#actually sleep together (must be the Canada air)

[everlarkficexchange]

How Katniss Everdeen Got Her Groove Back

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 34: Modern AU where a forty year old Katniss has shut herself off from the world from fear of getting hurt. After her sister dies she realizes how isolated she is and now wants to open herself up to love, but hasn’t a clue where to begin. Everlark HEA - the details of how they meet and what Peeta’s been up to are entirely up to you. :) [submitted by anonymous]

Ratings/Warnings: E

The room’s dark. There’s only one small lamp burning in the corner, but that makes the single candle in the cupcake brighter than it would have been if the entire area were lit. It’s a somber celebration, but that doesn’t make much difference. It’s as it should be.

“Happy birthday, dear Katniss… Happy birthday to you.”

As the last note fades into silence, Katniss whispers a birthday wish and blows out the candle.

“Happy birthday to me,” she mumbles. She’s alone and tired and feeling older than she thought she could. In the grand scheme of things, forty isn’t that many years, but the difference between her fourth and fifth decades seems like lightyears. She’s halfway (or more) through life, and she’s hiding from it.

No one could really blame her for running—not with the experiences she’s faced. Her father gone as a young man leaving Katniss, her mother, and her younger sister Prim alone with practically no income and empty stomachs that gnawed at her insides for months as she fell asleep. Her mother falling into addiction to anti-depressants and opiates leaving Katniss to keep the household together so she and Prim wouldn’t be taken by child services and separated. Her beloved sister gone in a house fire that ripped through the apartment building where she’d stayed while enrolled in med school in a neighboring state. That’s enough tragedy for any one person, and that doesn’t even count her own pain and disappointments during the past forty years.

She’s suffered plenty of both. There’ve been days when she has no idea how she continues to function, but she puts one foot in front of the other repeatedly, doggedly, hoping against hope that something will go right for her. The odds should be in her favor, but they never seem to be. Instead, she watches as the world goes by and wonders if she’s brave enough to step back into society and join the rest of the living. She’s been in mourning for long enough.

Forty. It’s a scary number, but it’s also a little motivating. With a shake of her head, she decides. It’s time. Prim would want her to be happy. She’d be furious at the way Katniss has shut herself off from everyone in order to protect herself. If there’s anything that can drive her out of her shell, it’s thinking about the disappointment that would shine in her sister’s eyes if she were still alive.

“It’s time to rejoin the living, Everdeen.”

Her voice is small as it echoes in her empty apartment, but that’s not the intimidating part. What’s terrifying is that she has absolutely no idea how to get back out there. It’s been almost a decade since she bothered, and she can’t help wondering if maybe she’s waited too long. It’s possible there’s an expiration date, and she’s past it.

It’s late, and she’s tired. Heaving a sigh, she heads to her new bedroom and plugs in the airbed to blow it up. Her belongings won’t arrive for another few days, and the thought of sleeping on the hard floor is the reason for her last minute purchase at the local department store. Shaking out freshly laundered sheets as she retrieves them from the dryer, she inhales the clean scent and tucks the corners onto the air mattress. A pillow and blanket that made the cut when she purged her possessions before her interstate move provides a tiny hint of home. Flicking off the overhead light, she closes her eyes and drifts into sleep. She counts the fact that she only wakes from nightmares three times as a win.

****

“I like that there,” she mutters to herself as she adjusts the picture on the shelf to the left of her television. It’s her favorite of the ones she and Prim took together before her sister started med school.

They’d been so happy, arms wrapped around each other and a rare smile gracing her own lips. As it always had, Prim’s grin stretches across her face, and her blue eyes snap with excitement in the image. She deserved so much better than to become a human torch because someone was stupid enough to not know how to douse a grease fire. The senselessness of it all hits Katniss again. Someone cooked dinner, and that act killed her sister. Prim, who only wanted to heal people, died because an idiot didn’t know how to make bacon and then tried to douse the flames with water.

A knock sounds at her door and shakes her out of her reverie. She isn’t expecting anyone, but a second knock convinces her she shouldn’t ignore it. It could be her landlord, and the last thing she wants is a grumpy Haymitch Abernathy yelling at her because she’s inadvertently broken some rule she doesn’t even know exists in the first place. Tossing her braid over her left shoulder, she crosses her apartment and answers the door.

“Can I help you?”

She’s surprised she can get the words out of her mouth. The man standing there definitely isn’t her landlord, and he’s not old, grumpy, or drunk like Haymitch obviously has been every time she’s seen him. The guy standing in front of her must be about her age, maybe a few years younger, and he has shockingly blue eyes which remind her of her sister’s, as well as the same ashy blonde hair that falls in a shock of curls over his forehead. She has the sudden urge to reach up and push them back, but she keeps her hands at her sides. It would be exceptionally inappropriate to grope a total stranger, even if he is standing in her doorway with a smile and a paper bag that smells something like heaven.

“I’m Peeta. Peeta Mellark. Your next door neighbor. I brought you some pastries.”

“Pasties?” She squeaks out the word and immediately wants to smack herself. She sounds a little like a mouse, while his voice makes her insides vibrate. Also, what did she just say?

Peeta does a double take before bursting into laughter. “Pastries, not pasties. I’m not into that— Well, I mean…uh… I mean, I could be, but not the first time I meet a woman.”

His face is bright red, but hers feels like it’s flaming. She can’t believe she said that and crosses her arms unconsciously to cover her breasts before uncrossing them just as quickly. She’s not sure which is worse at drawing attention to the fact that she has nipples that pasties would cover, and… Hell, she’s spiraling.

“I’m sorry,” she babbles. “That was unseemly.”

“It’s fine. Hilarious, actually.” He grins and gives her a onceover, which makes her blush even harder.

“Well, pastries make way more sense and smell a lot better. But, why?” She’s not sure if that sounds rude or not, but it’s better than what she’s already blurted.

“I’m a baker,” he offers in explanation. “Just a little welcome to the building, uh…?”

“Uh…?”

She can’t think. He’s staring at her, and it makes her extremely uncomfortable in a very peculiar way. She’s not able to name it, but there’s something bubbling below the surface. If she concentrates really hard, she could probably identify the feeling. However, that’s not an option when Baker Boy is standing there with a perplexed look.

“You are?”

“Oh! Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles. “I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. Just moved in. You probably already knew that. I, uh, thank you. This is great.”

“You’re welcome. Welcome to the building, Katniss, Katniss Everdeen. Let me know if you need anything. I always have eggs and sugar and more.”

“More?”

“Yeah. Think on it.”

With that, he disappears into his own apartment, and she’s left holding the bag. Literally.

In a trance, she crosses to her kitchen and sets the pastries down on the counter. Flustered, she pulls a bun out and sinks her teeth into a little bite of decadence that’s got to be illegal in all fifty states, Canada, Mexico, and half of Europe. It tastes so good it’s sinful. It’s doughy and filled with cheese, and she moans so loudly she wonders if he can hear her through their shared wall.

“Sweet Jesus,” she mumbles. “That’s the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.”

She sits there with a grin on her face for a stupid amount of time before realizing she’s hungry for more, and it’s not necessarily baked goods she wants.

****

Katniss rounds the corner and smacks into a wall. With a loud oof and a screech, she flails in her attempt to stay upright and keep her groceries from falling around her. Just when she’s about to lose it all, strong arms grab her and pull her upright. Relieved, she looks up and falls into the blue pools of her neighbor’s eyes.

“Easy there,” he says with the hint of a smile. “Where’s the fire?”

She almost says, “In my pants.” She really does, but she’s made a fool out of herself enough with him already. She frees herself from his clutches and congratulates herself on remaining calm, and then she sees what he’s wearing. Which isn’t much.

“Holy hell,” she murmurs at the sight of sweat-soaked skin and form-fitting running shorts.

“Sorry. I just got back from a run.”

“I…yeah. I see that.”

She can see some other stuff, too, and it is impressive. She can’t stop looking at him. He’s absolutely gorgeous, and she’s just told herself a few days ago that she needs to get back out there and has no idea how. She did say that, and here he is. She doesn’t even have to leave her building to find an opportunity. There’s no way she’s this lucky.

“Can I help with those?” He nods at the bags she’s holding and reaches out to take the ones hanging from her wrists. He brushes her hand with his, and her insides sizzle.

“Sure.”

She’s going to seduce him. Or let him seduce her. Or get him drunk and take advantage of him. Or something.

Every single fiber in her body tingles. It feels like waking up after a decade long nap and feeling simultaneously ravenous and powerful beyond belief. As he follows her into her apartment, she scans the area and decides to just go for it. What’s the worst that can happen? Her neighbor hates her? Well, that would be terrible, but she can move. That’s how turned on she is by him. She’ll risk a broken lease.

“You can just put them there,” she says softly and runs her hand down his arm. He freezes and looks at her, and she stands her ground. Maybe she’s not thinking straight, but she wants him. Now.

“Katniss?”

She presses into him and trails a finger down her bare chest. She wipes a sweat droplet from his skin and bites her bottom lip.

“Yes, Peeta?”

“I’m not misreading this, am I?”

She wraps her arms around his neck and tips her head back. “No, I don’t think you are.”

“Fuuuuuuck,” he drawls.

Looking directly at him, she says, “I really hope so.”

“Oh, hell.”

His mouth captures hers in a searing kiss, and she turns off her brain. She has no intention of thinking, only feeling for the next however long. His tongue is in her mouth, her hands are on his ass, and his sweat dampens her clothes.

Peeta hoists her into the air and wraps her legs around his waist. He stumbles backward to deposit her on the edge of the countertop and rucks up her shirt to slide his hands along her waist. Frantic, she tugs at his waistband, indicating she’d prefer he lose the shorts, and he growls into her mouth when she slips them over his hips. She cups his backside, pulling him between her legs and moans against him.

“Please,” she gasps. “Fuck, please.”

He’s frenetic, all power and kinetic energy as he rolls her leggings down her thighs, baring her to him. When she bites his lower lip, he grunts and shoves his hands between her legs. He pushes inside her roughly, and she whimpers at his pace. His thumb’s on her clit, and his middle finger plunders her as their tongues tangle and dance together.

She’s got him in her hand, jerking and tugging as he swells in her palm. It’s a solid weight there, but she wants it inside her. She doesn’t have time to look. She’s too enthralled in what his lips are saying as they mate with hers.

Katniss tugs one of her feet free and yanks him to her with her legs. His shaft is hot against her slit. She begs for him with her hands and body, but he pulls back slightly to catch her gaze.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice ragged and broken. She nods frantically, and he moans in the back of his throat. “I’ll pull out. I promise.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

She’d agree to about anything as long as he gives it to her hard. Then he’s inside her, stretching her as she calls his name. He’s big enough that it’s uncomfortable at first, until her body adjusts to the intrusion and she’s aching for more. By the time she’s relaxed, he’s pumping into her with her name falling from his lips as he bites and licks at her jawline.

“Tug my hair,” she manages to instruct, and he yanks on her braid so hard her eyes water. It’s sexy as hell, and she grapples at his back in an attempt to pull him further inside her. He’s good at this, she realizes. Really good at it, and she thanks her lucky stars she’s the fortunate recipient of such a fantastic experience. He’s doing everything he can to make it good for her, and it really, really, really is.

What they’re doing is so messy, but she doesn’t care. She owns bleach and anti-bacterial cleaning supplies. She just purchased them, in fact, and she’s going to need all of them if the mess between her legs is any indication. She’s quickly losing control, fucking against him as hard as she can.

Skin slaps together, sweat pours off them both, and he nuzzles his face into her shirt. If they had more time, she’d take it off for him—maybe she’ll wear pasties next time just to blow his mind—but they’re careening toward a climax faster than she knows how to handle. She’s desperate for more friction, so eager that she rubs herself as his thrusts stutter and falter.

“I gotta pull out. I’m gonna— shit!”

He yanks free, and she catches the sight of him before her eyes roll back in her head. His skin is pink and glistening with moisture from her body. The first splash of his climax hits warm and wet on her leg, and she arches her back as waves roll through her. Her hand cramps as she contorts it. Her hips buck, and then she’s reaching for him. She clings as her body tenses and releases repeatedly.

When it’s over, she huffs several breaths before blinking open her eyes. Her t-shirt hem has fallen against her thigh, and it’s marked with his ejaculate, as is most of her thigh and stomach. He pants into her ear, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to let her go. That’s fine with her, although it surprises her how affectionate he’s being in the aftermath of a quickie in her kitchen.

“Katniss, that was—”

“Something we need to do again.”

“I think it gives new meaning to the phrase ‘welcome wagon.’”

“Because you want me to ride you next time?”

“Next time?” His eyes are blown wide, his pupils dilated as he realizes what she’s saying. “You want there to be a next time?”

“I’m not sure I want this one to be over.”

He flushes at her suggestion, but he’s a very helpful neighbor. Before he leaves to head back to his own apartment, he cleans up and then eats to his heart’s content. She’s pretty satiated from his visit, too.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

World War Z was published in 2006, but takes place in 2009 at the earliest.  Late in the book, astronaut Terry Knox states that the International Space Station took over 10 years to complete; it started construction in November 1998, and Chief of Staff Karl Rove Grover Carlson says that the Republican party barely eked back into power after a disastrous 2-termer who started a “brush fire war” in the Middle East (George W. Bush).  He mentions an election year, but he doesn’t specify if it was the new president’s first or second term, so it’s either set right after 2008 or 2012.  This was written before the Nintendo Wii was announced, but one chapter mentions that people brought their GameCubes with them as they fled their homes in search of safety in the frozen Canadian wilderness.  This same chapter also mentions that they didn’t know how to pick survival gear; a park ranger finds a SpongeBob SquarePants sleeping bag frozen in the mud because its owner didn’t know the difference between a child’s indoor sleeping bag for slumber parties and a real insulated survival bag for camping.

The new president is never named, he’s just told be be pro-big business and anti-regulation, pushing a placebo zombie vaccine through the FDA to jumpstart the economy.  When shit hits the fan, he is “sedated” and his vice president takes power; we’re never told what happened to the president, whether he was bitten or had a stroke, just that he was “sedated.”  His Vice President is directly implied to be Colin Powell; he’s former military with family in Jamaica and black.  He appoints Howard Dean to be his vice president to form a bipartisan coalition; he is never referred to by name, but it is clearly supposed to be Howard Dean.  He was a rising star in the Democratic party from Vermont whose wife is a doctor and whose career imploded after he had a passionate outburst.  In 2004, Howard Dean gave a speech where he started passinately screaming about how he was gonna start sweeping state primaries and ride a wave into the White House, punctuating his point by going “HHEEUEAHHGH!!”  This was political suicide in 2004, and he was laughed out of the race.  In the book, he is referred to only as “the Whacko” because of this.  It is implied that he was Powell’s second choice for VP, his first being Barack Obama; the Whacko says that the Democrats wanted somebody else, somebody of the same skin color as the president, but that the country wasn’t ready for that.  In 2004, Obama was a candidate for senate in Illinois, so popular and so well spoken that he gave a speech at the Democratic National Convention before he even won his seat; then and there, pundits already had him pegged as the first black president, they could see the writing on the walls.  The Whacko becomes president when Powell dies of stress, but he is consistently referred to only as the wartime Vice President, out of respect for his boss.

Also, the Attorney General is implied to be Rudy Giuliani; all that is said about him was that he was the mayor of New York and once tried to give himself emergency powers to stay in office after his term.  Giuliani did exactly that after 9/11.

Other real life figures mentioned in the book

Fidel Castro; a ton of Cuban Americans flee the continent and return to the island during the zombie war, and he jumpstarts the economy by putting them to work as cheap laborers and slowly integrating them back into Cuban society.  He rehabilitates his image by stepping down as dictator and democratizing the country, voting himself out of office before the “nortecubanos” could hang him for decades of war crimes.

Nelson Mendela, referred to by his birth name Rolihlahla, the father of modern South Africa, he personally invites Paul Redekker, a former apartheid era political analyst, to solve the zombie problem; in the 80s, Redekker created a plan for the white minority government in case the black majority ever rose up against them.  In real life, Mandela lowered the temperature when he was elected president, saying that revenge against the apartheid government would do more harm than good.  In the story, Mandela uses this as justification to reuse the apartheid era plan to handle the zombie outbreak instead.  Redekker is so overcome by his compassion and forgiveness that he has a mental episode and dissociates, believing himself to be a black South African.

Kim Jong-il, the dictator of North Korea, he withdraws all troops from the DMZ and shuts the entire country down.  After months of radio silence, it is revealed that the entire country’s population has vanished; all satellite imagery shows a desolate wasteland, no zombies, but no humans either. He presumably moved everyone into subterranean bunker systems where he not only control their lives as on the surface, but now their access to food, water, and air.  He presumably became the god emperor he always wanted to be; either that, or the entire tunnel complex has been overrun, turning every man woman and child in North Korea into zombies.  The South Korean government refuses to send a expedition into the North to figure out what happened, lest they open up one of the tunnels and unleash millions of zombies onto the surface.

Martin Scorsese, mentioned in passing only as “Marty,” a friend of world famous film director Roy Elliot, who himself is a thinly veiled pastiche of Steven Spielberg.  Interestingly enough, the audio book features Martin Scorsese doing the voice of the conartist who created the placebo vaccine

One chapter has a ton of vapid celebrities hole together in a fortified mansion on Long Island, and takes great care to show each of them getting torn apart not by zombies but by regular people who storm the facility because they were stupid enough to broadcast their location on reality television.  A redneck with a “Get’er Done” hat (Larry the Cable Guy) and some bald guy with diamond earrings (Howie Mandel) blow themselves up with a grenade.  Rival political commentators, an annoying guy who talks about feminization of western society and a leathery blonde (Bill Maher and Ann Coulter) have end-of-the-world viking sex as the facility burns to the ground.  A dumb starlet (Paris Hilton) is killed by one of her handlers and her little rat dog escapes on foot.  A radio shock jock (Howard Stern) actually survives the war and restarts his show.

Michael Stipe of REM joins the army to fight the zombies

Another war veteran mentions how his brother used to have a bunch of Mel Brooks’ old comedy skits on vinyl record, and how he and his squad acted out the “Boy meets Girl” puppet skit with some human skulls.  Mel Brooks is author and narrator Max Brooks’ father.

Queen Elizabeth II, refuses to evacuate England when the island is overrun by zombies.  She intends to remain in Buckingham Palace “for the duration,” mirroring the fact that her parents refused to evacuate to Canada during World War II.

Vladimir Putin declares himself Tsar of the Holy Russian Empire, an ultra-orthodox religious state that has armed priests execute political dissidents under the guise of mercy killing people who have been bitten by zombies.

Yang Liwei, the first “taikonaut” (Chinese astronaut) has a space station named after him

While the main conflict is about government responses to the zombie pandemic, we see glimpses of a greater war torn planet.

A major plot line involves a Chinese Civil War which sees the entire communist politburo nuked out of existence by a rebel sub commander, as well as an attempted “scorched space policy” where the government planned to blow up their space station with scuttling charges to cause a cascade of space debris to encircle the Earth and prevent any other countries from launching missions in the future (this is known as Kessler Syndrome in real life, and was featured as the inciting incident of the 2013 movie Gravity).  The People’s Republic becomes the United Federation.

Iran and Pakistan destroy each other in nuclear war; everyone thought it would be India and Pakistan, but they had very close diplomatic infrastructure in place to prevent such a catastrophe; Pakistan helped Iran build a nuclear arsenal, but as millions of refugees fled from India through Pakistan to the east, Iran had to blow up some Pakistani bridges to stem the flow of zombies, which led to a border war and eventually total nuclear retaliation.

Floridians flee to Cuba, Wisconsinites flee to Canada, the federal government flees to Hawaii.  Everything east of the Rockies is abandoned and ruled by warlords until the government sorts itself out and mounts an expedition to clear the continent of zombies by literally marching an unbroken line of soldiers stretching from Canada to Mexico across the wasteland to the Atlantic.

Israel withdraws from Gaza and the West Bank to become super isolationist, building a wall around the entire country to stop the zombies getting in (they were the first country to respond to the pandemic, and the most successful), but the religious right rebels against the secular left in a civil war that sees Jerusalem ceded to a unified Palestine.

It is an amazing, multifaceted story with so much going on that nobody recognizes.  It was written as a response to the end of the Cold War and the start of the War on Terror.  It’s about a geopolitical shift, a change in the status quo, a disaster from which the world never recovers; America before 9/11 was a very different place than American after 9/11.  Iraq and Afghanistan changed everything, and we’re still feeling their effects to this day; the story uses the zombie apocalypse as the next big international disaster the world must adapt to.  World War Z is World War III with zombies, and I think it would do a lot better if it were published today, now that we’ve had several decades to respond to the fall of the Soviet Union and the endless wars in the Middle East and a global pandemic.

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct: Chapter 5

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 4,700 (yup, the words ran away from me!)

Warnings: Language.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something!This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

Art washes away from the soul, the dust of everyday life

Pablo Picasso

Chapter 5

Golden sunlight streams down in ribbons upon your hair, setting fire to the natural red highlights and causing the wrought iron railing to cast beautiful shadows across the floor. Marcus sits with you upon your hotel balcony in the late morning sunshine. You are now, a little more comfy, wearing your airport clothes- the high-waisted, wide-legged jeans and a mustard yellow and cream breton top that does everything to highlight the rise and fall of your curves.

He watches each tiny twitch of your face as you read notes from the meeting- your full lips pout and brow furrow as your gaze flits backwards and forwards over the words, making connections and drawing together the different pieces of information that you’d gathered from that meeting. Marcus tries to smother a chuckle when you unthinkingly roll your eyes and shake your head at the point where some idiot tried talking over you in the meeting and he can fully read from his position that you have scrawled TWAT across your notes in reference to that mediocre white man.

It’s at this sound, that you look up, “What’s up?” you ask tiredly, smiling amusedly in his direction.

“You’ve got such an expressive face as you read- I swear, it’s like your muscles are reliving all of the faces you wanted to pull in the meeting. You managed that jerk well in there.”

“I’ve been managing cockwombles like him my entire life. They’re fucking insidious,” you say turning your eyes back towards the screen, shaking your head at the memory of the all the arseholes who have gone before and all those who were yet to come. “If they had anything to actually offer, I’d accept it; but they just parrot shit back at you - the same shit that came out of your own mouth moments earlier - as if it is their fucking own, enlightened idea!”

“I can imagine.This level of work, even in the art fraud department, is such an old boys’ club,” he agrees, pursing his lips in annoyance of the invisible barriers that you must have come up against.

Nodding in agreement, you add with your head tilting to one side as you take the agent in, “You don’t seem to fall into that category, Marcus. You even handed the reins over to me in there- I should have just been your lackey today, not the one doing all the speaking. I appreciate you treating me like an equal.”

Rolling his shoulders and stretching the sides of his neck, Marcus looks off into the distance as he slightly straightens up in his seat, “My Mamá firmly entrenched the value of every human being in me, regardless of their gender. I don’t wanna bring it up again, and certainly never wanna upset you, but you should be my role in the team. Your aptitude for this role far outweighs mine,” he grins and turns towards you, “There’s a part of me that feels like a mediocre white man around you.”

“Well, at least you have decent enough manners not to mansplain my ideas back at me!” you laugh, hugely enjoying your boss’ company on that narrow balcony.

“You know, I didn’t recognise you wearing civvies in the airport? I was absolutely kicking myself for not taking a ride with you to the airport.”

“Yeah, I get that. After seeing me suited and booted, it must have been a shock to see a jet-lagged, middle-aged man in old jeans and a hoodie,” Marcus humbly chuckles, shaking his head.

“Are you digging?” Your eyebrow arches high on your brow as you interrogate him teasingly.

“What do you mean digging?” Marcus furrows his brows as his eyes widen innocently.

“Digging for a compliment, you daft thing!”

“Hah, no! I meant it honestly. Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and don’t even know the reflection that stares back at me,” he replies, shaking his head sadly.

“Pssh, you have nothing to worry about. Some of us can only dream of looking as put together as you. I generally look as though I crawled through an art studio backwards even if I use an iron and put make-up on- in fact, scratch that- I look worse if I iron and put effort into how I look,” you exhale despairingly at the memory of all the other immaculate recruits and your general throw-it-on, it’ll-do appearance. “Everyone else in my family is so incredibly smart- immaculate even- and yet, I stick out like a sore thumb. Like I didn’t quite pass the expectations of what it takes to be an adult. I swear that’s the reason my aunties think I’m not married.”

Marcus huffs a gentle laugh, “I think that’s a big part of it for me. For the amount of grey in my hair and the creases in my skin, I’m not where I expected to be at this point in my life.”

