. “Switch the music for me, will you, handsome?”

“...ego,” I finish, staring at her balefully. The song changes, and the smile Kory is giving me is smug.

And see, that’s the thing that undoes it: a look between us that goes on a little too long. Long enough for my nerves to unsteel themselves and her stare to soften. And suddenly all I can think of is that poem I stole from the library that one night, and the way the morning spilled through her hair as she leaned against the window. All those nights and showers and words that happened between us before the rough hands of my job pulled me away from her.

“Starfire,” I hear myself say.

Kory bristles. “That’s not fair.”

January embers.

I take the wine glasses from her hands and set them aside before lifting her up onto the kitchen counter.

“That’s not fair,” she says again, and I’m kissing her.

Elvis Costello sings from the living room about how the sun may rise and burn through yellow skies, and I trace my fingers over her jaw and revel in the way she kisses back into me. “I begged you to quit,” she says with a breath as her hand finds the back of my neck.

“Can’t, cutie. Turn around.”

But suddenly Wonder Boy cuts through with a, “Kory? Do you need some help in the kitchen?”

Kory rips herself out of the moment and pushes herself back onto the floor, shaking her hands in panic.

“I’ve had a few punch-ups with Grayson before, I’d be happy to do it again,” I say through my teeth, the adrenaline from finally kissing her again pulsing through me.

“Get out,” Kory says instead.

I look at her, and suddenly I hear footsteps heading toward us.

“Anders?”

Kory runs back into the living room, and from where I’m standing, I see her barrel into him, smashing her mouth into his. “Bed,” she orders.

Grayson is chuckling through the kisses. “What happened to the wine? What about the paper?”

“Bed,” she answers, a pleading in her voice. And Grayson graciously responds by picking her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. I watch breathlessly as she moves her mouth to his neck, glaring at me over his shoulder and cocking her head to the door.

When the bedroom door closes, I pick up my heart off the kitchen floor, grab my bag and shoes, and leave.

… …

Kory makes a point to come to class early so she can get the key from me. She inspects it, and I’m offended that she thinks I’m stupid or desperate enough to give her a fake.

“How do I know you didn’t make copies?”

I snort. “I’d rather die than watch Grayson rub his billion-dollar boner on you ever again.”

When class starts and the professor begins to talk about literature of the Harlem Renaissance, I pull out a piece of paper from my pocket and unfold it, looking at the blackened out lines and the twelve words that started everything.

Kory had it hanging on her fridge, and I had to steal it back, a poetic justice type of deal.

... ...

“Your hair is winter fire January embers My heart burns there, too.”

― S. King

...

...

Chapter 2: The Words of Thoreau 

Summary: He's in a year-long spiral to rock bottom and Jason pretends he's loving the journey. Because at least it's a direction.

[kiruuuuu]

Sledge/Glaz oneshot in which Glaz’ dignity gets ambushed and beaten up in a dark alley. Who needs enemies when you can have Rook and Mute as friends? (Rating T/M, fluff/humour, ~1.8k) - for @magehir (because who else would want to see an innocent man suffer)

.

Lunch breaks are the best. Really, they’re Glaz’ favourite time of day, if he missed one he’d fall into a deep pit of depression, he loves them so much he’d like to track down the ancestors of the person who invented the lunch break and worship the ground they walk on. He wouldn’t mind not sleeping for a week if it meant that lunch breaks would be an hour longer, he’d give his arm and his leg and probably some other body parts as well and there’s no way he’s obsessing about this, absolutely not, he’s just really excited about lunch breaks, okay?

It has nothing to do with the fact that there are only few people in the kitchenette at this time, one of which happens to be British and tall and kind and who is he even kidding. It has everything to do with it. In fact, it’s literally the only reason he’s started coming here in the first place, normally he eats outside whenever possible or in the company of his fellow countrymen or his other friends and would’ve complained both ways had someone dragged him to the small kitchen and back. He prefers sunlight – however, Sledge’s presence counts as a viable substitute because while the sun manages to heat up his skin, make him relax and feel cosy and comfortable, Sledge does exactly the same thing exactly the same way: just by existing. And so, nowadays, he spends his lunch breaks here.

Since Sledge often has other matters to attend to, he’s rarely alone, is usually surrounded by other SAS operators from Hereford, some of Six’ underlings or members of Rainbow – he’s never really on break and so they don’t talk most of the time which suits Glaz just fine. He doesn’t need to converse with him to bask in his presence, to feel his knees weaken whenever his accent gets unintelligibly thick, to observe him out of the corner of his eye. Besides, Glaz has things to do as well, it’s not like his entire day revolves around Sledge, he has no trouble finding activities that have nothing to do -

“Oh, you’re drawing Seamus again?”, Rook might as well scream into the small room from behind Glaz’ shoulder. He didn’t hear him coming but wishes he did because said Scot glances over at them curiously right before going back to his discussion with Tachanka, undoubtedly having heard the blunt announcement. “Scoot over.” The Frenchman squeezes onto the bench next to him, closely followed by Mute who pushes in from the other side, effectively trapping Glaz between them. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Of course he does, but he’s busy right now”, Mute replies and indicates Sledge with his chin.

Glaz closes his sketchbook before the two can drop more detailed comments about his drawings and fights against the flush rising to his cheeks. Fights and fails. “Look”, he says levelly and doesn’t even know how to continue because anything he responds can and will be used against him. Ever since the other two found out about his hopeless infatuation, he hasn’t had a single quiet minute. He can only pray that Sledge doesn’t get wind of it which might mean the end of lunch breaks and staring at him secretly and, honestly, the end of Glaz. There’s no way he could ever recover if Sledge found out.

“Can I see?”, a voice asks politely and Glaz has the sudden urge to violently toss his sketchbook through the window and then pretend he has no idea what Sledge is talking about.

“Sure, here!” Rook readily snatches the book from Glaz’ hands and shoves it into Sledge’s. “Make sure to flip through it all.”

His fingers are itching to take it back immediately but that would only raise more suspicion, so he silently glares at Rook and attempts to murder him with his gaze alone. Without success. Meanwhile, Sledge is leafing through the pages with an absent-minded smile and Glaz befalls a sudden panic upon not remembering of which nature the other drawings are. Did he - “It’s really good. You draw me a lot”, Sledge points out and returns the book. It sounds friendly and unsuspecting but who would his friends be if they left it at that?

“He also drew you butt naked”, Mute announces helpfully, “but since he hasn’t actually seen you fully nude, he botched your dick size. Way too small.”

“Yeah, you should rectify that and show him.”

“Oh, of course, meet me after work”, Sledge addresses Glaz with a good-natured grin and a wink to which the other two burst out into laughter.

Glaz wants to evaporate into thin air. It’s painfully obvious that Sledge thinks they’re joking yet all the younglings are just as painfully aware that they’re not, that Glaz did try to draw him like that and Mute found it and really, it’s his own fault for hiding it in plain sight, meaning under a loose floorboard that can only be moved once his bed is pushed aside inside a box with a lock whose key Glaz keeps on his person at all times. How irresponsible of him.

“It’s probably the fact that he always draws during breaks and since he’s usually here, he draws what he sees”, Rook explains to Glaz’ instant suspicion. It’s a good excuse, lacking any euphemisms or second thoughts, so there has to be something -

“Yeah, why are you here all the time recently?”

He stares at Mute who meets his gaze with an irritating smirk. He’s basically forcing his hand. “Because I’ve developed a sudden craving for tea”, he grits out unwillingly, making Sledge spring into action.

“That’s right, I almost forgot!” The Scotsman turns away and picks up his argument with Tachanka again while he sets out to boil some filtered water and Glaz buries his head in his hands.

“I hate you both so fucking much”, he whispers to gleeful giggling.

“We brought you some presents, by the way.” They quickly reach into their pockets and begin stuffing Glaz’ with their contents, wrappers crinkling and he realises with growing horror what they are. “Hopefully, you’ll need ‘em someday.”

