#and he has already told me that he WANTS me to wrestle with g-d and His word *with* him

[shalom-iamcominghome]

I've been doing a lot of reflection as of late, especially after this past class.

This past class was about the Torah and Tanakh in general, and the way the rabbi talked about the commandments (specifically the ten commandments) has made me really reflect on how I interpret them, specifically the fifth commandment, or honoring your mother and father.

This is a commandment I have wrestled with for a long time - in fact, it brought me away from g-d at multiple times. I was severely abused when I was incredibly young by my mother, and I used to feel insulted at the implication that I were to honor her while she got to live a better life. It was hypocritical, in my eyes.

But this rabbi surmised that this particular commandment was because parenthood is an act of creation, something that is like the g-d from which we come from. My realization is this: I don't think we're necessarily meant to take even these commandments literally.

I this particular commandment is more of a call to honor creation - creation is a gift, and like any gift, many people simply will not like it and will discard it. The person who abused me created me, but she did not honor creation. She didn't honor me, but I can still honor it.

I have started to honor creation much more. I'm too young, too unstable, not mature enough to be a father (though I fantasize about it), but I create all the time. I create relationships, I create with my hands through crochet. I create memories, I create my world. And I can honor who I am and where I came from that made me who I am. I've been learning one of the mother tongues of my family (Italian, since part of my family originates there) and it was judaism that inspired me to do this.

I don't think g-d wants me to honor my abuser. I think He wants me to remember the Holy action of creation. When I am a father, that act of creation will be Holy, and indeed, I am already joyful about the thought.

I have seen many people struggle with this particular commandment, but I think this perspective helps me personally. I don't think I ever have to forgive my abusers (plural), and I don't think I am commanded to simply because they happened to be family. I am commanded to recognize the holy, to elevate the mundane. In doing so, I will remember g-d. Through creation, I honor g-d and everything he has done for us, for me, and for our collective people.

[attack-on-kiwi]

Hi! I really enjoy your writing and your characterization. Could I please request the rest of the fluff alphabet for post-timeskip Reiner? (whichever point is easiest for you to write from)

Check my master list for letters F, H, N, & R!

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

There isn’t much Reiner genuinely likes doing. He’s more than happy to just take part in whatever activities his s/o wants to do. At this point he doesn’t feel like he’s allowed to have an opinion or have any strong wants. This does bother his s/o, so they need to try and coax an answer from him.

They find out he enjoys going for walks. Reiner specifically likes going on long hikes where no other people are around. Sure, he enjoys walking around the marketplace, but there’s always a pressure that he’s going to be cut down at any given moment. Therefore, private hikes are more his scene. He’s able to relax and will be more willing to open up to his s/o during these hikes. 

If he had to pick another activity, it would be training together. He’d want to do something physical, such as sparring because it gives him an easy and familiar way to tease them in a more lighthearted manner, such as play wrestling. It’s one of the few times his s/o gets to see Reiner act his age and not put up walls. 

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Resilience. The fact that his s/o is able to push through being with someone like him and still see the good in this terrible world has him weak. He feels undeserving of someone so good, but he’s too attached to even consider letting them go. 

To Reiner, their laugh is the most reassuring and calming sound. No matter if their laugh is a gentle chime or a crashing wave, he can’t get enough of it. He swears to himself whenever he makes them laugh, he falls more deeply in love with them than he thought could be possible. 

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Reiner wouldn’t really know where to start. His mind is racing with thoughts such as “Is there an attack?” and “Did they get hurt?”. He lacks tact when calming them down, gripping their shoulders and forcing them to look at him as he near demands them to spill what’s going on. When that doesn’t work, he tries to rethink his approach. He’ll breathe and calm himself before smoothing his palms over their arms and gently asking them what’s wrong. 

He’ll hug them tightly and wait as they relax. Whether they just cling to him until their breathing calms or they ride out their panic, he’s pressed his lips to the top of their head, mumbling “everything is fine” even if he doesn’t believe it himself.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Reiner, like other warriors, doesn’t entertain the idea of having a future. This man has already resigned himself to the idea that he will be dead within a few years, so what is the point of him imagining a future? 

If he could have his way, he’d want a family. At least one child. Though, he wonders if his child would need a friend since he has no siblings that could provide cousins. Maybe two children, then, so they don’t get lonely. He thinks about how he wants a small, comfortable home away from the bustling of the towns. The seaside sounds ideal. Sometimes he imagines what it would feel like to have those children tucked between him and his partner while he told them exaggerated stories of the animals that lived in the forests. 

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He’s physically dominant when it comes to most situation. He’ll put himself before his s/o and make sure they are always in his view. When it comes to intimacy, he teeters between being timid and overbearing. It’s difficult for him to find a balance between wanting to be careful and wanting to have his s/o to himself, and they often find him coming on too strong then becoming reclusive for a few moments after due to the fear of having possibly crosses a boundary. 

Reiner sees himself as a natural guardian, so it’s only to be expected that he takes on more traditionally protective roles.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Reiner is extremely touched that his s/o would stay with a coward such as himself. He thanks them often and brings them gifts. Most of the time it’s food that would otherwise be difficult for them to get their hands on. 

He has a hard time getting out of his head but is able to see that his work and attitude does affect his s/o to a degree and tries to be as mindful as possible. Most times, this mindfulness is chalked up to a simple, “I don’t know what I’d do without you” which needs to be interpreted depending on the context of the situation and his emotional state.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

His s/o grounds him, but they haven’t made huge steps in affecting his personality. He is lost and needs to figure out how to depend on others, and unfortunately, he’s unable to do so credibly at the moment. His s/o hopes Reiner will one day be able to share his burdens with them, even if just a little bit. Reiner definitely teaches them to be patient. 

On the other hand, Reiner is happy to help them overcome their fears. He’s always got a solution and steps to help them get to their goals.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Yes. He’s insecure and is easily provoked by other people giving his s/o attention. If he sees them giving others intimate attention, he will become extremely suspicious and angry. Reiner tries to ignore it since he doesn’t want to cause a scene. Image is important to warriors, after all. He does cling to them more as he tries to calm himself, often holding their hands or hugging them close in private.

If he’s in a situation where he is allowed to make a move, he’s more than willing to use physical force to scare off anyone he sees as trying to get with his s/o.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Reiner’s a good kisser when it comes down to it. His kisses are hot and nearly suffocating. He always has a strong hand behind his partner’s head and another firmly on their back pressing them into him as deep as he can. His skin is warm and being so close to him increases that heat. 

His first kiss with his partner was desperate. Whether it was during an episode back in Paradis or when he got back home, his s/o found him uncharacteristically quiet. Serious. 

Their voice surprised him, causing him to jump as they made their presence known. It was an unusual sight- to see Reiner hunched in on himself. When they got close enough to sit next to him and ask what was going on, he simply told them that he wanted to kiss them at least once since he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to again. After their initial shock, his soon to be s/o agreed, letting him take lead. Reiner licked his lips and placed one hand gently behind their neck while the other rested on their thigh. He leaned ver, finally inviting them to his lips and as the two sought one another’s touch, he found himself pinning them down and nearly unclothing them. Whether his s/o allowed it to continue or stopped is up for debate.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Reiner would never consider confessing.

He would need to be near death or in an extremely stressful and dire situation to blurt it out. 

That, or during more recent manga events, Reiner would try to find a moment of peace where he and his s/o could speak in private. During a conversation where he finally explains his past, he would likely refuse to make eye contact and stare at their feet. His voice is shaking slightly as he steels himself for whatever the outcome may be. It’s his s/o who turns his cheek to look him in the eye, confessing they are in love with him. It’s overwhelming and as he’s embraced by them, he reciprocates it over and over in shaky whispers that are muffled by their neck. 

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

He likes the idea of marriage. Being with someone who is completely his and building a life together that’s peaceful and without pressure would mean the world to him. 

Reiner’s proposal is private. It would be during camp before the climatic battle. One evening, he’d take his s/o to a private area and reminisce their experiences together. He’s unsure why he’s bringing it up until his s/o asks what he wants to do after they win. He’s taken aback, wanting to say there’s not much left for him once the world is saved. “Will you marry me, Reiner?”

Reiner’s heart stops at that moment. It’s not a proposal, more so it’s just gauging his desires. He can’t help but nod. If they survive, even if he has little time left, he wants to spend it with them.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Reiner’s love is subtle. It’s not common for people in Marley to outright be romantic in public, so displays are limited. Though at some point when he was younger he would have taken great pride in being overly affectionate in front of others, he now takes solace in being a quiet and helpful lover. It’s difficult for him to really express his love verbally, so he takes action. He’s good with fixing appliances, running errands, and comforting them in private. To most others, it seems Reiner is distant with his s.o, but this is untrue.

He’s skilled in loving them. His holds are firm and comforting. His kisses are deep and true. His actions express his care more accurately than his words ever could. The way he puts himself before them is in itself his ultimate display of love. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Reiner prefers to keep his romantic involvement private due to fear for his s/o’s safety. Being Involved with him makes them a target which is something he’s unwilling to look past. This does not mean he is ashamed of them by any means. 

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

His hugs are all consuming. Something about being in his embrace helps wash away all anxiety. It’s truly difficult for his s/o to be upset for long when they’re in his hold. This becomes especially useful during high stress events, and it helps Reiner calm down.  

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Reiner’s focus isn’t on helping his s/o achieve any goals. His fixation is his mission to save humanity, so he doesn’t actually think too much about if his s/o has any goals they wan to achieve.

If his s/o shares a desire with him, he’s happy to help them map out a plan of attack. There’s not much he can do in ways of helping them if it doesn’t pertain to training or military affairs since most of his time is dedicated to his work. 

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Reiner prefers having a routine above all else. With how erratic his life is, a sense of peace is important to him. He suffers from PTSD and anxiety among other issues, so knowing where his s/o is during a certain time or having a specific ritual at a certain time every day helps him ground himself. He wouldn’t want to deal with any destructive routines when he has free time. It’s extremely important for him to focus on his healing, so a routine is best.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Reiner... does not know his s/o well. He knows what bothers them and knows about them from what they share. However, he doesn’t make an effort to learn more. He’s got too much on his plate, and the relationship is reliant on the physical intimacy to help each other blow off steam. He could stand to be more emotionally present. It’s something he’s aware of and feels like it’s too late to do anything about it. If he survives, he wants to build a stronger relationship where the two can equally rely on one another for the support that they need.

He’s empathetic to a degree. He listens to their problems and tries to offer the best support he can, but he’s not necessarily equipped to help someone deal with their own problems when he barely has a handle on his own shaky mental state.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Reiner is ridiculously obsessed with keeping his relationship. He knows he’s not the best partner that he could be, but he wants to selfishly keep his s/o because they make him feel human. They make him feel worthy of being alive, and he’s too scared of letting that go for who would he be without a purpose? His mission does come first, but he’d be more than willing to throw himself in front of his s/o if it meant securing their escape. 

He’s a natural protector as mentioned before, and couple that with suicidal tendencies and you have someone that’s problematically self-sacrificial. It’s not a good mixture, but it goes to show how dependent he is on his s/o for a sense of stability and how far he’d go to make sure they were safe. 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He likes lying face to face when the two are in bed. When Reiner is especially tired, his cheeks and nose flush  a dark pink. It’s always embarrassing when his s/o decides to tease him about it. Don’t you dare call him cute or coo at him because in his tired state he will have no methods of coping. He might even turn around to try and escape their compliments, but if they cling to his back and try to pull him back around, they’re somehow always successful. 

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Reiner doesn’t kiss often. He does like to hold his s/o’s hands. Clasping their fingers with his own and holding their hand sto his chest in moments of quiet vulnerability will be the most stripped down, vulnerable acts he will ever commit. 

He’s not opposed to his partner kissing him and holding him, he just doesn’t feel worthy of starting the act himself. Once they initiate, he’s more than eager to soak up as much touch as he can. He never wants to let go, meaning they can be in one another’s embrace for hours if they’re lucky.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

Reiner is good at compartmentalizing his feelings, so he will run on autopilot and just hope that his s/o is alive so he can see them soon.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

As mentioned earlier, Reiner is more than willing to put his life on the line for his s/o. He would run into a head on attack if it meant giving his loved one a moment longer to breathe. 

[ask-the-riders]

A Stranger In My Bed

War comes home after a long, exhausting day and flops down into her bed, ready to call it a night

But then she realizes something's off - that's not Pestilence that she just cuddled up to

War let out a deep sigh, flopping down into bed; today had been way too long, and she was sure she'd put in way too many work hours at once. She was totally drained, and at this particular moment, didn't know if she had it in her to summon her threads and make a hammock like she normally did.