“Where did you expect to be, Marcus?” You cock your head to one side, listening intently.

A buzz suddenly emerges from your phone:

« On est en bas! »

“Ah they’re downstairs- but do not think for one second that this conversation is over,” you wag your finger in Marcus’ direction as you gather your belongings, “We will continue this later.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Marcus mock salutes you and clicks his heels together as he rises from his chair with a huge crunch from his knees, “See, what did I tell ya? Old. I’m gonna grab my things.”

Grabbing your trusty rucksack from the floor of the balcony as Marcus departs, you feel almost reluctant to leave the balcony and the conversation that you were having with him. Since he’d helped you through the anxiety attack prior to re-entering your old workplace, the two of you had found an ease in being around each other. Whilst you are dreaming of spending a day chatting with Marcus, he’s already back with a small smile and a soft look about his eyes as he catches you staring into space.

Walking through the hotel, Marcus and you could be thought of as any pair of friends on holiday with your giggles and gentle jibes towards each other as you walk down endless corridors to find the exit. There is no way that anyone would have said that you had met barely twenty-four hours before or that you were there as business associates with the easy air you treat each other. After crossing the elegant lobby, you finally reach the doors to the outside world, a wave of relief coursing through you to see that you didn’t have to make a decision as to which way to open the door as there is someone to do it for you.

As you reach their car, Jacques takes off his seatbelt and makes to get out of the car but Marcus waves him off, opening the door for you to jump into one of the back seats.

“Oh you weren’t kidding about the stickiness,” you mercilessly tease the pair sitting in the front seats. Élodie responds by sliding her front seat back as far as it can go and you yelp in surprise at the sudden crushing of your legs, slamming your fist on her headrest in mock anger.

“Please excuse the children, Marcus,” Jacques shakes his head and sighs deeply but Élodie reaches over and squeezes her husband’s thigh in a way that makes him yelp and laugh in the same breath.

Marcus and you catch each other’s eyes and grin at the playfulness. You might be here on business but at least you can enjoy yourselves at the same time. The stresses of the morning slowly ebbing from your mind, you stretch out, resting your head against the cool glass of the window and allow the hum of the car engine and gentle chatter to surround you, lulling you off to the sleep you had missed out on the night before.

✪✪✪✪✪

Something is tenderly brushing against your cheek and you instinctively nuzzle into the warm touch as your eyes start to open and the world begins to regain its focus, “Hey, sleepyhead! We’re here,” Marcus murmurs as he strokes your cheek with his thumb to rouse you from your slumber.

“Shit. Sorry. Sorry,” you rub your eyes with your knuckles trying to rid yourself of the embarrassment of snuggling the fingers of your new boss, noticing that Élodie and Jacques have already left the car.

“No worries, your snores were pretty cute,” the agent teases you gently with a lopsided grin crossing his face.

“Lies! I don’t snore.” you exclaim indignantly at the accusations, but glad he hasn’t focussed on your reaction to him caressing your cheek, as your faculties start to kick in, reaching for the door handle to escape Marcus’ jokey impressions of your snores.

The mountain air in Grenoble strokes its icy fingertips against your neck, making you wrap the woolly softness of your cardigan more tightly around yourself. You notice Marcus also zipping up a black leather jacket over his hoodie. In the open boot of his car, Jacques concentrates on making a roll up next to a small bag of resources for you - cotton gloves, sample pots, tweezers and magnifying glasses.

“s'il vous plait, Marcus. Before we do anything else, I need to borrow your muscles,” Élodie announces to him, “We need coffee, and if I know that woman standing next to you, she will be in need of one, too!”

At Élodie’s statement, you watch Marcus’ face crease into a small smile, flashing that lovely dimple, as he crosses his arms across his chest. You wonder whether he's protecting his clothes from your next caffeine hit or trying to steel himself for the latest cheeky wink coming from Élodie. A slightly raised eyebrow is sent in your direction as his boots softly stride behind the clack of her heels upon the pavement.

A waft of tobacco drifts through the air as Jacques lights up as you watch his wife and your boss walk off in the direction of coffee.

“You left us, Nush,” Jacques scratches his nose as he looks at you through a cloud of smoke he has exhaled, “You disappeared. Literally, disappeared to the point that none of us could track you down.

“I mean, it is testament to what an incredible agent you are that you can just make yourself that invisible but…” he takes another inhale of the cigarette as he turns his shoulders to mirror your position, “But you weren’t even there for Jasper’s funeral.”

Silent rivers course down your face, “Please, Jacques. Don’t make me do this now. I can’t do this right now. Let me find my feet before we get into all of this. This is my first job since everything,” your hands trembling as you gesture wildly in the air. “I want to explain. I missed you both so much but I can’t right now. It isn’t the right time.”

Nothing more is said between the two of you as you both sit silently next to each other. Jacques nods contemplatively whilst he carries on sucking at his cigarette for comfort and release from the tension that has built upon his face. In the relative safety of the car boot, as he reaches across what feels like a chasm between you to pat your thigh, you can see the hurt searing through his eyes.

How did Imanage to destroy so much?

✪✪✪✪✪

Marcus wonders how you are doing. He keeps looking back at you until you fade from his sight just to make sure that you are ok. He swears that he saw your shoulders and head drop as they seem to whenever you’re reminded of whatever those ghosts are that you haven’t managed yet to lay to rest.

“She’ll be ok with Jacques. Those two are like brother and sister, you needn't worry,” Élodie pats Marcus’ arm as she points in front of her, nodding towards a cafe. Seeing a small tic in his jaw, she adds with a small smile, “She’s special to you, non?”

After Marcus holds the door for Élodie, he shoves his hands in his pockets and pauses before saying, “Yeah. She is. I don’t think in all my years of working as an agent, that I’ve ever met someone like Anushka. Listening to her speak about art and the various different forgeries… it just transports me to a place... I’m not just in the museum seeing the original masterpieces. It’s not even just that I can see those pieces in front of me. Just by her words bringing them alive, I become part of the art. Her passion and knowledge is infectious and she cannot help but to enthuse everyone around- she is truly gifted.”

“Anushka is incredibly talented. She was born to be in the role but I would say that’s not the only way that you think she’s special,” Élodie gently analyses as she squeezes Marcus’ arm seeing a moment of panic cross his face- she tries to swallow down a laugh at how he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the biscuit tin, “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to Nush- she can be a bit like a wild animal at times. It can take time to earn her trust. The 5 Eyes team is separate from Mi5, non?”

Marcus’ brow furrows, “Yes, we work under slightly separate parameters as we work across five agencies across the world- sort of similar to Interpol. Why d’ya ask?”

“Ok, so if you were to start anything with her- if anything were to be allowed to develop between the two of you, could it result in disciplinary action or her losing her role? Hang on,” she pauses as the assistant behind the glass shelf raises their eyebrows in Élodie’s direction, alerting her that it is time to order, « Bonjour, quatre cafés s’il vous plaît »

Marcus adds « Et je voudrais deux pain aux raisins aussi, s’il vous plaît. »

“Oh, I didn’t realise that you spoke a little French- a man of many talents,” Élodie teases with a wink as she grabs her purse from her bag, “And let me guess, the food is to try to stop Nush from burning herself or you? That woman is a nightmare with drinks.”

Reaching across Élodie,who is about to tap her card to pay, Marcus passes the cashier a couple of notes that more than cover the total, grabs the coffees and goes to leave, holding the door open with his elbow. “Why d’you wanna know about how interdepartmental relationships are viewed?”

The creases on Marcus’ brow deepen as yet another hint of whatever plagues your past troubles his mind due to Élodie’s words, “It is not my story to tell, and I’m not sure I even have half of the facts but please be gentle with her. Come what may between the two of you.”

“Oh, look who’s come to join us!” Looking up after a sharp nudge to his ribs alerted him to speak no further, Marcus sees Jacques tucking a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes behind your ear, then pulling your hunched shoulders into a side on shoulder hug as Élodie grabs a coffee and mocks throwing it in your direction, to which you stick your tongue out. You are so busy messing around with the pair of them that you don’t notice the tenderness in Marcus’ eyes or the smile that creeps across his face as he watches how your friends behave around you.

“So are we ready to look at a slab of meat? I hope you’re not a vegetarian, Marcus,” Jacques chuckles freely at the thought of the tall, broad American becoming queasy at a graphic painting depicting the decomposition of a piece of carrion.

“Oh no, I love rare steak far too much, and I’ve spent way too long researching art to be weirded out by a bit of expressionism,” Marcus adds before taking a long gulp of coffee, “I must admit that I’m not terribly confident in my knowledge of Soutine other than he liked painting rotting meat.”

Jacques smiles and gestures his head in your direction, “Nush- time to shine, chérie.”

“So - Soutine was a Russian painter, who made massive contributions to the Expressionist movement whilst based in Paris. I don’t want to teach you to suck eggs so please tell me to shut up if you already know it but expressionism was a modernist movement, initially in poetry and painting, originating in Germany at the beginning of the 20th century. Its typical trait was to present the world solely from a subjective perspective, distorting it radically for emotional effect in order to evoke moods or ideas. Expressionist artists sought to express the meaning of emotional experience rather than physical reality so you needn’t worry about the depictions of rotting meat as it isn’t like an anatomical drawing you’d find in a copy of Grey’s Anatomy or anything.”

Pausing to draw a breath, you look up to check Marcus’ face- that you aren’t boring him to death- and see two dark eyes, flecked with amber, that are entirely focussed on you. His entranced gaze makes you shift awkwardly, eyes dancing around the street to try and focus on something other than him under the sheer intensity but you decide to continue, “He’s quite an interesting character in regards to our case as he was good friends with Modigliani, who we know is another one with multiple fraudulencies of his works as well as our link we made in the meeting that our main faked pieces being sold by our group are by European Jews.

“Soutine seldom showed his works, but he did take part in the important exhibition The Origins and Development of International Independent Art held at the Galerie nationale du Jeu de Paume in 1937 in Paris, where he was at last hailed as a great painter but sadly soon afterwards, France was invaded by German troops and obviously as a Jew, Soutine had to escape from the French capital and hide in order to avoid arrest by the Gestapo. He moved from one place to another and was sometimes forced to seek shelter in forests, sleeping outdoors. Suffering from a stomach ulcer and bleeding badly, he left a safe hiding place for Paris in order to undergo emergency surgery, which ultimately failed to save his life.

“The main thing that you two need to know,” you add as you reaffix your focus and run your eyes between Marcus and Jacques, ”Is that Paul Guillaume was the main dealer of his work. Straight after World War 1, he was Soutine’s biggest cheerleader and landed him a major deal with the American collector, Albert C Barnes. If you manage to track it back to either of them, you’re pretty much at ground zero- back at Soutine’s own easel- and don’t need to worry much about further certification of validity as it being one of his pieces.”

Standing in the street in front of the cafe, you discuss between the four of you who will focus on which part of the checking for verification of the piece.

Marcus and Jacques decide to focus on the provenance of the piece and to be honest, you’re relieved to be free from the paperwork trail. The idea of searching through the records of previous ownership, fills you with utter dread at missing something that would prove that it was a fake. You’d hope that each piece could be instantly traceable back to the moment where the original had been removed from the easel by the artist but that is so often far from the truth of the situation as records are often lost or aren’t even kept in the first place with only a handshake to move the piece to the newest owner. When certain disreputable organisations or untrustworthy governments seek to obscure the origins of pieces, it is nothing but doors being slammed in your face and labyrinths created from lies and deliberate obfuscation.

“Ok, so Nush and I will collect samples from the piece. I’ll then use the microscope to check the samples for any irregularities in the craquelure in the craquelure while madam here uses the stereo microscope to check the layers of paint,” Élodie gestures towards you, passing a plastic case over containing your equipment. “Obviously we won’t be able to do an x-rays, infrared or mass spectrometry tests as they aren’t so portable but if we cannot confidently say the painting isn’t a forgery, then I suggest we get a courier to take it back to Lyon for us.”

“Agreed, I think that would be the best use of everyone’s talents here,” Marcus replies, nodding, “Are we far from the auction house?” to build up a more 3D picture of the piece. D’accord??” Élodie checks as she grabs a coffee and starts to walk off in the direction of the auction house with Jacques beating a steady path behind her.

With a small gesture of his hand, Marcus waves you forward and as you take a step in the same direction as your friends, a small white paper bag with a telltale sticky stain seeping through that you hadn’t noticed being held out, taps you gently against the soft curve of your tummy. With a confused look knitting across your face.

Marcus boyishly grins back at you as he takes a bite out of his pastry, “Last set of clean clothes, gotta take calculated risks with you around.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Slightly arched windows with flaking grey paint allow a small amount of crisp mountain light to trickle into the mellow gloom of the Aladdin's cave that stretch out in front of Marcus’ eyes. As far as his eyes can see, gilt framed pictures playing out a multitude of scenes from people’s lives- some more parochial and some edging to the more abstract- bedeck the walls. A goat playing a violin, a horse in a field and a lady all in blue with sad eyes and a nose twisted closer to her ears are all jostling for positions in the party on his senses. Every single nerve in his body tingles with excitement at the treasures surrounding him on all sides. The busy-ness did not stop at the walls as every surface of the room was covered in objets d’art with exquisitely fashioned chairs, tables and armoires creating an increasingly impossible maze to step through across the floor. Even the exposed beams of the ceiling felt the need to be a part of this gentle assault upon the eyes, protruding above his head, lending an elegant set of vertebrae to the room.

Marcus thinks he’s hiding his giddiness well until he catches Anushka looking at him with an amused grin upon her face. He goes to respond but initially struggles to find the words to explain the eagerness that is written across his face, his mouth stretched in a childlike grin, eyes lit up and hands that tremble and flex with anticipation. A small smile from her and the light squeeze upon his arm told Marcus that he needn’t worry about explaining anything. Even though the touch was slight and momentary, it cut through the overstimulation of the room and it takes every bit of self control he owns to not throw his arms around her and hug her tightly. Don’t mess this one up too, Pike.

Reopening his eyes, an elegant chignon of hair and high cheekbones makes its way through the clutter of Marcus’ thoughts and extends a delicate, papery hand in greeting. The owner seems to glide through the objects around her, obviously confident of the dead ends and exit points between the items as she leads you to a small office where a tidy pile of papers and a small computer await your services.

«Madame, comprenez-vous que l'utilisation de ces méthodes scientifiques ne peut que prouver que le tableau est un faux? On ne peut pas prouver si une pièce est authentique.» Madam, do you understand that using these scientific methods cannot prove if a painting is a fake? rubbing his brow, Jacques tries to explain to the owner of the auction house, «Même si les résultats de tous les tests scientifiques indiquent qu'il n'y a pas de tromperie dans l'œuvre d'art, nous ne pouvons pas dire sans l'ombre d'un doute qu'il ne s'agit pas simplement d'un cas d'un faussaire dépassant la détection scientifique.» Even if the results of these scientific tests show that there is not a forgery in this work of art, we cannot say without a shadow of doubt that there is not simply a case of a forger out-pacing scientific detection.

Marcus nods in agreement with the agent’s words. He hates the dishonesty of it all- the obviously incredibly talented painters creating mimicries and mockeries of the original pieces. As the owner spins out of the room, Jacques notices the frown painted on Marcus’ face and the tic in his jaw as he starts to flick through the portfolio of papers in front of him.

“Hey, what happened to the giddy boy in the sweetshop back there?” Jacques teases, gently punching him on his shoulder.

Rubbing his fingers along the side of his nose before scratching the patchy scruff that lines the edge of his jaw, Marcus smiles, “Hah! That obvious, eh? Just, kinda wishing that we weren’t even necessary.”

“Yeah, it is irritating but it does pay my mortgage,”Jacques chuckles deeply, “And to be honest without it, I wouldn’t have met that woman in that lock up over there and convinced her that she should marry me or have my baby.”

A pang of jealousy hit Marcus hard, “You’ve done well then. Mine just pays a mortgage on a place in DC that I won’t even be living in for the next couple of years.”

“Never wanted to or the opportunity never arose?” Jacques quizzes not lifting his eyes as he reads through documents.

“Your setup with Élodie is something I’d love to have,” he nods sadly, “Just have one failed marriage - due to her infidelity and lack of wish to try and work things out, and a failed engagement as she was in love with another man - to my name. No, I’d love to have that vulnerability and affection with someone again. Kinda feels like a pipe dream now- not sure anyone would want to take on someone with such a creased up, greying ol’man.”

“Hah, have you forgotten my wife’s quite genuinely visceral reaction to meeting you?” Jacques laughs heartily, rolling his eyes at the mere suggestion from Marcus, “Believe me, you do not have anything to worry about there. It’ll happen. Usually- in fact, always, when you least expect it.”

With a soft huff and a slight lift from the left side of his lips, Jacques strains to hear Marcus’ whisper, “I truly hope so.”

“Hang on, whose name was it that we were looking for that would pretty much guarantee authenticity?”

Jacques’ face creases in concentration as he tries to rack his brains for the names Nush had provided earlier, “Bof...Paul something-or-the-other French and Albert something-or-the-other American, I think.”

“Hmmm, I think I’ve a document here with both of their names on it… Shall we go share it with the ladies?”

«Bonne idée. On y va. » Good idea. Let’s go.

Grabbing the pile of documents from the polished walnut bureau, there’s a sweet bubble of excitement building in Marcus’ tummy. Try as he might to convince himself that it was on account of being out of the tiny office and back around an exquisite masterpiece from the early twentieth century, deep down he knew there was another sweeter, more ancient and primal reason that made him want to be in the lock up.

My beautiful taglist: @astroboots @silverwolf319 @lunaserenade @danniburgh @leonieb @mrsparknuts @sirowsky @yespolkadotkitty @agirllovespancakes @tardisfangurl @mouthymandalorian @the-ginger-hedge-witch @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

If you’d like to be added or dropped from the tag list or have any thoughts, thots or suggestions, please do get in touch! I don’t bite hard 🥰

[according-to-the-laura]

StackedNatural Day 58: 12x06

StackedNatural Masterpost: [x]

November 17, 2021

12x06: Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox

Written by: Steve Yockey

Directed by: John Badham

Original air date: November 17, 2016

Plot Synopsis:

When hunters gather together to celebrate the life and tragic death of one of their own, Sam, Dean and Mary must take action when a demon starts picking off hunters one by one.

Features:

Mary’s secret double life in the 80s, Asa Fox’s wake, the Banes twins, hunters being murdered, Dean owes Billie, how Asa really died, Mary doesn’t belong, family breakfast.

My Thoughts:

I love this episode, which is crazy because I can’t remember having super strong feelings about it the first time I watched it earlier this year. Even though there’s an antagonist in Jael the crossroads demon, really it’s just about the hunters’ relationships to each other and the secrets they’re keeping. And to set that up, we get that sweet scene with Jody and the boys just hanging out at the top. They love Jody and they drive 5 hours with her to Canada to support her because she’s upset. Even though they don’t hang around other hunters a bunch, they get to have a little bit of a community. I am a little bitter that Claire and the girls weren’t in the episode, though. That would have been icing on the cake.

And Jody is in contention with Garth for most emotionally well-adjusted character on the show. She sees through Dean’s bullshit instantly, she opens up to him about her own feelings about her dead family, she relates to Mary as a mother.

The Banes twins introduction! An actually good twin representation on screen, which is pretty rare and REALLY obvious when you’re a twin. So many pieces of media either make twins creepy (which, in the right context, I do enjoy) or have a weird sexual tension (which I always hate). It’s a crime that they never got a spinoff. If Wayward Sisters had gone anywhere, they could have at least been recurring characters.

Asa is a great foil to everyone because we never get to hear from him what he thought of the life. We have to assume his thoughts based on the stories of the people who cared about him. Mary rescued him, and he became the thing that she was most afraid of happening to her children, the thing that growing up she was scared of having happen to herself, the thing that eventually did get her twice, and the thing that will eventually get Dean.

The absolutely bonkers evil foreshadowing of the line “We’re not in the ‘live till you’re 90, die in your sleep business” had me reeling. Because Dean is going to die bloody on a hunt and Sam is going to get old and die naturally and neither of them will have been happy. Speaking of foreshadowing, Billie saying that she cleans up messes… Steve Yockey, you have my blade.

I love the way the Mary plot line was handled. I love them bringing her back to take her off the pedestal and say, “look, she was a person.” Of course she’s feeling out of place and uncomfortable and scared. But she isn’t going to give up or go easily, and that’s brave. Even before she died, she was hunting, but she divorced herself from her family’s name and influence and did it her own way.

Notable Lines:

“But if you retire, who’s gonna save people like me?”

“The Dean Winchester? Aren’t you dead? Like, four times?”

“Sam, it's not like we're in the “live till you're 90, die in your sleep” business. This? This only ends one way.”

“Hunting was his whole life. He never married. Never had a family, kids. And now… enjoy the wake.”

“I don’t know what’s going on between you and your boys, but I gotta tell you, mom to mom, they are good men. Best I’ve ever met.”

Laura’s (completely subjective) Episode Rating: 9.7

IMdB Rating: 8.5

In Conclusion: I know logically that spn films in Canada but when an episode takes place in Canada I’m like HEY THAT’S MY COUNTRY.

<< Previous Day | Next Day >>

[p1harmonyofficial]

[📰] P1Harmony May Be New to K-Pop, But They're Beauty Experts

By Devon Abelman

"Pots-and-pans music" is what Keeho, the leader of P1Harmony, lovingly calls the K-pop group's songs. They're loud, explosive, and essentially caffeine mainlined through your eardrums — all in the best way possible, of course.

"Because our music is so strong, we try to portray that in our hair and makeup as well," Keeho continues. "For me, my hair is all slicked back for our new song, 'Scared,' and our makeup is a lot darker than [for our debut single,] 'Siren.'"

In fact, Jongseob, P1Harmony's youngest member, adds their strikingly different hair colors, like Theo's whimsical light pink, Intak's sleek jet black, and Keeho's enigmatic navy blue, balance each other out and express the range of emotions portrayed in their lyrics and melodies.

But this is just a basic overview of P1Harmony and the intense aesthetic they've been building for the past six months since debuting in October 2020. In advance of the release of their new EP, Disharmony: Break Out, today, April 20, I sat down with the rookie K-pop group via Zoom to get a deeper look at each member, their individual relationships to beauty, and how they are choosing to present themselves now that they are on the world's stage.

Keeho

When I ask Keeho which P1Harmony song fits his personality best, he replies, "You can't really fit me in a box like that. There are various characters I can be." The 19-year-old from Canada even wears many hats throughout our interview. Not only is Keeho the group's official leader, but he's also their unofficial translator, color commentator, and storyteller — he truly has an aside or anecdote to share about everything.

The first tale Keeho tells dates back to second grade, when he begged his mom to let him get blonde streaks in his hair. "I was that kid in class," he remarks.

Then, Keeho delves into how his family introduced him to the wonders of beauty growing up. His mom, in particular, made him "do a five-, six-step skin-care routine," he recalls. Every morning before school, he'd splash his face with warm water ("must be warm water, so you open up the pores") and wash up with cleansing foam. Then, he'd rinse it off with cold water ("so you close them").  Although this isn't scientifically true, I'm glad this worked for him.

When layering on his serums and creams, "the first one you need to do is the most liquidy one and the last one you need to do is the one that is not liquidy at all," Keeho recalls his mom instructing him — a fact I confirm for him. Also, she'd tell him to never rub his skin-care products on, only pat.  

Last but not least, Keeho would (and still does) reach for sunscreen — "always sunscreen," he emphasizes. "My mom said, 'If you don't put it on, you're going to age like a raisin.'"

Keeho's older sister, on the other hand, brought him into the world of makeup by employing him as her guinea pig for testing out new looks. "I would let my sister put makeup on me all the time," Keeho says, mentioning Halloween as a common occasion for her artistry. They even playfully filmed YouTube beauty tutorials and challenges together.

One aspect of beauty Keeho has yet to try is a manicure, but he's ready to dive into that realm. "I think it would be fun," he says. A$AP Rocky's eye nail art that he showed off front row at Prada back in October 2019 is Keeho's major inspiration.

Intak

Another unofficial title Keeho has taken on within P1Harmony is hairstylist. Intak, the group's 17-year-old charismatic rapper and star dancer, credits him for his hair-care routine. "I learned how to use hair serum to volumize my hair when I go out," Intak says. Keeho goes on to explain that they both have incredibly dry hair, so he recommended his favorite moisturizing products to Intak and told him to rake them through his hair while it's still wet and only slightly towel-dried. Intak was so pleased with the result that he went out and bought the same products that day.