“Are you nuts?! You can’t – take them back, you Neanderthals!”

“But we have no use for them”, Rook protests and shoves them deeper into Glaz’ pockets, swatting his hands away, “they’re the biggest size, you’re the only one who realistically -”

“It’s all you need, I’ve discovered his lube stash but figured you might not wanna get frosted right away -”

“Oh my God, shut up”, Glaz hisses exasperatedly and probably would have thrown both of them off the bench hadn’t Sledge returned right then and set down two cups of tea on the table in front of them. He’s too mortified to even thank him, his ears burning and his mind conjuring up entirely inappropriate images that only exacerbate the whole situation.

“You don’t take sugar either, do you?”, Sledge asks Mute and is granted a sweet smile in return.

“No, but like Glaz, I take cream.”

A questioning glance to the Russian whose embarrassment is approaching critical levels. “I don’t – I’ll drink it like this. As always. Uh, thanks.” He can’t stand tea. Another bullet point on the very long list of things that, unfortunately, Rook and Mute know but Sledge doesn’t, and so they never miss an opportunity to remind him of his ‘newfound love’ of the swill. Additionally, Glaz made the mistake in the beginning to claim he drank it pure, like Sledge, in an entirely misguided attempt to impress him. It did work, to an extent, but he still curses himself for it because he’s had to drink a cup almost every day for the past few weeks now.

“Oh? I thought you loved cream”, Mute says innocently. “My mistake. Maybe you’ll start having it eventually.”

Glaz is starting to tip over into a murderous rage but is momentarily distracted by the fact that Rook wordlessly drops a few sugar cubes into his tea as soon as Sledge isn’t watching for which he is eternally grateful yet also deeply confused. “Why in the world do you have those?”

“Are you alright, boy?”, a booming voice is directed at him all of a sudden, making him jump. “You’re so red in the face, are you sick?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry, it’s just a bit warm -”

“It’s not warm at all, what are you talking about?” Tachanka is undeterred and ignores Glaz even though he repeatedly insists that he’s alright. “Nonsense, you’re never this red. Do you have a fever? Seamus, check whether my boy has a fever.”

But Sledge, the absolute angel, must’ve noticed something, probably a cry for help in Glaz’ eyes or just his general distress because he not only refuses but also compliments Tachanka out of the room, saving Glaz the indignity of a prolonged interrogation during which he’d either have to lie repeatedly or shoot himself in the face afterwards. He thinks he’s safe for exactly two and a half seconds, then a broad hand comes to rest on his forehead unexpectedly. The touch is gentle and the hazel eyes looking down at him soft and Glaz swoons. “Doesn’t feel like a fever”, Sledge murmurs, “if you feel fine, it’s probably nothing.”

While he walks back to the counter to clean and tidy, Glaz is still stunned by the fact that a simple gesture could incapacitate him like this, make him forget all about his surroundings and just wallow in his daydreams that are sweet and lovely and - “Oh, look at the time”, Mute mumbles next to him, “it’s time for your knickers to get wet.” And he knocks over his own cup of tea.

He does it so strategically that almost all of it sloshes over Glaz, soaks his t-shirt and trousers and yes, his underwear too. He’s lucky it’s not too hot anymore but he curses colourfully regardless, attempts to jump up but only hits his knees on the table until Rook takes pity on him and gets up so he can escape the dripping mess – and it only registers after Sledge’s words why Mute would do this.

“Are you alright? Did you burn yourself? Stand still.” He’s by Glaz’ side immediately, rubbing his trousers with a towel and Glaz is too shocked to react or shy away from the touch when it reaches his pockets, making them crinkle audibly. “Ah, you’d better empty your pockets, lad.”

And Glaz wants to perish.

[doof-doofblog]

"You Could've Killed Yourself!"

Full Week Catch Up

Monday 12th April 2021 (Part Two) - Monday 19th April 2021

Hello again folks, hope you've had a good week! I am finally back after a whole week away! I've just binged watched almost 2 hours worth of EastEnders and blimey what an action packed roller-coaster, my hands are shaking with the amount of adrenaline that's buzzing through me after seeing that ending of last night's episode! I truly cannot believe what I've just seen!!! Plus we have the excitement of having three characters return! But my God, there is so much I need to mention and I'm going to break it down into slots the best I can!

So to begin with I'm going to start with The Taylors. After Karen has been made redundant from the laundrette, it looks as if the family are falling on hard times, they're pretty much almost broke. Even Bernadette is beginning to notice how much her Mum may be struggling, offering to start paying her way now she has a proper job. But Karen seems too proud to take money from her daughter, claiming that she's never asked her children for anything and never would if she thought she couldn't cope.

But even when she has another meeting with Mr. P, poor Karen gets the wrong end of the stick. He made a small comment mentioning that he could find a way to help her with money whilst she found a new job, from the looks of it, Karen assumes that he means something sleazy, dirty - sleeping with him for money. But as she turns up to the restaurant all dolled up, making a show of how unprofessional Mr. P is, it's plain to see that that was never his intentions. Soon as he's completely humiliated he shows Karen an envelope claiming that there's about 3 months wages in there for her to get by until she finds something else. Understandably, Karen is completely embarrassed and apologetic as soon as she realises her mistake, but Mr. P declines her apology, leaving her feeling absolutely devastated. I know the Taylor's have become a firm favourite of the soap so it'll be horrible to see them fall on hard times, but this has happened to many different families in the Square, hopefully in time Karen will be able to find a new job before things get out of control.

--

The next thing I have to mention is Keegan, Tiffany and Dotty. At the beginning of the week, Keegan is eager to progress his business, as he and Tiffany throw ideas back and forth, Tiffany comes up the idea of making a name for himself online. She creates a profile for her husband's business and suggests making posts about all sorts of sandwiches he could create, he could do live streams, build a following of some kind. Keegan is more than pleased with idea, but unfortunately without him knowing, Tiffany leaves the device on live stream - and it's only later we find out what actually went down!

Later in the day as Keegan is happily attending to his stall, he appears to be getting quite a lot of female attention, with customers gossiping, pointing and giggling it seems Keegan is suspicious about the attention he's receiving. It's only when Tiffany and Keegan mention about the live stream, Keegan realises that he has been caught naked on live stream, as there was a slight disaster with some mayonnaise! I have to admit, this whole section, I did find pretty funny and can I say how nice it was to see Keegan in a more happy and positive mood, it's been a long time I think since we've seen happy Keegan, it was about time!

Of course he still holds concerns for his wife having to do her hostessing job, to which he is still wanting her to pack in once his business takes off. As the week goes on, the episodes seem to focus on Tiffany and Dotty still fleecing their customers out of money. But at Tiffany's horror, as she leaves her husband to see to his sandwich customers, she gets approached by an unknown gentleman claiming that she scammed him for paying for alcohol he never had! Fortunately Dotty is there to fight her corner and the man leaves, but gives a brutal warning that he hasn't let the matter lie.

It's clear to see that Tiffany is visibly shaken up, considering the man had her backed into a corner, but it's interesting to know that she hasn't told Keegan exactly what she and Dotty have been up to at the club, in a way she is putting herself in more danger. It was only a matter of time before they were going to be found out. Later on in the evening, Dotty and Tiffany appear to be getting ready for their shift, but it looks as if Tiffany is having second thoughts after her horrible encounter with the old gentleman. As she wipes her lipstick off, Ruby enters the room and voices her concerns on whether Dotty and Tiffany can actually carry on fleecing their customers. She, interestingly, informs them that she's not going to sack them but she wants to in on how much extra they make from their customers. It seems that if Dotty and Tiffany continue to do this, Ruby wants to make sure they can handle it. It's really interesting I find, considering the fact that what they're doing is illegal, with Ruby being the manager of the club, having full knowledge of what her employers are doing and allowing them to do it, there must be some kind of sackable offence or even a fine or some kind if she was also to be found out? I'm intrigued to see what will happen if Keegan and/or Martin find out! What do you guys think?!