Pulling the covers up over herself and closing her eyes, she cuddled up to the person beside her, the familiar warmth soothing her aching bones. An arm wrapped around her and she felt herself smile faintly, her cheeks flushing a soft shade of blue as she tipped her head up to press a soft kiss to her partner's jaw.

Or at least, who she thought was her partner.

An unexpected voice broke the silence, "Well hello ta you too, Sparky. Looks like ya missed me quite a bit."

War's sockets snapped open and she reeled back, suddenly wide awake. Sitting up and looking at the unexpected guest, she shrieked, grabbing a pillow and roughly hitting him with it on instinct, "YOU LITTLE-! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING HERE? WHY ARE YOU IN MY BED?!" He opened his mouth to respond, being cut off as the pillow smacked him square in the face.

Before she could hit him a third time, he reached out with a single gloved hand, grabbing onto the pillow and wrestling it away from the glitch, "Hey, hey, chillax, lil brotato chip, it's all good! S'jus' me, your ol' pal Fresh. I just wanted ta pop in for a surprise visit, is all. 'M not up ta no good dis time, promise."

War scowled, her figure beginning to glitch as she eyed him suspiciously, "Ok, but why are you in my BED? That's insanely weird, and frankly really creepy." Fresh shrugged his shoulders, arching one ridiculously bushy eyebrow at her, "Because it's comfy? It beats the bed I got back at my crib." The glitch huffed, "Go away, come back tomorrow. It's late, and I'm not about to share a bed with you."

Fresh tilted his head, entirely too casual, "Awe c'mon, it'll be fine! Just think of it like dis - a sleepover. And who loves sleepovers? Girls. And you're a girl, buddy." The female rider pinched the bridge of her nose, "Fresh, no. This isn't a sleepover. This is you breaking into my room. Now get out, I'm not sharing my bed." The taller of the two made a face, "Don't be like dat, Sparky. It'll be like way back when. Ya know, when ya were a lil bit smaller and used ta hang out with me more. We crashed on the couch together so many times, remember?"

The glitch stared at him, her brow bones knit in irritation, "Yeah, of course I remember. I'm not a kid anymore though, you can't be in bed with me. The longer you stay here, the creepier it gets." Fresh let out a deep sigh, sitting up and opening his arms, "Fine, fine. I'll go, but only after ya give me one radical hug, ya hear? I ain't leavin' without a hug, glitchy." As he began to move closer for a hug, War began to scoot back away from him, "No way in heck, Fresh. Just go already!"

He clearly wasn't listening, and catching War completely by surprise, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her and crushing her in a hug. On impulse, she tensed in his grasp and shrieked, her sockets clouding with wars. It was only a matter of seconds before the bedroom door flew open, and she immediately recognized her soulmate's voice as he called out, "War?! What's going on? Are you-"

Finally seeing the stranger who had his arms locked around his soulmate, Pestilence was quick to draw his syringe gun, his left eye flaring up with sickly green magic, "Who the fudge are you, and why are you here? You have three seconds to answer me." Fresh seemed unphased upon having a gun pointed at him, "Yo, calm down, broseph. Dere's no need ta use dat unrad lingo a' yours. Your girl's fine, she just likes ta overreact sometimes."

Pestilence pulled back the hammer on his weapon, and hearing the click, War squirmed, willing her vision to return, "Pest, hang on a minute! Don't shoot him!" Pest shot a confused glance at his soulmate and she explained, "He's just my idiot uncle. I guess he wanted to drop in for a surprise visit or something." The taller of the two riders arched a brow bone, "If he's your uncle, why's he in bed with you?" War deadpanned, scoffing at whatever the implications of his question might've been, "Because he's a fudging weirdo? I dunno, Pest! I already told you he's an idiot!"

Fresh, finally releasing War, gestured to himself, "Can confirm dat, broseph. I really am her totes radical uncle. I even got da pics ta prove it, if ya wanna see." Pestilence slowly lowered his gun, speaking slowly, "....Fine. I'll look at one picture, but if it's not convincing enough, I'm gonna make sure you die in as much agony as physically possible." At the threat, Fresh made eye contact with War and snorted in amusement, taking his phone out and beginning to go through his pictures, "Good luck with dat, bro. Dis ain't my body, so I won't feel anything."

Practically radiating confusion now, Pestilence made a face, "What do you mean, that's not your body?" The glitch sighed deeply, holding out a hand to Fresh, "You're gonna have to do the thing, Fresh." The taller skeleton raised an eyebrow, "Why can't I just tell 'em?" War lightly nudged him, "Because it's hard to believe. Just do it already. Please."

Fresh watched her for a moment in uncertainty before he slowly nodded. As he opened his mouth, a creature similar to a starfish appeared, making its way toward its host body's bottom jaw. Pestilence blinked, staring in a mix of confusion, awe, and disgust as it hopped out of its host's mouth and onto the palm of his soulmate's hand. As it gripped onto her thumb with two small, violet tendrils, she turned to face Pest, raising her hand. With her entire body rigid and visible embarrassment on her face, she sighed, "...This is my uncle Fresh. His true self, at least. That other one is his host."

Pest very cautiously stepped closer and paused as the creature waved an individual tendril at him, suddenly speaking up, "Whaddup, broski? I fight and eat souls for a living. Ha, totes rad, yeah?" Very clearly at a loss, Pestilence glanced at War, gesturing to himself, "If your uncle is a... uhh... does that mean you're...?" War immediately answered, frowning, "No! God, no. I am NOT a parasite like him. I'm just me, as you see me now. Promise." Her soulmate nodded, trying to resist the urge to reach out and touch the parasite. A thought suddenly occurred to War and her frown deepened, "Wait a minute, Fresh, my aura. My aura isn't effecting you? How? It effects everyone!"

The parasite looked up at her with his single multicolored eye, "I don't have emotions, buddy. Not like you do, at least. Dat's probably why." War hummed, carefully moving him back over to the still open mouth of his host body, "I mean... maybe, yeah. Geez, even after knowing you so long, there's still so much that I don't understand." The parasite slipped back into its host's mouth, and a few seconds passed before its mouth closed.

Now back in control, just as he was before, the host body slipped his sunglasses down his face just enough to show his sockets as he playfully winked, "Ahh, no worries, Sparky. You're not da only one, trust me."

[transromansanders]

We Can Live Forever, If You’ve Got the Time: Chapter One: Roman’s Life Does a Backflip Unsuccessfully

AO3: Link

WC: 3,229

Ships: Rosleepxiety, Intrulogical, Moceit, Pintroverts

Warnings (chapter): homophobia, gun violence, minor character death, blood

A/N: Hey, So this has been in the works for a while. I’m finally in a place motivation-wise where I feel like I can get out at least the second chapter in a timely manner. Also! I’m looking for someone to beta read for errors in grammar and continuity. If you feel the urge to volunteer, please do so, I need help ;-;

Chapter 1 under the cut

"Daddy!" a small voice whisper-yelled. Roman groaned, rolling onto his back from his side. "Daddy!" the little voice whined. Roman managed a sleepy smile, but then little hands and knees were pressing into his bare chest and stomach. 

"Oof! Emile, you little monster," he groaned, capturing the three-year-old in his arms and rolling back onto his side with Emile next to him, between himself and Alandria, who was snoring, her dark hair framing her face and haloing out on her pillows. Her steel-grey eyes were hidden behind closed lids, and she smacked her lips when Emile rolled over and poked at her face. Roman wished he loved his wife.

Roman spared a look at the alarm clock on his bedside table, groaning again at the time: 3:43 AM on a Monday. "Can we sleep a little longer, Bud?" Roman asked Emile tiredly. 

Emile nodded, turning over to face his dad again and curling up against his chest. 

Roman wrapped an arm around his son with a smile, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Emile's head. Then he dozed back off again. 

----

Roman smacked at the alarm clock as it blared at him, whining softly. Finally, he managed to turn it off, and he began sitting up, rubbing at his eyes.

Next to him, Emile sat up as well with a cute little yawn and Alandria was running a hand over her face, looking at her husband and son with a little smile. "Good morning," she slurred sleepily.

Roman chuckled. "'Morning, sleepyhead."

"Mommy!" cheered Emile, crawling on top of her now. 

She groaned a little, sitting up to hold him in her lap. Roman stood, bare toes curling for a moment against the cold white floor. The whole house was cold, cold and impersonal. Roman wished it was warmer. He wished Emile had a home, as a child ought to have. 

He lifted the blinds so the sunlight could shine in.

Then he turned back to the bed, smiling. "I'm going to make us some breakfast. How does cinnamon toast sound?" 

Emile cheered, and Alandria smiled and nodded. Roman clapped his hands together, grabbed a shirt, and headed to the kitchen, pulling the garment on. 

Soon they were sitting around the table with plates of cinnamon toast with fresh fruit in front of them. Emile ate messily, getting strawberry juice and cinnamon-sugar all over his face and hands. Alandria got a wet paper towel and cleaned him up. 

Then they were off, Roman and Alandria going to shower and get dressed, Emile sat in front of the TV with cartoons on until one of them got to him to make him put on real clothes rather than pajamas.

Roman showered and dressed first, in a pale red button-up, a black tie, and khakis with black leather shoes. Once he was done, he scooped up Emile, ignoring his protests and wiggling. "Come on, Emmy, gotta get dressed. Then you can ask Mommy if you can watch more cartoons."

Emile let Roman maneuver him out of his pajamas and into a shirt and some pants, giggling away the whole time. Roman poked his nose when he was done. "I bet Mommy's dressed now. Wanna go ask if you can watch more cartoons?"

Emile nodded vigorously and went in search of Alandria, while Roman poured a thermos of coffee to take with him.

Alandria and Emile met him at the door, off to run some errand or another. 

"I'll see you tonight," Roman said, pressing a kiss to the top of Emile's head. 

"Love you," Alandria said. 

"Bye," Roman answered. 

----

"Roman!" Patton Casey greeted. 

"Morning, Pat!"

That was the extent of his usual personal interactions with the red-haired receptionist, though he relied heavily on Patton for matters of business. 

He walked into his shared office, and his partner, Logan Hubbard, was, of course, already there.

"Did you hear about the execution tomorrow?" Logan asked. 

Roman raised an eyebrow. "What execution?" 

"It's a teenager. They say he was stirring up rebellion among the other youths. And he's openly gay," Logan mentioned. Logan was Roman's closest friend, and one of two people in the whole world who knew Roman's secret. But he had the exact same secret, too. 

"Shit," Roman remarked. "Are we going?" 

"You are scheduled to be there on behalf of the Governor's office, so yes, you are, but I am staying here," Logan answered. 

"Damn, can we trade?" Roman asked. 

"Not a chance in hell. Get to work, Picani."

Roman sighed and set about his daily tasks.

One thing that came across his desk caught his eye. An execution order for one Thomas Sanders, age 15… He signed it with a grimace on behalf of his boss, then scanned it and sent it to the other Governors' offices. 

Soon lunchtime rolled around. He ate with Logan, and he longed for one of their nights out in the underground gay bars that dotted the bad parts of the city. He and Logan had tried the secretly dating thing, after Logan had started this job, when they'd run into each other at one of said bars. It hadn't worked out; they were better as friends. Today, they talked about how Emile had woken Roman early and different ways Logan had read about to keep kids from doing that. Logan did not have a wife or children; he just liked to read. And, truly, he did want to be a parent one day. That was one thing Roman knew about him from their drunken nights together in Logan's apartment early in Roman's marriage. 

When lunch was over, they had a meeting. With Governor Baines. Roman hated those. Governor Baines was a thin, gaunt man with balding grey hair. His skin may as well have been grey, too, with how pale he was. 

The conference room was grey as well, unrelentingly so. Roman and Logan each told him the notable things that had been delivered to the office. Governor Baines often asked in a dull voice what they had just said and if they could repeat themselves. 

"Oh, and the Sanders execution order came in today," Roman said, trying not to wince. 

"Sanders…" Governor Baines mumbled. "Tell me about this Sanders."

"He's fifteen years old," Roman told him. No reaction. Roman sighed. "He's openly gay and has incited rebellion among the kids at his school."

"I presume you signed it."

"Yes, Governor Baines."

"Good lad, Picano." 

Roman frowned a little when the Governor got his name wrong. But he didn't correct him. 