Although he has kept his hair black throughout his career so far, Intak is quick to share he's very experimental with beauty. For performances in the past, he's adorned his eyes with bloody scratch-like liner and ultra-sooty smoky eyes. Plus, you're about to see some cheek art on him and dramatically flushed cheeks.

Unlike Keeho, Intak didn't get into skin care until after debuting. "I've started visiting the dermatologist frequently," he says. "They gave me a set [of products] that includes [everything I need]." His favorite is a mask infused with avocado and peppermint, like the Tonymoly I'm Real Avocado Mask Sheet or Skinfood's Pear Mint Food Mask, which quenches his dehydrated skin.

Jiung

Spoken like a true Libra, Jiung is the first to mention he enjoys expressing himself through beauty and fashion. "[They are] really important things," the 19-year-old explains in English. "I always try to learn how to express myself that way. So the more I know, the more I can do."

However, when I ask Jiung what kinds of looks he feels the most confident in, he laughs before taking time to think about it. (In the meantime, Keeho shares he knows what he, personally, is least confident in: T-shirts, due to his long arms.) "This is hard," Jiung groans. I must say his short honey-blonde hair — a look he's always been curious about trying — is definitely bringing out a particularly magnetic side of him, as seen in the P-side track video for "If You Call Me."

When he was younger, Jiung dabbled in all different kinds of haircuts, colors, and perms, he lists off. The latter of which he looks forward to trying out again now as a K-pop star.

When the members were just trainees, Keeho helps Jiung recount a time when he wanted to fill in his eyebrows. "He did not how to do it at all," Keeho says. "He got a Sharpie and started coloring in his eyebrows. It was devastating, to say the least, for the people who had to see it."

"It was art," Jiung interjects. Now, he proudly declares he has a proper brow powder.

Theo

Theo, P1Harmony's straightforward vocalist, is admittedly a sneakerhead. He strictly wears Jordans, according to Keeho's translation. Air Jordan 1s are Theo's favorite style, but he can't pick a color that he's the biggest fan of. He can tell you what he feels least confident in, though: shorts and short-sleeved shirts. So if you barely see Theo in summery clothes, now you know why. (However, he doesn't offer up an exact explanation.)

Since elementary school, the now-19-year-old has permed and colored his hair every shade of ROYGBIV, including red, gray, and even blue for one summer break — all thanks to his mom, who is a hairstylist. This is a revelation even many of the other members weren't privy to, much to the chagrin of Keeho. "It's annoying me right now because his hair is healthy," he remarks. "My hair looks like a broom."

Knowing his hair is healthy comes as a shock to me, though, as Theo has gone from white-blonde to rosy-pink over the past six months. (Let's be real, that's a transformation few people's hair can handle.) He's also been able to grow out hair; it falls past his eyebrows and is starting to graze his shoulders in the back.

Honestly, Theo is ready for it to be short again, he shares. "I like my long hair, but I don't like it being in my face," he asserts. "I can't really maintain it. I bleached it so much that it flips in all different directions."

Soul

Before our interview officially started, the members and I exchanged weird facts about ourselves to get to know each other better beyond our beauty routines. Keeho revealed his left eyebrow has been twitching lately, and he needs to cuddle a body pillow to fall asleep. Intak has a freckle on his finger that his grandma often mistakes for dirt and tries to wipe off. Jiung had pet geckos, scorpions, and tarantulas growing up. Jongseob loves mint chocolate. Theo can't burp, and Soul enjoys petting insects.

But that's not the weirdest thing about him or any of the members. The strangest thing about the boys is that "Soul doesn't do anything at all [for his skin-care routine], and his skin is actually pretty good," Keeho says. (You can scroll through Soul's selfies on P1Harmony's Twitter to confirm this, but spoiler: His complexion is immaculate.)

Soul, 16, goes on to explain that his skin is incredibly dry and sensitive, so much so that even cleansing makes his face turn red and any bit of friction causes bumps to form. Needless to say, he's scared to put anything on his face. "I just do cleansing foam and leave it at that," Soul admits. Makeup isn't off the table, though. Soul is no stranger to subtle washes of pink shadow on his lids and fake eyebrow piercings made out of silver studs.

Although Soul is seemingly one of the shyest members and keeps to himself for most of the interview, he's an intense rockstar at heart. He favors P1Harmony's more aggressive, hard-hitting songs, like their new title song, "Scared."

Raise your hand if you'd like to see Soul with thick, black kohl or graphic blue liner and long, raven hair, perhaps paired with a studded leather jacket over a ripped-up T-shirt. OK, great; I'm not the only one. For now, we'll have to appreciate his bob-length ashy-blonde hair.

Jongseob

Other than his nuggets of knowledge about the way P1Harmony reflects their music in their hair and makeup, Jongseob mostly listens throughout the interview. Luckily, the 15-year-old rapper/songwriter did pipe up to share his skin-care routine.

First, Jongseob double-cleanses to remove his makeup, starting with cleansing oil and following up with a foam cleanser. Serum is slathered on next, then moisturizer. When his skin is feeling especially dry, Jongseob layers a gel cream on top as a sleeping mask — a tactic I'd never considered before. Typically, I reach for them in reverse order.

Jongseob's hair has also been through the wringer since P1Harmony's debut. Last October, he colored his hair lilac and gradually went darker shades of purple until it was an electric violet hue. Most recently, though, his dye job has been a fiery orange. Next, Jongseob says he wants to try gray with an ash tone.

And this is just the beginning of P1Harmony's journey through the mystical world of K-pop beauty. This time next year, they're sure to have experimented with even bolder, brighter, and more eccentric looks. For now, you can check out a teaser for their brand-new music video for "Scared" of their latest EP, Disharmony: Break Out, below.

[moyaxhi]

high on loving you [renga]

 summary: 

“Someone is here for you, his name is Kyan Reki?” 

“My boyfriend?”  Or: langa gets his wisdom tooth pulled out and reki is tasked with picking him up from the dentist. langa introduces reki as his boyfriend, but they’re not exactly boyfriends yet.

[ao3] 

It was three months ago when Langa complains that there’s soreness on his gums. Now, Langa has always had a track record for having great teeth. He’s never gotten his teeth filled (his mom made sure that his teeth were sparkly clean, practically drilled it in him when he was young), never had to get braces (there was a time where he  really wanted them, even begged for braces, and his dentist, the traitor, had said that there was no need for them.), he’s never even had gingivitis.

 Langa has always had perfect teeth.

 It was quite alarming that his teeth were feeling sore. It happened while he and Reki were together–when are they ever not these days. Reki had been showing him some of the local sweets around. A kind older woman had flagged them over while they were skating.

 “Hi Reki!” She calls out enthusiastically. Reki came to a stop in front of a house and held his board in between his hips. Langa followed and stopped as well. The older woman was wiping her hands with her apron. She wore a soft pink ruffled apron as well as a matching bandana. There was a smell of something sweet that filled the air. It smelled familiar like fresh pancakes he would have as a child back when they were in Canada, like the ones his own grandmother would make for him.

 She was smiling brightly, this was the thing in Okinawa that he noticed, everyone was smiling. They were familiar and so close to each other.

 She turned her attention to the both of them, “Wait here boys, I have something to give to you.”

 “Oh!” Reki exclaims excited, “Thank you Grandma Iki!”

 She waves her hand in dismissal. When she came out, she was holding five bags filled with sugar-coated peanuts.

 “Just made these peanut brittles today!” She handed one to Langa and gave the rest to Reki, “Make sure you share some with your sisters and your boyfriend!”

 Langa blushed at that, he spared a look at Reki, who for the most part laughed it off.

 She was already walking away, not waiting for a reply, the two of them bowed and yelled ‘thank you’.

 On their way home, the two of them were munching on the peanut brittle. Langa bit into it and immediately regretted it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like sweets, but it had been uncomfortable.

 “Ouch,” He mumbled, holding on to his cheek. Instead of biting into the brittle, he started sucking on it.

 Reki looked him over, “What’s wrong?”

 “I think,” Langa sucks air tiding away another painful throb in his jaw, “I think it’s my tooth?”

 “Huh,” Reki walks over in front of him. Too close. He can feel Reki’s breath on his skin. He was an inch taller than Reki but now, it felt like Reki was towering over him with how he scrutinised every inch of Langa’s face.  

 Langa feels a blush make its way to his cheeks, his ears, his neck. God he wishes Reki wouldn’t notice.

 Instead because whoever was up there had mercy on him, his best friend and current crush replies with, “You sunburnt again?”

 And Langa exhales mentally and shakes his head externally.

 Reki sighs. He taps on Langa’s jaw, “Did your filling happen to chip?”

 Langa shakes his head, “I don’t have any.”

 “What?! For real?” Reki cups Langa’s cheeks trying to pry his mouth open. Okay, totally not invasive at all.

 Slurred, Langa tried to say, “Yeah, I’ve never had to need them.”

 It all came out gibberish, but because he and Reki happened to share a brain cell, Reki was able to understand all of it.

 “You lucky bastard,” Reki’s eyes are still solely focused on him whilst letting go of Langa’s cheeks. Langa, feeling shy, has to avert his eyes elsewhere, “If I even forget to brush my teeth once, my teeth start to decay.”

 Reki backs away and walks forward. Langa follows and the two of them settle into a comfortable silence. The sun was setting and it coloured Okinawa in an orange-red hue. The air was cooler these days. Summer was ending soon it seemed.

 Langa kept running his tongue on the back of his left molar. The gum line, even if he couldn’t see it right now seemed to be swollen.

 Guess that meant a trip to the dentist.

 ---

 “It’s an impacting wisdom tooth.” The dentist says.

 His mother was still at work and Langa came to the dentist office by himself. His mother had offered to drive, but he was quick to shoot it down saying that he would skate to the office.

 “We’ll need to take it out,” Langa’s mouth is wide open as the dentist probed on his gums gently, “It’s going to be a quick surgery. Do you have anyone with you right now?”

 The dentist took out his dental probe. Langa shook his head, “No, I’m alone.”

 “We’ll have to get consent from your guardian.”

 Langa sighs and calls his mother mentally apologising for calling her at this hour knowing that she would be busy with work.

 “Hello?” She answers, “Langa?”

 “Hi mom,” He says, “I need your consent.”

 “Oh!” She perks up, “What for sweetie?”

 Langa sighs, “The dentist says I have an impacting wisdom tooth. So, they need to perform emergency surgery.”

 There was the sound of rustling papers on the other line. His mother must be busy in the lab then.  

 “Oh of course!” She replies more rustling, “Have them send over the forms and I’ll sign them immediately with our insurance policy.”

 “Okay.”

 With that, he hangs up.

 Seventeen years of not having a single cavity and here he is having to tide over an impacting wisdom tooth. Just his luck.

 Well, at least he has a free pass for school today.

 ---

 Langa is really hazy.

 The room is spinning. He thinks this is what it might feel like to be drunk. He’s so nauseous that he might actually puke.

 He blinks a couple of times but the lights around him are so offending he wants to hurl something at it.

 There are voices, but for the life of him, he can’t understand. His brain is short-circuiting for sure. Is this what it feels like to sit on a marshmallow? It’s so soft and warm, but also everything is displaced and it keeps spinning.

 “ I’m gonna puke,  ” He says in English  .

  Immediately, there’s the cool feel of metal as a trash bin is pushed to his hands. He puts his head in it, but then it’s too dark and he sleeps so well in the dark, so he just ends up staring into nothingness, huh, that feels really nice, he might fall asleep–

 “Langa,” someone, he’s not sure who nudges him, “Langa, it’s Dr Sawada, can you hear me?”

 “Huh?” He intelligently replies, his brain has not caught up, and it takes a minute for him to comprehend that he’s speaking in Japanese.

 Right.

 He’s in Japan right now, he moved with his mom half a year ago. He met this red head, no scratch that, the love of his life here, oh and the love of his life doesn’t know, he skates, that’s right, oh and where is he right now?

 “ Where am I? ” He says in English before he remembers; Japanese, he has to speak Japanese. And so he repeats, “Where am I?”

 The Doctor, he’s going to call him Doctor with a capital ‘D’ because he can’t remember the doctor’s name all he remembers is Reki and who he wants to get the–

 Oh. Reki. Yeah. That’s right.

 With his red hair, his nice fingers, his cute freckles, what Langa would do to kiss each of the freckles on his face. What Langa would  kill for to kiss Reki.

 Oh yeah, wait the Doctor is saying something, “You’re at the dental clinic right now.”

 Huh.

 But he could have sworn he was on a marshmallow, “Okay.”

 “We had to give you some anesthesia.”

 “Not good?”

 Doctor Doctor laughs, “Someone is here for you, his name is Reki Kyan?”

 “My boyfriend?”

 “Sure.” Doctor Doctor walks out of the room with a smile on his face.

 Oh my god, his boyfriend Reki is here to pick him up. He could cry. What a good boyfriend. His  boyfriend .

 Reki comes in yellow hoodie and all, red hair, he’s so beautiful Langa could cry, “Langa, hey, your mom called me to pick you up.”

 That’s when Langa cries because Reki came to pick him up, he’s the best boyfriend Langa has ever had.

 Langa has fat tears coming down from his face and he groans covering his eyes with his arm.

 “Langa?” Reki’s voice is panicked and he reaches over to touch his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

 More tears come down, it’s a waterfall at this point, he’s just so overwhelmed with everything. Reki, his boyfriend, is here to pick him up and he can’t stand up from the marshmallow, and Doctor Doctor is nowhere to be found.

 “Uh,” He can hear Reki coming closer trying to pry his arms out of his face, “I don’t know what to do.”

 “He’s gonna be out of it for a couple of hours because of the anaesthesia, but he’s going to be okay.” Oh, that’s where Doctor Doctor is.

 “Oh,” Reki says because he’s so good, he’s the best Langa knows, “That’s fine. Alright buddy, come on.”

 As gently as he can, Reki is pulling him up to stand up, but his legs, oh my god where are his legs?

 He cries even harder, “My legs!”

 “What? What’s wrong with your legs?”

 “It’s gone!” Langa wails, “It’s gone and I can’t find them.”

 Reki laughs. It sounds like the best thing Langa has ever heard, but this is hardly the time to be laughing.

 “Don’t laugh at me,” Langa protests, “A good boyfriend would help me find my legs.”

 “Boyfriend?” Reki asks like it’s news to him, they’ve been boyfriends since Langa woke up and that felt like ages ago, years even. Langa has it in good account that they have been destined for each other, he knows this because he said so, “If this is your way of asking me out then it sucks.”

 His boyfriend thinks he sucks.

 “You what sucks even more?” Reki says his face so close. Oh my god Reki has a freckle under his nose, it’s so cute, he could kiss it, “Is that you won’t kiss me.”

 That does suck.

 He has to fix that.

 He’s the worst boyfriend ever.

 He cries even harder.

 “I’m the worst boyfriend ever.”

 Reki laughs and pulls Langa’s arm around his shoulder, “Yeah you are. You better ask me out again when you can remember.”

 That strikes a chord into Langa’s whole being. He turns to face Reki and as serious as he can get, he wanted to say that he won’t ever forget about Reki but all that comes out is, “I won’t remember.”

 Nailed it.

 ---

 He will know a little bit later that he did not, in fact, nail it.

 ---

 It’s not like he forgets about the whole thing.

 In fact, he remembers the whole thing in clear picturesque quality, like 1080p 4K quality.

 Langa remembers Doctor Doctor (now Doctor Sawada), remembers the marshmallow, and how he has made a fool out of himself in front of Reki.

 He’s in his room, covered in his black and blue striped blanket and all he can do is duck further into his bed and scream as loud as he can into his pillow.

 He also remembers that Reki technically  told him to give him a kiss.

 ---

 It happens like this.

 All of them are at ‘S’.

 Miya, Shadow, Cherry, and Joe all witness as Langa challenges Reki to an ‘S’.

 “Terms?” Reki says leaning onto the wall of the ramp.

 “If you win, I get to kiss you.” Langa says and he calls it a triumphant win as he witnesses Reki turn as red as his hair, “If I win, I get to take you on a date.”

 “This is all too one-sided.” Reki counters without any real bite to his words. There’s a blush sploshed on his face, “It’s a win-win for you.”

 “It’s a win-win for the both of us.” Langa says.

 “Why can’t you two be normal for once and just do things normally?” Miya, his face contorted in disgust.

 Reki laughs, “You’re the worst boyfriend ever.”

 Despite this, they gear up to get ready for the starting point. 

 At the end of the night, it didn’t really matter who won (Joe says it was Reki). 

 At the end of the night, both he and Reki were holding hands. 

 At the end of the night, Langa has given Reki about ten kisses. 

 ---

 Reki never lives Langa’s wisdom tooth extraction story down.

 “And that’s how he asked me out, he’s so lame.”

  ---

[clareguilty]

A Life Worth Living

Read it here on the AO3

Charles/Arthur/Reader (Reader has a vagina?? I don’t know how to tag gender) Rating: Explicit | No Warnings Word Count: ~2600

Arthur had always complained about the house being so close to the road. 'Too many people. Too many eyes.' He always grumbled. It had never bothered you, but today you were thankful.

A familiar white flanked Appaloosa was making her way towards the front gates.

"Charles!" you exclaimed, dropping your watering pail and flying down the path to meet him. He grinned broadly as you threw open the gate, sliding out of the saddle to pull you into his arms. Your laughter rang out across the hill, and you shrieked as he lifted you high in the air and spun you.

"Oh, Charles," you kissed him a hundred times. "How is the tribe?" He had been gone for over a month, helping the Waipiti negotiate with the government up in Canada. It was a long journey, but you understood the necessity.

"Everyone is getting settled. Eagle Flies and Rains Fall send their regards." He held your hand as you turned to walk towards the house.

"I hope the boy has cooled off some. His recklessness nearly got all of us killed." You shook your head.

"He carries that burden with him every day." Charles squeezed your hand, shrugging off the memories.

Arthur emerged from around the back of the house. He must have heard your yells. His stance was defensive, afraid. Even from 40 yards away you could see the tension in his shoulders -- and the way it melted away the second he saw Charles. You waved to him excitedly. "Look who's home!"

Arthur and Charles embraced, speaking low to each other as they stood in the soft grass. You let them have a moment, retrieving your water pail from earlier and pouring it over the soil under your lavender plants. Taima wandered over to where Buell and Peanut were lazing in the shade -- glad to be home, you were sure.

The men were exactly where you had left them, foreheads pressed together, whispering quickly. Charles' hand was running through Arthur's hair, you knew the touch was a comfort for the both of them.

Clicking your tongue, you called Taima over to remove her tack and lead her to the stable. She took some sugar cubes from your palm and obediently followed behind you. The boldest of the chickens, precocious and noisy things, darted around at your feet, somehow avoiding being trampled by the horse's hooves.

You finished cleaning everything up and headed inside. Charles and Arthur were at the kitchen table, two cups of coffee and two bottles of beer between them. Arthur threw his hands around your waist as you passed and pulled you into his lap. "He's come back to us," his beard tickled your neck as he nuzzled you. You rolled your eyes and smiled fondly.

"In case you haven't noticed, we've gone mad without you." You reached out to cover Charles' hand with your own.

"I saw the lumber. You planning on building something new?" God, how you had missed the low rumble of his voice.

"Arthur wants to build a barn," your voice held a fond tone of disbelief. He had ordered a wagon of planks a week back, the delivery men baffled at making the third trip to the house this season. It had been less than a month since Arthur had finished his last project.

"It ain't a barn. It's a shed," he corrected you. 

You looked pointedly at Charles. This was an ongoing game among you. Arthur couldn't sit still, couldn't relax. It had started with the chicken coop, then it was the fence for the garden. A bench for the garden. A new trough. Now, it was the shed.

"A shed would be practical," Charles mused. His eyes shined as he watched the two of you.

"Don't encourage him," you hissed. "Next he'll be trying to add on to the house."

Both men raised an eyebrow in consideration. You huffed and pulled yourself free from Arthur's lap. They were hopeless. The both of them. 

"I was just in town last week for supplies, Charles. Do you want me to make a pie? I got cherry and apple." You glanced through the cupboards. You had to start cooking for three again. There would be plenty of food between hunting and the garden, but you would probably want to make another trip into town soon anyways.

"Apple sounds delicious," he sidled up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. "I want to help bake." You leaned back against him. He smelled like the forests and the cool winds of the North. It was unfamiliar but pleasant. In just a few days he would have the same tobacco and leather smell as always. Dark earth and fresh herbs and mountain streams.

"Have you heard from Sadie?" you asked. Her last letter had been weeks ago. Apparently, she was taking up bounty hunting. You weren't worried about her -- she could take care of herself -- but you and Arthur both had hoped to hear from her again by now.

"Nothing recent." Charles shook his head. "We may have to go track her down if she doesn't write soon." You all pictured Sadie, bloodstained and drunk, brawling her way through bar after bar.

"Maybe the Marstons have heard from her," Arthur offered. "Wouldn't surprise me if she headed out west."

You nodded. Sadie wasn't a permanent part of your little family. You knew she had left those days behind her. She had traded places with Arthur. He had settled down; he had a house and a farm. Sadie had taken up the same wildness that had fueled his youth. Still, it had been too long since she had stayed at the house. You wanted her home, at least for a little while.

-

The best purchase you had ever made for the house, despite all of Arthur's complaining, was a fancy sofa like the ones in those parlors in Saint Denis. It was just barely large enough for the three of you, but you usually settled in on Arthur's or Charles' lap anyways. Tonight, Arthur sat by the lamp, charcoal scraping across the page of his journal. You and Charles were taking turns braiding each other's hair. You kept getting distracted, overwhelmed by the urge to smother Charles in a downpour of gentle kisses, or to run your hands over his arms and chest and back. He had been away for so long. You needed to know he was really there.

Charles wasn't much better. He would occasionally crush you to his chest, holding you tightly and burying his face in your neck. You understood. It was the exact same feeling you had felt when Arthur returned from Guarma, when Charles had carried him off the Three Sisters. 

Both of you turned your affections to Arthur at some point, forcing him to set his journal aside and let himself be held. He was the only one with enough sense to suggest moving to the bed where you would have more room.

Arthur fell back on the bed, you sprawled on top of him. Charles laid down beside you, trailing his thumb over the scar on Arthur's chin.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” you asked, already shushing Arthur before he could protest.

“Gorgeous,” Charles agreed.

“So strong, so good for us,” you continued.

“We owe you everything.”

Arthur pushed you off of his chest and into Charles’ arms, rolling over to hide his face in his elbows. You could see the red at the tips of his ears.

“And you,” you kissed Charles on the nose, “handsome and knowledgeable and sweet as a peach.”

This time it was Charles’ turn to flush. You continued, “We did nothing to deserve you, but I’m not letting anything take you away from us.” You nestled against him, tracing over the tendons in his hands with light touches.

Arthur was watching you and Charles with the gentlest admiration. “And what about you?” he asked.

“You saved us,” Charles reminded you. “You convinced us that this life was worth living. I don’t even want to think of where we would be if you hadn’t come to us.”

“I’d be dead for sure,” Arthur took your hand, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist. “Give yourself credit, sweetheart.”

“I love you,” your voice broke. 

“And we love you,” Charles brushed his thumb over your cheek.

You fell asleep like that, curled against each other. A long-overdue rest for the three of you.

-

You blinked awake long before the sun began to peek through the curtains. Charles and Arthur were leaning over you, kissing deeply. A low moan escaped Charles between them. You shifted carefully, still blinking away sleep and trying to disentangle yourself from your lovers.

"Sorry for waking you," Charles whispered just as Arthur said "Sorry for not waking you." You yawned and grabbed Charles' hand, pressing a kiss to his scarred knuckles.

"You sure you don't need more sleep?" you asked. If Arthur had his way, Charles would be up until dawn, and then the both of them would insist on starting on the work for the day.

"I'll sleep in the afternoon if I need it," he pulled you in for a kiss of your own. Your concern for him always made his heart ache so pleasantly. You cared for him. More than anyone he had known before.

Arthur was already stepping out of his union suit, trying to pull Charles free from his clothes as well. "He's been missing you," you murmured against Charles' skin. "You should have heard the things he's been saying. How badly he wants to fuck you, how badly he wants to ride you. It's like I do nothing for him." You rolled your eyes. You weren't actually jealous. You had missed Charles just as badly. 

Arthur lightly swatted at your thigh, eyes twinkling in the low light.

Charles was flushed and panting, already overwhelmed. An entire month away from you -- you wondered how long he would last. "Did you think of us?" you asked. "When you touched yourself?" You ran your hands over his thighs.