As Tiffany carries on with her shift, see eyes up a potential group of customers to approach, but as she slowly gets closer towards them, she overhears the conversation they're having about Keegan and his sandwich business, but then their conversation topic turns to Tiffany as they reveal that they've dived into social media and found out the Tiffany is the wife of the "Sandwich Maker" and end up insulting her, her clothes and the way she looks and how she even ended up with Keegan in the first place. Of course this deeply hurts Tiffany and as she looks around the room for another customer, she sees a young lad sat on his own who waves her across, so she decides to take her business elsewhere.

Unfortunately as the night goes on, the young man gets incredibly drunk - almost to the stage where he can't hand over his wallet. He's slumped across the table with countless amounts of bottles and glasses in front of him. Tiffany admits that she feels a little guilty for making him drink himself into an oblivion. But as it comes to him paying his fee, Dotty manages to get his wallet, but as she reaches in for his bank card, they also discover his student card. As the customer they've managed to fleece is a student they realise that he's not going to have the funds to be able to pay what he owes them. 

As Ruby enters the room, she notices the young student hauled over the table and acknowledges that maybe Dotty and Tiffany needs to focus on other types of customer's, not the ones with baggy jeans, but the ones who have name branded suits etc etc. She instructs her employees to take care of the drunken student and to make sure they pay for his cab home! As Tiffany and Dotty wait outside with the student for his cab, Tiffany questions whether Dotty ever feels guilty for what they do. Even though Dotty admits that they got it wrong with the male student, she doesn't feel any guilt for older and wealthy customers who can clearly afford it and sometimes seem to drunk to even care. Something is telling me deep down that Tiffany really doesn't want to do this any more, whether she fears for her safety or whether she fears Keegan finding out - who knows? 

But, without their knowledge, the man who approached Tiffany early in the day is hiding down a back alley listening to their conversation, but the most terrifying that happens next is that he actually follows them home! Now I have to admit, I found that part very creepy. I thought for a moment he was going to attack them or sexually assault them in their own home. Dotty tries her best to hold her ground claiming that they don't have his money and if he doesn't leave she will call the police, even informing that Keegan will be returning to the house at any minute! 

Tiffany is clearly more frightened than Dotty is, her eyes are slowly tearing up, scared of what the man is going to. He claims that if they haven't got his money there can be other ways in which they can repay him. Deep down, in the pit of my stomach I thought that he was meaning that they'd have to sleep with him to pay him back. I have to admit I feared for Tiffany at this point, but out of no where the man gets whacked in the back of the head and falls to the floor. Thankfully Sonia arrived home from Ireland just in time to save the day! I have to be honest, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Sonia! It's nice to have Sonia back, even though she's only been gone for a few months, it's nice to have her back at Dot's where she belongs! Oh speaking of which, as Dotty and Tiffany inform Sonia about what's been happening in her absence, Sonia reveals to Dotty that Dot has pretty much made Sonia the one in charge of the house, regarding who stays and who doesn't and who pays what etc, and from the look of Dotty's face it looks as if she isn't best pleased about it, especially considering she was going to get some kind of inheritance, but after what Sonia has witnessed, it's clear to Sonia that she isn't ready yet for her inheritance money. 

--

Elsewhere on the Square, it's Frankie's birthday and Mick is gathering everything together to throw his daughter a special birthday celebration in the Vic for her, the funny thing is though is that he has no idea what to buy for his daughter, he stills feels as though he doesn't know her well enough to get her something she'd really like. As he arrives home he admits to Linda that he's gone bit crazy, buying this such as a bazooka - but then who doesn't love a huge water gun, right?! 

But the moment that got me super excited when everyone was gathered in the living room, was when Shirley walked in!!! Everyone was so happy to see her! I was happy to see her return, but unfortunately she returns with the devastating news that she's been able to track down Tina, which of course was her full intention was to go away and find their missing sister. But of course we know that Gray murdered her - it's truly going to be devastating for the Carter family when they learn the truth. The one thing I did notice though was that Shirley didn't even seem phased by the fact that Frankie was now living with them - was Shirley informed that Frankie is Mick's daughter? If so, when?! I simply cannot remember that conversation between Shirley and Mick before she left, if anyone else can recall then please remind me! 

One other part which I loved too, when Shirley, Mick and Linda had all gathered around together to surprise Frankie by singing "Happy Birthday" to her in sign language! A very touching and thoughtful thing to do, but it was quite funny how they were all struggling to get the right signs and keep in sync with each other. A very touching moment, but brilliantly funny also! As the birthday celebrations continue, everyone gathers in the Vic to wish Frankie a huge Happy Birthday, Mick even happens to propose a toast to his daughter and finally opening up to the community that Frankie is his daughter and he's thrilled to have her in his life, but just as everyone is about to click their glasses, another member of the Carter family returns - Nancy!!!!

I have to be honest, I am so happy to see Nancy back - is it just me or has she changed? Only ever so slightly? I can't make out what it is though, her image? Her personality? I'm not so sure but something has slightly changed, maybe I'm looking at something that isn't there. I admit I was expecting Nancy to be really cold towards Frankie, but it seems that she's not as cold as I expected her to be. Instead she actually seems to welcome her new sister into the family, even sticking up for after hearing Sharon and Honey gossiping about her Dad and her sister. 

But as much as I'm enjoying this sisterly-bonding, I have to admit, for a brief moment I was speculating whether it's all just a front. Is Nancy really happy to have a new sister? Bare in mind, whilst she was left alone to settle after travelling back from New Zealand, we happen to see her on the phone to Tamwar. Now my questions from that scene are - is she still married to Tamwar?! And what does she need money for?! Is Nancy up to something? As much as I'm thrilled to see her back on the Square, I'm intrigued to see what brings her back and whether we'll learn more about her time in New Zealand with Tamwar, what do you guys think?! 

Unfortunately, the happily family reunion doesn't last for very long - as for reasons I'll go into shortly, Shirley ends up being arrested for her involvement in the robbery. Understandably, all the Carter clan are shocked to hear of the news, but I just found it quite disappointing, as soon as Shirley arrives back on the Square, she's taken into the nick! It's yet unknown whether Shirley is going to be charged with her involvement in the robberies, plus it's interesting to see what's going to happen with Ben and Phil also - but again, I'll get into that shortly. 

As Mick frets about his Mum being at the police station, he tries to find every bit of information that he ca, but to no avail. The only thing he knows for certain is that it has something to do with Phil Mitchell! As a way to take his mind of his Mum, Nancy and Frankie offer to stay up with him, but they all end up staying up and Mick attempts to gather the family together with a game of Monopoly. As everyone is assigned their little token, Mick is baffled to realise that his "Lucky Token" is missing (The Top Hat). On his hands and knees he begins to search the floor of the pub as Frankie and Nancy watch on - watching their Dad scramble for the Monopoly piece. They decide that they would take it upon themselves to search for the piece instead and instruct Mick to head upstairs and get comfortable. 

As Mick agrees and exits, the two sisters then decide to get more acquainted over a bottle of wine. Only later on and everyone turns in for the night, Frankie seems to have a gotten a little tipsy, much to Mick and Linda's amusement. They inform their Dad that they couldn't find his Monopoly token but they decided to make him one instead. As Nancy escorts her sister to get a cup of tea, much to her reluctance, Mick reveals that he had hold of the Top Hat token all along and it was his whole plan of getting Nancy and Frankie to start bonding! - One word - Brilliant! I have to be honest, I loved the whole sisterly bonding between Frankie and Nancy and I really hope we'll continue to see more of the sisters together in scenes to come! 

--

So, the big one, the big emotional SHOCKING one! Kush's trail is quickly approaching and it looks as if his main concern is how long he'll be locked up inside, how long he'll be away from Whitney and his son for if he was to plead guilty for not just his crime, but for all the other crimes he's taking the rap for for the Mitchells. He decides to take a visit to Mitchell's, wanting to speak to Phil, but instead comes face-to-face with Ben and admits that he doesn't want to go ahead with their plan. But somehow, Ben manages to change his mind, trying to explain that the money they're paying him will set him and Whitney for life once he's out of prison. 