Then the meeting was over. The next several hours were filled with filing and organizing. Roman talked at Logan about a TV show he and Alandria were watching as they worked. When he finally left, giving a little goodbye to Patton, he was exhausted. It was a good job, but not a fun one. 

----

"Daddy!" Emile cried as Roman opened the door, his tie loose around his neck. Roman laughed and bent down to catch the speeding toddler. 

"Hi, Emmy! There's my little man!"

"Hi, honey!" Alandria called from the kitchen. 

"Oh, let me help!" Roman offered, carrying Emile into the kitchen. "What can I do?" 

"Get the chicken in the pan, babe?" Alandria requested. 

Emile played on the floor as his parents cooked dinner. 

"How was your day?" Roman asked when they were finally sat down to eat. 

"Oh, fine," Alandria said. "We just did some shopping, then Emile and I worked some more on the alphabet, isn't that right, Em?" 

Emile nodded excitedly. "I can go all the way to 'O'! Listen! A, B, C, D, E, F, um, G, H, I, J, K, um… M N O!"

"You skipped 'L', Baby, but very good job," Alandria said as Roman clapped. 

Emile giggled and went back to his food. 

Roman didn't know what else to say, nor did Alandria, and Emile was too busy eating to keep up the conversation. So the rest of dinner passed in silence. 

When Alandria was finished, she wiped her hands and face on a paper napkin, then stood up. "Okay, Em, bathtime!" 

Roman was going to offer to do it, but something stopped him. He wasn't sure what, just that they needed this time together, but he just finished his meal, letting them go. When he was done, he went and got into pajamas and got the show he was watching with Alandria queued up. Finally, he met Alandria outside Emile's bedroom to put him to bed. 

They wrestled him into pajamas, Emile giggling and squirming the whole time. Then Roman scooped him up and dumped him on the bed, chuckling. "Okay, Monster. What story do you want tonight?" 

"The Tortoise and the Hare!" Emile cried, and Alandria retrieved it from the shelf. 

Roman opened the book and began reading in a silly voice. Emile yawned. 

By the time Roman was done, Emile was sound asleep. 

Roman quietly put the book up and crept out of the room with Alandria. 

They sat down on the couch and started their show, the TV on a low volume. Two episodes went by before they decided to go to sleep, wordlessly. They crawled into bed, and Roman was out in moments. 

----

"They're having an execution today," Alandria said the next morning after Roman had gotten dressed in his white button-up, khaki pants, dark red tie, and black dress shoes. 

He had to wince. "I know. You're not taking Emile, are you?" 

"Why wouldn't I? It's a part of life. He has to learn these things at some point," Alandria said. 

Roman sighed and nodded. He didn't want to argue. "Maybe I'll see you there. I'm scheduled to go."

The drive to work felt long. He stared at the road ahead of him, feeling irritated for a reason he couldn't place. 

Then he was walking into work, coffee in hand.

"'Morning, Pat," he said, voice a bit strained. 

"Good morning, Roman," Patton answered, sounding concerned. But Roman had ducked into his office before Patton could ask.

"Good morning, Roman," Logan echoed Patton. 

Roman just grunted, sitting down at his desk.

The rest of the morning went along monotonously. Then it was time for lunch. And the execution. He ate, but he didn't taste. He honestly wouldn't have had any idea what he was eating if it hadn't been labelled 'cranberry spinach salad'. 

Then he drove to the Execution Courtyard. The parking was a nightmare, as always on execution days. He spotted Alandria's car. 

It took him a little bit to find his wife and son, as they were toward the other side of the crowd from the parking lot. "Hi!" he greeted, taking Emile from his wife when the child reached for him with a squeal of "Daddy!"

It was about time for the execution to start. So where…? They were near the entrance where the guards would bring in the prisoner. That's when Roman realized what was happening. There was the boy, Thomas, and another guy, beautiful, with dark hair and sharp features, small and cute, but harsh-looking… and the guards on the ground, and a gun pointed at Thomas. The other guy was trying to pull the teenager away. The gun turned to him. Later, Roman couldn't have said why he'd done it. But suddenly, he was between the man and the gun, Emile gently placed on the ground next to him. And Alandria was between Roman and the gun before the guard had the chance to fire. 

Roman, surprised to not be dead, covered in a spray of blood, and largely in shock, picked up his son quickly and cradled him close to his chest, not letting him see his mother on the ground. 

"Come with us!" the dark-haired man hissed, grabbing Roman's arm and dragging him and Thomas through alleyways. Roman followed numbly, clinging to his son, who was crying in fear and confusion. They stopped in a dead-end alleyway behind some dumpsters. "Can you get that kid to quiet down?" their savior asked impatiently. 

Thomas held out his arms wordlessly, and Roman hesitantly passed Emile over. The toddler quieted pretty quickly, sticking his thumb in his mouth and curling up against Thomas's chest. 

"We stay here for two hours, 'til things quiet down, then our ride comes. Get comfortable," the other man said. He looked to be about Roman's age, now that Roman had time to really look. 

"Who are you?" Thomas asked slowly. 

The man held up a finger to his lips urgently, and several guards ran past their alleyway. A few moments passed, then he said quietly, "Name's Virgil. I work with some people who have a vested interest in keeping you alive, Thomas. Now, I want to know who he is."

Roman gulped. "Um, my name is Roman Picani… I work for Governor Baines's office… except I probably don't do that anymore."

"Probably not," agreed Virgil. "Someone, uh… Someone did get shot back there… Do you know—"

"My wife," Roman said, trying unsuccessfully to blink back tears. 

Thomas gasped softly. "I'm so sorry…"

"Can we not talk about it in front of my son?" Roman requested, and Virgil nodded in agreement, looking away. 

"Well, you'll be wanted now, Roman. Looks like you and the kid are stuck with us."

Roman nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "I just ruined my life…" he said softly. 

"Maybe…" Virgil answered quietly. 

"If it makes you feel any better, I ruined mine a few weeks ago," Thomas contributed. 

Roman couldn't help a small, bitter chuckle at that. "So… what now?" 

"I'll leave it to Patton to explain that," Virgil answered. 

"Patton… Not Patton Casey?" Roman asked. 

"Yep, Patton Casey. My big brother," Virgil said. "You already know him from the office, then."

Roman didn't know Patton had a brother. And apparently, Roman didn't know a lot of things about Patton, as he was to find out when Patton pulled up at the entrance to the alleyway two hours later in a non-descript black car. 

Patton was surprised to see Roman and his son, to say the least. "V, what happened?" 

"Almost got shot," Virgil answered quietly. "Roman here tried to take the bullet. His wife took it instead."

Patton covered his mouth with a hand in shock. "Oh, Roman, I'm so sorry." 

Roman just took his son back from Thomas silently as they quickly got into the car. 

"Well, um…" Patton said. "I guess… Welcome to The Resistance."

----

The Resistance headquarters was a dilapidated house next to Housing Development Number 1. Patton led them all inside, having put Thomas in a baggy hoodie so he wouldn't be recognized. They stopped in the kitchen. The walls were painted yellow, the cabinets were white, and the appliances were old. The backsplash was a gaudily painted tile, and the countertops were light blue porcelain. There was a battered wooden table with mismatched chairs in the corner. 

"Alright, Thomas. You can take the room next to Virgil's and mine. Roman and Emile the one next to that," Patton said. "Sorry it's not that much, guys, but… it's what we have." He sighed. "This is always the hardest part. Settling in, getting all new clothes and things. Don't worry, Roman; we can get some toys for Emile." 

Roman nodded, holding the now-sleeping toddler closer to his chest. 

"You'll stay here for as long as you like, Roman. Until you're settled into this new life, then we can move you to another safehouse that's not so close to the action," Virgil said. 

Roman raised an eyebrow. "Exactly how big is this operation?" 

"Oh, we have branches all over the country," Patton answered. "This is just HQ for our province's branch."

"Who's in charge here?" Thomas asked. 

"You're lookin' at 'im, Kiddo!" Patton said cheerfully. 

Roman sputtered for a moment. Sweet Patton was the head of The Resistance in Shaw Province?!

"What?" Patton asked, directing his attention to Roman. He kept up his cheery demeanor as he asked, "Thought I was just the mild-mannered receptionist?" There was a hint of amusement to his tone. "Come on, we'll show you your rooms, then, um… then you can go take a shower, Roman," he said, gesturing for Thomas and Roman to follow him. "Virgil, send Gio or Perce to the store for clothes. Oh! What sizes are you guys?" 

Thomas and Roman listed off their clothing sizes, then Roman told them Emile's size as well. Virgil wrote it all down on a pad of paper he grabbed from the table. 

"Got it. See ya at dinner, Pat," Virgil said with a little wave. 

Patton showed Roman his and Emile's room, and Roman laid Emile down on the bed. The room was fairly empty, aside from bookshelves. When Roman looked a little closer, he realized it was mostly banned books. 

He turned back to Patton and Thomas in the doorway, and Patton looked nervous. 

"Um, Roman, there's something I haven't told you…"

Roman bristled a little, unsure what to expect at this point. 

Patton took a deep breath. "Your brother, Remus, he works with us sometimes."

"Remus… God, I haven't seen him in… years…" Roman mused sadly. 

"I know. He told me," Patton said, sounding sad. 

Roman nodded. "I… I need to rest…"

Patton nodded. "Of course. But shower first, okay? The bathroom is the door just across from this one. You can borrow some of my clothes for now. Should I wake you for dinner?"

Roman shook his head. "No, no, I'll eat in the morning," he answered. 

Patton smiled worriedly. "Okay, well… I'll go get you those clothes!"

"Goodnight," Thomas said before he and Patton left. 

Roman kicked off his shoes and sat down on the bed, petting Emile's hair; the toddler whined but didn't wake.

Soon, Patton was knocking on the door. Roman stepped outside and closed the door behind him. 

"Thanks, Patton," he said as he took the clothes Patton held out to him. 

"Are you okay?" Patton asked gently. 

Roman nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, yeah, I just…" He sighed, running his free hand through his hair. "...What about Emile? What is he gonna do? I can't send him to school, he doesn't have his mother anymore, he can't go home…" The tears spilled over, and Patton was quick to hug him. 

"Hey, hey, it's going to be okay, Kiddo," Patton said, rubbing Roman's back. "I know it's a lot, but it's gonna be okay."

Roman wiped roughly at his eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I'm… I'm glad Virgil is okay, I just…" He sniffled. "I've sacrificed my life for his."

Patton nodded sympathetically. "...Roman, do you believe that the government we live under is oppressive?"

Roman laughed bitterly through his tears. "I'm a gay man who's spent my prime married to a woman I didn't have any feelings for. I've signed death warrants for people like me and Thomas for a living for years. I know we live in an oppressive system."

"Maybe you should stay with us, then. Fight it," Patton suggested. 

"I'd like to… I have to do what's best for my son… I just need to figure out what that is," Roman bemoaned. 

"Well… We're all here to help. You're not alone," Patton assured him. "Shower and get some rest."

And Roman did. 

For the second night in a row, he was asleep within moments of his head hitting the pillow, exhausted.

[noladyme]

The Crown Princess of Charming - part 15

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.

Rated M

Tags (let me know if you want on the list) @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @edonaspanca​

15

I wrapped up my phone in the kitchen towel and the bag again; and went into the yard; leaving it in the small shed there. Walking back inside; I looked meaningfully at Jax. “She has what she needs…”, I said. He nodded, and pulled me into his arms again. “Last night…”, I muttered into the crook of his neck. He shook his head. “Not the last. I’ll be back”. I sighed. “A year, Jax…”. “Just keep my side of the bed cold”, he smiled. I put my lips to his; looking deep into his eyes. “Not tonight”, I whispered.

Jax put his hands under my bottom; and lifted me to straddle him. Smiling all the way; he carried me to the bedroom – lowering me onto the bed; hovering over me. “I love you”, he smiled. I put my hand behind his neck; and pulled him closer to me. “I love you too”, I said, and our lips met.

For the longest time, we just kissed. Our lips perfectly molded, and our tongues gently brushed against each other. When our lips weren’t connected; we where whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears.

“The first time you got behind me on my bike; I had to shift in my seat to keep anyone from seeing my hardon”, Jax grinned. “Really?”, I smiled. “Yeah. Gemma was gonna send Rat over with those papers for you to sign. I snatched them up, to take them to you myself. Just wanted to see your face again”. I chuckled. “Well, I gave you more than you bargained for, huh?”. “Darlin’; seeing you in nothing but that towel…”. His hand travelled under my top, to brush his fingers across my belly. “Sent some very impure thoughts through my mind”. He kissed the secret spot on my neck. I shivered under his touch. “I kept telling myself; you can’t have sex with the biker!”, I grinned. “I’m happy you decided to break that vow”, Jackson breathed; and sat up to remove his t-shirt.