Charles nodded, chest heaving. Arthur settled in on his other side, running his hands over dark, smooth skin. "Did you fuck yourself?" you asked, "Stretch yourself open? Pretend it was Arthur's cock?"

He moaned and bit down on his lower lip, hips rolling even though you hadn't touched him. "Damn," Arthur breathed, watching the effect your words had, he was nearly as worked up as Charles.

"What do you need, Charles?" Arthur asked, gently brushing his hair out of his face.

"You," Charles sighed, "inside." Arthur groaned at the mere thought, grabbing a tin of salve and settling between Charles' huge thighs. You pulled his head into your lap, carding your fingers through his hair and pressing your lips to his hairline, his forehead, his nose. 

"We love you," you whispered. "We love you, and we want to make you feel good. You're ours."

Charles let out a stuttered breath and you glanced up to see Arthur working two fingers inside of him.

"Arthur's gonna give you what you need," you promised. "He'll fill you up as many times as you want."

Arthur sucked a bruise into the inside of Charles' thigh, crooking his fingers to pull a moan out of him. "You're so good for me," he praised. "There's so much I want, but we've got plenty of time. What do you say next time you fuck our darling?"

Your stomach flipped and you whined a bit. God, you had missed Charles. You wanted to feel him. "I'd like that." You trailed your lips over his ear. "We could start off slow, make up for lost time, but then I'd let you be rough if you wanted. Oh, Charles. I'm wet just thinking about it."

Arthur watched you and Charles, hanging on to your every word. He pressed a third finger inside and both of you watched Charles as he took it. He was so beautiful, brows furrowed, eyes closed, mouth falling open. 

"That's it," you kissed him. "Arthur, tell him what else you want."

"I want to ride you -- need to feel you inside me. Need to be fucked by you." Arthur groaned, one hand around his cock. "Wanna fuck our darling. Both of us. However they want us."

Your head spun at the thought. "Arthur," you moaned.

"That's it sweetheart. You gonna take us both?"

You nodded. This was for Charles, you knew that, but you were so worked up you felt like you could catch fire. Hips twitching, drawers soaked. It was taking everything you had not to take Charles right there.

"Arthur-" Charles cried out. "I'm so- ah, I'm gonna-"

You soothed him. Gentle fingers over his tense muscles. "You close?" you asked teasingly.

Charles nodded, clearly trying to fight the pleasure that was building inside of him.

You glanced at Arthur before speaking again. "If you come now, would you still be able to let Arthur fuck you?" You didn't want to hurt Charles, but you knew he had the stamina. He and Arthur were forces to be reckoned with, and you often wound up exhausted and sore. "We'll only do what you want."

"Arthur," Charles begged, "please. I can take it."

"You'll tell us if it's too much?" You placed a hand on his cheek, searching his eyes.

"I promise." He took a steadying breath.

Arthur couldn't hold back any longer, he pressed into Charles, a low growl escaping him as he finally found the relief he was longing for. Charles shuddered and whined, fingers digging into Arthur's arms. His cock twitched against his stomach. You ran your hands over his chest,  dragging your thumbs over his nipples. His breath hitched, the muscles in his stomach pulling taut.

Charles came as Arthur shifted, his cock spilling over his stomach untouched. You watched in rapt fascination. The motion of Arthur's hips drew out his pleasure. Still, Charles pleaded for Arthur to fuck him.

Arthur grit his teeth and began a steady pace with his hips. You leaned over to kiss him, feeling his gasps of pleasure against your lips. “I’m going to eat you out after I fuck him.”

You moaned and kissed him again. Arthur was so caring, so attentive. You wanted to give him everything.

Charles was already lost in a hazy realm of pleasure you knew all too well. It was easy to slip away with two partners doting on you. Hopefully Arthur would leave you in good enough shape to take care of him.

He didn’t. He spilled inside of Charles, kissing him and coaxing him through the no doubt burning pleasure of a second orgasm. You were on your back in a moment, skirt pushed up and legs thrown over Arthur’s shoulder as he dragged his tongue over your clit. You were soaked already, and he moaned as he realized how much you were affected by the sight of him and Charles together.

He didn’t stop until you were shaking and supple, hardly able to move except to curl around Charles. You expected Arthur to collapse into bed with you, but he still retrieved the pitcher and washed Charles gently. It took far too much convincing to get him to return to bed with you rather than head out and check on the animals.

“You work too damn much,” you kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. “Laze around with me and Charles more often.”

“Maybe,” he brushed Charles’ hair back before drifting back to sleep, just as the first rays of dawn began to break through the curtains.

Part Two

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found  (chapter 6)

Warnings:  angst, mentions of blood, violence, death. And cute Tyler. Because everyone needs some cute Tyler, am I right?

This chapter will be longer when it appears on Ao3. I just broke it up over there.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @alievans007 @hemmyworthy

****

She's lying on her side with her back facing the door when he wanders into their bedroom.  The light on her side of the bed still on, the book she'd been immersed in for most of that day discarded beside her. She's not sleeping; he sees the way her body slightly twitches in response to hearing him enter the room.  The slight creak of the door giving his stealthy entrance away.

But he still asks,  “You awake?”

“Yes,” comes the muttered reply.

So he takes it one step further.  Attempting a bit of humour “We still friends?”

“Maybe.”

“I still want to be friends. I even brought you a peace offering. Isn't that what friends do when they have a fight? Try to smooth things over?”

She shrugs.

“It's ice cream if that makes a difference. Your favourite. Rocky Road.”

“You actually went out to the store to buy it?”

“I really went out for some fresh air and there were no flower shops open so I couldn't buy those to bring home in an attempt to kiss ass. I figured ice cream was the next best thing. Remember how you used to always want it when you were pregnant?”

She nods.

“Rocky Road with melted peanut butter and chocolate sauce on it. And tacos. Lots of tacos. You used to wake me up in the middle of the night to make you food.”

“And you always did it,” she recalls. “You never complained about it. You'd just smile and say 'whatever you want, baby' and go and do it.”

“There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You know that. And I figured since I put a baby in you and made you pretty miserable for nine months, ice cream and tacos was the least I could do.”

“Remember that time you made me a cake?” she asks, still not turning to face him.

“Chocolate cake with white icing. Yeah, I remember.”

“And we sat in bed with it and two forks and ate the whole thing,” she manages a laugh.  

“That was a pretty wild nine months, huh? I know it was hard on you and you were sick all the time and there was problems, but there were some good times too. Some really good times. And the end result turned out pretty good. If I do say so myself.”

'Yes,” she agrees it. “It did.”

“Are we still fighting?” he asks, as he climbs into bed beside her; sticking to his side, his legs stretched out in front of him, his back against the headboard.

“It wasn't a fight. We weren't fighting. We just weren't seeing eye to eye.”

“I'm pretty sure that's the definition of a fight, love. And we can't call it a debate because you lost your ever loving shit on me, so...”

“I wasn't mad at you. I was mad at the situation. At that fucking kid.”

“Which is another reason I brought ice cream. So you won't be mad any more. And so I don't have to sleep on the couch.”

She snorts.

“If you don't want any, that's fine. I'll eat the whole bowl for myself. It'll help when I do a bulking session at the gym tomorrow,” he spoons some ice cream into her mouth and looks over at her. “There's no melted peanut butter and chocolate sauce, but it's still pretty good. And you know I don't like eating alone.”

Huffing loudly, she rolls over onto her back and looks at him.

“See....ice cream...” he moves the bowl side to side in front of her face. “...I wasn't bullshitting. Humour me here, okay? I'm trying.”

Sighing, she rolls over onto her side, gets up onto her knees and then manoeuvres herself into a sit beside him.

“You're actually touching me,” he grins, when her shoulder presses against his. “That's always a good sign.”

She looks down at the bowl in his hand.  Full of rocky road ice cream. And two spoons.

“I brought you your own spoon,” he says. “Because I don't want your cooties.”

“I think we are way past giving each other cooties, Tyler. We've exchanged more than cooties in the last year.”

“True. Considering we started bumping uglies three days after we met.”

“Bumping uglies,” she smirks, and scoops a spoon of ice cream from the bowl.

“So are we?” he reaches for her with his foot, running his toes along the side of her leg. “Friends?”

“With benefits or...”

“If that's the kind of friends you want to be, I'm good with it,” he chides, and playfully digs his elbow into her side.

“Yeah, you would be. You'd pick that over being married?”

“Over being married to you? Never in a million years. Over being married to someone else? Most definitely. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else, to be honest. I can't see myself being  anyone else's husband. I've got a pretty good gig here. I'm not doing too bad I don't think.”

“You're holding up your end of things,” she agrees. “You're definitely a keeper.”

They sit quietly and eat their ice cream. Enjoying the simplicity of the moment; the lull after a busy and trying day.  Listening to the rain falling outside and feeling the cool breeze that tumbles into the room and flutters the curtains. She notices the way the light from the table lamp catches the wedding band on his finger. She likes the way it looks on him; the way he always wears it so proudly and refuses to take it off.

“For the record, I wasn't mad at you,” she informs him.  “I was frustrated with you.”

“You know how I like to be an enormously stubborn pain in your ass. It's intentional you know. Sometimes I like to cause problems and start fights.”

“Why? Just so we can make up?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “That's exactly why. Because we always make up in the best way.”

“The best possible way,” she agrees.  “But I honestly was not pissed with you. I'm pissed with this goddamn shitty mess. How did this happen? I thought we got away from this? I thought we put Dhaka behind us?”

“Past sometimes has a way of sneaking up and biting you in the ass.”

“But how? Asif is dead.”

“Like you said earlier today, guys like that always have a lot of rats scurrying around them and waiting to take their place. I've seen this kind of thing before. Where they come out of hiding ready for another go. Wanting to avenge the big boys.”

“A year later though? Why so long? Doesn't that seem a little weird to you?”

“Seems a bit off. Normally they don't wait that long. Couple weeks. Maybe a couple months. Must be a reason for it.  They just don't show  up without one.”

“Is he still in prison? Ovi's dad?”

“He's going to be there for at least twenty five more years. If not longer. He's hurt a lot of people. Killed a lot of people. This isn't about Ovi's old man. This is about Ovi getting away. And about me helping him.”

“So you think this is personal?”

“Very.”

“Personal against you though?”

“Maybe. They thought I was dead so things quieted down and they left Ovi alone. They had no real leadership so it probably took them time to regroup. Probably took them a year to figure out I was still alive.”

“Is that really what you think it is? That they're doing this because of you?”

“I'm not sure,” he admits. “There's no way of knowing until I ask more questions and get more information. They're ruthless, but they're not very smart. So it makes sense that it took this long to find out I'm alive and figure out exactly who I am.”

Both eyebrows arch as she considers his explanation. “So they probably know your name? Where you live? They probably know about us? And the baby?”

“I honestly don't know. I need some time to find that out.  Until then we keep to ourselves and we don't talk about this to anyone besides Ovi and Nik. We keep our mouths shut. I doubt they have connections here, but it's better to be safe than sorry.  I called Nik. Told her we needed to talk about Ovi.  We should know for sure what's going on and where we're going in a couple days.”

“A couple days that will seem like a couple years.”

He nods in agreement, then scoops up the last bit of ice cream and offers it to her; his hand under her chin as she accepts it. “I don't want you worrying too much about this, alright? It'll all get figured out.”

“It's hard not to worry.  If they know you're alive and they know you're name, they'll figure it where you are.  And once they figure that out, they'll be able to get to you. Get to us. And if you leave us here...”

“I'm not leaving you here. I'm not going to Dhaka alone. We're stronger together than we are apart. We always have been. And I can't protect you guys if I'm thousands of miles away. It may not be the smartest decision to bring you both there, but it's the best decision. And I know you'd go crazy worrying about me if you didn't get to tag along. I know I told you I'd eventually take you on a honeymoon, but this is not the trip I had in mind. I was thinking the Bahamas. Turks and Caicos.”

“Niagara Falls,” she tosses out.

He laughs. “What?”

“I've always wanted to go there. I've always wanted go on that boat that takes your right up to them and go in the tunnels behind them. And there's all kinds of corny shit like wax museums and haunted houses. I think it would be kind of neat to go there. It would be fun.”

“I'm thinking the Caribbean and here you are thinking Canada.  We are definitely not on the same page.”

“It's like living in one of those choose your own adventure books You never know where you're going to end up.”

“That's pretty much it,” he laughs, and placing the empty bowl on the night stand, wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her tightly against him.

She turns her body towards him; curling her legs underneath her and sneaking her arm around his waist, head coming to rest on his chest. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek on the top of her head, breathing in that soft, familiar scent that clings to her. The one that he'd miss like hell if it ever disappeared. His thumb repeatedly stroking her shoulder in smooth, comforting motions.  And he's just about to doze off when he feels her shuddering against him; eyes snapping open when he feels the dampness against his chest.

“Hey....what's wrong?” he hooks a finger under her chin and forces her to look up at him. “Talk to me.”

The flood gates finally open. All the tears she'd been storing for months finally come spilling out. A tsunami of anger, frustration, and fear. The realization of the tremendous loss that she had nearly suffered finally breaking through. She'd been so strong for so long; he'd never seen her cry once the entire time he was in the hospital or when he was going through his rehab and various therapies. Not even the shrink could get out of her, and it wasn't for lack of trying. But tonight has been the icing on the cake. The straw that has broken the camel's back.  And she openly weeps; choking and sputtering on her own saliva and tears and the words that tumble from her mouth.

“You almost died,” she sobs. “Right there in front of me. And I can still feel you in my arms; I can still feel how heavy you felt, I can still see how empty your eyes looked.  How lifeless they were. How I squeezed your hand and you didn't even have the strength to squeeze it back. And I remember how I put my hand my hand over yours...right here...” she presses her fingers to the left side of his throat, which bears the telltale sign of the bullet that had nearly ended his existence. “...and there was so much blood...there was blood everywhere....your blood. I can still smell it. I can still feel it. I can still see it.”

He has a very faint recollection of that moment.  Where he lay dying in her arms. The memories often came in snippets; seeing the tears that streamed down her face; hearing her panicked and hysterical voice as she begged him not to leave her, to just hang in a little while longer. He could recall her telling him that she loved him and that she always would. And he was pretty sure he said it back. Or at least tried to. And when he closes his eyes and thinks hard enough, he can feel that hand over his, her other hand stroking his hair and her lips pressed against his forehead.

“And I'm so angry,” she continues. “I am so fucking angry, Tyler. At Ovi Senior for putting his kid in danger in the first place. At Saju for fucking everything up and killing the whole team. At that little bastard that shot you. And you.  I'm so mad at you. So fucking mad.”

He knew that was coming. He expected it. And he understood it.

“I am so fucking mad for making me fall in love with you, only to to almost lose you just as fast as I found you.  I'm mad that you tried to get me to leave, only to change your mind and beg me to stay.  I'm mad about what I saw. I'm mad about what I heard. I'm mad about watching you suffer and struggle and crawl your way back from the brink of death.  I'm mad that you had the fucking audacity to almost die on me in the first place.”

“It's not like I did that intentionally,” he says, trying to inject a little bit of light into quite possibly the darkest conversation he's ever had to have. “Remember what I told you? Before you left with Ovi and Saju? I told you that I'd  never leave you unless I had to. That I'd never leave you unless I didn't have a choice.  You think I wanted all that to happen? That I wanted that little prick to shoot me in the throat and you have to see that? That's not what I wanted, Esme. That's far from what I wanted.”

“And you what I'm the most mad about? I'm mad that I even feel this way. It makes me sick to my stomach that I even think those things about you. Because you're the love of my life and the father of my child and what kind of sick fuck thinks of things that? What kind of messed up person would be mad at someone they love? That they almost lost?”

“You have every right to be mad. Maybe it doesn't make sense to you. But it makes sense to me. I get it. I really do.”

“I don't want to feel this way,” she sniffles. “I don't want to be angry at you. But I can't stop it. I try and it just keeps happening and just when I think I've got it under control, something happens that brings it all back up. And then I hate myself for it. I hate myself for the things I think and things I just said...”

“Don't,” he softly interjects, and placing his hand on the back of her head, encourages her to rest against him.  She nestles into him; face pressed into the spot between his shoulder and his neck.  And his one hand remains on the back of her head,  finger tips gently kneading her scalp as he reaches across his body and places his other hand on her side.  “...don't hate yourself. You have no reason to.”

“I'm sorry, Tyler.  I'm sorry for thinking those things.  For saying them out loud.”

“You don't have to be sorry. It was better that you got that shit out instead of keeping it all inside.”

“I didn't mean to fall in love with you. I know it probably shouldn't have happened. It was all so messed up. But I did.  I did fall in love with you. And I don't regret that.”

“Neither do I,” he assures her. “It should have felt so wrong but it didn't. Things happen for a reason. I truly believe that. It wouldn't have happened if it wasn't supposed to.  It's okay, love. Everything's okay.  Just take a breath. Take a break and try and relax. You're okay now. We're okay. I'm not going to let anything happen to you.”

“The only time I've ever felt safe and secure is when I'm with you. And I hate that feeling that someone is out there just waiting to take that away from me. From us.”

“They won't,” he vows.  “I swear to you, they won't.  Now just try and calm down now, okay? Take a deep breath. Take a deep breath and listen to my voice. Everything is going to be okay.”

She moves even closer to him; slinging both of her legs over his thighs and pressing herself against him. One hand on the back of his neck, the other clutching at his chest.  And then he begins to talk. About how they met. The things he'd felt when Nik had introduced them.  How he'd never felt way before about anyone else; something so profound and so unexplainable in such a short amount of time.  How he'd known the very second he first kissed her that he was powerless to stop what was happening between them.  How what should have been the worst decision of his life had turned into the best one he'd ever made. And he tells her that he's happy now.  Well and truly happy.  That there's nothing or no one out there strong enough that could possibly take that away from him.  

And as she listens  and feels those fingers in her hair,  she finally begins to relax.  The sniffling stops and the tension in her body releases.  Lulled to sleep by the sound of his voice and the vibrations that emanate deep within his chest.

[chimilkie]

bts reacts; you fall asleep on facetime

au:// requested by @bitesizedwizard , sorry it took so long i was on a temporary hiatus when you requested <3

kim seokjin

you both had a rather busy past few weeks and communication was at an all time low. jin and the boys had just started their north american tour and your boss had been keeping you after hours at work to finish a business portfolio for the new ads the company was about to release. today was a rather stressful day for you, as your boss was even more up your ass to get all the ideas and projects recorded.

jin had finished off dinner with the boys and successfully recorded a rather long and enjoyable vlive with jungkook and jimin, but he couldn’t help the overwhelming need to a least have a short conversation with you. so as soon as he was locked into the safety of his hotel room, he pulled out his phone to facetime you, whilst completely forgetting about the time difference between LA and seoul.

you answered the phone on the brink of sleep and completely folded into all the blankets on your bed. “hi baby, i just finished watching your vlive.” you smiled, yawning immediately after the words left your lips.

“oh sorry jagi, i forgot about the time zone. you must be so tired.” he apologized quickly, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips.

“no, no.” you dismissed, rolling your eyes at his concern. “it’s worth it to get to talk to you. it’s been awhile. tell me about what’s been going on.” he went on about how everything’s been going, only hesitating to continue when he heard your soft snores.

 in the end, he opted to just whispering everything to you so that you wouldn’t wake up and waste sleep on him.

min yoongi

you had been at his studio with him only an hour ago, where you two had eaten the thai food you bought together. you had ranted to him about the unfairness of treatment among individuals at your work and he told you all about the progress of the song that him and hoseok had been working on together. so really, there was no reason for him to facetime you an hour later once you were tucked into the warmth of your bed comforter.

“yes, baby?” you grunted once you hit the green accept button. you sat up slightly to lean on your elbow while you spoke to him.

he sighed lowly as he shut the door to his studio. “sorry doll, did i wake you up?”

you smiled softly and fell back once more to lean into your pillows. “nope, just laid down. why’d you call?”

“just wanted to know if i could spend the night at your apartment, i don’t want to call manager sejin to come get me and bring me to the dorms.” he mumbled, as a particular gust of wind blew the hair out of his eyes once he stepped out of the management building.

“of course, you know that the door’s always unlocked for you.” you mumbled quietly as sleep started to take over for you. actually, the door was currently unlocked for anyone considered you were too tired to actually lock it when you came inside. when he heard your light snores coming through the microphone, he rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face.

“i’ll be there soon then, jagi.” he mumbled, but still kept you on the line anyway because, why not?

jung hoseok

does this even really count?

so here’s the thing, you wanted to play overwatch with jungkook and jimin but he wanted to watch the new ninja turtles movie with the rest of the boys. so what do you both do to be able to still spend time with eachother? you guys facetimed eachother, even if you both were only a few rooms apart. and even though you weren’t talking to each-other, as to not break jungkook’s concentration or disturb the movie, it was enough to know that if anything needed to be said you guys were on the phone already. 

no offence towards kookie, he was a great overwatch player, very skilled if you do say so yourself. but you were quite bored with the outcome of your decision to stay with jimin and jungkook instead of watching the movie with your boyfriend.

you turned to look at your phone screen, hoping to see the boys cleaning up the living room so that you could just call your boyfriend into his bedroom and cuddle for the rest of the night. unfortunately, it didn’t seem like the movie was even halfway over and you let out a quiet breath of air before standing from the floor to flop on jungkook’s bed.

the movie was over quite quickly in hoseok’s opinion so when he turned to his phone and saw the facetime had been over for about 40 minutes now, he couldn’t help but frown. but he immediately understood why when he entered the maknae’s room and saw you fast asleep, with your dead phone next to you. “how long has she been asleep?” he turned to his dongsaengs.

jungkook shrugged but turned to smile at him. “she talks a lot in her sleep though.”

kim namjoon

you were stuck in traffic on the way to your hotel. you had decided that it would be nice to travel to canada for a week or so, and you had just gotten out of all the traffic around the airport. it was a rather long uber drive to the hotel you were staying at, so you facetimed your boyfriend figuring there was nothing else you could do. “hey jagiya, how was the flight?” he asked almost immediately after he picked up the phone.

you giggled softly and smiled out the window as you admired the scenery. “pretty good, nothing major worth telling. how was practice today? jimin was telling me yesterday that you guys were beginning to learn a new choreography?”

“yeah! about that, jin completely tripped and laid himself out on the floor.” namjoon let out a rather loud laugh that you grinned uncontrollably at. “man, it was really funny, you should have been there.” you chuckled and shook your head at their antics, before glancing up at the gps.

“joonie, i have 45 minutes left of this ride. you wanna like, i don’t know, rap for me or something?” your voice came out gentle, already on the brink of sleep yet you didn’t want to tell him that. when his voice began flowing through the speaker, you leaned your head against the window and closed your eyes. when he heard your soft snores, he stopped and raised his voice a little to talk to the driver.

“excuse me, uber driver?” he spoke in clear english.

“yes, sir on the phone?” a woman’s voice called back jokingly.

“make sure she gets there safely, alright?” he grinned just thinking about you.

“of course, sir. it’s my job, after all.”

park jimin

please ignore the fact that saipan and korea are only an hour apart oops

the boys were filming in saipan and he called you to show you how pretty the beach was there, forgetting that with the time zones you were most likely already asleep. when you answered with a groggy hello and were rubbing your eyes in front of the camera and frowned and felt regret fill his stomach. “i’m sorry babe, did i wake you up? i just wanted to show you the beach we’re filming at right now, but if you want to go back to sleep i can just take some pictures and send them to you later.”

“um, no! you know how much i love the beach, show me jagi!” you grinned, sitting up on your elbow to see more clearly. he grinned happily into the camera before turning it around to show you the crystal blue water and clean sand lining the beach. “oh my god! it’s so beautiful there, i wish i could’ve gone with you guys.”

“it’s not as beautiful as you, my love.” he grinned cheekily once he turned the camera back around to face him. “do you want me to stay on until you fall asleep again?”

“please do.” you yawned covered your mouth with the back of your hand. “i’ll put the phone next to my pillow so it’s like your here with me.” he laughed wholeheartedly into the microphone and leaned up against one of the chairs namjoon had set up for them. 

and he did stay on with you until you fell asleep and he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but maybe he stayed on after you fell asleep too just to hear your slow breathing and pretend he was there with you.

kim taehyung

he and the boys were on the plane ride back to korea after finishing all their uk tour stops. the plane ride honestly felt like it had been going on forever now but they had only been off the ground for not even 15 minutes. “hyung are we there yet?” he whined shoving himself into namjoon’s side to pout up at him. he had done this multiple times already and each time he repeated the action his hyung became more and more agitated.