Realising that there really is no other way, he agrees to continue with his plans with the Mitchell's. But in the meantime, after having a confrontation with Whitney, Kat goes round to see Whitney apologising about the way she's been acting recently. She tries to reassure her that she still cares deeply about Kush, regardless of being distant over the past few months. Unfortunately, Kat drops the bombshell to Whitney that Kush has a good deal with Phil - much to her shock, even though she lies and informs Kat that Kush tells her everything, it's clear to see that Whitney is deeply hurt about hearing that Kush could be locked away for longer than she expected. 

But whilst this conversation is happening between Kat and Whitney, Kush is gathering Martin, Keegan and Tiffany together in an attempt to throw a quick marriage ceremony for himself and Whitney. He wants to try and prove to her that no matter how long he'll be put in prison for, they will marry once he's released, and who knows, he could be let out sooner for good behaviour! As everyone gets dressed up their smart and gorgeous gear, Kush prepares to get married to Whitney. 

After finding each other in the gardens, Whitney confronts her boyfriend/fiancé' demanding an explanation regarding what she's just been told by Kat. Kush is completely apologetic and admits that he should've told her the truth sooner, but he wanted to make sure that they would be set for life once he was released, but in Whitney's mind, he would be leaving her for a lot longer than he actually really needs to, which I guess I can understand her point. Why the hell should he take the rap for something he hasn't done?! Why does he need their money? As long as he has Whitney and his son, nothing else matters! Kush once again apologises and claims that they should get married before he goes to prison, he gets down on one knee and proposes to her. But poor Whitney is so devastated about being lied to again that all she can do is tearfully shake her head, much to Kush's disappointment and embarrassment, without another word between them, Kush walks off slowly and then speeds off into a run and just runs and runs as fast as his legs can take him!!

The following day, both Whitney and Martin are concerned about Kush's whereabouts, after running away no one appears to have heard from him. Through out the day, Whitney tries her absolute best to get in touch with Kush, leaving him plenty of voicemails but hearing nothing back. She begins to fret whether he has done something stupid and done a runner without her or maybe even done something even more stupid. As the day goes on and it gets darker and darker, Whitney is seen sitting alone on Arthur's bench in the garden's and of course, trying to be her knight in shining armour, Gray once again tries to worm his way in, informing her that Kush might be looking at a long time in prison and she needs to know for sure whether marrying him is the right thing to do, he even tries to get her inside to have a drink, in an attempt to console her. But Whitney is adamant she doesn't want a drink and that Kush is really good man. In hindsight, Gray's advice completely backfires as Whitney thanks him for making her realise what she has to do. Gray is obviously quite confused, but as Whitney returns home she attempts to call Kush one last time, pleading him to come home and softly informing him that she really does love him. 

As she ends the call, to her shock Kush is sat in the living room waiting patiently for her, announcing his love for her, he apologises for springing their surprise wedding on her, but Whitney admits that it was a beautiful gesture. As they softly kiss, they agree that they are both in this for the long haul, no matter what happens, and they agree to marry. The following day is the big day for Kush, it's his first day at trial and even though Whitney and Martin want to be there for him, he respectfully asks them to stay away as it's not going to be happy to witness. 

I have to admit, the whole thing that kicked off during Kush's trial I was not expecting! Kush heads to court alone after receiving a gorgeous Good Luck card from his son, but even in the waiting room, Gray once again can't help but make a comment, informing Kush he'll look after Whitney while he's away. As much as it seems innocent to Kush, we know completely what Gray's intentions are! But it's when Kush gets into the courtroom that things begin to kick off, as Ben and Gray watch from the stalls, Kush pleads guilty to the robbery of cars. But as soon as the judge asks him whether he has anything else he'd like to add - Kush reveals everything to the judge, that he in fact wasn't the only one who took part in the burglary and to Ben's absolutely horror, Kush names both him, Phil and Shirley amongst the ones who were involved in the robbery and reveals that the Mitchell's also need to pay for what they have done! Both Gray and Ben are completely gobsmacked by Kush's actions - even Ben almost lashes out in the courtroom claiming Kush to be liar! Watching this scene I thought it was absolutely brilliant, such an amazing atmosphere and the tension was certainly rising! It was as if Kush came to the decision that he's not going to take the rap for something he hasn't done and the Mitchell's need to be held responsible for what they've done! For Kush, he doesn't care about the money, all he cares about is Whitey and his son! 

As things appear to be escalating in court, back on the Square both Shirley and Phil are arrested. Of course the Carter family are stunned to see Shirley being arrested, and Kat watches with dismay as Phil is put in handcuffs and taken away. Everyone can't seem to understand what is happening. Whitney is completely stunned to see Kush return home from court in a rushed manor. He informs her that he's not going to be going to be prison, BUT he's been asked to help with another investigation regarding the Mitchell's and if he agrees to co-operate with the police, he won't go to prison! 

However now the Mitchell's know that Kush has grassed them up, they are going to be hot on his trail, he informs Whitney that for them to be safe, they need to leave the Square immediately! Meanwhile as Phil and Ben are being held at the police station, they both are asking Gray what can be done to get them out of prison, they are both completely and utterly fuming with regards to Kush grassing them up and they are demanding Gray to come up with a way of sorting it out and getting them out of prison! But Gray seems to have his hands tied, unless Kush changes his statement then there is nothing that he can do, much to their anger and frustration. As Kat, Callum and Gray gather outside the police station waiting to hear news, they begin to question why Kush would throw the Mitchell's into the frame when he was offered a good deal from them, but then Kat realises that the only reason he would do this would be for Whitney, she would be the only reason why he'd do this, for a chance to have a proper life with her. 

Realising that their only option to be together is to run away, both Whitney and Kush gather their belongings and head to the Fowler's to inform Martin about their plans. Even though Martin completely understands and agrees with them, when they ask whether they could take Arthur with them, Martin is a little bit hesitant. Kush fears that if the Mitchell's don't get hold of him, they'll go for his son instead. He promises that they will keep Arthur safe and they would return when things with the Mitchell's has cooled off. Kush is really just being a Dad, he wants to keep his son safe and of course he's going to want to have him with him. 

Eventually Martin agrees to let Arthur go with them, as much as it deeply upsets him, he understands that they're doing the right thing. Martin goes upstairs and wakes the little boy up from his sleep, informing him that he'll be going on holiday with Daddy Kush. I have to admit, Martin's goodbye to Arthur was incredibly emotional - especially when the young boy voices that he wants Daddy Martin to go with them. Poor Martin gets teary and telling his son that he wants to hear everything about his holiday.

Another certain emotional goodbye was between Kush and Martin. For years they have been like brother's, they've been through so much together and little do they know that this will be the last time they see each other. Before they both break down into tears, Kush thanks Martin and voices that Martin has been the best friend he's ever had. Gosh I have to say I was almost choked up myself watching all these emotional goodbyes. But what's even more harrowing was that Gray was watching them leave whilst being on the phone to Whitney, Whitney lied to him claiming she was going to bed early - but little did she know that she was being watched leaving the Square with Kush and Arthur. 

Eventually they all get to the train station, waiting patiently for their train. But little Arthur lets them know that he needs to go to the bathroom, of course it's very bad timing but Whitney volunteers to take the youngster to the bathroom, leaving Kush alone on the platform. Unbeknown to them, Gray has followed them all the way to the station and is lurking in the shadows of the tube. 

As Kush waits patiently for his fiancé' and son, Gray makes himself known, much to Kush's shock. It's plain to see that Gray isn't acting rationally, he has been drinking? He begins to lash out at Kush, claiming that he think he's won, taking Whitney from him. Kush is completely taken back by Gray's accusations, claiming he's going to ruin Whitney's life. Kush tries everything he can to calm Gray down and claim that everything he's thinking and possibly feeling is fantasy - the only thing Whitney has ever been to him is a childminder, nothing more! But Gray is adamant that he loves Whitney, she is in fact his future!