I sat up myself; and began kissing Jax across his chest; letting my tongue flicker over his nipple. He let out a small gasp; and tugged at the hem of my top; to remove it. With my arms in the air, he pulled it over my head. He smirked softly. “You wore this bra the first time we slept together”. “I forgot”, I smiled. “I think I was more focused on you taking it off”. He raised a brow and tilted his head. “Well, I was happy to”, he leered. “Let me get at them…”.

He grinned, and expertly snapped open my bra; pulling it off me. He pushed me down on the mattress; and pushed my breasts together; nibbling slightly at my right nipple. He ran his teeth over it; and I whimpered from the signals it sent to my core. “Righty is happy… let’s check lefty”, he snickered; and repeated the action on my left nipple. “She’s perking up…”. “Mmhmm”, I moaned. I ran my nails across the reaper on his back; and he let out a slight groan.

“How many orgasms did I promise you?”, he breathed. “A shitload”, I panted. He chuckled; and lowered himself to the waistline of my shorts; kissing across my skin just above it. “Let’s get these off”. He unbuttoned the shorts; and tugged them down my hips and bottom; having me raise it, so he could remove them and my panties all at once.

I was stretched out naked under him; and he sat on his knees; straddling my legs. He looked me over – his eyes soft and admiring. “Your body… baby…”. Jax lowered himself onto me; and kissed me deeply. Moving his lips down; he ran his hands over my mounds, my ribs and hips – all while letting his mouth explore my chest, belly; and finally ending up just over my warmth.

“I’m gonna be thinking about this every time I eat prison-jello…”, he smirked; and slid his tongue over my nub. “You telling me I taste like jello?”, I whimpered – body twitching under his touch. “No, I hate jello”, he grinned up at me. “I’m gonna be thinking of this, to block out the taste of it”. He slicked a trace from my clit to my entrance, and back again. “You taste like… sunshine… ice cream… and tasty, tasty pussy”. I laughed; before a flick of his tongue made me cry out in extasy. I grabbed on to his hair; and panted heavily; as he buried his face in my folds.

Jax grabbed my knees; and put them over his shoulders, to give him better access to me. He slid his thumb into me for a second; before trailing it down my taint – finally probing the ring of muscle behind my genitals. The action made me jolt; and squeal. It felt so good to have him stimulating all of my privates like that. His thumb entered my ring just slightly. “Someday, baby”, he breathed against me. “Keep dreaming, Teller…”, I moaned. “That’s not… Oh my god!”. I cried out; as his thumb entered my hole down to the knuckle. He chuckled against me. “You want me to stop?”. “You… oh, no. Keep going… don’t…”. Jax sucked hard on my clit. His free hand found my main entrance; and two fingers began pushing at my front wall.

The intense sensation of his fingers working on me; and his tongue playing with my nub, as he sucked it into his mouth – sent me over the edge; and I literally screamed out his name; as I came with violent shocks streaming through my body.

Jackson carefully withdrew his fingers, and ran his hand up my body; as he came up to lay next to me. My body was still convulsing. “Are you ok?”, he whispered; with a wide smile on his handsome face. “I… can’t talk…”, I croaked. Jax laughed; and kissed me gently. ”Can I get you anything?”, he smiled. I managed to relax my breathing; and smirked at him. “Already?”. He grinned in surprise. “Just take your pants of, Jackson!”, I chuckled.

Jackson looked like a giddy teenager; and jumped out of bed – wrestling his pants and boxers off. He threw himself on the bed; and sat himself with his back to the headboard. I looked down at his wanting hardness; and bit my lip. Straddling him; I lowered myself down on it. Jax’s face contorted. “Holy sh… baby…”, he gasped. I put my hand against the headboard, and began riding him. His hands found my breasts, and he hold on to me for dear life; as I grinded against his groin.

I clenched my walls around him; drawing loud groans from his mouth. “How do you do that?”, he asked. “It’s like sex and a handjob all at… woah!”. I’d clenched my muscles again. “Wouldn’t want you to forget me”, I smiled. He leant forwards; and met my lips. “Never gonna happen”, he growled.

He wrapped his arms around my back; and threw me down to lay on my back. I lifted my leg, to let him put my knee over his shoulder. Jackson began thrusting into me with force. He was hitting my g-spot perfectly. “You found it again”, I whimpered with a laugh. “Oh god…”. I put my hands on Jax’s bottom; digging my fingers into its firmness – desperately trying to force him harder into me. “More?”, he breathed. I closed my eyes, and nodded. With a grunt; Jackson pounded into me fiercely – almost making me sob from the amazing sensation. He looked at me worriedly. “Too much? Are you ok?”. “Keep going”, I pleaded. He brushed my lips with his own; and pounded into me again.

Jax put his hand to my throat, and squeezed gently. Every inch of my body was on fire; and I let out a guttural sound, that then turned in to another scream. My body tensed; and I came again. Jackson thrusted hard into me; riding out my orgasm; to reach his own – finally finishing with a growl of relief, and coming inside me.

Kissing my lips gently; he laid down next to me. The air was heavy with sex, love – and sadness. “Why does it feel like forever?”, Jackson muttered. “Because it might as well be…”, I croaked. He turned his body; and pulled me close; kissing my temple. “Did… did anyone ever tell you about a prison-clause?”, he muttered. “No…”, I said. “Thank god!”, he smiled. I chuckled. “I think I know what it means, from the name…”, I whispered. “And that’s not going to be an issue. Juice will be on the inside with you”.

My joke instantly made Jackson laugh; and he attacked my mouth with rough kisses. “I told you!”, he grinned. “Don’t joke about that!”. He squeezed my ass cheek and growled into the crook of my neck. “Yes, sir”, I giggled.

Lust took us over again; and Jax delivered on his promise. I spent the night having a shitload of orgasms.

---

When we woke up; we didn’t speak. We merely got dressed, and ready to leave. There wasn’t anything to say, after all. The plan was set; and now was the time to strike. Jax kissed me deeply; and we got on his bike, to drive to TM. A black escalade followed us closely; parking a little way down the street from the lot.

The parking spots were mostly empty, save for Clay’s, Happy’s and Juice’s bikes. The door to the garage was closed; and I guessed more motorcycles where hold up in there. Inside the clubhouse, all of Samcro – except Tig, who had already said goodbye, and was waiting in the warehouse with Quinn and the Nomads – where waiting. Chicago – including VP Mike – where gathered in a corner – solemnly looking at us, as we stepped into the room. Unser was leaning against the bar. The badge usually adorning his uniform, was gone. He looked content.

“It’s time”, Jax said. He, Happy and Juice were all wearing blue jeans and black hoodies; dark scarves hanging around their necks. “Nichols will be at the warehouse in an hour and a half; giving us time to get there, switch, and start the chase”. “They won’t try to take us in, before we reach it?”, Happy asked. “No. Stahl will want me and the drugs. We’ll be safe until we get there”, Jackson answered. “Just don’t make too much of a ruckus on the lot”.

“We got your back, son”, Clay said. “You mother told me to say she loves you… Abel’s in safe hands”. Jax looked at me. “I know he is”. They embraced; and Clay stroked my cheek. “See you on the other side, teach’”, he smiled. I returned the gesture. “Will do”.

Unser shook Jax’s hand. “The phone is in the shed in our yard”, Jax said. “I got it, kid”, the old man said. “How does retirement smell?”, Jax smiled. “Like stale beer and motor oil”, Unser grinned.

Opie came over, and hugged Jax. “Lyla send her love to both of you”. He turned and hugged me. “Thanks, man”, Jackson muttered. He began embracing all his brothers in turn; Happy and Juice doing the same. “Have a cold one ready for me when I get back”, Juice said to Chibs; who had tears running down his cheeks. He patted his brother’s cheek. “Two of them”, he said. “And the ginger from the gas-station”. Juice grinned in glee.

Jax pulled the scot in for another hug. “Take care of my family for me, brother”. “We will”, Chibs said, and wiped his eyes. “We got ‘em”, Opie agreed. Jax sent a loving smile to his best friend. “Thanks”.

Piney grabbed me into a warm embrace. “Stay safe, sweetheart”, he muttered; before patting Jax’s shoulder.

Bobby came over with what looked like a black vest. He kissed my cheek, and handed it to me. “Put this on, sweetheart… just in case”. He pulled it over my head; and Jax strapped the velcro straps across my chest. “Bulletproof”, he muttered – looking grave. “I’ll be ok”, I whispered. 

He stroked my cheek, and kissed my forehead. “You ride with them, just like you do with me”, he said seriously. “Hold on tight, and keep your head down”. “We got her, man”, Happy said. Juice nodded. Jackson stepped back. “Ok… let’s do this”. He pulled the blue flannel out of the bag we’d brought; and I put it on, closing the buttons over the Kevlar vest, to hide it from view.

The three future felons each grabbed a brown package from a table; and strapped it to their torsos with duct tape – making sure they wouldn’t drop the drugs needed to take them in.

���Make it look real, boys”, Clay exclaimed with a smile. Jax nodded and grabbed my hand – taking a deep breath. “Go!”.

Happy, Juice, Jax and I ran out the door. Jax pulled me with him to his bike; looking towards the street, where the agents were waiting. He pulled me flush against his body; kissing me with passion, before handing me my helmet. I put it on. Seconds later, Clay, Opie, Chibs and Bobby came running after us. “Jax!”, Clay roared after us; and pulled his gun. The three others pulled their own weapons, and aimed them at our group. Happy pulled his own gun; and shot in their direction – missing on purpose. The men chasing us fell to the ground, covering their heads.

We jumped on the bikes – my arms firmly locked around Jacksons torso – and we sped out of the lot, and down the street. We were going to fast for me to look back, but I noticed Juice looking back, from where he was riding next to us - and he nodded at Jax; before trailing in behind us. They’re following us. Stahl is coming.

We drove past the sign at the beginning of town – and left Charming behind.

---

Speeding through stop-signs and down the highway, the wind was blowing in my ears. I had made myself leave fear behind. This wasn’t the time to go into anxiety-mode – and I had full trust in the man I was currently holding on to.

After about 30 minutes, we neared a cluster of trees, marking the edge of forestland. “Hold on!”, Jax yelled; and made a sharp turn. We continued down smaller roads; Happy and Juice constantly zigzagging behind us, to cover my back from the agents trailing us.

I saw a small sign telling me we where nearing somewhere called Oswald’s Pond. We made another sharp turn, down a gravelly road – small bumps sending jolts through the bike. I held on harder to Jax. “You’re doing great, baby!”, he yelled back at me. Happy came up next to us. “We lost them”, he yelled. Jax nodded.

Another turn, down an even smaller road; led us to a small building – the warehouse. A double door opened, and we got inside on the bikes – the door closing behind us again. Tig was waiting for us, with the Nomads; wearing the same outfit as his brothers. Jax jumped off the bike; and turned to face me. “I love you!”, he said, his eyes fierce – and he kissed me deeply one last time, before turning to Tig. “Take care of her, man”. “I will, brother”, Tig nodded – all jest gone from his usually cheery face.

Quinn handed me a backpack. I recognized it as Ellies. It was filled with something – giving it some weight and fill.

Happy, Juice and Tig pulled up their hoods, put on sunglasses; and lifted their scarves to cover their faces. “Go!”, Jax yelled; and Tig jumped on his bike in front of me. “Hold on, puddin’!”, he said; and I put my arms around him.

Jax smiled encouragingly at me; and went to open the doors at the other end of the building. I looked back at him a final time before he closed the door behind us, as we sped out.

I love you, Jackson.

---

We sped back down the road we’d arrived on, suddenly hearing sirens in the distance. Tig was a good driver; but I couldn’t help but feel my heart in my throat. I grabbed on to his hoodie - digging my fingers into the fabric. “Doing good, Cat!”, he yelled.

Happy and Juice followed closely behind us, until we made the sharp turn back onto the larger gravel road. The sirens where growing louder, and I could hear them multiply. There was more than one car trailing us. The two other bikes began zigzagging behind me again; before we took one more turn, leading us onto asphalt. Tig made a hand gesture to tell the others to speed up.