“would you just call y/n and leave me alone before i punch you in the neck?” joon hissed, shoving taehyung’s body away from his own.

taehyung pouted once more and shuffled farther away from him to tuck his knees to his chest and pull out his phone. “jeez hyungie, no need to be so sour.” he quickly dialed your number and patiently waited for the facetime to connect. after a few rings you picked up and smiled into the camera. “y/n! thank goodness you picked up! namjoon-hyung is getting pretty salty and i can’t seem to figure out why.”

“maybe it’s because you shoved your porky little body into my six times and we haven’t even been flying for 20 minutes you inconsiderate, uncultured swine-” before namjoon could continue his rant for any longer, seokjin cut in with an apologetic smile towards their manager who was asleep next to him. “alright joonie, i think that’s enough for right now.”

“wow so you really managed to piss him off, huh? you must get pretty annoying.” you chuckled softly, rolling up in a fluffy blanket on your couch.

“damn right he does.” namjoon muttered behind taehyung causing the younger to gasp dramatically. “why don’t you just sing me to sleep baby? at least your voice isn’t annoying.” you joked, only calming down when his voice finally echoed through the speaker on your phone.

jeon jungkook

the boys were in the company van on the way back to the dorms from an award show. jimin was extremely happy as he had won an award specifically because of a traditional dance he had done, and that had automatically put all the other boys in a wicked good mood. kook knew you were at the dorms waiting for him so he pulled out his phone to facetime you. “are you calling y/n?” hoseok shouted out happily from the first row of seats. he nodded and pressed on your contact button before sitting back to wait for your answer.

the facetime made a noise and almost immediately your excited face popped up on his phone screen. he grinned happily, flashing his bunny teeth before opening his eyes to speak. “hey jagi-”

“CONGRATULATIONS JIMIN!” you screamed over him happily. “i always knew you were the most talented one!” as jimin grinned proudly with his eyes almost disappearing, sounds of complaints from all the other boys echoed through the car. jungkook shook his head jokingly with a roll of his eyes before speaking up once more.

“are you already in bed jagiya?” he smiled seeing the blanket wrapped almost completely around your face. you nodded happily before covering your mouth with the back of your hand as a yawn escaped your mouth. “go to sleep baby, me and the boys will be there soon.”

you nodded once more before smiling softly at him. “i love you kookie.”

and ignoring the huge grins from all his hyungs around him, he smiled back at you with just as much love. “i love you so much more than you’ll ever know.”

[madamsixx]

Beyond The Leather Chapter 6: Trouble After Paradise

Warnings: Drug use                       I was scared in fact I was terrified. She was pacing the room using all kinds of profanity that I have never heard before. I didn't even swear so it was shocking hearing her swear. Theresa was in the room sleeping she was out of it.

"This is unacceptable I cant.... I can't believe you Iman." She stared at me. "Your just beginning your career, and your going to let some crush with a junkie ruin it all for you!" She yelled waving her hands in the air.

"Tamara I'm-"

"Do not interrupt me when I am talking. Your mom trusted me to take care of you and I am trying my best. What on Gods earth made you go out. Especially with Nikki fucking Sixx! What do you think your doing by going to the Rainbow! Do you know what that place really is?"

I shook my head no. By this point I knew I messed up.

"That boy dosen't give two shits about you, your a game to him. That boy only cares about himself and drugs ok drugs nothing else. He can never love you or any one else."

Tears started coming down my cheeks and I started to cry because I knew she was right.

"Iman listen." Tamara sighed and walked towards me. She sat down on the couch." He can never love you ok. He's a junkie just like all the other guys he parties with. He will ruin you. None of those guys are worth your career." She whispered.

"I'm sorry." I hugged her and cried even more.

She rubbed my back and kissed my head. "Your better than he is. You need a decent guy a respectable guy. Not Nikki Sixx. But all that will come to you when your older. Right now you need to focus on you and your career. And also your schooling, cause your mom will kill me if you dont." She chuckled

"My mom must be really angry." I sniffed

"I didn't tell her, but you are going home for the rest of this month." She said with a stern voice.

"Ok." I wiped my tears.

"I'll deal with Theresa tomorrow, you go get some sleep. Your leaving tomorrow." She got and walked towards Theresa's bedroom.

I sat there staring at the walls. Tamara was right. I heard the way they talked about woman and saw the amount of alcohol they drank. But she was wrong about something.... the drugs. I haven't seen Nikki or any of his band members actually doing it. But who knows, people do things behind closed doors so that know one can see them for what they really are.

Next Morning

"I'm heading over to management I think I can get you into a big magazine shoot. And I got an audition for you for an up coming movie next year December."

"Ok" I sighed

Tamara walked out of my room and headed towards the door. But stopped and turned to Theresa who was nursing her hang over.

"I hope you learned your lesson." She spoke sternly.

"Uhhhh my head hurts and yes I did."

"If you want to go out get drunk and do drugs do it by yourself. Do not take my creation with you. I've worked to hard on her." She whispered down to Theresa.

"Shes a human being Tamara, also dont forget that shes a teen wanting to have fun. Not everything should be about work." Theresa responded back with an angled voice.

"Like I said I've worked hard on her. Do not fuck this up for me or your ass will be on the street." She snapped.

Tamara walked out the door slamming it shut.

"Hey you ok?" I asked coming out of the room.

"I'm alright hun, I had fun last night." She smiled.

"Oh I know."

I headed back to the room to finish packing.

Ring Ring Ring Ring

"Hey Theresa can you get the phone please!" I called out to her.

I continued packing trying to get all my stuff together. I heard the front door open and close and heard Theresa talking to somone. It sounded like a guys voice.

"Hey princess."

I look up to see Nikki standing by my door way. The nerve of this guy. To come over to my place and call me princess after what he did last night. If I was somone who swore there would be a lot of things I would call him.

"Why are you packing your suit case princess, where you going?" He asked with a confused look.

"I'm going home Nikki, so get out!"

This is where my temper starts to come in.

"Wait why I thought you said you were staying till the end of December?" He asked coming closer and sitting on my bed.

"Well I'm not so get out!" I yelled at him.

"No I'm not leaving till you tell me what's going on!" He shouted back at me.

"Ok what's going on is that I decided out of my better judgement to go out to the Rainbow with an alcoholic junkie." I sneered standing up.

Nikki's eyes went wide. He got up from my bed and walked towards me.

"Dont you ever fucking speak to me like that Iman.!" He pointed and shouted in my face.

"Whatever Nikki!" I pushed him and went down to zip and pick up my suitcase.

"Dont fucking touch me Iman!" Nikki yelled.

"Just get out Nikki what the hell do you want from me!?" I snapped pushing him again.

"I want you to fucking calm down and talk to me like a normal person not a fucking psycho bitch!!" He yelled grabbing on to my hands.

"Look Nikki, Tamara thinks it's best that I don't associate my self with somone like you ok. Our life styles are different. You drink, smoke, and treat woman as if there nothing. And you probably do drugs. I'm better than that, I'm better than you." I say pulling my hands away from him.

"Your better than me." He scoffs pointing at his chest.

"Yes I am." I say crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't want someone like you in my life. My career is taking off and I don't want to be dragged down by your decadent and excessive ways."

Nikki just stared at me putting his one hand on his hip and the other in his hair.

"Look let's just talk ok." He says with a lower voice. "If this is about last night I'm sorry I got fucked up ok. It won't happen again I swear to you." He says walking closer to me.

I felt bad but at the same time Tamara was right he will just ruin me. I'm a respectable good girl who needs to surround my self with people who are just like me. Not Nikki Sixx.

"I'm done talking to you, I said what ever I needed to say. Now get out Nikki. I'm going home."

"Fine run home to your mommy." He scoffs turning to leave.

Oh so he wants to start bringing mommy's and daddys into this argument ok.

"Well at least I have a mom. A mom and family to go home to. What do you have Nikki?" I smirk.

Nikki was seething with anger. He told me these things because he trusted me and I used them against him.

"Fuck you and fuck your family you fucking whore!" He yelled and I punched him in the jaw.

He turned to me in shock. His once calm expression turned into something I can't even describe. Maybe the hulk.

"You cunt!" He yelled shoving me back.

I tripped over my suitcase and fell on the ground. Theresa came running in the room as Nikki towered over me.

"Nikki stop!" She yelled.

Nikki held one hand to his jaw and the other reaching down to take my hand to lift me back.

"Dont touch me." I snapped slapping his hand away. "Just get out Nikki." I said with a shaky voice.

Nikki turned away with a clenched jaw and left my room.

"Nikki I'm very sorry shes just-"

"Listen you, her, and that stuck up bitch Tamara can all go fuck your selves." Nikki turned around and interrupted Theresa.

"Nikki plea-

"I SAID FUCK OOOOFF!" He shouted right in front of Theresa's face. He turned on his heel and walked out the door slamming it hard. Theresa was really scared almost shaking by his outburst.

Theresa came back in the room and sat by me. She placed her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I just wanted to go home at this point. I needed my family and to get away for a bit.

Nikki's POV

"Fuck her, fuck that fucking bitch and her cunt friends." I barged through my apartment door slamming it shut.

"Woah Sixx calm down, what's eating you up?" Robbin looked up from snorting coke.

"Fucking Iman is what's up. I tried fucking talking to her and she went all psycho on me."

"Hmm wow." Robbin responds laying his head back on the couch.

"Dude you save some for me?" I furrowed my brows.

"Yeah, oh by the way Neil called, he asked if you wanted to go on a club Med holiday with him to the french own island of Martinique in the Caribbean."

"Mmmmm yeah sounds good. Its not like I have a house, or friends, or a girlfriend here. You gonna come to?"

"Yeah bro I think I will." Robbin shifted over and made room for me to sit on the couch.

"Great I'll call him back, after I have some blow." I made a line on the table and snorted it up. ____

Saturday, December 1st, 1984

Nikki's POV

I came to the Caribbean Island of Martinique with Robbin Crosby and Neil Zlozower. I couldn't remember how I even got here because I was too drugged out.

"Wow this Island is beautiful. I stated as I was sipping a margarita.

"Shit sure is. So what do you got planned for us Neil?" Robbin asked.

"Well we should go on a hike later on in the day. I hired a tourist to take us around." Neil says while opening up a map. "He's going to take us up on a water hike.

"Why do we need to hike when there are topless woman to look at every where." I lifted my head while bringing down my sunglasses to look at women.

"Cause were on vacation Nik. Site seeing places is better than site seeing woman you dont really want." Neil stated.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I scoffed.

"Iman." Neil raised his eyebows.

I glared at Robbin.

"Look I only told him so that he could plan a good trip for us to take your mind off of her." Robbin waved his hands.

"I dont want to talk about her anymore. Let's just fucking go site seeing."

____

December 9th, 1984, Tornto, Canada

Iman's POV

I had been home for a couple of weeks now and I was very happy. I went shopping with my sisters, went to the movies, went to church, and had a chance to catch up with my school work. Some of my friends even visited me and we went out to eat. The only thing I didn't miss about being home was the winter. LA was hot all year round.

"Wow the tree is looking nice girls, let maya put the star up when you guys are done." My mom stated

"Yayyyyyy!!!" Maya jumped up.

"Bet you miss the LA heat huh." My sister Felicia nudged me.

"Oh man I do, but I rather be here in the cold with you guys than in the heat in LA alone." I smiled.

"So Tamara tells me you have an audition in February for a movie in December next year. That's good." My mom says as she sits down on the couch.

"Yeah I'm excited. I'm also excited too because I have some interview coming up next year. So that will be great."

"As long as you continue with your school work with the home school teacher." My mom says with a stern voice.

"Ughhh mommy whyyyyyy." I whine.

"Iman, you need something to fall back on in case acting doesn't work out. You getting a high school Diploma will benefit you, and also make me happy.

And that's something I always wanted for my mom to be happy.

"Sorry off topic but when's the last time you talked to Ola?" My older sister Selena asks walking into the living room

"Oh it's been a while. I should call her one of-"

I was interrupted as the phone began to ring.

"Hello." My mom answers the phone.

"Oh hi Tamara it's good to hear from you. Hope everything is alright?"

It was Tamara calling. My mom continues talking on the phone with her until she calls me over to talk with her.

"Hey Tammy how are you?"

"Hi honey listen dont freak out or anything, but I need to yell you something important. Vince from Motley Crue was involved in a car crash.

"Oh my God is he alright?"

"He is, but he had a friend in the car with him named Razzle and he didnt make it."

"Oh no."

"Vince and that guy Razzle were driving drunk. They also hurt three other innocent people. You see why I said these guys were bad news and to stay away from them. I hope you understand what im trying to tell you now."

"Yeah I... I do."

"Alright honey well I'll let you go. I'll send Theresa down to get you when it comes closer to your audition day ok."

"Alright thanks Tammy, bye." I walked over and put the phone down.

Wow this was shocking. I couldn't believe Vince would drink and drive. Well actually I feel like I could, words like responsibility and consequences meant nothing to those guys. They didnt care about anyone but themselves. Now three innocent people were hurt, due to two drunk drivers. I will definitely stay far away from them.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Lullaby [70%]

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Read Equinox here and come back!

“Your tummy is soft,” Sakura commented. Her head rose and fell as Itachi let out a sigh. 

“Don’t rub it in. It’s all that late-night pizza and ice cream,” he groaned, crossing his arms behind his head. 

“Oh. I wasn’t making fun of you. I love it,” Sakura assured him. She patted his knee as they laughed.

She had balked at the idea of buying a mattress that came in a box, but she couldn’t deny that it was comfortable. And the pricey sheets that covered it didn’t hurt. The lavender-scented candles sitting on the nightstand had never actually been lit, but they smelled nice all the same.

“Your place is super-nice,” Sakura remarked, not for the first time. 

“Mm, it is,” he agreed. And then he stretched his arms high above his head.

“What’s the plan for tonight?” she asked.

“Well, you just told your shoes to go to hell when you walked in,” he began. But before she could protest, he added, “Which is where they should go. So I was thinking of a relaxing night in. I’ll make dinner. Maybe put on some Edith Piaf?” 

“How could I say no to Madame Piaf?” Sakura agreed.

As Itachi washed his hands and tied on his apron, Sakura wandered over to the record player. She took her time picking through the shelves while Itachi’s knife tapped away on the cutting board. Not that it was difficult, because Itachi was always so organized. All the artists were grouped together by genre and by last name. 

She placed the tip of the stylus on the record and the swell of violins and brass filled her ears. Hugging her arms around herself, Sakura hummed along to the lyrics. When she turned around, she saw that Itachi had set his knife down. He leaned his elbows on the counter, watching her instead. 

“Dance with me!”

“And what about dinner?” he replied, still letting her take his hand to pull him away from the counter. Laughing as he wrapped his arms around her, swaying back and forth in time to the sweeping melody.

“You feeling alright, Bunny?” 

“Other than feeling like a beached whale, I’m great,” Sakura replied, biting her straw between her teeth. 

“That’s why I keep telling you to work from home. You need to rest,” sighed Madara, patting the top of her head. His tail curled around her water bottle and pushed it closer to her hand. 

“She doesn’t listen to anyone. You know that.”

Madara started. He peered over Sakura’s shoulder in time to see the lump of blankets on the sofa stir. Silver hair peeked out past the dark blanket. Along with a haggard pair of eyes.

“What happened to you?” Madara wondered. 

Tobirama’s head flopped back down. He sighed.

“I’ve been having Braxton Hicks contractions. He’s been up all night losing sleep,” Sakura explained. She braced her hand on the desk and pulled herself out of her seat. 

“I knew John Braxton Hicks. He was a terrible poker player. His tells were so obvious,” Madara recalled, tapping his chin with his pointer finger. And then he turned back to Sakura, who raised her eyebrows at him.

“I know it’s in poor taste to ask, but the suspense is killing me. Whose is it?” he asked.

And while Madara was right that it was a rude question, she appreciated the directness of it. Unlike everyone else who gave awkward looks behind her back as they wondered. 

“We’ll know in the delivery room. Siren babies are weird, honestly,” Sakura sighed, rubbing her stomach as she thought. 

“Sometimes it’s a baby on the ultrasound. And then sometimes it’s just.... sound waves,” Tobirama agreed, lifting his head again. 

“Oh, I understand. Demon babies are born from literal hellfire. Takes decades for them to cool off and take a solid form,” Madara commented. And Sakura raised her eyebrows again, nodding. She always learned something new when talking to Madara.

They all looked up when Sakura’s phone chimed. At the same time, Tobirama’s buzzed. 

“What’s it say?” Tobirama asked as Sakura unlocked her phone. She tapped on the notification. 

“It’s Itachi. ‘Baby shoes’,” Sakura read out loud. And then she held up her phone so Madara could see. Itachi had sent along a photo of tiny designer sneakers. She gasped when she saw the price tag underneath.

“Tell him it’s pointless since the baby won’t walk for a while,” grumbled Tobirama. Before Sakura could type anything, their phones buzzed again. 

“Kiba sent the emoji of the monkey covering its eyes. Oh, wait. Kakashi just responded too. ‘If you stopped buying junk and invested it, the baby would be all set for college by now’.” 

Sighing, Tobirama finally pulled the blanket down to peer over at her. “Do you think it’s a vampire thing?” he asked her.

“No. I’m pretty sure it’s a him thing,” she replied. 

And then, in a very quiet voice, Madara commented: “I think they’re cute.”

A thunderstorm descended over Old Pines as summer approached. 

Sakura’s eyes opened as she listened to the rumble roll across the horizon. The wind swelled, billowing the curtains inward. It took a moment. But then, slowly, she heard the droplets begin to patter softly, then all at once against the roof. The cool air whispered against her neck and back. 

Her eyes opened as lightning illuminated the skies. Followed by another growl of thunder. 

“You were right,” Sakura said. 

“Told you. I can smell the rain,” Kiba bragged, tapping his nose. He rolled onto his back to stare up at her, his arm draped across her lap. “S’not gonna last long, though. It’s a little storm.”

“You must be tired. You did a lot today,” commented Sakura, pushing his hair off his forehead. 

Kiba began listing his accomplishments, counting off on his fingers as he went. “Finished installing the sink in the new bathroom, installed a bunch of lights. Uh, what else? Oh yeah. And I assembled the shelves and crib for the nursery.”

“You’re my hero,” Sakura declared, leaning over to press a kiss to his mouth. He grinned as lightning flashed bright, filling the window with blinding white light for a moment. Several seconds later, thunder rolled through again like a drumroll. 

“I feel like there’s still a million things to do. And somehow the list keeps getting longer,” he lamented. Sakura laughed. 

“Me too. But I feel like we’ll never actually be ready,” she pointed out. 

“Yeah. That’s what my mom says too,” he agreed. 

Sakura gasped when she felt a jolt in her abdomen. She grabbed Kiba’s hand to place it on her stomach. He became very quiet as he waited. And then he could feel the flutters.

Slowly, he rubbed his palm back and forth across her stomach, following the movements. 

“I’m really scared, Sakura.”

Her chin jerked up. Eyes widening. 

But Kiba’s gaze stayed on the swell of her stomach. He seemed to be deep in thought before he decided to speak again. “Like, what if I’m a bad dad? What if I screw this kid up because I say something dumb?”

“Hey,” she said. He lifted his head to look at her. She smiled. Hand cupping his cheek, she pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Everything’s gonna be alright. We’ve got our family, don’t we?” she assured him. Sighing, Kiba laid his head down on her stomach. 

“And, worst case scenario, we’ll ask your sister to do damage control,” Sakura then added. 

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Kiba conceded, finally laughing again. 

When Kakashi walked in a few hours later, he was just in time to witness Kiba preparing to flip a pancake. Sakura sat at the kitchen counter, her hair knotted on top of her head. She glanced back when she felt Kakashi’s arm wrap around her waist. Her kissed her shoulder, then her mouth. 

“It’s almost 9. Why is Kiba making pancakes?” Kakashi wondered. 

“Why? Do you not want a pancake?” Sakura challenged. 

“I never said that. Do we have syrup?”

“Itachi brought over some from his business trip to Canada,” Kiba responded. And then he cheered as he flipped the pancake and caught it in the middle of the skillet. Sakura and Kakashi applauded together.

Kakashi kissed the top of Sakura’s head before he went off to grab plates and cutlery. 

“Smelled an outsider in the woods a couple hours ago,” Kakashi said, setting the plate down beside the stove. Kiba’s head perked up. Balancing the pancake on his spatula, he looked over his shoulder at Kakashi. 

“Along the river?” he asked.

“No. Further west. Past where I can reach,” answered Kakashi. 

“I’ll go out and take a look tonight. The Mayor asked me for a favor so I’d be in the woods anyway,” Kiba told him. He dropped the pancake onto the plate. Jiggled the pan to keep the other cakes from sticking and burning.

“Guys, be careful,” Sakura couldn’t help but fret. 

“No one knows these woods better than we do. It’ll be fine,” Kiba assured her, flashing a grin. But his smile faded as she continued to stare at him. He leaned his hip against the counter. He rubbed the back fo his neck. Beside him, Kakashi blew out a long sigh. Kiba glanced at him as he heard Kakashi scratch a hand through his hair.

“Kiba,” Kakashi said.

“Huh?”

“Can you make a lot of noise and spook them east? I can help you flank him once he gets close enough to town,” Kakashi asked. Kiba thought for a long time, scowling. 

“I guess so,” he finally considered.

“It’ll be safer if we have each other’s backs. And that way Sakura won’t feel as stressed,” Kakashi added, looking Sakura’s way. She smiled, rubbing her stomach a little. 

After they finished the pancakes, Kakashi insisted on staying to do the dishes. Sakura walked with them to the door. Waddling, actually. 

“Bye, baby,” Kiba said, kneeling in front of Sakura to kiss her stomach. Sakura swatted him away, pulling her shirt back down. Getting to his feet, Kiba took her hands and grinned. 

“Bye, baby,” he then said, kissing her on the lips. Sakura laughed as she nudged him off the porch. 

“We’ll be careful,” Kakashi assured her, kissing her too. 

Sakura couldn’t help but feel nervous. Even after Kakashi’s parting words. She boiled water. And while the tea steeped, she wandered out of the kitchen, into the little mudroom Kiba had added onto the house. Perching on one of the benches, she stared out the window. Past the blackberry bush and the peach tree. Out into the darkness. Wondering. 

She woke up to Itachi, who had come home for the weekend. Suit rumpled and his stubble growing in. He rested his hand on her forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Why’re you sleeping out here, Bunny?” he asked.

“Mm- what?” Sakura mumbled. She dragged her wrist across her eyes. The inside of her mouth felt dry. Her lower back hurt. But it had been hurting for the past several days, so it wasn’t anything new.

“Why’re you out here, Bunny? It’s late,” Itachi asked again. 

“Oh. Hi,” Sakura greeted him. “Kakashi and Kiba went to investigate something in the forest. I’m just worrying for no reason. It’s stupid. I know.”

“That’s not stupid,” Itachi answered. His hand slid down her arm, fingers linking with hers. 

“Go to bed, Bunny. I’ll wake you up when they get home,” he then told her. She sat up, wincing at how her body ached in all the weirdest places. Itachi helped her to her feet. 

“Sorry, Itachi,” Sakura said, looking up at him. His eyes widened. “I didn’t even ask you how your day was. That was selfish of me.” Because that was usually the first thing out of his mouth each time he saw her. 

‘How are you?’, ‘I missed you’, and ‘I’m glad I’m home now’- in that order.

A smile filled his face. His eyes glittering just a little as he pulled her against his chest. “Great. But we can catch up when you’re not half-asleep and I’m not half-starving.” 

Sakura pulled away. He followed her as she walked into the kitchen. She opened up the refrigerator door to stare at the contents within. She felt him hovering over her shoulder as he looked too. 

“There’s some peach cobbler Hana dropped off yesterday,” Sakura pointed out. Itachi wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He shook his head.

“Apples?”

She tilted her head in time to see him wrinkle his nose. 

“Plum?”

His eyes lit up. He reached out to grab one of the dark purple fruit. 

“I can wash it for you,” Sakura began to say. Itachi made a face as he held it out of reach instead. 

“You can help me by going to sleep,” he told her instead. As Sakura scowled, her pressed light little kisses to her mouth until it was smiling again. 

“Go,” he urged again. 

“Alright,” Sakura finally conceded. Hand on his cheek, she pulled him down for another kiss before she slipped out of his arms. She listened to the rush of water as he rinsed the plum off in the sink. She fell asleep to the sounds of Itachi humming as he washed his face in the bathroom. 

Tobirama drove into Old Pines early in the morning. He had planned to be back the night before. But Sakura had scolded him about not driving after drinking- even if it was only a couple beers with Madara. So he had crashed on the sofa in Itachi’s empty apartment. Relatively unworried since he knew that Sakura wouldn’t be alone, at least.