Suddenly Gray goes for Kush, they scuffle and Gray ends up falling onto the rail way lines! (OH MY GOSH!) My heart was absolutely pumping ten to the dozen watching this, for a very small brief moment, it looked as if Gray was finally going to get his comeuppance. In this distance you could clearly see the lights of the train coming ahead. Of course Kush, being the decent man that he is, even after being insulted and assaulted by Gray helps to drag him up back onto the platform. 

Tensions are high, the train is fast approaching, but Gray makes it back to platform just in time, however things take a very very nasty and horrific turn when Kush stands up, claims that Gray could've nearly died. Hearing the train is quickly approaching, Gray quickly gets up and pushes Kush back onto the railway line as the train passes. Oh my goodness!!!!!! As much I was fretting this was going to happen, I also never expected it to end this way!!! Gray has killed ANOTHER Walford resident in the most horrific circumstances. I had every hope that Kush's role would remain open for Davood Ghadami to return one day! Kush's final scenes where incredible but yet really sad and such a shocker!!

I have to ask a few questions though, surely there would be some kind of CCTV on the platform?! How are people going to learn about Kush's death? Being killed on railway line is no accident, not unless Gray comes up with some stupid story claiming that it was an accident and he fell? What's going to happen when Whitney returns from taking Arthur the bathroom? Will we even see that?! What's going to happen for the Mitchell's and Shirley now? I'm assuming with Kush not being able to co-operate with the police and give them evidence, there'll be no reason for the police to charge the Mitchell's and Shirley, right?! 

Will they think that Kush has just upped and ran? Will they even learn about his death?! Oh my gosh so many questions!!! Please feel free to let me know what you thought of last night's episode! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Surely Gray has to be found out soon, right? How many more people can he get away with killing?! The Carter's WILL eventually find out what happened to Tina - her body is still missing, but will it end up being discovered? We still don't know what Gray did with her body?! 

I have to say though I can't applaud Davood Ghadami and Toby-Alexander Smith loud enough for their performances as Gray Atkins and Kush Kazemi - this week these two have absolutely shone, truly incredible actors!! I'm so glad I've been able to sit down today and write out this blog, I cannot wait to see what happens next and I will certainly follow up tomorrow! Thank you all for your on-going support, it truly means the world! Love you all xXx

[themildestofwriters]

Because Tumblr’s going down the shitter tomorrow, I’m going to post a chapter of the up-coming novel “short”-story I’m writing, ‘The Weird and Wonderful Sexual Awakening of Babette Melwyn’. This is chapter four, six seven and follows Babette after having her sexual reawakening and deciding to experiment a bit more. Does it spoil what happens? Well, it was already a foregone conclusion anyway and this is only one part of the story which has quite a bit more then just the smut.Quite a bit more.

Briefer:

For backstory: This is the fourth chapter of a longer series, “The Weird and Wonderful Sexual Awakening of Babette Melwyn,” there is more that isn’t much explained in this because it has been explained in previous chapters. However, all you need to know is that Babette  is a immortal goddess ingénue who’s a bit socially awkward and still adjusting to an Earth she has just returned to after aeons of being absent. Her girlfriend is Josephine Williams.

Anyway, on to the story!

Babette Visits Pandora’s Box

Breath—in, out. In, out.

My skin prickled uncomfortably, suffocating heat washing all over me. Like the pounding of war drums, my heart was hammering in my chest. I knew that, if anyone saw me, they would see bright-red blush across my countenance.

I didn’t want to here.

I really didn’t want to be here.

Of course, the option to leave was there. It would be so simple. Just turn around and walk away, but I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Indignant pride—along with incessant curiosity—kept me rooted in place. I survived hell and beyond, led armies, ruled an Empire and fought against everything from the Third Reich to the very gods themselves.

Yet… here I was, terrified. Petrified!

It infuriated me, how I felt, and it was all Josephine’s fault—or mother’s fault. It fluctuated now and then.

Weeks had passed since mother asked the question that changed everything, and it had been quite the journey. Now, here I was, standing before a building that was in no way discreet. It was only one story tall, sitting at a corner beside a few other stores—a mechanic and hardware retailer. Cement walls were painted black with a long and thick purple strip running through it, merging with a great eight-ball painted on its side; however, instead of there being an eight in the centre, there was an eighteen-plus. To finish it off, atop the flattened roof was a broad sign that read: Pandora’s Box Adult Store.

It was quite a distance from home, at least another suburb over. As sure as I was that it was far enough from school and home that I wouldn’t meet anyone I knew, the fear still lingered like a miasma. If I locked eyes with someone from school, a friend, a family member or, worse, Josephine herself, I knew I’d die from utter humiliation. That, or I’d bury myself somewhere on Pluto for the next century or two, at least until everyone who knew me was dead.

With that in mind, I took precautions. So, nobody would recognise me and hadn’t arrived as myself, per se.

Nobody walking by would see little Babette Melwyn visiting an adult store, no siree. Instead, they would see a man right out of a modern interpretation of Lord of the Rings. To put it simply, he looked like an elf—if a particularly strange elf—with a very thin and lanky frame, a strong aquiline nose that sat flush with his brow, and bright crimson eyes. His clothes were simple, a pair of plain black pants, a forest green shirt and a satchel that hung across his body. Finally, there was the black beanie that sat on his head, hiding a pair of long elfin ears.

I couldn’t remember the last time I used this form. In recent millennia, I hadn’t much use for it: No need to go undercover; no need to hide from the authorities; no songs to sing that simply sounded better with a masculine voice. I would have preferred a slightly different form from this—mostly because changing sex was a rather odd experience—but it was the only one I had that looked human enough and didn’t look a thing like me.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I adjusted my new clothes and began crossing the car park.

The streets were relatively empty, and I couldn’t see anyone out and about on a walk nearby, so my fears eased. Despite this, I still flung the entry door as open as I could and stepped inside as quick as I could. Unfortunately, in my haste, I almost slammed my face into another door a few feet away.  Jerking back to save myself, I quickly noticed the large poster plastered on it—big bold letters declared a warning to minors, stating that this wasn’t the place for them.

Well, I’m certainly no minor, at least chronologically, though mentally? I mused. Completely different story.

I gave the poster a further few seconds of consideration before passing through.

The first thing I noticed was the front desk. A few advertisements and products decorated it here and there—lubricants and condoms mainly—but it wasn’t that which interested me, rather it was the human manning the desk who caught my eye.

I didn’t really know what I was expecting when I entered Pandora’s Box: A leering man with questionable stains on a rumbled spotted shirt; an Amazonian sex goddess with thighs that could crush skulls; or maybe the extravagantly dressed Madame who secretly owned a trafficking ring out back. There were many ideas and expectations I had when I first planned this trip. What I got instead was an old lady with greying hair who looked to be in her sixties or seventies. She wore modest clothes, a pale pink blouse with a short red cardigan over top.

It was… odd.

Nevertheless, what she looked like didn’t matter much at all to me. The fact that she was here, staring at me, however, was something else entirely.

She smiled, warm and welcomingly.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice as sweet as any grandmothers should.

“Hey,” I mumbled back, nerves and social ineptitude making it difficult to say much else.

I turned away quickly, wanting to forget she was even there, only to recoil in shock as the rest of the store revealed itself to me.

Just what in the Abyss had I gotten myself into?

Along the walls, hanging from hooks and on display in little island tables was an ungodly supply of dildos—some small, some so large I wondered how they’d even fit! There was more as well: lingerie, butt plugs, handcuffs, vibrators and so much more. Some of these things I couldn’t even name let alone determine their purpose.

Cheeks flared red and, much to my further embarrassment and dismay, I could feel my pants tighten. My eyes grew wide and for the next couple of seconds, all that went through my head was a steady stream of unholy screams and curses.

I had forgotten about that little fact.