“ATF! Pull over!”, someone was yelling from a loudspeaker on one of the cars. Happy – or Juice; I couldn’t tell from the speed and their masks – trailed up next to me and Tig; before making a hand-gesture himself. This one was a middle finger to our pursuers. I heard Tig let out a loud laugh; and I joined in myself.

Suddenly, we split up. Tig and I went down a smaller road, with one of the others; and the last rider continued forward. We met up minutes later at larger road. The single rider had made some distance to one of the cars; which was struggling to keep up.

We hit a speedbump; making me jump in my seat. Just like with Jax… Just like with Jax…

Tig turned down another small road. This one led us into an industrial area, filled with small buildings. Stopping the bike; Tig pulled his gun. “Switch!”, he yelled. He shot at the following cars; and I jumped off the bike, running towards Juice, who was waving me over. He would be the second Jax.

Climbing on behind him, I held on to his torso; and he sped behind a building – before doubling back; and driving in between two of the cars following; forcing them to swerve. Juice drove us back onto the road, before taking a turn down towards a junction. Tig and Happy had disappeared behind some of the other buildings, and came from two different roads to join us. We drove together, taking turns every chance we got.

I had no idea where in the county we were – merely held on to Juice for dear life. “It’s gonna get bumpy!”, Juice yelled, and took a turn down another gravel road. No shit!, I thought. The road we were on was more an animal path than anything else – surrounded by trees. Mud splayed up my leg, when we hit a puddle. “Sorry”, Juice yelled.

I saw one of the other riders a through the trees a good 30 paces from us. He had a car right on his ass; and turned back to shoot for the tires of it. The car swerved; and hit a tree. “Woo!”, I heard the rider yell.

Once through the trees, the path ended; and we were back on asphalt. Two cars where blocking our way; and Juice had to make a hard brake; putting his foot to the ground, to turn us around fast. “Stop!”, we heard from the loudspeaker. I heard a loud pop; and Juice flinched in front of me. One of the other riders almost took a spill; but managed to get up in time to follow us. We split up again.

The two other drivers headed in separate directions, and Juice once again took us off road – heading over a grassy field, towards what looked like an abandoned farm. Happy was already waiting for us by the main house. “Come on!”, he roared, and Juice halted. He doubled over for a second, holding his hand over his thigh. Blood was running from a hole in his jeans. I put my hand on his arm, looking at him in fear. “I’m ok. Go!”, he yelled at me – and I tore myself from my bleeding friend – running towards Happy, and getting on behind him. “Let’s go, princess”, Happy growled, and we once again sped off.

I looked back towards Juice. He’d managed to start driving again; but his body-language was strained. He was in real pain from the gunshot. Happy drove us straight through an old barn, shooting back towards the following cars. This man had no mercy when it came to his friends getting hurt. “Assholes”, he roared.

Tig met us on the other side of the barn, trailing up next to us. “Last stretch!”, he yelled. He and Juice returned to zigzagging behind us, before once again taking a turn in separate directions. At this point, the agents following us seemed to have no idea which rider was Jax, and focused on getting all three of them.

We needed to create some distance to be able to hand over the backpack to Clay safely; without getting shot at. Happy gave made his bike give it all; and for a second it felt like I was going down a rollercoaster. We hit a bump, and took air for a second. My strained squeal was blocked out by Happy’s cheerful Whooo!.

He suddenly made a drifting turn; and we were head on with our pursuer. “What are you doing?”, I yelled. “Chicken”, he laughed. Oh, shit! Happy sped up, and leant forward; revving the engine. With a squeal of the back tire, we suddenly flew down the road – head to head with the car. “Come get me, shithead!”, Happy growled. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes.

The sirens came closer, and the wind was blowing around my head. I held on to Happy harder than I had ever held on to anything in my life. “Jerk alert!”, Happy yelled; and I opened my eyes, just in time to see the car swerve off the road, and off the road, hitting a large boulder. “Yeah!”, happy whooped, and we left behind the totaled vehicle.

Turning down a larger road, Tig and Juice met up with us again. All three bikers where laughing loudly. “Lost ‘em a mile back!”, I heard Juice yell. “It’s time!”, Happy answered. Tig sped up, and drove in front of us, and led us to an exit, down a hill. At the bottom of it, a group of bikes where blocking our path.

Clay, Chibs, Bobby and Opie where waiting for us. They were all aiming their guns at us. We made a halt; and with sirens nearing, we slowly got off the bikes; hands in the air. Out the corner of my eye, I saw one of the cars stopping; and people getting out. I’d recognize the bony ass on one of them anywhere. Stahl.

“It’s over, assholes”, Clay smirked. “Hand over the bag…”. I saw Stahl put up her hands to stop her underlings from shooting. She wanted the handoff to happen. I could practically smell her gleeful sweating, over catching the president of Samcro with drugs in his hands.

I slowly walked towards Clay, and took off the backpack – handing it to him. “That’s it, sweetheart”, he said. “We got it”, he muttered below his breath.

Stahl came running forward, three agents at her heels. “Hands in the air!”, she yelled. We all raised our hands. “Guns down”, she demanded. The men in front of us all slowly dropped their weapons on the ground; kicking them away. Clay glared at Stahl, as she walked up to him. “Well, Mr. Morrow”, she grinned. “Seems we caught you with something you shouldn’t have. Give me the bag”. Clay handed her the backpack; and a smile ghosted his face.

Stahl set the bag on the ground, and while her men aimed their guns at us; she opened it. Her jaw dropped. “What the hell is this?”, she said; holding up a book. “Where are the drugs?”. “No drugs…”, Clay said. “Samcro doesn’t deal in drugs”. “Then why were you chasing them?”, she hissed. “She stole my kids favorite book…”, Opie said. Stahl threw the volume on the ground. It was the copy of Pippi Longstocking I’d given Ellie. I looked up at Opie; and the corner of his lips twitched.

“Shit!”, Stahl said. “Fine… We still got murder”. She turned to face the three masked bikers. “Jackson Teller, you are under arrest for the murder of Joshua Kohn. Anything you say, can and will…”. The three men began laughing. “What?”, she sneered. “Take those masks of them”.

The three agents removed the bikers glasses and masks; revealing Juice, Happy and Tig; all grinning and laughing at Stahl’s guffawed face. “Where is he?”, she yelled. She grabbed my arm. “Catherine, where is Jackson Teller?”. “I don’t know…”, I said – truthfully. “Search them”, she sneered. Within seconds, the agents had found the drugs strapped to the three men. They were all cuffed; and read their rights.

Clay shook his head in mock sadness. “Really, guys… I’m so disappointed in you all”. “Take the rest of them in for illegal gun possession”, Stahl growled. “All our guns are registered and legal; ma’am”, Bobby said. “Shit!”, Stahl screamed.

It was my time. “Agent Stahl?”, I said. “I’m willing to testify…”. I swallowed hard. “Against Jackson”. Her lips turned upwards in a terrifying smile. “Really?”. I nodded. “Yes… please, just get me out of here. I’m afraid!”. Stahl narrowed her eyes at me. “Take Huey, Dewey, and Louie back to Charming. I got miss Rose… The rest can go”.

I sent a look towards my three protectors. They all nodded at me knowingly. See you in a year. A smile ghosted my lips. I’d never be able to thank them enough.

I followed Stahl back to the car; and got in the backseat – letting her drive me back to Charming.

---

An hour later, I was back in the interview room at Charming PD – a cup of coffee and a pack of smokes in front of me. At this point, I was alone. I’m not going to jail. I’m going to take care of Abel for Jax. Be Momma Cat. I can do this.

Agent Stahl walked into the room with a file folder; and sat down in front of me. She tried for an encouraging look. “I’m happy you’ve finally decided to talk to me”, she said softly. “It’s just too bad it had to take such a chase to get us together… Did Jackson make you do that, to let him slip away?”. “Something like that”, I muttered. She nodded. “It’s hard, when you love someone that much… but he left you behind, kitty”. “Don’t call me that”, I snarled. She sighed. “Sorry… Catherine”. She smiled gently. “My agents are still looking for Mr. Teller. We will catch him; and once we do, he’s going to do hard time”. I looked up at her. “Yeah?”. Stahl nodded. “Yes. And you’re going to help me with that”.

I shrugged. “You already know everything… I know my phone was bugged”. She tilted her head. “If you did; why did you keep it around?”, she asked. “To set up Jackson?”. To set up you… “I… love him”, I said. “But you were also afraid”, she muttered. I nodded.

“Can I smoke?”, I asked. “Go ahead”, Stahl smiled. “I quit myself; but a little second-hand smoke once in a while, helps with the withdrawals”. Keep trying to be my friend, bitch. I lit my cigarette; and took a draw from it. “I don’t want to go to jail”, I said. “That doesn’t have to happen”, she smiled. “We both know Jackson killed Kohn… I have the recordings”. I nodded. “But you can’t use them”. She grimaced. “They weren’t exactly procured legally”.

I sighed. “So your case rests on me… and that guy who saw me”. “He’s out of the picture”, she grumbled. “I need your help”. I nodded. “If I help you; you’ll let me go, right?”. She smiled widely. “Ally Lowen already set up the papers. I have them right here”. She opened the folder, and took out a pen. “When I sign these, you’re free, as long as you agree to testify in court against Teller”. “Ok”, I whispered.

She reached for my hand; and I jolted in my seat. “I’m sorry… did he hurt you?”. I tried to stiffle my smirk. “He… gets a bit rough”. In bed… it’s heaven. “I understand”, she smiled. “Now, tell me everything, that happened that night”. Nope, can’t let you get it that easy. “I don’t… I still love him. It’s hard”. “He doesn’t care about you”, she said earnestly. “Do you know, how he talks about you when you’re not there?” I let my lip quiver. “You heard him?”, I whispered. She nodded, with a sad look in her eyes. “He calls you names. Calls you stupid…”. I looked down. “You heard everything… even when we…”. “Had sex… yeah”, she admitted – trying for a solemn look. Bet that got you off…

She leant back in her chair. “There was a long break, when I couldn’t hear anything… why was that?”. “Jax figured it was bugged… made me hide it. I told him it was fine; that I needed it in case my old job needed to get a hold of me”. “Right… I forgot”. She sighed. “I could help you with that… get your job back”. “Really?”. “Yeah… though, are you sure you want to stay in Charming? Samcro isn’t gone. You might not be safe”.

I sighed. “You’re right… ok”. I chewed my lip. “Can you get me out of here? Somewhere safe?”. She nodded. “I’ll get you into protective custody as soon as I’ve signed these papers”, she said, and gestured to the document in front of her. “But I need you to tell me what happened first. I need to know what you’ll say in court”.

I took a deep breath, and closed my eyes. “Ok”, I said. “Joshua Stahl had been stalking me for over a year. He convinced me to go with him; when he threatened to put the ATF on Jax and the club”. I looked at her; trying to hide my disgust. “I went with him to that motel where you found me”. Where you knew I’d be. “Joshua was about to… rape me… when Jax arrived”. “Who was with him?”, she interrupted. Shit! “I don’t know…”, I said. “I was beat up and terrified. I only had eyes on Jax”. She nodded. “Then what?”. “Jackson pulled a gun, and shot Joshua. Killing him”.

She stared at me intently. “Where did he get the gun from?”. I handed it to him. “It was just there”, I muttered. “It was just there…”, she repeated. “Yes”, I whispered.

Stahl picked up the pen, and tapped it against the table for a moment – stalling. Keep calm. I took a deep draw from my smoke; waiting. “Will you repeat this in court, Catherine?”, she asked earnestly. No… no, no, no… “Yes”, I whispered.

She looked at me a moment longer; lifted the pen – and signed the documents, setting me free. I closed my eyes, and let out a deep breath. “You’re a free woman”, Stahl said. “Now let’s get you somewhere safe, ok?”. “Thank you”, I croaked. “No”, she said, taking my hand again. It was as clammy and cold as Joshua’s had been. “Thank you”.

An officer opened the door, and peaked inside. “Agent Stahl; all your men are still looking for Teller”, he said. “Do you need an escort for transport?”. She smiled, and shook her head. “No, us girls will be fine”.

We both stood up; and I was about to follow her out of the room; when I halted. “Agent Stahl?”. “Yes, Catherine?”, she asked. “How did you know where to find me?... with Kohn”. Her eyes flickered for a moment. “I was aware… that Kohn might not have had the best intentions for you. Made sure to know where he’d go”. I swallowed bile. “Why didn’t you stop him before he got to me?”, I asked. “Where you hoping Jax would show up?” Did you set him up, you rancid piece of shit? She narrowed her eyes at me. “I had every intention of getting to you in time… but I made sure that if I couldn’t, you’d still be saved”, she said. “Jax would want you back”.