The drive in from the city wasn’t so bad this early in the morning. As he crossed the border, he felt the subtle shimmer of the magic curtain part. He took the turns that led to the familiar home at the end of a small road. 

“I’m home,” Tobirama announced as he opened the front door. The smell of fresh coffee washed over him. Itachi raised a hand in greeting as he turned away from the kitchen sink. 

‘Is Sakura sleeping?’ Tobirama mouthed. He mimed pillowing both his hands under his cheek. 

Itachi shook his head. And then he pointed in the direction of the backyard. 

Tobirama backtracked out of the house. He looped around the outside, walking into the yard instead. Familiar voices drifted over, paired with laughter. He was glad that a heightened sense of smell wasn’t one of his gifts when he finally saw the source of the commotion.

"There he is,” Kakashi announced. 

Sakura sat on the wooden steps of the porch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. When she spotted him, she made an exasperated noise. Kakashi stood on the top step of the porch, in a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans instead of his usual uniform. He held a mug of coffee in one hand.

“Tobirama! Look at this mess,” she complained, pointing. 

Next to the blackberry bush lay a very large lump of.... something. A huge wolf lumbered out of the woods, fur looking stained and wet. It closed its teeth around the lump and rolled it over to reveal tusks and a flat snout. 

“Is that a pig?” Tobirama demanded. 

“A wild boar. They’re an invasive species,” Kakashi informed him. Tobirama came to a stop in front of Sakura. He sat down beside her. She spread her arms to let him get under the blanket too. Kakashi leaned over to pull the edge of the blanket over Tobirama’s shoulder before he stood up straight again.

“So the intruder in the woods was a boar?” Sakura questioned. 

“No. It was a were. Probably just separated from his pack. He looked pretty small,” Kakashi answered. And they all watched as the wolf bristled. He bared his teeth as he gave off a faint shimmer. The fur receded into his skin, his limbs twisting and shrinking until Kiba stood there, his hands on his hips. 

“We didn’t hurt him too bad. Just enough to scare him off,” Kiba added. Before Sakura could yell at him. She didn’t stop scowling.

“I still don’t get where the pig came from,” Sakura insisted. 

“Oh. We just ran into this. And wolf-brain was all ‘feed family’,” Kiba replied with an easy smile. 

Kakashi took a long slurp of his coffee before he said, “I tried to stop him.”

“I figured,” snorted Tobirama. 

“So.... what do we do with Wilbur?” Tobirama then wondered. Sakura swatted his arm. He smiled, not looking at her. 

They all turned at the sound of Itachi’s voice. His upper body stuck out of the back door. He held a cooking knife in one hand and a half-peeled apple in the other. 

“I called the Mayor. She told us to bring it down to the beach to roast it. Said the Akimichi’s are already down there digging a pit,” Itachi told them. 

“Oh, a pig roast. That’s not a bad idea. What kind of salad should I make?” Kakashi mused, rubbing his chin. 

“Ooh. The one with grapefruit and avocado,” Sakura suggested. 

“With sunflower seeds,” Tobirama agreed. 

“What should I do?” Kiba asked. 

All eyes returned to him. 

Kakashi let out a long, long sigh. “How about you put some pants on first, Wolfman?” 

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

One thing taking so long is that there's undercover military from all kinds of countries in the "camps"

The USA wants to respect those militaries and didn't want to take them off the land and move other military as the USA doesn't know the operating system the agents are under.

Of course the military there can go along and be rescued but also pull out of the common area and become official and not undercover. Thus they will be rescuing their own country.

Some countries may find this more simple. Amd it was overlooked as that was the meaning.

So we have a summer event planned. And now since i need to go to Iraq ... Not just foe the victims..

But for myself. I can see what has destroyed and built my entire life. Not why. There is no good reason why. But what place my mind had been.

And because when a mom finds out she has children There and grandchildren. That's what she has to do.

Call up some bitches that will throw down some war in a second's chance and the military and say let's go.

And knowing what happened. I can't just he all hi! Bye!

I have to know what my children and grandchildren have done. I have to feel the air. Touch the grass. Smell the scents. I have to be there. With them.

So a small literally 2 hour window has now turned into 2 days.

So I invite countries already left to return and spend time with us, celebrating this victory.

Each victim can bring 2 people. Or what the country would like, please refer to Uncle Donald.

Music will play all night ... Some of us elect to sleep under the stars outside with the military flying over head to protect us.

And Abu's security team to rotate shifts as they know the layout and teach the other militaries about the buildings while guards protect those learning, listening to other sounds than conversation and music.

It will be a huge international team effort.

To create world peace which was a childhood fascination of mine, an unrealistic burden of my adult life -- we must all work together for a common good.

I invite particular politicians to join us and live as they did... Except sitting in the midst of them and looking at them and realizing that they are no different than anyone next to them.

We could all be there. It will be a form of unity. To unburden our own lives. And feel what has been accomplished through what we all know has been blood, sweat, tears, intense pain and fear.

And sit next to one another, with open hearts with the justice of taking and absorbing their pain from them as we watch them smile and laugh and see the stars they have never slept under, music they've never heard. Flowers they never touched. Life they never thought could exist.

I want all countries and military to experience this "sit in" the allowing to say good bye to their old lives with happiness and cheer and freedom.

Not for our own celebrations. But our own knowledge. Our reality that this happened. That all the people around us suffered everyday and their faces hurt from smiling, they now can hear their own laughter again.

(Pearl Jam: Black)

And we need to subtract the smiles in our minds and see the horrific conditions. See them as Holocaust type victims. And vow to never ever allow this to occur again

To never let some whore ass biddy take over the world for evil or dictate to any one 2hat is good or bad.

Promise the world we will follow our own true hearts filled with good, no matter what any one says, we will stand independent in knowledge, in strength. And defend the rights of humans to live as free as God intended, as free as we are allowed to be.

And that will help create world peace.

Its more than each country picking up its victims at this point.

Its about loving a victim as much as we love ourselves.

Putting ourselves in a situation that makes us at their mercy. To allow the hostile anger that they deserve the right to express.

With our arms wide open, our souls filled with apology and our hearts willing to bleed for them.

(4n5 gold mummy life)

So when next time someone says "there's a drug farm with kidnapped people as slaves" it doesn't take the militaries of the world 33 years to do something.

33 years my mother has been there ordering beheadings and more herion, not allowing people to sit down, beating children.

And i know for a fact the US military knew because i told. My dad told. She had a GPS chip. In 2002 we told. And told. When i got pregnant every time, we told.

And I know that Mexico knew that is why they don't have an established missing person system.

And I know countries around the world knew.

Some are dead like George Bush Sr

But it was just the Queen of England yankyy on her panties with black mail. Killing any one that didn't have a status higher than her. Who cares about a few rumors?!?!

When you can save a whole world of people!!!

All anyone had to do, any country with authority is stand up and Say "NO, we will declare war on your bitch ass, cunt" and do it. Put her in jail.

Instead she lied and finger pointed and destroyed any progress our world made -- with permission.

And so now i think all the secret service protecting the former presidents and their families from 1975 to 2019 should be reassigned to be of service to the victims and their families. Because fuck them. What the Hell good did they do?

Obama bowed to the Queen and her cowards. Fuck him. I wanted to throw him off my porch physically. Sometimes i want ti kill him. Actually a lot of the time.

Suddenly he had fancy suits and expensive clothes. Not from our taxpayers. From victim's hard work making drugs and selling them for the Queen.

Our country was built on the Boston Tea Party as in we don't want your shit, England!!! Fuck off!!!! Now we take their drugs? Research shows that tea is much healthier than drugs.

The Queen sends them to Mexico and Mexico is all WTF is going on and the United States, Canada and South America is all fuck you Mexico!! When it's not Mexico. It is the USA's deal with the Queen of England, Elizabeth the 2nd. Sure Mexico also has a deal but for the USA to blame Mexico all the time -- is that fair? No.

The point of the sit in Is to say "we are here with you. We have been here for 30 years although we have never been here. And we will never allow any one to be in these conditions ever again"

And we promise these survivors as we promise ourselves, the heavens above and Hell below, the Earth as well. That we will all stand together and fight as we can, as we need. Whatever it takes. We will not ever allow this again."

Exempt Nancy Reagan and family for her "a just say NO" program.

Please read to comprehend.

That is all.

[sugar-petals]

Fuckup Trucker (m)

pairing: rm x reader words: 5.1k — one shot  genre: winter au | smut, angst, action, fluff summary: Truck driver Namjoon crashes at your lodge by accident. Things heat up. warnings: surprise... this features dom!reader, sub!rm, cunnilingus, swearing, vaginal sex (protected), humiliation, multiple orgasms a/n: Reupload, tumblr deleted the old one. Enjoy trucker!Joon 😄

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The icy road won’t let your shoes find any grip. One step, two steps, three grueling steps. It feels like moving backward. Each movement is ungrateful, much like the temperature at dusk that creeps into your limbs, further slowing down the walk. You remember Jin’s words at the gas station: Walk like a penguin and you won’t slip. It seems like the most ridiculous thing to do, but it works. There’s nobody else here to laugh at it anyway.

The subtle cracking under your boots becomes the only sound in the valley after the clattering noise from the last train to Juneau fades. The echo in these valleys can become rather strong if only one is just loud enough. But the silence is even louder, making every step eerier than ever. A brown dot in the distance comes into sight when the wind carries away some snow.

After the penguin waddles got you closer to the spot, a snowy roof appears from the blur of white.

You pat the small chest pocket of your coat twice. Yes, the key is still there. It takes some time until your efforts to free the lock from snow come to fruition. Then, you fumble at the chest pocket for what feels like two minutes because your gloves are too chunky to grab the key. It drops from your grasp right away.

You have to collect it from a heap of virgin snow that keeps moving under the heavy wind. It’s too much for the gloves to handle. Eventually, they become wet at the fingertips.

You should have listened to wise Jin. He said that lamb fur was not 'the most persistent material in these conditions'. Nevertheless, you pick up the key with confidence. You can't change the fact that you're wearing them right now. And the gloves don’t really matter when you’ll be warm in a minute.

The lodge is supposed to have a nice fireplace, a humongous oven, even a sofa. The prospect makes you feel cozy already, placing the key at the lock to push in with a hopeful mind. Once, twice. It doesn’t work. You flip the key by 180 degrees and try again. Thrice this time. It doesn’t even go half in, nor does it turn one bit. Banging at the won’t help to free the lock. It’s iced up from the inside out.

Fuck.

Instead of encountering a rear entrance around the corner, you only find a large stack of chopped wood. Jin likely prepared it two weeks ago, knowing you would stay here for two days before continuing your trip to Alaska. It’s an orderly stack, no wood out of place. It’s almost like... stairs. Stairs! It might have been unintentional, but the window right above the stack appears to be slightly tilted. Jin, you genius.

You climb up fast to reach the spot, some pieces of wood tumbling aside. The tilt of the window allows you to reach inside with one glove off, turning the handle. Click. The window opens with a creak while more wood falls down underneath you, so you are forced to slip in as quickly as possible. The landing is soft: Carpet.

You close the window with the help of a nearby broomstick and hurry to get the fireplace and oven going. It’s tedious work, but some pieces of wood are already in there — again, freshly chopped.

The tilted window left the lodge freezing cold even with a bit of snow inside. At least, the sofa is as comfortable as Jin had promised, inviting you with quite a couple of pillows and blankets. The heat distributes from the floor upwards while the sun sets. Your hands feel much better now that the damned wet gloves are off, dangling near the fireplace to dry.

There are some candles to light up at what is supposed to be the dinner table, a large oak trunk sliced in half and led out horizontally around four smaller trunks that serve as seats. The lighting is decent, but not sufficient given how late it is. You leave your coat and heavy shoes on while sitting on the sofa, watching flames tongue at the wood blocks.

Maybe the fire will get a little brighter when you wait. You didn't travel all the way from Juneau not to have a luminous evening now. Your relatives have made fun of you doing such a trip already, you'll prove them wrong and say when you arrive: Canada's great, no matter how icy it is.

It's not a good idea to doze off like that but you need rest, but also warmth. So you make sure to slightly tilt the window at the other side of the lodge to let in fresh air. If there's something you don't plan on doing during this vacation, it's dying because of carbon monoxide poisoning. You pass out fast between blankets and pillows, hoping that the lock would be easier to handle tomorrow.

A large rumble interrupts your sleep just when the fire starts to diminish. The entire valley echoes a thunderous boom, akin to an earthquake. It's terrifying. The sound gets you up at the blink of an eye.

You need to get out of here. If the roof collapses, you don't stand a chance.

The lock defrosted, but the door is still hard to open because of the snow pile outside. You push until the slit is broad enough to exit, almost tripping since the snow has been getting firmer with the falling evening degrees. Now you see where the rumble was coming from.

A giant blue truck has stopped just a few feet away.

There’s a cursing, lanky guy in a huge fur coat walking around it with a lantern. And in the distance, you see the respective truck trailer in the vicinity of the valley slope. But something's not right. In the scarce gleam of the lantern, you realize why.

It’s turned upside down.

The man adjusts his cap in surprise when you approach and yell through the wind.

“You lost your trailer?!”

“Where the hell did you come from?”

He's got a deep voice that's almost too hard to hear. The lantern shifts to your direction completely now. You step closer.

“The lodge, shall I contact—”

You can see his face now. Stern eyes. Strong jaw and brows. Tan, with bits of dark hair sticky against his forehead.

It's a grimace of sheer fury.

“I have one less problem when you’re not here. Go, just go away!”

He gestures, pointing at you, then to the house. “I’ll do this myself. You’ve seen nothing here. Go!”

Now he spins around on his heel. You can't even reply, he's so fast.

Back at the truck, he rummages in the driver’s cab, back turned to you.

“Headquarters! Headquarters, where are you? 5-0-6, 5-0-6 calling!”

He keeps repeating it, but there’s nobody answering on the radio set. The guy seeks to go on walking around the scene inspecting the trailer, and more insults follow. Only a few sentences and you know practically everyone he ever hated.

Only a rumble from the mountains comes as a response.

Much more severe than what you heard earlier when the crash happened. Against the cutting wind, you scream that you don’t care about his company messing up the trailer safety check, or the headquarters, or that everyone in the world is an asshole, and that he should come in. But he keeps roaming about. You go after him, drag him by the arm.

"Don't you understand? You shouldn't be here!"

He rips his arm away. His coat is hard to grasp.

“Come on...!”

He’s heavy and churning.

“Let me be, you can’t hel—”

He pushes you away. The rumble from the mountain turns louder, making him flinch and look upwards. You slap him across the face. Hard. It doesn't hurt, you can't feel your fingers in the cold anyway. But he can.

“Follow me fuckwit, now!”

He stumbles, ends up covered in snow. You fail to drag him up again in a last effort. He's too tall and massive.

The avalanche has almost reached the bottom of the valley when you shove, no, kick him past the doorstep and turn the key. Whatever caused him to get back up, it must have been a miracle.

Minute after minute passes with him and you jammed together at the ground, enduring the shaking, the roar outside. The lodge is still for seconds, but when you get up, another quake brings you down. He’s wincing next to you, coiled up inside the coat. When the roar subsides, none of you dares to rise for minutes on end. Once you dare to, he still remains cowering.

“Come on up, that was that,” you point to the sofa for him to sit. He bucks on the ground, then heaves himself up with the help of both arms. When he sits down on the couch, it feels like he collapses under the seeming weight of a metric ton.

“You were right. I’m a dumbass.”

He shifts in the pillows, rubbing his temples. “That was the worst case scenario.”

“Twice for me,” you grumble, “It’s my second day in Canada and I have more common sense than a trucker? What’s your name, anyways?”

“Namjoon. I’m actually a rookie driver.”

“You meant accident driver! You almost got both of us dead and frozen! Aren’t you supposed to have enough training beforehand to do this?”

“The shock. I, I messed up everything. I’m sorry. My job is history.”

“That’s the only thing you’re worried about?”

“Yes, I mean, no! I’m glad you did that.”

“Won’t do it again. Now you stay here and don’t move an inch.”

“Listen, I’m really grateful, I—”

“Just wait here. You look like a fucking wax figure. Unlucky devil. I'm Y/N.”

He nods, tries to wipe his face more than once with the back of his hand. You browse the back of the room to search for what you wanted to look for earlier, but were too tired.

Well. Now you aren't anymore.

The kitchen has quite a few supplies, in fact. Pots, tinned food, even bread. Some pieces of pastry with either almonds or raisins. Bless Jin.

“We can’t do anything now,” you shrug, “might as well have a can of soup.”

Namjoon only mumbles. He doesn't look any less jazzed. If the lodge had a bathtub, you would have him submerged there with whiskey in the water to get some life into him. Who knows how he managed to make his trailer break loose like that.

The pot heats quickly on the oven, it’s only a matter of two minutes. Soon, a scent of chicken, peas, and spicy pepper spreads in the room. After tossing two more blocks of wood into the fireplace, you find cutlery and crockery in a slightly lopsided cupboard and take two each. Once the two serves are ready, you pass him one, and he snaps out of his paralysis. Sort of. You feel a bit more lenient.

“Here. Sorry I blamed you. Neither was your fault.”

“It’s not that I didn’t provoke fate, don’t say that.”

He stirs the soup, hasty, then begins to spoon it.

“Don’t burn yourself just now.”

“I’ll be careful,” Namjoon slurps, “just feeling very done for, don’t really care.”

Once he’s finished, he waits for your last sip shifting around more, then rushes to clean up the kitchen. He persists putting everything back to its original place and make up for your efforts. You can't stop him. Needing to keep himself occupied, it seems to you. He returns to the couch even more exhausted, not knowing how to compose himself. No eye contact.

“Your clothes,” you seize him up a second time, “get these off, you’re soaked from head to toe. I’ll get you bundled up. The fire’s warm enough now.”

“Right. Right. Good idea, actually.”

His nose and cheeks are twice as rosy than before now, but drenched in cold sweat. The cap comes off, so does the coat. The heavy boots — unlaced.

He’s wearing one thick knit of a sweater and bulky jeans with pockets all over. All wetted by snow, too. You turn away to get a blanket while he strips down to his boxers entirely. Before he’s wrapped up, you find yourself gazing at his body more than once. You won't say anything but he caught the glance.

"What?"

"Do you really wanna know?"

"By, uh, all means?"

“Good-looking for a fuckup.”

"Me?"

"No, I'm talking about Santa Claus. Of course!"

“Oh, thanks I—”

“Nevermind the blanket if you dare.” You nudge his shoulder. His cheeks get even rosier. "Hey. Just kidding," you giggle, and have him wrapped up as promised.

Still, the feeling between your legs won’t betray you.

“Do you... like me?” he fiddles at his thighs ever so awkwardly. It’s hard to believe he was cussing like a sailor outside just minutes ago.

“Can't leave you guessing, babe. As I said." You tug at his hips now. "That blanket can go back to where it came from. Or above us, it's always warmer together. Fancy it?”

He hesitates to answer. But when you smile at him, his dimples form, too.

“I do, Y/N. Above, I mean.”

You get on the couch yourself and lead him downwards, horizontal, by his arm just ever so lightly. The pillows then welcome you, too, huddled tightly by his side. You can feel his heartbeat in staccato. He nods when you ask him whether he’d enjoy a bit more than just cuddles.  

“Rather be doing that than messing around outside. We have plenty of time to kill. Your trailer isn't going anywhere.”

“Plenty, what do you wanna do?”

He tempts with one gaze that you think was supposed to be challenging, predatory. But when you pinch his side, it fades faster than it came.

“Plenty of time to make you and me feel like we’re halfway warm again. I’m snowed in on vacation. You shredded your entire cargo. We almost died. Sounds stressful enough for me.”

“Gotta let loose I guess.”

“Why not make a fuckup a real fuck, then?”

"Y/N..."

"Want me to give it to you good?"

Now you poke his dimples, and think they look fascinating.

“Have virtually nothing against it. Just a bit, um...”

"Yes, Joon?"

"Nervous. Sorry about that."

"No problem, don't mind it. Kinda like that, actually."

You trail your hand down his chest, but hardly is it in a hurry. Each inch is worth it. Namjoon is so well-built. He’s just ridiculous, isn’t he.

Outside, the mountains start to grumble again. He flinches.

“Hush, don’t listen.” You bite at his ear, which is surprisingly small for his height. “We’re gonna make this better. Not worse.”

“I’m still afraid,” Namjoon says and buries his head in the nape of your neck. He feels less tense when you plant a little kiss at the crown of his head.

You get a certain thought at that.

“It's okay. We’re gonna play a hot game if you like."

"Hot game?"

"It's a bit risky."

"What's that about? I'm not going outside again."

You shake your head.

"No need. Wanna know the rules?"

"If it's that hot. I mean, sure?"

"I’ll count to hundred. If you can make me cum twice, you get a reward.”

“O-okay.”

"Only hands or mouth allowed. Just my clit and you. Nothing else."

"But why... twice? Only hundred, Christ!"

“If it’s only once, I’ll tease you to bits. But you can’t finish. Twice is a better accomplishment.”

“Fair enough.”

“And,” you nibble at his ear, “If you can’t make me cum at all, you get punished and have to try again. Join the game or leave the game, Fuckup?”

Namjoon goes entirely red when you lower the hem of your pants.

A risky game.

Why not? A little heat like that is fine for a trucker. It’s a little cruel, too. Oddly enough, he likes that quite a lot.

Body faster than any thought, his tongue sneaks out to cover his lips in saliva, but he quickly realizes they won’t stay dry anyways. Not with the prospect of 100 seconds. His head nods a sultry yes.

Namjoon’s lip begins to waver, ever so slowly, but accelerate at the way you intonate the numbers.

“Fifteen, sucker!”

His ears are warm indeed now. You love his lips, they’re like little pillows. And shiny as you briefly see when he emerges as 20. He catches a breath. Too long, because you approach 25. He's trying hard to provide the stimulation.

“Halfway through for the first one! 28!”

Now his hands sneak up. Finally. He gave up his delusion, or say, found what you wanted. Those long, sturdy fingers. The veins, like serpentines around his knuckles. Finger cups, soft but still potent to deliver a strong pressing against your clit. Perhaps too strong. Too inexperienced. He misses the spot a few times. He’s sweating more. The number is 45. In desperation, he switches to tongue again.

Satisfy.

Why can’t I satisfy her. Stupid trucker, do it right. Do at least one thing right today. Are you a man or not?

A painful tug at his hair gets him back to reality when 60 approaches. He’s grateful for the hint, but his tongue won’t function anymore. His lips are coated wet, plump, thumping, and your scent becomes intoxicating to his mind. 71, and he still pokes around aimlessly. 72. 73. He brings up one hand to aid his tongue, parts your folds ready to thrust and lock two fingers inside. But then, Namjoon remembers: No penetration allowed. 78, 79.

Approaching 82, he rubs his palm flat against your pubic bone downwards. It does the trick, the familiar tingle wanders down your abdomen. You’re so wet. But that makes his hand slide off, and he needs more pressure to bring it in place, which makes it even more slippery.

“91, baby boy.”

And you don't count very fast. He’s groaning. The strength in his arm starts to fade. You can tell by how he slows down at 94, but still won’t give up using his tongue. He shoves and shoves, shoves it forward and sidewards, and still: the right spot escapes his prodding. The tension of your thighs around his head is none the stronger. How he wishes it was.

He wants to feel you climax and moan and wind, and scream, by now he’s frantically sucking and grinding his face between your legs, one orgasm! One orgasm, that’s it! He’ll do it! And finally, satisfy—

“Hundred. Game over!”

Nothing.

Satisfy absolutely nothing. Your legs part slightly to release him.

He pulls off eyes downcast. How ludicrous that must have looked like, he can’t even bring forth an apology. Even if his lips have moved more in the last minutes than the last two months on the training road combined.

“Just punish me, Y/N.”

Do I even deserve that? I'm a real fuckwit loser.

“I have sympathies now seeing you worked so much.”

“No punishment?”

“Oh, my baby fool.” You tickle his chin and pick up a bit of the warm drops from there. “More sympathies means stronger punishment, didn’t you know?”

“Then, do it as hard as you can. I’ll take it.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Y/N, I don’t understand.”

“You’ve done the due already without me doing anything. Humiliated yourself enough, didn’t you? Look me in the eye!”

“Sorry...”

“When someone asks for punishment, it truly isn’t one. Punishment has to hurt more than that. It won’t make you feel good. You just took my job.”