I was biologically male and so I had to deal with all the aspects of being a male.

I took a deep breath and accepted that this was going to be my life for the next hour or so. Reluctantly, I began browsing, all the while attempting to reposition my newest appendage as subtly as I could. By Anu, it was uncomfortable.

As for what I was looking for, I didn’t want anything too fancy nor anything too big—just something to satisfy my curiosity—but it soon became apparent that I had absolutely no idea what I was looking for. Silicone versus rubber; double ended verses suction cup; veiny verses smooth; strap-on compatible verses that one weird dildo that looked more like featureless snowman: there were so many options to choose from that tackling size alone was its own chore, and I had no idea what any of it meant!

Oh, sure, I did spend a few weeks online researching the subject. I read a few articles about sex and masturbation, I learned that what I felt when with Josephine was “being horny” or “aroused”, and I’d seen many videos of people having sex. Yet nothing mentioned anything about the specifications of different dildos and what they meant. I didn’t even think this was going to be an issue! I just thought most of the different designs I’d seen were purely aesthetic based!

Unfortunately, it appeared my ignorance must have shown in some way as, after roughly ten minutes of staring at the shelves with confused horror etched on my face, a voice spoke.

“Would you like some help, dearie?” the old lady asked, her sweet voice unnervingly at odds with everything around her. In fact, the entire store felt off. It was quiet, casual. It was like I just walked into a convenience store but instead of lollies and Stanley knives, it sold riding crops and ball-gags.

I turned to the woman, trying my best to keep composure, and paused—at a complete loss for words. Should I ask for help? I had no idea. I didn’t want to look like some idiot, but I also didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary.

Once again, I cursed my stupidity. Of course there would be different types of dildos, each with their own pros and cons, yet all I did was get off to watching those wretched videos.

After much deliberation, I decided “to hell with it” and accepted her aid.

“Yes, please,” I replied meekly.

She smiled tenderly and left the counter, soon joining my side. It was then I realised that I was an entire head taller than her, a completely useless fact that left me feeling uncomfortable for some inexplicable reason. “Do you know what you’re looking for exactly?”

“I—ah…” I wasn’t really sure how to reply to that. Should I just out and say it? Would that be socially accepted? Or would a euphemism be in order? I had no bloody idea. “I’m looking for… I’m looking for a dildo.”

“Is this your first time?” she asked, this time with a knowing.

First time? I blushed. “Is it really that obvious?”

“Don’t worry, dearie,” she said. “I’ll help you out.”

One misunderstanding and many uncomfortable questions later, I had my vibrator in hand. While I would have much preferred a normal dildo, it at least looked far less complicated than the other toys recommended. The entire vibrator verses dildo dichotomy confused me, but not being an expert left me little room to complain. Of course, getting to that point wasn’t easy nor fun. Not only did I realise how deep the well of my stupidity goes but I think I somehow convinced the old lady that I was trans. After all, how else are you supposed to explain away a man looking for a dildo to use on his vagina?

Soon after paying, I hid the vibrator away in my satchel and left the store as discreetly as possible.

Once out, I wandered around for a bit, eventually arriving at a wooded park nearby. Hiding among the trees, I made sure none were nearby before returning to my old skin.

Shapeshifting was a queer affair. Disorientation was always something to worry about if one was unaccustomed with the art or shifting into an unfamiliar body with different proportions. However, that was only a minor inconvenience for me as it was the shift itself that was more unusual. It was by no means painful or anything, it simply felt weird. It was as if my skin and bones were melting and reshaping again and again until my body fit what form I desired. The first to change was my height, becoming noticeably shorter; my shoulders narrowed; my hips widened; my chest expanded; features became less elvish and more feminine; and then finally, my eyes shifted from a red to vivid gold.

It only took a second at the most, but I was grateful that my body was mine once again. What’s more, the annoying erection was no more, yet I still felt the tingling of anticipation twisting in my gut below, aching for release.

I fought down a shiver and took a deep breath. Every thought I had went straight beck to the vibrator in my bag: what I would do with it; what it would do to me. I was eager, ready, but I couldn’t just fly home right now—I needed batteries.

After once again checking to see if the coast was clear, four great black wings burst from my back, tearing through my shirt. A few seconds, I launched into the sky, vanishing from sight moments later.

A short stop to buy an eight-pack of batteries later and I was on my way home.

I had the house all to myself, what with my family being out for the next few hours, so I had time to satiate my curiosity. There was a reason I chose today to go out to the store.

Locking the front door behind me, I silently set the alarm spell just in case anyone attempted to break in. I then retired to my room, closing and once again locking the door before flopping onto my bed.

I was home, all alone.

The strange aching sensation had tapered off during the flight, but now that I was back, all I could think about was the vibrator and what would come next.

Sitting up, I opened my satchel and removed my newly bought toy, still sitting inside the box it was sold in.

I removed the packaging and examined the purple disembodied member. It was roughly seven inches long, curved slightly, with a realistic mould of the male genitalia. Apparently, it was a high-quality product, not only being waterproof and made of silicone but also with seven different intensities to choose from. Let’s just hope it was worth every cent I spent.

I bit my lip, my legs squirming together as the tingling warmth began spreading throughout my body. I was eager—more than eager—to find out how it would feel. Fingers were one thing, but these were supposed to be ten times better.

I smirked despite myself. Everyone said masturbation was a healthy and natural thing, even my therapist, but their words still didn’t change how I felt. Masturbation was a dirty thing, so depraved and selfish in my mind; a taboo I had never considered, yet a taboo all the same. However, these thoughts only seemed to make the action all the more exciting as if to spite it all. It was a forbidden fruit, something I shamefully tasted once and was left only wanting more.

Quickly, I summoned a Shroud of Silence around my bedroom and got ready.

With the batteries placed inside, I quickly discarded my clothes—my beanie, hair tie, shoes and socks—and threw them onto the floor with everything else that wasn’t necessary.

Next came the tattered shirt. I didn’t really need it anymore and considering the fact that it was already ruined, I tore it off and threw the remains to the floor. Without a bra, I was left bare-chested, everything from my pale lavender-grey skin to my scars—some faint, some not—and my small breasts.

I looked down, I inspected myself—the dark room, a bright monochrome to my eyes. My body felt all warm and sensitive, hyper-aware of the tingling pressure below my navel begging to be attended to. My hands roved, tempted to simply forgoing the vibrator and take matters into my own hands. The slightest touch was like sparks of electricity to my skin, enticing.

I forced myself to stop, to think clearly. I crawled onto my bed. With pillows to act as a buffer, I leaned against the headboard and spread my legs. Absently, I summoned the vibrator to hand and… stopped.

This was the first time I had ever used anything aside from my fingers and pillow, and I had no idea what I was going to expect. Of course, I had seen videos of people using them but seeing and experiencing were two completely different things.

I pressed the button sitting flush with the black base of the vibrator and instantly the room was filled with a low hum.

I squirmed at the noise, the vibrations stimulating my imagination. My legs clamped shut and I could feel my body ache to feel the massaging touch of my new toy. Like tunnel vision, the vibrator was the only thing on my mind at the moment—the desire to feel it against me, inside me; the carnal pleasures it would bring. But before I began, curiosity pushed me further. I pressed the button a few more times, each rewarding me with a new and enticing setting that picked up in intensity until it was buzzing madly in hand.

My breath hitched and quickly I switched the thing off with a final press of the button.

By Anu, I would certainly not be using that setting tonight. That was far too… too potent. I smiled nevertheless, excited to see what this night would bring.

Relaxing against the headboard, I spread my legs once again.

Slowly, the fingers of my left hand ran down my body, past the tuft of silky black pubic hair before gliding over my warm mound. I wanted to ease myself in, not be overly hasty.

First, I started with my middle digit, circling my clitoris—each movement of my finger sending sparks of pleasure, some more often than not, flowing through my body. I varied myself, trying to find that right touch, that right rhythm to get the best effect. Sometimes I would slide my finger between slippery lips, delving deep into my warmth; at other times, I would use two or more fingers, playing with myself until my head became hazy.