I tried to control my breath. You did… you were going to let me get hurt, to get to Jax… you deserve everything you have coming your way.

---

We left the police station through the front door. Stahl didn’t seem very worried we’d be stopped by the club, or anyone else for that matter. I got in the back seat of the car we’d arrived in; and prepared mentally for the last stretch of the journey. Stahl seemed ecstatic, strumming her fingers on the wheel. It took everything I had, not reach in front of me; and slam her face into the windshield.

Once on the highway, tears began streaming down my face. Stahl caught my eyes in the mirror, and handed me a tissue. “It’s ok. He can’t get you anymore”.

Jax. At this point I had no idea where he was. I didn’t even know if his part of the plan had worked. The next time I saw him; I could be looking at him across a courtroom; forced to testify against him. I could be sending him to jail for the rest of both our lives. I wanted to scream.

Suddenly, I heard sirens. A police car was racing to catch up to us. “What the hell…?”, Stahl muttered. “What does he want?”. Unser pulled up next to us; gesturing for Stahl to pull over. At the next exit; she drove off – letting Unser pull up behind us. He exited his car; and walked up to her window.

“Agent Stahl!”, he smiled. “I’m gonna need you to let me take miss Rose back to Charming”. I exhaled in stutters. “What are you talking about?”, Stahl sneered. “I’m taking her into protective custody, up until Jackson Tellers trial…”. “There won’t be a trial”, Unser said.

Stahl got out of the car to join him on the side of the road. “I think dementia is getting to you, Unser”, she chuckled. “Just get back in your car…”. “Teller turned himself over to the state prosecutor on drug charges, just over an hour ago”, Unser said. “He’s in custody right now”. “Drug charges”, Stahl snarled. “Look; you don’t believe me – call this number…”. Unser pulled out my android from his pocket. “Use my phone…”. He dialed a number; and handed her the phone.

Unser looked at me meaningfully, and nodded. It’s done.

The agent snatched the phone from his hands, and put it to her ear. “This is agent Stahl… yes… You’re shitting me… No! My case is… That can’t override murder! My evidence… Put him on!... You listen here, you biker piece of shit, you can’t do this. You’re killing my career!”. She let out a roar; and threw the phone on the ground.

A group of bikes came driving down the road towards us. I opened the car door, and stepped out on the road. “Stay in the goddamn car, Catherine!”, Stahl growled. I walked over to my phone; and picked it up. “Jax…?”. My voice was quivering. “Cat… it’s me”, he breathed. “It’s over, baby… It’s over…”.

The bikes made a halt a few yards away; and suddenly we were surrounded by Clay, Mike, Chibs, Bobby and Opie. I looked at Stahl. “It’s over”, I whispered. “Baby, put me on speaker”, Jax said quietly. I pressed the screen, letting everyone around me hear what he had to say. “Agent Stahl?”. I looked at the wide-eyed woman who was shaking in her heels, at the sight of the angry men surrounding her. “She’s here”, I said. “Listen, agent. I’m sorry your case didn’t hold up. Like you heard; I’ve turned myself in, to the prosecutor. I’m about to be taken to state pen… I wish I could be there to see what happens next”. I could hear the smile in his voice.

Stahl looked at the phone with wild eyes. “You can’t do this”, she hissed. “Jackson… do you know what your brothers will do to Catherine, after what you did?”. She looked at me. A smile ghosted my face. “Cat?”, Jax said. His voice was now low – pained, but loving. “I got you something… I wanted to give it to you myself; but there wasn’t time”.

Clay stepped over to me; and reached out his hand to me. He dropped a white gold ring in my hand. It was shaped like a crow’s head, turned to the side; with its wing stretched backwards. The eye of the crow was a black sapphire. “It’s your crow”, Jax said. I chuckled. “When I come back; I’ll give you one to match. We’ll walk up the aisle together”. “Together”, I smiled; tears running down my cheeks. “I love you”. “I love you, Cat. Always will”. He sighed. “I have to go… Tell ‘em all... I’m happy it went down this way”. The men around me nodded solemnly. “They know”, I said. “Goodbye”. “Goodbye, Jackson”.

I hung up the phone, and wiped the tears from my face. I was calm. It was over – and everything was going to be ok. I put on the ring.

Stahl looked from my face; to the ring now resting on my left hand. “Are you crazy, Catherine?”, she hissed. “Do you know what these men will do to you? You flipped on a club member!”. Chibs walked over to me; and wrapped me in his arms; making Stahl’s jaw drop. “Are you all right, my love?”, he asked softly. “I will be”, I said quietly. He kissed my forehead.

Unser sauntered over to us. “Do you need a ride home, sweetie?”, he asked. “She’s got one, old man”, Clay grumbled. “You can go… thanks”. Unser nodded; and went back to his car, to drive away.

Stahl was reaching for her gun, but Bobby quickly aimed his own at her. “You can’t do this…”, she whimpered. “I’m not doing it”, he said. “He is”. He nodded his head towards Opie.

Opie’s face was unreadable. He looked at Stahl with indifferent eyes. “Opie…”, she whimpered. “You don’t have to do this…”. “You killed her…”, he said quietly. “I didn’t… It wasn’t me”, she said. “You… made it happen. Set her up to be killed. You would have done the same to Cat… my best friends future wife”. He shook his head softly. “Just to get what you wanted… No more”.

He looked towards me. “Do you want to see it?”, he muttered. “No… I don’t need to”, I said. I walked over to Stahl. Her eyes were wild. “Catherine… you can’t let this happen!”. I shook my head. “You let me get drugged – almost raped and killed… You just turned your back. So that’s what I will do”. “Go to hell!”, she snarled. “Right after you”. I turned my back; and walked away.

“Get in the car”, I heard Opie say. I went to stand and look down the road. Two car doors closed. There was a quiet muttering; and then a silent pop. I never turned around.

Clay came up to me. “Finish it, Cat”, he muttered. “What?”, I said. He handed me my .38 – the one Jax had given me – then looked down at the phone still in my hand. “Finish it”.

I took a deep breath; and put the phone on the ground in front of me. Cocking the hammer; I aimed at the last link between me; and the life I had left behind. “Goodbye, Josh”, I whispered – and pulled the trigger.

---

[shy-marker-pliers]

High school AU thingamabob

Dark

17 year old senior

class president and is kinda high and mighty about it tbh

“yes i know student council can’t really make any changes without the input of the superintendent but IM THE PRESIDENT AND YOU’RE NOT SO SUCK MY DI-“

does sound/lights for all the shows the school puts on

dating wilford and no one knows how or why they’re together

had a deep as hell voice and a beard the second he hit puberty

takes every ethics/psychology class he can

wants to be a lawyer

that one kid that everyone fears but is actually kinda chill if not a little surly

wears a collared shirt and tie to school every day and would totally get made fun of for it if he wasn’t terrifying

listens to classical music unironically

“oh my god i’m so going to fail this test” *proceeds to get the highest grade in the class*

protector of the gays™️

person: *says something mean to a student because they’re lgbtq+*

Dark: *teleports in front of said student* omae wa mou shindeiru

Wilford

19 year old senior

Yes he still has the mustache

doesn’t give a fuck about what anyone thinks of him

deadass wore a dress to school after one of his friends got made fun of because she wore a suit to a school dance

b u f f a s h e l l

could bench press a teacher if he really tried

on the cheer team

“no i’m not wearing pants, this miniskirt makes my ass look great!”

everyone’s bodyguard

usually attracts a crowd of nervous underclassmen

has mild dyslexia

tol

gives his friends piggyback rides

president of the drama club

works hard enough in school to pass his classes but that’s pretty much it

sleeps in class

Bim

15 year old freshman

vice president of the drama club

wilfords shadow

first freshman to help run the drama club and shoves it in everyone’s face

shouts his gayness from the rooftops

secretly super insecure

loves plants and helps out in the schools greenhouse

named all of the plants but if you tell anyone he’ll stab you

gets mostly B’s and C’s

has mild ocd but not enough to affect him severely

talks like a game show host cause he thinks it makes him sound attractive

it doesn’t

Google(s)

16 year old juniors

identical quadruplets

they have to wear different colors every day or else no one knows which one is which

they’re called the googles because their backpacks match the colors of the chrome logo and they’re super smart

straight A 4.0 GPA students but Oliver has to try a little harder than his brothers

all of them are in the robotics team except for ollie

Blue works on programming and red and green are on the build team

Ollie is the sweetest day of sunshine to ever exist and everyone loves him

he’s basically adopted Eric as his lil bro

tutors people in the library every tuesday and thursday

the other googles disapprove of his relationship with bing but he makes ollie happy so they don’t do anything about it

they all work in a supermarket and they’re saving up for college

ollie wants to be a vet, red and green want to be engineers, and blue wants to be a web developer

Bing

17 year old junior

mostly A’s, a few B’s.

his full name is zachary bing but people call him bing because he’s always trying to one up the googles

dudebro

was pining after ollie for months before chase finally felt sorry for him and told ollie how he felt

they’re dating now and it’s adorable

so soft for his boyf

a really good skater and wins a lot of local competitions

doesn’t study but still gets p good grades

wears sunglasses all the time because he has light sensitivity

Has ADHD

s t r o n k

always challenges people to arm wrestle him

can sing really well and plays gitaur

shares a youtube channel with chase where they skate and to challenges and stuff

Dr. ipiler

18 year old senior

Everyone calls him doc because he helps the school nurse and takes every single biology and health class there is

all A’s

really wants to be a surgeon

best friends with Schneep

huge star trek/harry potter nerd (ravenclaw if you’re wondering)

almost always at schneep’s house studying or just chillin’

kind of a control freak

thinks he’s charismatic but he’s actually kinda annoying

but annoying in a funny way

has a pet ferret that he sneaks into school

feral

espresso and sugar flows through his veins

“i actually got a good sleep last night.” “oh really?” “yeah bro i got a whole half hour!”

super dark bags under his eyes

Host

17 year old junior

all A’s except for in gym class

he has eyes in this

his real name is Simon Charles Teller (there are specific meanings to those names btw look them up) but he’s called The Host because he does morning announcements every day.

has gold eyes and a lot of people find it unnerving

“hey i have a podcast you should totally listen to it”

nocturnal

spends all of his free time in the library

always reading in class but the teachers don’t really care bc his grades are good and he does his homework

wants to be an english/poetry teacher

crushing on the cute shy kid from his english class

doesn’t talk much but he’ll still be nice to you

that one kid who’s always correcting the teachers

Runs the D&D club (he’s the dungeon master)

Eric Derekson

16 year old junior

Mostly high B’s, a couple of A’s.

lives with his uncle mark after he ran away from his abusive dad and is living a happy life

the guy that always volunteers to take care of the class pets over the weekend

animals love him

has anxiety, mild paranoia and autism.

animals, harry potter, and pokémon are his hyperfixations.

he also really likes gardening

crushing big time on hostioli

spends his entire english class staring at him and blushing

is seriously considering joining D&D club just to be able to talk to him

he’s in the art club

wants to be a vet and maybe do some freelance art stuff on the side

Ollie keeps yelling at him to just ask host out already but he’s too nervous

my poor bb boi

Wears sweaters all the time

wears headphones to block out noise if it ever gets too loud at he goes into sensory overload

disaster bi

Yan

18 year old senior

gets C’s

non-binary

has a makeup tutorial channel on youtube and has a pretty decent following

That one weeb

dyes their hair a new color every week

also has a new crush every week

everyone knows who their newest victim is because they never stop watching them

draws anime or cute animals for every art class

wants to be a a fashion designer

does MMA

everyone kinda stears clear of them

writes their first initial along with their crush’s on every notebook they own

has gotten suspended for beating kids up on multiple occasions

doesn’t really have that many friends but they don’t mind

spends their lunches watching their crush

in the drama club and the art club

Randall Voorhees

18 year old senior

C’s and D’s

Eric’s cousin/bodyguard

they have a lot of the same classes and walk everywhere together

loves animals and has like 10 pet rats

he doesn’t really care about his grades because he knows that he wants to be a woodworker/construction guy

makes little houses out of scrap wood for his rats and Eric thinks it’s adorable

always sneaks his rats to school and lets them have play dates with dr. iplier’s ferret

“nO IM NOT RELATED TO JASON VOORHEES HES NOT EVEN REAL SO SHUT THE HELL UP-“

used to live in nyc in queens and still has a pretty strong accent

completely incomprehensible when he’s excited or angry bc of the accent

everyone is jealous of his hair

spends like 100 dollars on shampoo and conditioner and stuff but it’s worth it

acts like the straightest guy in existence but could not be more gay

his boots are always muddy

Yancy

16 year old sophomore

his name is Yancy Bird

g...get it? like jailbird? ahaha...ok i’ll stop

permanent resident of the detention room

but he gets to just chill out and read for an hour so he doesn’t really mind

mostly gets detention for beating up kids that bully others

fuck the system

always wears a leather jacket and blue jeans

“hey, the 50’s called and they want their-“ SMACK. “shut up.”

takes a lot of criminal justice and psychology classes ironically

in the botany club but if you tell anyone they’ll never find your body

everyone is surprised when they find out he’s friends with Eric and ollie

pan but in denial

“i’m not gay guys, that ain’t me, i’m just comfortable with my sexuality. so i can admit when i see a guy with a handsome face and pretty eyes-“

that song is great btw you should listen to it

anyway

always makes really dark jokes and everyone is like “are you ok?”

except for his friends they just laugh

“lmao wouldn’t it be funny if everyone like...died”

[thenamesreader]

Horde Trinity AU

Vol.1

Chapter 1

The others sure are smelly, Dawna thought to herself as she walked to the laundry room, carrying her peers' dirty laundry. They were currently at training for an upcoming battle, something Dawna didn’t want to attend considering that she really didn’t like fighting. Shadow Weaver always complained about it and Adora and Catra always questioned why and she always answered it wasn’t in her nature. She had stopped training after an incident about a year or two ago that caused her recent stutter. Something she wasn’t too happy about, but at least Adora and Catra didn’t see her any different.