That alone almost got you off. But you’ll teach him a lesson today. That means: Self-control.

Namjoon scrambles in the pillows and manages to pull up his glance.

“Kind of. Yes. Maybe I did.”

“Come here, I’ll show you how to do it right.”

Namjoon doesn’t look any less shameful at that. But he comes close to where you beckon him into his embrace. He leans his head against your chest visibly hesitating, but follows at the guidance of your palm at the back of his neck. Namjoon’s heartbeat is still going wild, you can feel it now.

“Won’t humiliate you further after this,” you smooch his sweaty cheek. “You’ll find out how I really come with just a lil’ pointer.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been forcing yourself into being tough and sloppy for 100 seconds straight, didn’t you?”

Namjoon becomes taciturn at that. Still, he nods.

“What I want to see,” and you tap his chest saying that, “is how you are... naturally. Who said you can’t use your hands and mouth elsewhere? My body’s not just one pleasure point and that’s it. You think I'll ever be contented like that in a million years and beyond? I'm a woman. I want more. I want it all, baby, don't you know!”

“O-Oh. I should have—”

“Wanna give it a go again? I think you know what to do. No shoulds and woulds now. Remember the rules.”

“Yes, Y/N.”

So good. The fingers of his left hand are intertwined with your hair, brushing softly just above the scalp when he decides to move them around a bit to explore. It brings back a distant memory.

Going to the barber’s shop in the small town you grew up in. Nothing about their service was cheap, so your parents couldn’t let you go often. Every visit was like entering heaven anew each time you stepped in on a Thursday afternoon. The chubby coiffeur was always friendly, and you loved the sound of his green scissors, the razors, the jasmine shampoo kneaded into your locks. The salon would always be filled with happy people looking at their transformations from all angles, a scent of bleach or hairspray, and Tango music blasting from the stereo in the other room where an apprentice would mix colors and move his hips to the beat thinking nobody would hear and see. There were no worries at that time. The world was okay. You'd even spend a bit of your pocket money for a massage. His hands bring you back to the days, with all the goosebumps and tingles in the same spots. He knows how to move them just right. Namjoon.

Who keeps on whispering in your ear, and trailing his other hand across your belly. All the sensitive places covered and cherished. Slowly pulling off the rest of your clothing. 22. 23.

“I love your body,” he says. “It’s smart like you. And beautiful.”

Namjoon’s lips trace your jawline, upwards, downwards, then return to your ear.

“Can I kiss you, madam?”

“Go ahead, darlin’.”

You barely reach 40 and his lips are indulging your tongue. One hand caressing your back, the other roaming your breasts. It feels like your spine is infused with a fresh, bubbling feeling that lingers the more his lips do their work. They feed back the nectar that they picked up between your thighs so expertly. It's astonishing. You wonder how he didn’t do this earlier. And he seems to catch up on the same thought, too.

He must have figured you like his veins because you get a good view of them. Going in circles on your breasts. While his mouth makes slow, repeated contact with your clit, seemingly ignorant that you’re approaching 65. At 70, his tongue fucks past the damp folds leading upwards to the tender place where his tip stops and plants almost little electrical impulses.

Your clit is so swollen, wherever he brings his tongue up it will contact and give a feeling that you convulse with so much excitement. While his hands continue their magical work at your waist, your hips, your ass. Even your calves and feet. 78, 79. Freaking Namjoon’s hands. Hands, hands, hands, fucking hands. Your skin has never felt more exalted.

“You’re perfect, Miss,” he mumbles into you, intertwines his fingers with yours. "Thank you for picking me up outside."

81, 82. Shit. Your body is on fire.

Namjoon keeps on bringing his tongue forward and alternates with kisses. And then, he directs his thumb between your legs. Gently massaging. Small, dainty pokes. It’s like pushing a button to tip you off the glaring edge. He whispers.

“And I like you, too.”

99.

You’re cumming. So good. So hard. So fucking hard. You’re sorry for his ears, but your legs cramp together so fervently around his head, his exhale is louder than yours. All signs are on fuck it. Your hips jerk and all cum dribbles out. Ruining his face, his hair. The sharp brows, the gorgeous dimpled smile. If another avalanche would come to be your frosty grave now, it wouldn't matter.

You’ve stopped counting by the time you slip on his dick with a condom barely on. Did he get that from the gas station? You’ll never know. Judging by the way he twitches, you know how long this trailer hasn’t seen a parking lot for all that heavy, bulging freight. He’s so nervous. He's so sexy. With that deep voice. That perfect dark hair. It’s getting ecstatic.

If you wanna bounce on him, you’ll do it properly, gradual and sloppy, even if your mind says go and screw his soul out... wherever that trucker soul is, his balls? They need to be crushed, they need to be ruined, you want it all.

The condom eventually bows to your pace and stays where it should, much like Namjoon who looks like he froze completely being so tense. Only your name comes from his lips, over and over. They are trembling, but not because he's cold. Not with that temperature in the room. The friction is just too much, no matter how much he concentrates to keep his hands on you where they tingle. No, he fumbles at your thighs, then returns back to stimulating your sensitive place, and the faint thought returns to you.

The second orgasm.

It already approaches. If it could melt the snow outside with all its heat, it would. Those fingers really do the rest.

He was right that your body is smart.

Being smart means knowing what’s good for you. And, what is that?

Gushing all over his cock and groaning like it’s the last time. Game won. Well, kind of. If you can come on his dick like that and engulf him whole, own him whole, squeeze him whole, the rules are best discarded. The release is so heavenly. You feel so real and satisfied. He did so well. Very well for a fuckup, in fact. All to be smudged and blighted by the spill of your jizz, and it's so pretty on his shaft. You wouldn’t have thought that this emotion would be so powerful after all.

It’s his words that keep on repeating themselves, and they drive you wild. He likes you, too. The scent of pepper and smoke in the room becomes so much more clear in your sensation, ultimately, before blurring into the familiar picture. A winter’s white desert before your eyes. If only it would last forever. Who would have known how capable he is, that charmer, to make you come.

The condom is chucked in a random corner.

You feel funny just lying there sticky talking about how you must have looked like kicking and yelling at each other earlier. But well, there is nobody else to laugh at you here. Maybe just the moon and the stars outside. Cackling how two idiots could get stuck in a lodge like this. At least, they are silent. Maybe that is eerie, but then again, Namjoon is next to you. His presence is comforting. He doesn’t snore and burp like you thought he would, or pull out a giant cigar to huff himself to sleep humming country songs. But it would have suited the atmosphere inside.

You are hungry again, but too lazy to get up. So late, so exhausted, and you're stuck here for longer anyways. No urgency. Time to sleep says the rest of your body save the stomach, and the stars go on giggling by themselves. They know it. Humans are all complete morons.

Namjoon wakes up with the messiest, sexiest hair you’ve ever seen. And, is that a beard coming out? You must be mistaken.

He says he must have tossed and turned, oh lord is he grumpy, but you don’t recall him being such a restless sleeper when you briefly got up at dawn. The toilet in the lodge was indeed prepared like you suspected, because Seokjin won’t fear getting his hands dirty. At this point, you feel like paying him for all the work he’s done. And the foresight. You're almost sure he gave Namjoon condoms for free. It's not hard to imagine how he realized what a hot piece of fuck was arriving at the gas station in his damn coat. And that sailor mouth, which you now think deserves better than calling it just that.

You get your breakfast together, set up the table, Namjoon does most of the work even if his mood isn’t the best and his clothes aren't completely dry. Who knows how long the food will last while you are stuck here, so he creates smaller rations. A bit of bread today. A bit later. It’s like a small lump on your plates.

You talk about how many miles he needed to drive to get to Alberta where a promotion waits. Well, would wait. And how you'll likely be way too behind on schedule now to continue the vacation. You can scrap it all if you can't reach the next station. The bread is only a small consolation, but you know that past counting to hundred and having fun to get a bit warmer you are in serious trouble. Two unlucky devils in one spot, and you can drink to that. Dreams are but shadows.

But before you can dig in, a brazen knock interrupts the conversation.

The door.

Which you thought would have been blocked entirely by night. But it's not. It's half open. A voice reverberates outside, again, accompanied by several other knocks.

“506? You in there? It’s 507! Got your signal last night! Manager Hyuna sent us!”

“It's you! Hobi!”

Namjoon hurries to the door. Opening it, a bunch of rugged-looking truckers welcome you with their shovels. Namjoon can’t help himself, he starts jumping around. The trucker with the cap standing at the door greets you with a nonchalant handshake. He's devastatingly sexy.

“Hi! Jung Hoseok, went to the academy with Joon. And these handsome chaps here: Yoongi, Tae, JK. We'll get you two wherever ya need to be. We got someone to clear the area, too.”

Well.

Canada's great.

No matter how icy it is.

Do not repost, reuse, modify, or translate my works. © 2017-2019 submissive-bangtan. All rights reserved.

[daysswithyou]

Young K - Home

Characters: Young K x You

Genre: basketball!youngk

Words: 2.7k

Description: When the familiar road back leads you to a new home

---

It was the same path home every day.

Get out of the station, walk past a few blocks, cross the street, walk down a few more blocks and past the basketball court, and there home awaits. You’ve been walking that path for a decade now; you could practically walk home with your eyes closed.

Along the way home, the basketball court was always the most happening spot. Regardless of the time of the day, there would always be people in there. Sometimes it was the father and son pairing where the father would try to teach the son how to play, but mostly it was filled with friends that were there after school for a round of game as a stress reliever. Every time the groupings would change – you can tell by the colour of their school uniforms – but there was always someone that was there. You first spotted him amongst the crowd because he was the odd one out. While everyone was decked out in proper basketball gear, he was the only one playing in his black, ripped jeans and battered pair of Converse. You would always silently laugh to yourself when you spotted him: How does he play in that attire? And how does he stand the heat in those black jeans? You wanted to know the name of this comical guy, but the closest you ever got to know his name was through the clues on his shirt. His school shirt reads “B.KANG” and you always wondered what the B stood for.

Every single day, rain or shine, he’ll always be there. Whenever you passed by the court, you would always try to look out for him, and seeing him was like a constant in your life, although you never stopped to ponder more about the boy.

-

Today, things were different. You had a terrible day in school, and you were thinking about the incident that happened again, and again, and again. You couldn’t forget what she said, and your response to her words. You could feel the anger threatening to rise in you again, the blood rushing to your head. You were, of course, very distracted and hence, when the ball came flying right in front of your face, you were shocked. But your shock soon dissolved into anger that sent you into a rage.

First, I had a bad day. And now I almost got killed by a basketball. What a fantastic day.

Rolling your eyes, you turned to yell at the irresponsible player without even looking at his face.

“YAH! Did you have to throw it so high that it went over the fence? Don’t you have eyes to see where you shoot? Can’t you play properly? You nearly seriously injured someone, did you know that!”

When you finally stopped shaking and your heaves slowed to breathes, you finally got a good look at the player – and it was none other than him, the guy that is always here. Today was no different for him, just that you didn’t notice before. Whenever you saw him, he was always smiling that bright smile with a radiant glow on his face.

But all of that was gone now, replaced by wide eyes and an open mouth. He was clearly stunned by your sudden outburst, and you were embarrassed because of it.

Gripping onto the straps of your tote bag even tighter, you tore your eyes away from his face and marched off in the direction of home, all the while mentally cursing yourself and your hot temper. It didn’t take long before you heard someone’s footsteps thundering behind you, and a voice calling you.

“Wait!”

A familiar pair of Converse entered your sight as you looked down on the ground and you slowly lifted up your head to look at him. Before you could open your mouth to apologise for your sudden outburst, he beat you to it.

“You’ve had a hard day, didn’t you? Do you want to shoot some hoops? It might help you forget your anger.”

He then passed you the ball in his hand, and his brilliant smile was on again.

-

After multiple attempts and having the back of your shirt completely soaked through, you finally got a shot in and you did a little victory jump on the spot. You heard loud claps and cheers coming from behind and when you turned, you realised that the noises were coming from him. He was cheering for you with all his might, with his hands cupping the sides of his mouth to amplify his shouts.

“WOOOOO!!! Well done!”

You quickly put a finger to your lips, signalling to him to quieten his voice down. It was already 11pm, and he was going to wake up the entire neighbourhood! But despite your attempts to shush him, he kept up with his efforts and you eventually had to go over to cup his mouth with your hands.

Why is he so annoying? Why does he have to be so loud!

After he finally promised to keep quiet, you moved your hand and plopped down on the spot right beside him. He then leaned back too and made himself comfortable beside you.

“Are you always this…loud?”

“Yes, but it’s good to cheer people on when they’ve accomplished something, right?”

“It’s just one out of the hundreds that I did tonight; I don’t think that’s very impressive.”

“It is! Come on, just celebrate with me!”

You turned your head to smile at him before saying,

“Thank you… Idon’tknowyourname.”

“Oh right! I’m Younghyun! Kang Younghyun.” He then flashed you that bright smile again and your felt your heart swell a little inside.

“I’m Y/N. Younghyun is a nice name but what does the B on your shirt stand for?”

“Oh, B.KANG? It means Brian Kang. Brian is the name that I chose to use in Canada; I lived there for a little while before coming back.”

“I see… So, do I call you Brian or Younghyun?”

“Either is ok.”

“Young…Younghyun then. Younghyun is good.”

“Sure Y/N. Are you feeling better now?”

“I’m feeling much better, thank you.”

“So…what was bothering you just now?”

“I...did something stupid in school.”

“Really? Let’s hear it.”

After taking a deep breath, you begun to speak.

“Well, we were in class today and there’s this annoying classmate that we all really dislike. A stuck up, basically. No names so let’s call them A.”

“A for Annoying, I see what you did there Y/N.”

“Stop it! That wasn’t what I meant!”

You furrowed your eyebrows at Younghyun as he chuckled at your expression.

“I’m sorry, but please carry on.”

You then turned to face the night sky full of stars before continuing your story.

“Today was no different. I had asked a question because I didn’t understand what the book was about and once again, A had to make a comment that nobody asked for.

A said: That’s such a simple question, how can you not know the answer to your own question?

That got me completely riled up. I began to think, Why? Is it wrong to ask when you don’t know? In that moment, I felt very wronged and indignant and the words came out of my mouth before I even knew I was saying it.”

“What did you say?”

“I said this: Since you’re so smart and you know the answers to everything, why are you still here? Why aren’t you in the Advanced class? Better yet, how about you answer my question for me?”

Younghyun’s eyes grew wide at what you said and he turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Tell me! What did A say?”

“Nothing… A just turned to face the front with a red face…”

“Well done Y/N, really. Well done!” He then shot you two thumbs up in the air.

“Why? Why is that good? I must look like a gangster now, trying to pick fights with someone!”

“No, you did the right thing by standing up for yourself. No one should belittle anyone, especially in a space where everyone is there to learn. You need to learn how to not let people trample over you, and today you took your first step towards that.”

“Thank you. Now what I did doesn’t seem so bad.”

“You handled it well Y/N. If it were me, I would have walked over and punched them in the face.”

“Have you actually done it before?”

That was how the both of you ended up talking for the entire night until the lights at the basketball court went out.

-

Such occurrences with Younghyun became a regular thing for you. Whenever you were feeling upset, you knew you would find him at the basketball court and he’ll just shoot hoops with you until your exhaustion made you too tired to remember your negative emotions. When you were happy, you’ll go biking and eat lots of good food together; when you’re with Kang Younghyun, food is sure to be found in abundance. When you just needed to talk someone, you knew where to find him – and your footsteps took you down the familiar way home again.

Younghyun treasured all those moments with you very much. He knew you as a reserved person, and understood that you sharing your stories meant a great deal of trust in him. But no matter how overwhelmed you were – he always appreciated the fact that you would never fail to ask him about his day and thank him for listening to you. You were one that knew that a friendship required both give and take, and he felt extremely lucky to have found a friend in someone like you.

It was the small moments that stirred up big waves of emotions in him – and he could only fervently hope that you feel the same.

I’ll tell her when I win. I’ll tell her when I win the basketball championships.

You had promised to come and watch – and he vowed to tell you immediately after.

-

Younghyun had been training so hard for this. He sacrificed sleep and food just to have more time to train, and ignored his body signals to rest. He continued playing full games even with his swollen ankle; he needed to make sure they were in the finals.

He hid it so well from everyone, especially you. He knows how much you worry, and he wanted to give you one less thing to worry about. He would always hide his grimace behind a smile and channelled his pain into a hug for you. Just like that, with your sweet smiles and tight hugs, he took those as the encouragement to get through the finals.

And they were finally down to the last 5 minutes of the final game. His ankle was screaming for mercy and he was finding it hard to focus. He was seeing double – and that was when he knew that perhaps… he had pushed himself too far.

But both schools were tied now, and did he mention that he was stubborn? Rushing forward, he intercepted the ball passing overhead before passing it to a teammate that sealed the goal that brought them victory.

Younghyun smiled but when he wanted to cheer, no sound would come out. He could feel himself falling, but he couldn’t stop it. The last thing he heard was your voice before the darkness dragged him in.

-

When you arrived at the hospital, you saw him lying on the bed. You wanted to run to him, but the four boys held you back as the doctors ran checks on him. They reassured you with soft voices and small gestures; that there was nothing wrong with him, and that he passed out due to fatigue.

“Younghyun, is he really ok?”

He must have heard you call him, because he stirred. With a groan, his eyelids fluttered open and they immediately lit up when they found yours. The lights in his eyes were dim today, but they still twinkled with adoration for you. The doctors were called in to run the last check and their final orders were an overnight stay to monitor his condition and his leg before letting him go. The four boys then let you pass, before leaving the room with the doctors.

You wanted to smack him for scaring you like that, but you opted for scolding him instead.

“Kang Younghyun, why did you do that? You were already injured and you still pushed on till the last game? You’re…unbelievable.”

He bit his lower lip. He knew how sharp your words can be when you’re really angry, and he waited for them in bated breath.

“You’re…unbelievably strong. Really, when you want something, you’ll stop at nothing to get it. Now I know how much you really want to win the championship.”

“I want to win the championships, but there’s something that I want more than winning the championships.”

You raised a single eyebrow at his statement – what could be more important than the championships for him to ruin his body like that?

“It was a promise I made to myself, a promise that if I win the championships, I’ll be able to ask you this.”

“What did you want to ask me?”

“I wanted to ask if you’ll go out with me.”

“Of course I will. I’ve – ”

“Not in that way. Go out as…a couple.”

He stared at you unblinking, waiting in anticipation for your answer. He couldn’t read the blank expression on your face.

“You’re unbelievably strong, but also unbelievably stupid. Of course I would go out with you Younghyun. I would have said yes even if you didn’t win the championships.”

Your shoulders deflated as you shook your head at the idiot lying in front of you. But, oh wait; he was your idiot now.

To prove just how senseless he was, he attempted to get up from his bed while still attached to the IV drip and you had to rush over to push him down by the forehead before he caused more damage to himself.

With your finger still on his forehead and your face hovering above his, you stared him down with your wide eyes to get your point across.

“You, Mr Kang, are going to stay in bed like the doctors say until you can leave. Understood?”

“Yes Mrs Kang.”

“Mrs Kang? Yah you – ”

Taking advantage of your moment of confusion, Younghyun lifted his head up to place a soft peck on your lips before settling into his pillow with a smug smile on his face.

“So this is what it truly feels like to win.”

“I hate you Younghyun.”

“I love you Y/N!”

And he had to do that in his annoyingly cute voice, but it still made you smile.

-

[0236]

Younghyun lay awake in bed, turning to his side for the nth time that night. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find a spot that was comfortable enough to fall asleep in. When his eyes finally landed on your figure lying by his side, his heart ached a little. Your neck was positioned in an odd angle, and he was sure that you’ll wake up with a sore neck tomorrow. You were using your arm as a pillow, so that was sure to hurt too. The frown on your face told him that you were sleeping in a very uncomfortable position in the chair so he decided to gently rouse you.

“Y/N-ah…”

“Why? Do you need something? Are you hurting?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt but I do need something.”

“What do you need?”

“Come here.”

Younghyun then shifted to make an empty spot next to him on the hospital bed before patting the space. You must have been tired because you did not even consider the meaning or consequences of your actions. You just did as you were told and quietly climbed into the space he had made for you.

Tucking your head into the crook of his neck, he whispered,

“Is this better now?”

You didn’t even open your mouth to answer him; you merely nodded your head.

“Silly girl, why did you sleep on the chair? You must be tired, sleep well baby.”

He then pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before drifting off to sleep in an instant.

Both of you were finally home – home in each other’s arms.

[deaksandgeeks]

Later That Night

(John Deacon x F!Reader)

3385 words, 18+ (I’m serious). John and Reader meet out at a bar one night with friends, but don’t go home together. He can’t stop thinking about her and the next best thing happens. 

A/N: Only really got into the Queen fandom in a big way in the last little bit. I also haven’t written anything in a really long time (like, years) and I am terrified to post this, but am doing it anyway, because follow your dreams, amirite? Also, there’s a bit of a buildup to the sexy bits ‘cause I like to set the stage. I am a dramatic bitch.

Warnings: SMUT, solo stuff, probably some cursing because it is impossible for me to go more than ten minutes without swearing, even in my writing. 

Touring in the United States for the first time was exciting in the beginning. It was new territory and being popular internationally was something that they had wanted for the band for a long time, especially in a market as large as America. The only problem being, they were away from their lives at home and missed small comforts. John was getting especially restless.

Roger seemed to be handling it the best, clearly trying to make the most of his time abroad. In an effort to cheer the others up, he suggested they head out of the hotel and try to enjoy the city they were staying in. Freddie liked the suggestion, but John and Brian didn’t exactly want to go out and get into trouble. The tour left them with an extra night in Connecticut, of all places, and Roger thought it would be a good chance to “scout the local talent.” They knew he was mostly joking but agreed it would be nice to be able to take a night to blow off some steam.

The place they ended up wasn’t anything special, but it was decently full. It was some tavern within walking distance of the hotel. The main appeal of it was that it didn’t seem too pretentious. They found a round booth near the back that was empty, and Brian and John scooted in to sit down. The four of them removed their jackets and lazily tossed them down on the extra bench space, of which there was plenty. The table was clearly made to accommodate eight or so people. Roger and Freddie tossed their jackets on top of Brian’s and headed to the bar to grab drinks for the table. While they were gone, one of the waitresses walked over.

“Did you guys need drinks?” The phrasing was curt, but her tone was polite. She was cute.

“No thank you, love. Our friends are just up at the bar.” Brian gestured to Roger and Freddie, but it was a second before she turned around to look. Her eyes sparkled when Brian spoke.

“I like your accent.” She smiled and cocked her head, but Brian just laughed gently.

“Thank you.” He dipped his head a little, hoping not to take this any further. “We appreciate the service, love. We’ll find you the next time we need anything.”

She recognized she was being dismissed, however politely, and turned to John to give him a once over. She quickly turned back to Brian. Clearly, she had a preference.

“My name’s Susan, if you need anything.” She brushed her long dark hair over her shoulder before walking away to tend to another table, order pad in hand.

Freddie and Roger returned carrying four beers, and Roger holding a tray of shots. A man on a mission, apparently.

“I thought about getting the bottle, but we’ll see where the night takes us,” Roger professed as he put the tray down and slid it in closer to Brian and John, spilling Crown Royal onto the plastic platter. At least he didn’t get any on the table, which was already a little sticky.

Roger raised his bottle to toast and the other three did the same. “Cheers, boys!” They each took a pull before Freddie sat down and Roger turned to the room. He leaned on the elevated table with his elbow, surveying the other patrons.

The first round was taken down mostly in silence. Everyone was tired and still sober, so they hadn’t much to say, yet. Roger doled out four of the eight shots from the tray to get everyone to loosen up. Freddie was a good sport, but Brian and John already seemed to be ready to call it a night. Roger caught John’s eye roll while they took their shots, and when the bassist went to chase the whisky with a sip of his beer, Roger reached across the table and playfully lifted the bottom of his bottle. John chuckled a bit and took a bigger gulp. Roger seemed satisfied.

Freddie scooted out of the booth and crossed the floor to the jukebox, to see if anything tickled his fancy. On his way he caught the eye of a young lady, who appeared to be focused on his skin-tight jeans, but managed to make eye contact when she greeted him.

“Oh, Freddie’s got one.” Roger nodded over in his bandmate’s direction, as if Brian and John hadn’t seen the whole thing. He gave a whistle. “Great legs. Wonder how long it takes her to figure it out.”

They watched the tall girl nod enthusiastically at whatever Freddie was saying, before smiling broadly. She was clearly gushing over him. He leaned in and gave her a hug and she looked as if she would faint.