The only constant was how deep my breathing became and how slick my fingers got. I felt as if I could go on and on, slowly building myself up and up until that bright flash of absolute paradise. It would be easy to give into temptation, but I stopped myself, huffing a deep breath as I did.

Bringing my fingers up for inspection, I saw they were glistening, lines of wetness connecting finger to finger like a spider’s web.

I blushed. I had never been so wet before.

I knew I was enthusiastic—shamefully so—but I didn’t expect this!

I stared, almost mesmerised by the lines of fluid that coated my fingers. I had seen video after video of men and women using their mouths and tongues, tasting the viscous juices of others. I wondered how it tasted—the girls surely looked like they were enjoying themselves from what I remember.

I tilted my head and, in a fit of impulse, brought my fingers to my lips, dragging my middle finger down my tongue.

The taste… it tasted kind of… I wasn’t sure.

There wasn’t much of a taste to be honest, perhaps a bit sweet? It was underwhelming, to be honest. It wasn’t ambrosia and I certainly wouldn’t drink a glass full. But, somehow… the thought that this was what a woman tasted like?

I wondered if this is what every woman tasted like or if it was different. Did Josephine taste this way? I didn’t know but I wanted to find out—to feel my tongue running along her slick lips, tasting every inch of her. I could almost see it when I closed my eyes, her body writhing beneath me; my tongue explored every inch of her.

I brought my fingers back to my mouth, slowly lapping up the remaining nectar from each digit. This was the closest I could ever get to Josephine and I savoured every last bit, moaning as I did. My tongue grew and reformed, becoming longer and pointed, wrapping around my fingers and tasting every last drop.

Only when I was done and there was none left did I sigh, deep and content. The taste wasn’t anything special but the thought of my tongue exploring Josephine’s depths just made it so… so… delectable. My body was already hot and bothered before, but now I could barely think straight.

I turned my attention back towards my vibrator and then down towards my vagina—aching heat calling desperately to be tended to.

Readjusting my grip, I turned it on to the lowest setting and brought it down slowly. The second it brushed against me, I jerked up, stifling a small cry—a powerful jolt of pleasure, intense and sudden, shooting through me.

It… um. I— I didn’t expect that…

Suppressing a grin, I repositioned myself and pressed against me again. Just like before, pleasure shot through me, but it was more than that—a near constant assault as I pressed it between my lips. The vibrator changed pitch, and I groaned and squirmed.

I tried to be quiet, but I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath.

“Fuck…” I groaned, beginning to move the head, watching it roam around my vulva. I never let it overstay its welcome, exploring around and between soaking lips to my sensitive clitoris and everywhere else. As I did, more jolts of pleasure racked through me, soliciting moan after moan, threatening to overwhelm me.

My head lulled back, eyes closed, as my free hand moved slid up my waist and ribs, tickling my side before cupping my breast. With thumb and finger, I teased myself, pinching my hardened nipple as fresh waves drowned me in carnal delight.

My groans became louder, hungrier. I could feel that presence below my navel growing and growing as time ticked by—tense, like a spring, as if it were ready to release at any moment.

I didn’t just want more, I needed more.

I pressed the button on the base and—

“By Anu!” I cried. My body arched suddenly, an entirely new world of ecstasy taking root. I pressed the button again and again, lost in my insatiable craving for more. “Oh, fuck!”

My mind blanked, the world around me darkening as I focused purely on myself and nothing else. I felt as if I couldn’t stop, even if I wanted to. All I could think about was feeding my blind hedonism until I was left a drooling mess.

Pinching and teasing turned to rough kneading—my hand massaging and squeezing my small supple breast.

Soon, fantasies began filling my mind to tempt and stimulate. I remembered back to that particular video I watched—the one of the two women sharing in each other’s company. They would kiss deeply, their hands ever wandering, caressing, teasing. Soon, one girl began to kiss lower, down the other’s neck, past her breast and between her legs.

I couldn’t help but put myself in the other’s position, completely at the mercy to another’s masterful tongue.

But then the girl changed. No longer was she a blonde white woman taking deep pleasure in lapping up every inch of me. Instead, her skin turned a dark caramel, her hair curlier and now a deep chocolate brown. She looked at me, parting hair that obscured her face and—

My heart skipped a beat.

Josephine…

I could see her plain as day in my mind.

She crawled to me, slowly and seductively, her delicious arse swaying so tantalisingly as she did—her enthralling green eyes never wavering from mine. There was a look in those eyes, some unrestrained hunger that scared me, excited me and awoke something deep within me.

Pure bliss flooded every part of my body. I moaned her name, feeling shameful desire swirl at my desperation. That presence below my navel called out, demanding to be filled, and I obeyed.

My lips parted as I eased the vibrator in. First the head then, slowly, the rest of it began to fill me. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before. Instantly, I was intoxicated, drunk on unabashed lust. I groaned loud—loud enough that, had anyone been home, they surely would have heard.

In and out, I pumped the vibrator, building speed as I yearned to feel more. My free hand soon joined it, massaging my clitoris as the vibrator continued to send wave after wave of crushing pleasure through me again and again and again.

My fantasy continued, Josephine’s splendour still in my mind.

I soaked up every last bit of her I could remember—her eyes, her skin, those lips. Oh, how I longed to feel those luscious lips upon my own, on my neck, on my breast, teasing me with teeth and tongue.

Down, down, down, down.

How I longed for those beautiful soft lips to mark me all the way down to between my legs—to feel her tongue dance a most wicked dance around and inside me, exploring my warm depths.

Oh, how I wanted her here.

I wanted her, I so desperately wanted her here it was frustrating. I wanted her here to make me her plaything. I wanted her here to ravage me so completely that I couldn’t think straight. I wanted her here to fuck me hard and rough until I was nothing more than an incoherent babbling mess in the palm of her hands.

I gasped.

My entire body seized up, legs slamming shut onto my hands. I clenched down hard onto my vibrator. My entire body rocked. Hips bucking wildly as absolute euphoria flooded my entire body.

I felt as if I was being shattered deep into my very core—a feeling so strong and intense it almost hurt.

Muffled whine turned whimpers tried desperately to be heard as white hot bliss shot through me again and again and again and again.

Jolt after jolt of agonising pleasure ruined me, never-ending and omnipresent. I could feel it building me up and up, just as before. Every inch of me felt so sensitive, like the slightest touch could send me spiralling down all over again.

I cried out, every last moan loudly declaring my depraved deeds to the world.

I couldn’t handle it. It was just too overwhelming.

I removed the vibrator as quickly as I could, fearing that I would break. The second its ravenous touch left, I surrendered to fatigue.

My heart raced. Blood thumped loudly in my ears. My breaths, long and laboured. I was utterly exhausted.

I laid there for a moment, trying to recover my lost strength. The buzzing of the vibrator continued but a quick spell later and all that could be heard was my heavy breaths.

That was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

It was just so… so… pure. So utterly all-consuming. I could barely describe it.

Slowly, my faculties returned. My mind became clearer and my breathing soon became more measured. When my body relinquished control back to me, I summoned the silenced vibrator to hand. I could still it vibrate against my hand and so I quickly cycled through the various settings and turned it off, placing it on my bedside.

I continued laying for a time, staring up at the cream ceiling as my muscles began to relax.

After a minute or so, I pulled myself up to a sitting position and quickly looked down, noticing a sudden wetness against my leg.

I frowned, cheeks flaring hot as I realised just how soaked I, and the bed, was. Not only were my thighs glossy with the clear coating of my release, but there was a large dark stain on my sheets, intermingling with the marks of sweat.

I sighed and reclined on my bed. It’d be a pain to clean up. Next time, definitely bring a towel.

Next time.

I smiled wistfully and turned to the veiny member sitting innocently on my bedside. There was no doubt that I wouldn’t be using it again.

But now? I need to clean up and probably have a bath. A nice warm bath.