“Hey, Dawna,” the worker in the laundry room called. This worker was a man by the name of Liam. He was tall, dark-skinned like her and Lonnie, dark-haired, and really lanky. His doe-brown eyes smiled along with his lips as the girl came to a stop in front of him. 

“H… Hi, Liam,” she greeted. She really didn’t like her stutter. Shadow Weaver already complained about her lack of confidence. She didn’t need more things to make her feel even less confident. But, at least Liam was nice to her along with Adora, Catra, and Kyle.

“More gifts for me?” Liam joked.

“Yep,” Dawna replied, holding out the “e”, unintentionally, as she handed him the clothes. 

“Alright,” Liam cheered, taking the clothes and throwing them into the large washer. “How’s your day going, kiddo?” He asked.

“G-good,” Dawna replied.

“That’s good,” Liam said, smiling brighter. He reached over to ruffle her hair, making Dawna laugh.

“You… You’ve got stinky hands,” she laughed.

“They don’t smell that bad,” Liam chuckled.

“Yes, th-they do,” Dawna giggled.

Liam gave another smile before heading into the laundry room. “I’ll see you later,” he told her.

“B… Bye,” Dawna called before turning to head back to her room. She yelped as someone landed on her. She held her arms in front of her face and curled into herself. Surprise attacks terrified her. She could never figure out why, but she thinks it has to do with her past before she was picked up by the Horde. There was a word for that. She didn’t know it, though.

“You okay?” The person who attacked her asked as they stepped off of her.

Dawna gave a sigh of relief as she recognized the voice before she sat up and glared at her friend. Her friend’s heterochromatic eyes searched her eyes and her tail, waved idly and her ears flicked as she watched her. “C-Catra,” she grumbled. “You… know how much I don’t like that.”

Catra gave an apologetic smile. “Didn’t mean to spook you,” she told her. She, then, perked up before grabbing Dawna by the arm. “Come on. We have to tell you something.” 

“Tell me, um, what?” Dawna asked, curious.

“Just come on,” Catra said, dragging her along.

Dawna was dragged forever until she was outside with Adora. “W-what’s going on, you two?” She asked, getting annoyed. “I… It better be good.”

Catra nudged Adora. “Go on,” she muttered. “Show her.”

Adora took a deep breath before holding out a Force Captain badge.

“You’ve… been pro-promoted?” Dawna asked, feeling surprised. Being Force Captain was a big deal. It showed your worth to the Horde. She always knew Adora would get it. She’d been training so hard for it.

Adora nodded and Dawna smiled. “Th-that’s cool,” the girl responded. “You’d do… very well as Force Captain.”

Catra gave Adora a playful nudge. “Of course she would,” she said. “We’ve seen Adora in training.”

Dawna hummed before a thought came to her mind. “H-how come y-you didn’t get promo-promoted, Catra?” She inquired. “You’re just as g-good as Adora.”

Catra glanced away. “Shadow Weaver doesn’t think so,” she replied. She, then, gave a toothy grin as she threw an arm around Dawna. “I don’t need a stupid badge anyway. I’ll just be just fine.”

Dawna frowned. She always knew when Catra was lying, years of living with her making Dawna highly perceptive to her emotions. “If… If you s-say so,” she muttered. She, then, turned back to Adora. “Is there… Is there another reason y-you asked me here?”

Adora smirked before pulling out a pair of keys. “Wanna go for a ride?”

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Dawna couldn’t control her fear. Why did she agree to this? This was the most reckless thing that they could think of. They were gonna die with how fast this thing went. Or worse. Oh, why did she agree to follow them?

“C-can you guys s-slow this thing down?” Dawna stuttered, shutting her eyes tight in fear.

“We’ll be fine!” Catra called back.

“Y-you say that and next thing… you know, one of us is plum-plummeting to our deaths,” Dawna called back.

And, then, just like that, Catra and Adora were fighting over who was driving. Dawna hated conflict. It scared her. Before she could say anything, though, she noticed something ahead of them. “G-guys!” She called, the two looking back at her. “Look,” she said, pointing to the canopy of trees ahead of them.

The two looked up at the trees, Catra’s ears perking up in interest. “What is this?” She inquired.

“This must be the Whispering Woods,” Adora answered. “They say there are strange monsters and the trees move when you’re not looking. Every Horde squadron that has been sent here hasn’t come out again.”

“N-never?” Dawna whimpered.

Adora shook her head. “Never.”

Dawna shivered. “That… That sounds awful,” she responded.

“Let’s go in,” Catra said, making Dawna’s stomach drop.

“Wait, what?” Adora asked before Catra put the skiff at max speed, causing both her and Dawna to yelp in surprise.

Catra gave a cheer as they sped through the sky.

“Slow down!” Adora told Catra.

“Y-yes,” Dawna agreed. “P-please slow down.”

Catra didn’t listen as they kept speeding through the air. Dawna crouched down and shut her eyes, tight again. With Catra’s recklessness, they were sure gonna die.

“Catra! Tree! Tree!” Adora shouted.

Dawna opened her eyes just in time to see Adora get wacked off of the skiff by a vine.

“Adora!” Catra shouted.

The next thing that Dawna knew, they crashed into a tree not too soon after. Catra and Dawna went rolling on the ground, the latter giving a small whimper as she sat up. “O-Ow,” she mewled. “That really hurt.”

“Are you okay?” Catra asked as she sat up.

“I’m f-fine,” Dawna responded. “J-just a few scrapes… I think.”

Catra wasn’t pleased with that answer and decided to check her over herself, grabbing her chin and turning it to make sure there were no hidden injuries before checking her arms and putting pressure on places to see if there were any broken bones. When finished, she nodded. “You’re good,” she muttered.

Dawna pouted. “I… told you that I w-was fine,” she grumbled.

“You, then, added ‘I think’ after that statement,” Catra reminded her, booping her nose. “If you hadn’t said that, I wouldn’t have done everything I’ve just done.”

Dawna grumbled a bit more before Catra stood up, looking around. “We gotta find Adora,” she told Dawna.

Dawna stood and dusted herself off. “W-where are we going?” She asked.

Catra sniffed the air. “Probably not far.”

Dawna followed closely behind her friend, trying her best not to jump at any of the sounds she heard. These woods were spooky. She had never seen anything like it. There was something almost hypnotic and mysterious about it. She glanced around to make sure there wasn’t anything following them when she spotted Adora.

“A-Adora!” Dawna called as she found the blonde girl lying on the ground, racing toward her. She was lying unconscious on the ground.

Catra got to Adora faster, hovering over her and looking her over. “Adora,” she said before shaking her. “Adora, wake up!”

 Adora’s sky blue eyes slowly opened before focusing on both Dawna and Catra. “Catra? Dawna?” She rasped. “What happened?”

Catra gave a sigh of relief before smirking. “You ran a skiff into a tree,” she answered.

Adora frowned before pushing Catra off of her. “No, you ran a skiff into a tree,” she shot back.

Dawna smiled at her friends banter. She always thought it was funny how they pretended to be mad at each other. She knew they would never hurt each other.

Adora’s face soon turned confused as she looked around. “Where’s the sword?” She asked.

Dawna tilted her head, confused. “Wha-what sword?”

Adora looked around, looking confused and worried. “There was a sword here.”

Catra grabbed at Adora’s face, checking her over. “Are you okay?” She asked. “Do you have brain damage?”

Adora pushed Catra away again. “I do not have brain damage,” she responded.

“A-are you sure?” Dawna asked, feeling a wave of anxiety come over her. If Shadow Weaver ever found out something happened to Adora, she would have her and Catra’s heads.

“I’m sure.” Adora stood, dusting herself off. “Let’s just go home.”

Dawna sighed. “Th-that sounds like-like a great idea.” She followed Adora. “I-I don’t wanna st-stay out in these creepy woods anymore.”

“It’s not that scary,” Catra said, jumping up to follow Dawna and Adora. “I bet there’s not even anything to worry about out here.”

 Dawna rolled her eyes.

“Oh, Catra,” Adora responded, dramatically, voicing Dawna’s thoughts. “The oh so Brave One of us all.”

Adora fell onto Catra’s side. “Whatever would we do without you?”

Catra hissed at her and playfully snarled before tackling Adora to the ground, the two tusseling in the grass.

Dawna gave a small laugh. Seeing them have fun always made her so happy. “C-come on, you two,” she called to them as they wrestled. “We-we need to get back h-home before someone notices we’re gone.”

Both of her friends leaped up to follow. “I’ll race you!” Catra called over her shoulder as she shot ahead, Adora right on her heels.

“C-come on, guys!” Dawna called to them. “You-you know I c-can’t run that fast!”

She followed after them anyway. She always liked racing with them.

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Dawna was feeling anxious. And for a good reason, too. Adora was missing. Adora never went missing. That was strange and unusual. She would never go anywhere without telling her or Catra. And she always made sure to come back. Now that she was missing, Shadow Weaver was on their case.

Dawna found herself pacing outside Shadow Weaver interrogated Catra for the fourth time since Adora’s disappearance. It was making her panic. What was Shadow Weaver going to do to Catra? What was she going to do to her?

The door opened and Catra stepped out, ears pinned back to show her distress. “Wh-what happened?” Dawna asked. “Did she-did she hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Catra responded, her voice distant.

Dawna didn’t like that. She hated when Catra got all distant and quiet. It wasn’t her. Trying to reassure her, Dawna placed a hand on Catra’s shoulder. “It’s-it’s gonna b-be o-”

Catra cut her off with a hiss and threw her hand off. “Don’t say that!” She hissed.

Dawna retracted her hand and glanced away. “I’m-I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

Catra seemed to notice her actions and took Dawna’s hand back. “No,” she said, quickly. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have lashed out.”

Tears pricked at the edge of Dawna’s eyes. “I want Adora to come back,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Catra said, gently, wiping away Dawna’s eyes. “Don’t cry. She’ll come back.”

Dawna gave a sniff. “Promise?”

A shadow fell over Catra’s eyes for a moment before it was replaced by a look of determination. “I promise.”

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Dawna gave a grunt as she was shoved to the ground. “Ow,” she whimpered.

“Give up already,” Lonnie told her. “You can never keep up with us.”

Dawna frowned up at her. “I can, too!” She responded, determinedly, as she stood up.

Her and the other kids had been playing around, the four deciding to have a race. Now, Dawna wasn’t the fastest, but she felt she made up for it with her determination. But, her uniform was too big and she was tripping, constantly, which slowed her down. Lonnie seemed to have gotten annoyed at Dawna’s persistence since she stopped the race to push her down.

“Yeah right,” Lonnie said, mockingly. “Keep dreaming. You’ll never be on our level.”

“I will!” Dawna shouted, stomping her foot.

Lonnie smirked before giving her push. “Prove it,” she taunted.