“Must be a fan,” Brian suggested. “Don’t bring her over here, Fred.”

They all watched as he motioned over to their table.

“Why not?” Roger contested.

They observed the girl nod and point to the table she’d been sitting at, where another young lady was stationed, eyes fixed on the encounter and eagerly waiting for her to return. The leggy brunette hurried back to where she had been sitting and grabbed her coat off the back of her chair, while she picked up her pint and explained the situation to her friend. The other one gathered her coat and drink, too, as well as a third drink on their table. They patiently waited for Freddie to select a song, then walk past their table to collect them and bring them over to his own.

Brian sighed as he watched the three of them approach. John smirked at Roger, who smiled at the girls in a very welcoming manner.

“Look what I found!”

“Hello, ladies.” Roger opened his arms and slid one around the shorter girl’s shoulders.

She looked up at him as if the sun rose and set in him. Brian and John each nodded politely at their new guests.

“These young ladies are…”

“Cassie,” the tall one offered quickly.

“Natasha.”

“Yes, so, Cassie, Natasha and… there’s a third one, yes?” Freddie looked to them for confirmation, and they both nodded but neglected to give their friends’ name. “These three young ladies drove down from Canada to see our performance last night.” He motioned proudly to the two of them. The band had only started to gain traction in America. It was actually quite flattering that they’d found fans with such dedication.

Just as Freddie was about to invite them to sit down, John, who had been watching their now empty table, began laughing. Everyone turned to see what had amused him. Standing a few tables away in the middle of the room was a very confused looking young woman, scanning her surroundings, most likely for her friends, coat, and purse, all of which had gone missing. She looked comically lost. Cassie waved an arm in the air to catch her attention.

“(Y/N)!”

Her head whipped around, and she started to approach her friends quickly.  Her expression was slightly confused, until the situation dawned on her and she stopped in her tracks. She stood in place for a split-second, before continuing as if nothing happened. Everyone had seen her reaction but tried to hide their laughter to be polite.

Introductions were exchanged and the girls were offered seats in the ample booth as Brian and John tucked their jackets over the back of the bench. (Y/N) slid in without hesitation, securing a spot next to John. Cassie next to her, before Freddie sat against the edge. Natasha picked the seat next to Brian, but kept her eyes on Roger, who remained standing.

The girls explained how they’d made it down from their hometown. One of them had a cousin in the city, who bought their tickets as a lure to get them to come visit. Something about growing up together, lifelong friends, the usual. Apparently, their American host had an overnight shift at the hospital, and wasn’t present that evening, but they assured the band that all four of them had enjoyed the show immensely.

The waitress, Susan, came by again, and gave Natasha a disapproving glance, clearly not realizing that she just happened to be sitting next to Brian, not that she had any real interest in him. She took an order for another round. Roger also made sure to order three more shots, so as not to exclude the young ladies, after which the conversation started to pick up. The girls seemed nervous at first, but the alcohol helped, and Freddie was so welcoming that they quickly loosened up and became less star-struck.

It was becoming fairly clear that Natasha was fixing to end the evening with Roger, and he seemed to be all for that. Cassie watched Freddie with the utmost admiration but didn’t seem to have designs on him. (Y/N) was clearly trying to play it cool, but kept crossing and un-crossing her legs, not-so-accidentally brushing up against John under the table in the process. He’d admit he liked the attention, but it wasn’t what he was looking for tonight. She smelled fantastic, though.

After a few more drinks, a handful more attempts by the waitress to flirt with Brian, and an invitation lacking a modicum of subtlety from Roger for the girls to head back to the hotel, John was ready to call it an evening. (Y/N) was leaning against his shoulder and her body heat was becoming more inviting by the minute. He really didn’t want to be making any irresponsible decisions and was honestly looking forward to a night where he could squeeze in a couple extra hours of sleep.

She’d clearly been very interested in him from the moment they met, and John hated to let such an attractive young woman feel as though she wasn’t appreciated. John indulged (Y/N) a little by putting his hand on her knee and leaning in to whisper in her ear.

“I think it’s time I left.”

Her head snapped around to look him in the eye, her lips parted and eyes blazing. He laughed at himself, immediately realizing his (mostly unintentional) mistake. He leaned in close to her one more time.

“It was lovely meeting you. Would you be so kind?” He motioned for her to slide out of the booth, allowing him to leave. She closed her mouth and her expression changed to one of disappointment, but she nodded obligingly, before giving him a rueful smile.

She gave a gentle nudge to Cassie who was lost in conversation with Freddie, but they both picked up on the signal immediately. Everyone shuffled out of the one side of the booth, and John slid out behind them. They were all pooled at the end of the table, and John brushed up against (Y/N)’s backside as he stood up, trying to squeeze by everyone. He tensed when her back arched instinctively, feeling that he was already semi-hard from how close they’d been sitting all night. He gently placed a hand on her waist as he pulled away from her, and they both let out a slow breath.

Roger tried to convince his band mate to stay, but John knew he had to get going before things heated up any further. He made sure to thank the girls for making the trip to see their show and wished a warm goodbye to everyone at the table. As Brian passed his jacket over their drinks, John grazed the tips of his fingers against (Y/N)’s arm, before sliding them to her elbow and locking eyes with her one last time.

He walked to the door, pulling his jacket on, and headed back to the hotel.

When he arrived in his room, which he shared with Brian, he was glad to have some time to himself. He tossed his jacket on the end of his bed, closest to the door. They had a couple beers sitting on the desk in the room, and he cracked one open. He took a sip and looked around the room, thinking he might still be too wired to fall asleep. Part of him regretted leaving the bar early, but he knew it was the right decision. Still.

The idea that she was so willing wasn’t what excited him. It was just her. She was magnetic, in a way, and while he knew it would have been too dangerous, an ever-growing part of him wished he had stayed, just to soak in a little more of her. He was quite certainly attracted to her, and the clear evidence presented that she felt the same was nearly overwhelming. It was too easy to tease her. He was sure that she was aware of just how much he had enjoyed doing it, too.

He set his beer on the table and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

It had been a while since he’d had enough privacy to jerk off properly. Always having to quietly rush while in the shower, or awkwardly keep silent in his bunk on the bus. Typically, it would discourage him altogether, and he found himself getting cranky the longer they were on tour. He decided to make the most of his time alone tonight.

The mirror came all the way down to the sink and he could see his reflection down to his thighs. He regarded himself while leaning one arm on the counter, before sliding his hand along the waist of his jeans, unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down. Reaching in, he began to stroke himself steadily, still half-ready from earlier in the evening, while gently sliding his jeans down his hips a little. He pulled his cock out over the sink and looked down at himself in his hand. Not bad.

He began slowly, gently. He closed his eyes and inhaled, thinking about the girl from the bar. She was such a good-looking thing. Sharp, too. He thought about a few of the jokes she’d made. The way her eyes flickered with mischief when she knew she’d made him laugh. He thought about the moment she’d lost her earring and had to slide under the table to retrieve it, surprisingly gracefully. He imagined her giving him that mischievous look from under the table, looking up at him with hollow cheeks and her plump lips wrapped around his cock.

He started to stroke himself faster.

He thought about pressing up against her when he left. How her plush ass felt against him, as he was already starting to get excited from her physical flirtations. He started breathing heavier. He thought about the way her back had arched at the contact. He had already known she wanted to fuck him at that point, but that had been too much. He thought about how badly he had wanted to grab her, right then and there, pulling her up against him until he was smothered in her soft ass.

He imagined her arching her back for him now, presenting for him as he pushed her up against the edge of the counter. He imagined running his hands along her smooth skin, up under her skirt, only to find she wasn’t wearing any panties. He imagined how he’d glide his hands over her waist and up her chest, aggressively pulling her blouse open, and the ticking sounds of buttons clattering over the counter and tile floor, before taking handfuls of her firm breasts.

He could almost hear her mewling and sighing as he slipped inside her, and could practically feel how wet she’d be, dying for his cock. He imagined grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back to him as he’d thrust into her, burying his face in her neck. He remembered how good she smelled.

John bit his lip and watched his own reflection with half-lidded eyes for a moment, before returning to his reverie. He already knew how much she’d love the way he’d fuck her. How she’d call his name, and her gentle feminine moans as she succumbed to pleasure. The sound of their skin slapping together as he bumped up against her ass and the backs of her thighs. The feeling of her juices making a mess all over the two of them.

He was leaning forward now, feeling close as he pumped his fist faster. He looked at the tiny bottles on the counter, grabbing for shampoo, Vaseline, anything. He nabbed the closest one.

Aftershave? Not that.

The next bottle he snatched was lotion and he poured a generous dollop into his hand before wrapping his hand around his shaft again. He let out a low moan, knowing no one could hear him and that he could make as much noise as he wanted. His breathing quickened as he pictured (Y/N) undone and cursing, dying for release. Her hair a mess in his hand, eyes closed and mouth open. How the reflection of her tits bouncing would look in the mirror, as he pushed into her, over and over. Her hands would be clutching the edge of the counter as her hips bucked back into him, matching his rhythm, taking all of him in and adoring him.

He imagined her crying his name one final time, and the feeling of her tightening and flexing around him as she came on his cock, loving having every inch of him buried inside of her.  

He remembered the look of pure lust in her eyes when she thought he was taking her home. The thought occurred to him that (Y/N) would no doubt be in a similar state tonight, indulging in an almost identical fantasy to his. He quickened the pace of his hand until it was nearly frantic.

He could hear her voice, tauntingly innocent. “Should I stop? Am I being bad?”

The image of her touching herself while thinking of him drove John over the edge. Eyes closed, he leaned his head back. With a soft, almost inaudible whimper he came hard, spurting come all over the sink, tap and mirror in waves.

Spent and suddenly exhausted, he took a moment to lean with both hands on the counter, breathing heavily. He cleaned the sink off and refastened his jeans before walking back into the room to grab his beer. He guzzled half of it in one go, then went back into the bathroom and started the shower, just as he heard Brian return.

Brian looked tired as he shut the heavy hotel door behind him as quietly as he could and greeted John with a small wave. The two of them briefly chatted about how the rest of the evening had gone at the bar, Brian not noticing how flushed John was. Nothing too crazy happened after John had left, but everyone had left Roger there with Natasha. The other girls had gone back to where they’d been staying nearby, and Freddie was currently in his room where Brian had dropped him off.

“Do you mind if I get in there before you?” Brian pointed to the washroom. John nodded to him absentmindedly as he picked at the label on the bottle that was still in his hand. He wondered how long the girls had been home and speculated how long (Y/N) would hold out before thinking about him properly. He was vaguely aware of the sound of the tap running and tooth-brushing, while his mind wandered.

He hadn’t even noticed the washroom was free again, until Brian started to change out of his clothes to crawl into his bed on the far side of the room. By now the shower had heated up and steam filled the room, fogging the mirror. John distractedly wished Brian a goodnight as he shut the door. He quickly pulled his clothes off, before stepping into the current and relaxing in the hot water.

As he stood for a moment, feeling the droplets hit his skin, his mind drifted back to (Y/N). Was she thinking about him right now? Maybe she’d already finished. She’d clearly been very eager earlier, it probably wouldn’t take her very long to get off. She could already be on her second round by now.

His cock twitched a little.

He wondered what she’d look like here with him, naked and surrounded by a haze of steam, hair soaked and skin slick with warm running water.

Hm. Something to think about.

[sanoiro]

Hi. I'm wondering if you happen to have a link to the most accurate list of the Top 10 Lucifer episodes that's based on ratings

A link no but let’s make a list according to IMDB, shall we? :) 

The Answer is:

1)     9.8____3x24 - A Devil of My Word 

2)     9.6____3x23 - Quintessential Deckerstar 

3)     9.5____2x13 - A Good Day to Die

4)     9.4____3x07 - Off The Record 

5.1)  9.3____1x13 - Take Me Back to Hell 

5.2)  9.3____2x06 - Monster 

5.3)  9.3_*__2x10 - Quid Pro Ho 

6.1)  9.2_*__1x09 - A Priest Walks Into a Bar 

6.2)  9.2____1x12 - #TeamLucifer 

6.3)  9.2____2x12 - Love Handles 

(If we take them by first airing date the above are the Top 10 if we consider the rating a tie then…IF you want to know according to the people who actually voted then check the bold asterisk  _*_ between the rating and the episode number)

6.4)  9.2____2x18 - The Good, the Bad, and the Crispy 

6.5)  9.2____3x10 -The Sin Bin 

6.6 ) 9.2____3x20 - The Angel of San Bernardino 

7)     9.1____3x13 -  Til Death Do Us Part 

8.1)  9.0_*__1x06 - Favorite Son  

8.2)  9.0____2x05 - Weaponizer

8.3)  9.0____2x07 - My Little Monkey

8.4)  9.0____2x09 - Homewrecke

8.5)  9.0____2x16 - God Johnson

8.6)  9.0____3x06 -Vegas With Some Radish 

9.1)  8.9_*__1x11 - St. Lucifer 

9.2)  8.9____2x08 - Trip to Stabby Town 

9.3)  8.9____2x11 - Stewardess Interruptus 

9.4)  8.9____3x09 - The Sinnerman 

10.1) 8.8_*__1x07 - Wingman 

10.2) 8.8____2x04 - Lady Parts 

10.3) 8.8____3x01 - They’re Back, Aren’t They? 

10.4) 8.8____3x03 - Mr. and Mrs. Mazikeen Smith 

10.5) 8.8____3x19 - Orange Is the New Maze 

Season 1

1x01- Pilot 8.9

Lucifer has left Hell to take up a life on Earth. When a friend of his is murdered Lucifer joins forces with the good side of the law to discover who the perpetrators are and to give them what they rightfully deserve.

1x02 - Lucifer, Stay. Good Devil. 8.4 

When a movie star’s son is killed after being chased by the paparazzi, Chloe takes a deep look into the case with a little help from Lucifer. Meanwhile, Maze and Amenadiel continue to encourage Lucifer to go back to hell.

1x03 - The Would-Be Prince of Darkness 8.4 

An up-and-coming quarterback calls Lucifer after finding a corpse in his pool; Lucifer asks Chloe to help investigate, which leads them into the world of big-money sports.

1x04 - Manly Whatnots 8.7

In an effort to get over his infatuation with Chloe, Lucifer decides that he must seduce her. Meanwhile, the two team up on a missing girl case and Amenadiel confronts Maze about his concerns about Lucifer.

1x05 - Sweet Kicks 8.3 

When Lucifer is attending a fashion show, a girl gets murdered. He then volunteers to help Detective Decker solve the homicide. Mazikeen goes behind Lucifer’s back.

1x06 - Favorite Son 9.0 

A robbery gone bad leads to Lucifer and Chloe working together. Dan has an unusual encounter with Mazikeen. Chloe suspects Lucifer might be a criminal. Linda chooses to play Lucifer’s game.

1x07 - Wingman 8.8 

Lucifer gets help from an unlikely source while trying to find the contents of his stolen container; Chloe uncovers a vital clue.

1x08 - Et Tu, Doctor? 8.5 

The murder of a therapist prompts Lucifer to enlist the help of Dr. Linda to search for a suspect.

1x09 - A Priest Walks Into a Bar 9.2 

A priest seeks out Lucifer’s help when he suspects an underground drug operation has set up shop at a neighborhood youth center. Meanwhile, Malcolm manipulates a way to keep an eye on Dan.

1x10 - Pops 8.6 

Lucifer and Chloe suspect a restaurateur’s son played a part in his death; the return of Chloe’s mother sends her life into upheaval.

1x11 - St. Lucifer 8.9 

When philanthropist Tim Dunlear is found dead, Lucifer explores his good side by becoming a benefactor for Tim’s glitzy Los Angeles charity.

1x12 - #TeamLucifer 9.2 

The team investigates the death of a woman whose body with “Hail Lucifer” message was found lying in a pentagram.

1x13 - Take Me Back to Hell 9.3 

When Lucifer is framed for murder, he and Chloe must work together to clear his name and prove the identity of the true killer.

Season 2

2x01 - Everything’s Coming Up Lucifer 8.7

Lucifer and Chloe look into the murder of a stand-in actress; Chloe’s faith in Lucifer is tested.

2x02 - Liar, Liar, Slutty Dress on Fire 8.7 

Lucifer suspects his mother may be involved in a ghastly murder for which she claims she’s innocent.

2x03 - Sin-Eater 8.4 

Lucifer and Chloe investigate a gruesome murder after a video of the crime surfaces on social media. When a second video appears, they realize they have a serial killer on their hands.

2x04 - Lady Parts 8.8 

After the bodies of two young L.A. transplants are found poisoned, Chloe and Lucifer hunt for the killer. Upon Maze convincing Chloe to go out for drinks, which the detective perceives as an act of friendship, but is actually part of a bet between Maze and Lucifer, the two make a shocking decision.

2x05 - Weaponizer 9.0 

Lucifer’s brother Uriel shows up as he investigates the murder of his favorite action hero.

2x06 - Monster 9.3 

Guilty and self-destructive, Lucifer clashes with Chloe during an investigation, leading her to team up with Dan instead. Meanwhile, Amenadiel bonds with Charlotte, and Maze takes Trixie trick-or-treating.

2x07 - My Little Monkey 9.0 

After the man convicted of killing Chloe’s father is murdered, new clues suggests he was framed; Maze looks for a job; Lucifer tries to learn how to be normal by watching Dan.

2x08 - Trip to Stabby Town 8.9

0Lucifer seeks Azrael’s blade when he discovers it’s been used in a string of violent stabbings linked to a local yoga studio.

2x09 - Homewrecker 9.0

Lucifer goes to great lengths to protect his home when the owner is murdered and the new owner wants it demolished.

2x10 - Quid Pro Ho 9.3 

Charlotte is determined to get Lucifer to leave Earth by turning Chloe against him. Meanwhile, Amenadiel has begun working as Charlotte’s soldier, which makes Maze question his loyalty.

2x11 - Stewardess Interruptus 8.9 

The tension between Lucifer and Chloe makes it difficult for them to investigate the murder of two victims who happen to be Lucifer’s old flames.

2x12 - Love Handles 9.2 

Lucifer and Chloe investigate a mysterious masked killer who is poisoning college students. They also try to make sense of their new relationship, after a long-awaited kiss. Meanwhile, Charlotte visits Linda for advice on a touchy subject.

2x13 - A Good Day to Die 9.5 

Lucifer returns to hell to find an antidote for Chloe and his mother goes to hell to bring him back.

2x14 - Candy Morningstar 8.6 

Lucifer has gone off the grid and cut off all contact from his family and the police department, following Chloe’s near-death. But the murder of an up-and-coming guitarist causes him to resurface - with a new mystery woman. Meanwhile, Lucifer’s mom realizes she may have found a way to finally get them back to Heaven.

2x15 - Deceptive Little Parasite 8.5 

Lucifer attempts to control his emotions when he learns the flaming sword is the only way the family can return home. In the meantime, a therapist and head of admissions at a prestigious private school is found dead.

2x16 - God Johnson 9.0 

When a grisly murder takes place at an insane asylum, the prime suspect calls himself God. Lucifer, unsure this may be his father, tries to find the real killer.

2x17 - Sympathy for the Goddess 8.6 

Charlotte helps Lucifer and Chloe find out who killed the man who had the last piece of the Flaming Sword.

2x18 - The Good, the Bad, and the Crispy 9.2 

Charlotte accidentally burns a man to death, leaving Lucifer to keep Chloe from figuring what really happened, so he puts Maze in charge of locating Charlotte and Amenadiel, who have both gone missing. Meanwhile, Lucifer seeks a permanent solution for the ticking-time-bomb that is his mother.

Season 3

3x01 - They’re Back, Aren’t They? 8.8 

Lucifer enlists Chloe to figure out how he wound up in the desert with his wings back.

3x02 - The One with the Baby Carrot 8.5 

Lucifer takes a sudden interest in a case while continuing to track down the Sinnerman.

3x03 - Mr. and Mrs. Mazikeen Smith 8.8

Maze heads to Canada to get more out of life, but Chloe suspects she’s being deceived by a conman.

3x04 - What Would Lucifer Do? 8.4

Lucifer and Chloe investigate the murder of a youth counselor.

3x05 - Welcome Back, Charlotte Richards 8.6 

When a food chemist is found dead, Lucifer and Chloe’s investigation pits them against an unexpected face - criminal defense attorney Charlotte Richards. Everyone is caught off guard when they see her back in the precinct. As Lucifer tries to understand her return, he makes a shocking discovery that helps solve the case.

3x06 -Vegas With Some Radish 9.0 

When Lucifer discovers Candy has gone missing, he hightails it to Las Vegas with Ella in tow. They work to find her, but interesting secrets could compromise the investigation. Meanwhile, Chloe is upset that Lucifer left on her birthday.

3x07 - Off The Record 9.4 

A reporter seeks revenge after he discovers that Lucifer has been sleeping with his estranged wife. However, when it’s revealed who the estranged wife is, things get messy. Lucifer’s reputation and safety are on the line, especially when a serial killer from the past resurfaces.

3x08 -Chloe Does Lucifer 8.5

When a murder is connected to a celebrity dating app, Lucifer and Chloe question all they know about the world of social media in order to solve the case. Meanwhile, Amenadiel helps Linda deal with the death of her ex-husband.

3x09 - The Sinnerman 8.9

Lucifer and Chloe come face-to-face with the Sinnerman.

3x10 -The Sin Bin 9.2 

With the Sinnerman in custody, Lucifer is determined to get his devil face back, but his conscience is in question when another victim’s life is on the line.

3x11 - City of Angels? 8.7 

A flashback episode about Lucifer’s first days on Earth.

3x12 - All About Her 8.7 

Lucifer tries to earn Chloe’s assistance in his investigation of Pierce. Meanwhile, Amenadiel deals with a personal health issue.

3x13 -  Til Death Do Us Part 9.1

When there’s a murder in a suburban neighborhood Lucifer and Pierce have to go undercover to find the killer.

3x14 - My Brother’s Keeper 8.5 

While investigating a death of a diamond thief, Chloe and Lucifer hone in an unexpected suspect. Meanwhile, Charlotte upsets Linda with a request.

3x15 - High School Poppycock 8.5 

Lucifer fights a mental block, Chloe has silly fun while solving a murder, and Maze helps her friends get some resolve.

3x16 - Infernal Guinea Pig 8.7 

A murder investigation reveals the dark side of Hollywood. Chloe puts her life on the line.

3x17 - Let Pinhead Sing! 8.7 

When a superstar singer’s life is threatened, the team is thrust into the world of big-ticket stadium shows, crazed fans and divas, giving Lucifer a run for his money. Meanwhile, Charlotte tries to help Linda and Maze repair their friendship.

3x18 - The Last Heartbreak 8.6 (1,875) 

Chloe and Lucifer track down a serial killer targeting couples in love and Pierce realizes the case is connected to a murder he solved in 1958.

3x19 - Orange Is the New Maze 8.8

Lucifer and Chloe enter the world of bounty hunting to investigate a murder.

3x20 - The Angel of San Bernardino 9.2 

Lucifer and Chloe investigate a murder where a witness claims a winged guardian angel saved her life; Pierce and Chloe’s relationship takes an interesting turn; Lucifer discovers something that could change everything.

3x21 - Anything Pierce Can Do I Can Do Better 8.4

When a ballerina is brutally murdered, Lucifer helps Chloe solve the case; Amenadiel begs Charlotte to help him with an important plan; Maze remains devoted to a task from which Pierce asked her to back away.

3x22 - All Hands on Decker 8.4

When Chloe takes some time off, Lucifer is forced to work with Dan on a murder case involving a dog show. Meanwhile, Charlotte and Maze have differing ideas for Chloe’s party and after a wild night, Chloe rethinks a life-changing decision.

3x23 - Quintessential Deckerstar 9.6 

When Lucifer and Chloe investigate the death of a woman, they discover that they may be pursuing the wrong suspect. Then, Charlotte risks her safety when she decides to take matters into her own hands, and just as Lucifer makes a huge confession, Chloe gets a tragic phone call that changes everything.

3x24 - A Devil of My Word 9.8

Shocked by someone’s death, Chloe, Lucifer and the rest of the team work together to investigate and take down the killer. Then, Lucifer has an epiphany, Maze decides to mend a broken friendship and Chloe finally sees the truth.

3x25 - Boo Normal 8.5

As Lucifer and the team investigate the murder of a child psychiatrist, Ella thinks about a big childhood secret that she’s been hiding.

3x26 - Once Upon a Time 8.5 

Set in an alternate universe where God changed one little thing, which affects Lucifer, Chloe and the people around them.