[author-mandi-bean]

I took just a smidge more than a week off because my three nephews were visiting, and they are considerably more than a handful. The oldest just turned 9, the middle one is 6, and the youngest is 3. My sister is something of a saint, no? I foolishly thought I’d have time to update during their visit, but I’m happy to report that I was SO wrong and spent every moment I could with my three favorite gentlemen.

I am also super happy to report that The Charlotte Gusay Literary Agency requested a full manuscript. I shared the news on my Facebook page, and someone commented, “No. They sent me the same letter. They want money,” or something to that effect. I did some research and it seems they do ask for $35, which is not something literary agents typically do. However, the latest incident reported was five years ago and $35 seems a small fee if the agency likes my manuscript and wishes to work with me. I wonder how much of the online reporting is reliable, and how much of it is colored by pissed off people who never made it.

No reward without the risk, right? That being said, I sent an email – which I now regret – inquiring about the “fee.” I hope they don’t think I’m a jerk, unprofessional, or unwilling to pursue this offer. I act impulsively most of the time, which has mostly proved problematic and left me with more than a handful regrets. But that’s not an invitation to a pity party; only a smooth segue to this week’s blog post.

Enjoy! Read. Comment. Share.

WEEKLY WRITING PROMPT #4.2017: “He’s attractive, he’s funny, he’s rich. Why am I not interested?”

The leather couch looked fancy as hell. It was made of brown tufted leather, the upholstery buttons had a warm golden finish, and the actual shape of the couch was kind of urban and retro. It did not scream comfort so much as it did elegance, so it was exactly the kind of couch one would picture being in a reputable yet chic therapist’s office. The couch perfectly matched the mahogany desk and bookshelves and everything was just so bourgeois and it made Gemma feel worse.

When she had stretched out along the sofa, the leather groaned and drew more attention to itself than Gemma had wanted. She knew, just knew, that Dr. Hoffmann was appraising her cheap cotton shirts and plain cotton tee-shirt, sizing her up to be something worse than what she was (if that was even possible). Gemma should have dressed for the occasion, but what does one wear to their second therapist appointment? She didn’t know; she didn’t know anything, really. And the only instruction Dr. Hoffmann had given was to talk. But what should she talk about? She had chewed her bottom lip for a minute or two in agonizing silence before Dr. Hoffmann finally offered some direction: “How’s the love life?”

Gemma barked a laugh, a masculine guffaw that she immediately regretted, that embarrassed her. She covered her burning face with her hands and apologized. Gently, Dr. Hoffmann reminded her that she had nothing to apologize for and asked about that interesting, swift response. “It’s been complicated,” Gemma said. She slid her hands down her face, stretching the skin and smearing her makeup. “I had my heart broken or whatever – I mean, I guess it was pretty traumatic – but there’s this new guy now. He’s attractive, he’s funny, he’s rich.” Gemma groaned. “Why am I not interested?”

“Well, I think the answer to that question is fairly obvious, don’t you?”

Gemma bolted upright. It wasn’t Dr. Hoffmann’s voice that had asked the question, but someone else. It was someone she had never ever wanted to see again, and someone she hoped she bumped into randomly every day. It was strong but melodic, unremarkable but wonderful, full of contradictions just like its owner, who had been so beautiful and awful all at once. Slowly, like a B-actress in the climax of a fairly predictable horror movie, she turned her neck to the side and saw him sitting in the chair, looking as handsome and smug as ever. It was the heart breaker himself, Jax.

His real name was Ajax; his terribly pretentious parents had actually named him after a Greek god, and its meaning was “powerful eagle,” or something equally as absurd when not living in Ancient Greece. Maybe it wasn’t Jax’s fault he was a complete and total douche bag but more a fulfillment of destiny. How could a guy be anything but a twat waffle with a name like that? His future of seersucker pants and canvas boat shoes had been inescapable. And Gemma had fallen for it, had fallen for it hard.

Gemma was furious and wanted nothing more than to leap to her feet in a manner that exuded that anger and some confidence and she wanted to be intimidating. But her thighs ripping from the leather and the way the leather groaned whenever she made the slightest movement made the whole thing unimpressive and lame. “You can’t be here. This isn’t possible.”

“And yet here I am,” Jax grinned, showing a quick flash of teeth before he smoothed his countenance into something so forced and serious it was comical. “Now, I’d really like to discuss this lack of interest in a suitable partner.” He wasn’t in his usual attire. He was wearing a tailored three-piece suit and looked every bit the medical professional. He even crossed one leg over the other, mindful of the fabric and of creating any unseemly creases.

“Go to hell,” Gemma said. “That’s none of your business. You need to leave.” She surveyed the room quickly. “How’d you even get in here?”

Jax rolled his eyes and his tone was impatient. “You brought me, obviously.”

Gemma shut her eyes tight and shook her head. This didn’t make sense, couldn’t actually be happening, and she had to come back to reality. “I need to find Dr. Hoffmann.” She opened her eyes and headed towards the door. Gracefully, Jax moved to block her exit.

“Then what? You get someone to come in here and find that I’m gone? Or that Dr. Hoffmann’s been here the whole time? They’ll send you to a psychiatrist and you’ll spend most of your remaining days heavily sedated.” Jax smiled sadly. “Imagine the damper that’ll put on your social life.”

“So what is this? Why are you here?”

“You tell me.”

Gemma gritted her teeth. “Don’t act like you’re a therapist and just tell -”

“No, no, I’m serious,” Jax interrupted. “Believe me; I am not here of my own free will. You brought me here to deal with me.”

“Deal with you? I’m so done with you, Jax,” Gemma growled. She pushed past him and returned to the couch. She also returned to her prostrate position and returned to the idea that if she closed her eyes real tight and then opened them, this would all go away.

“That’s obviously inaccurate. If it were true, you could have talked about me to Dr. Hoffmann no problem, but you tried to gloss it over and now here I am,” Jax said. “And you won’t look at me. And you can’t date anyone else.”

“That’s not true,” Gemma shouted. Her eyes popped open and she turned to look at Jax. “I didn’t avoid discussing you, I just didn’t know what to talk about. And I think it’s perfectly normal for me to not relive every single disappointment with you.”

“I was disappointing?” Jax asked, surprised.

Gemma rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling. “What would you call it when you think you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone and they just slowly phase you out? You stopped hanging out, you stopped calling and texting; it just ended.”

“You wanted to spend the rest of your life with me?” Jax asked, touched.

Gemma didn’t answer. She continued staring at the ceiling.

“If that’s true, you didn’t fight very hard.”

“Seriously?” Gemma challenged. She sat up. “Danielle always says that if a guy wants to spend time with you, he will.”

“Oh, and Danielle knows me really well, does she? She knows all the intricacies of our relationship?”

Gemma faltered. “No, but -”

“It can’t be all on me all the time, Gemma. Was I an asshole? Absolutely. You knew I was an asshole from the beginning though, to be fair.” Gemma was about to protest but Jax continued. “But you kept me from being an asshole and I helped you be a little bit more of an asshole. That’s why we worked. You made me a more thoughtful man and I helped you be less of a doormat.”

“Why did we stop working?”

Jax looked away and shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s probably a conversation we should have though, isn’t it?”

“Yes, definitely,” Gemma said.

And Jax was gone. She was looking at a terribly confused Dr. Hoffmann. “Excuse me, Gemma? I asked you why you laughed.”

Slowly, Gemma sat up. “What?”

Patiently, Dr. Hoffmann leaned forward and said, “When I asked you about your love life, you laughed. And then I asked you why you laughed, and you told me, ‘Yes, definitely.’ I’m just confused.”

Gemma laughed. “Me too, Doc. Or at least I was.” She looked around the room. “Do you think I could step out a moment? I just need to make a quick phone call.”

Is laughter really the best medicine? How do we self-medicate? Read "On therapy and leather." I took just a smidge more than a week off because my three nephews were visiting, and they are considerably more than a handful.