“Lonnie, leave her alone,” Kyle told her.

“Why should I?” Lonnie asked. “She wants to prove herself, she should go ahead and prove herself.”

Dawna clenched her fists before charging Lonnie and toppling her over on the ground. The two rolled around on the ground, Dawna trying her best to get a hit in on Lonnie. It was a struggle since Lonnie was better at fighting than her. She was able to block Dawna’s flailing arms before kneeing her in the stomach, making her fall back with the strength of it.

Lonnie pinned her down and smirked at her. “I told you you wouldn’t be able to win.”

Dawna retaliated by kneeing her in the stomach, too, but it didn’t do much. She kept at it, trying her best to push the other girl off of her, but that only made her laugh at her laugh at her.

“Aw, look!” Lonnie teased. “Dawna’s gonna cry.”

“I am not!” The indigo-haired girl denied, even with tears blurring her vision as she began to kick and hit Lonnie over and over. She hated Lonnie. Hated her. She was always so mean to her and she just couldn’t understand why? What had she done to deserve this? She doesn’t remember ever being mean to her. “Get off of me!” She shouted after noticing that Lonnie wouldn’t budge as much as she hit her.

She still didn’t budge as Dawna shouted at her. Dawna continued to hit and kick and shout until Lonnie was suddenly pushed off.

Adora came to her side, helping her up. “You okay?” She asked, looking Dawna over.

Dawna didn’t answer as she looked to where she found Catra fighting with Lonnie in her place. Catra was a way better fighter than her, too. She felt a wave of anger and humiliation wash over her. She’d never win a battle by herself. Adora and Catra will always be there to fight them for her.

“I’m fine,” she told Adora, looking away. She didn’t want to see her pity. She didn’t want to see how Adora found her weak. She would never be as strong as her or any of the other kids. Not even Kyle at this poing.

Catra, finally, finished her tussle with Lonnie and got up while hissing at her. “Don’t ever mess with her again!” She shouted after Lonnie as she scampered off. After watching her until she was out of sight, Catra came to Dawna’s side, too. “You okay?” She inquired.

“I’m fine,” Dawna grumbled, sitting down and drawing her knees up while putting her head in her lap. She fought back her tears. I’m not gonna cry, I’m not gonna cry, she told herself, over and over again. Soldiers don’t cry. That’s what Shadow Weaver said.

“You guys think I’m strong, right?” Dawna asked, looking up at her friends.

Adora and Catra both looked surprised at her question before Adora smiled, softly, and hugged her. “Of course,” she answered.

“Did Lonnie tell you that you weren’t?” Catra demanded, her tail lashing. “Because if she did, I’ll go get her again!”

Dawna gave a small laugh and wiped away some stray tears. “As much as I would appreciate it, Catra, it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Catra seemed to think it over. “You’re right,” she answered. She soon gave Dawna a toothy smile. “You’re really brave, Dawna. I’m proud of you.”

“And if you ever need help,” Adora added, “we’ll always be by your side.”

Dawna felt her heart swell but she had to make sure they weren’t lying. “Promise?” She asked.

Both Catra and Adora nodded before hugging her. “We promise,” they said in unison.

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“What-what do you mean Adora’s n-not coming back?” Dawna asked as she looked at Catra, her heart pounding.

Catra had just come back from the raid on Thaymor, her squad having been defeated by a new Princess that she overheard Lonnie speaking about in the locker room. After finding Catra, she asked her if she had found Adora only to be told that their friend wasn’t coming home.

“She betrayed us to join the Rebellion,” Catra muttered, eyebrows knitted and her ears pinned back.

“That… that c-can’t be right,” Dawna whispered. “Adora wouldn’t- she w-would never join the R-Rebellion.”

“Well, she did,” Catra snapped at her, Dawna recoiling from her harsh tone. “She left us behind and she’s not coming back ever!”

Dawna took a step back. “This-this d-doesn’t make any s-sense,” she said. “W-why would Adora b-break her promise? She’s… never done th-that before”

Catra turned away from her. “Well, she did,” she grumbled. She, then, turned back to Dawna and put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” she told Dawna with a smile that she could tell was forced. “We’ll look out for each other from now on. We don’t need Adora.”

Dawna clenched her fists. This didn’t feel right. Adora would never just leave them. At least, she thought she wouldn’t. She looked into Catra’s heterochromatic eyes. “You’re-You’re right,” she replied. “We d-don’t need Ador-Adora.”

They didn’t need her if she was going to betray them like this. All they needed was each other and that was all they needed.

[yoon-kooks]

Blossom🌸- pt.2

Pairing: Stripper!Jimin x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Stripper!AU, College!AU

Summary: You decide to give the strip club another chance when your stripper neighbor promises to give you a special treat afterwards.

Warnings: lap dances, stripping, dry humping, blindfolds, thigh riding

Word Count: 4.9k

⤐ Story 2 in the Blossom!Universe; Read Blossom-pt.1 on my masterlist!

A/N: i cant believe i actual wrote d** h****** but it be like that sometime 😔

You’re not one to believe in love so easily, but your latest art assignment calls for something with “pure love”, and what you’re witnessing comes pretty close. So you casually pull out your sketchbook and begin outlining a rough sketch of the scene in front of you.

Your subjects wrestle around, unaware of your gaze, drowning each other in kisses and affection. She sits on top of him as she nips at his skin. He chuckles as he blocks her little bites until he can no longer resist, succumbing to her demands for more attention.

The giggles only stop several minutes later when one of your subjects finally takes notice of you with your pencil in hand.

“Drawing me again, huh?” Jimin sits up on his bed and glances over at you while his white puppy continues to lick his chin. “What’s the assignment this time?”

“To draw something that symbolizes pure love,” you wave the boy over to come take a look at your sketchbook. Intrigued by the topic, Jimin hops off the bed.

“Oh? Am I what comes to mind when you think of pure lo-” He meant to tease you about your potential crush on him, but he can only laugh when he sees your idea of pure love. Him playing with his puppy.

“So pure, right?” You point out a couple of things you’re especially proud of, like the details on the puppy’s paw pads and the feathering of its wagging tail.

“Right…” His lips slowly fall into the shape of a pout as he examines your sketch further. “But why did you draw her so much better than you drew me?”

You know he’s just messing with you, but the dedicated artist in you takes Jimin’s criticism to heart. Looking back at your sketch, it’s true that his body came out looking a lot more underdeveloped like a stick person next to a very realistic puppy with individual strokes of fur. And as funny as it is to look at, it’s a technical issue with your art that you’ve been trying to fix.

“I already told you I have a lot more experience drawing animals than I do with humans,” you explain. It’s not that you’re necessarily terrible at drawing humans, but your lack of comfort with them really shows in comparison to animals. That’s why you’ve recruited your stripper neighbor as your muse to help you find that comfort.

“I guess you just need more experience with humans then,” Jimin cocks his head to the side, not-so-subtly taking your hand into his. He attempts to interlace his fingers with yours, but you can’t take a hint so he settles for a very friendzoned handshake. “Think about it: you started with drawing only animals, then you drew me a couple of times, and then you moved up to animal-to-human interactions. Shouldn’t the next step be human-to-human interactions?”

“You have a point,” you nod, rather enjoying the pleasant feeling of holding his hand. “But I only have one human model, aka you.”

The boy stares your hands still clasped together and laughs, “Are you not a human?”

“I can’t be my own model and draw at the same time…” You do a messy scribbling gesture with your free hand.

“You don't have to draw at the same time,” Jimin captures your free hand and pulls you down onto the bed with him. You’d think laying on a bed with a stripper would be overwhelming for someone as wholesome as yourself, but you do get a sense of ease with him. Maybe it’s his eyesmile, or the clumps of dog fur on his dark shirt that remind you he’s still your dorky boy next door. Either way, you feel comfortable because it’s him you’re with. “Just experience it with me.”

“Experience what?” You feel his warmth radiating towards your body. Another pleasant feeling. “Handholding? Hugs? Kisses? Cuddling? Sleeping together? Se-”

“A lot of things if you’d like,” Jimin shushes you with an alluring stare. “Do you want to do all those things?”

“That would be ideal, yes,” you nod eagerly. If it means your art will feel more authentic and sentimental, you’d gladly engage in these interactions with Jimin. “For science, of course.”

“Right… for science…” He gives you a thumbs-up, although the corners of his lips seem to curve downward.

The frown doesn’t sit well with you, so you wiggle your hands out of his grasp and simply mirror them against his palms. Slowly you interlace each of your fingers between his, one-by-one until there’s no finger left behind. You pay special attention to the boy’s expression when you do this, but it softens less than you had hoped.

“Actually…” Jimin say, breaking the handhold. He runs his fingers through his hair a couple of times before rolling off the bed. “I forgot about work.”

“Oh right…” It’s your turn to frown. You forgot about it too. Not just the fact that the boy has work in an hour, but also that his job requires him to satisfy the naughty needs of other people besides yourself. You’re not the only one who wants a taste of Park Jimin. “I should let you go then.”

Jimin watches as you gather your art supplies off his desk and crouch down to say farewell to the white puppy. He doesn’t say anything until your hand is on the doorknob. “You can tag along if you’d like, Y/N.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I really shouldn’t g-” Your eyes and mind drift away as the boy strips his shirt off with his back to you. You never knew back muscles could look like that—good to know for future reference. After he throws on a clean shirt free of dog fur, however, you push the boy’s toned body out of mind to finish your sentence. “I shouldn’t go since strip clubs aren’t really my thing, remember? Besides, I need to work on this art assignment some more. It’s due in a week.”

“A week is more than enough time,” Jimin raises his eyebrows at you and your sketchbook. “And do I need to remind you that the strip club is where you found art inspiration in me? So it couldn’t hurt to go again, right?”

You don’t answer him because you feel like it could hurt to go again. Not in regards to your art, but to something else.

“If you come, I’ll treat you to something really special afterwards. How about that?” He holds out his hand, giving you one last chance to change your mind. The special treat is tempting, especially if it’s your favorite sweet dessert. Besides, you’ve been working diligently with your art, so you know you’ve earned yourself a treat of some sort. And if Jimin is thoughtful enough to offer you that treat, who are you to refuse?

After a back and forth debate in your head, you finally take his hand and allow yourself to be pulled back to the place where you and the boy first met.

“What’s this special treat you’re talking about?”

“Oh you’ll see,” the boy snickers in a rather sinister tone.

-

Something about the strip club has changed since your first visit. There are still attractive strippers, there are still generous tippers, and there’s still your favorite spot in the secluded corner of the room. But it’s the whole vibe that’s changed. You don’t feel as intimidated by the sweaty bare bodies of the strippers or the thirsty screams of the audience. It could be because, unlike before, you know you’re not alone this time.

Jimin sits you down at your favorite spot and waits for you to get all situated with your sketchbook. “Can I buy you a drink before I have to go get ready for the show?”

“Just some water, please,” you say. The boy only laughs at your innocent response before disappearing into the crowd to fetch your requested beverage from the bar. After a short minute, your eye catches him striding back with a fancy glass of ice water in hand. He isn’t doing anything special, but he still manages to look stunning amongst everyone else. You even notice he’s turning quite a few heads, despite all the on-duty strippers vying for their attention. It’s as if the spotlight’s on him.

“Y/N, you’re already drooling and I haven’t even performed yet,” he teases as he hands you your water. You chug it down, hoping to relieve your thirst, but it’s not enough.

“Then go,” you give him a light shove with a hmph to send him off. “I’ll be waiting for my special treat afterwards.”

“Anticipate it, Kitten.” He has the audacity to not only call you Kitten, but also give you the cockiest smirk you have ever witnessed before heading backstage. You suppose that’s just his flirty stripper switch turning on.

Once you finally have some time to yourself, you sip on your water, casually people-watching from your quiet corner. The rest of the room is flooded with excitement, flashing with sparking lights, a mixure of moving color. If you had to pick a color palette for a strip club, what would it be? That depends on whether a certain boy is in the room or not.

You glance over to a familiar mint-haired stripper getting intimate with a gorgeous female in a nearby booth. She bites her ruby red lips, snaking her arms around his waist and pulling him closer to slip a generous handful of cash into his ass pocket. As thanks, the stripper hovers over her lap with swaying hips to the beat of the stereo as he lets her hands explore his bare upper half. Their eyes are locked, exchanging looks of… lust? Satisfaction? Greed? As a mere bystander, you’re unsure of the mood, so your color palette would be a rainbow muddled with a lot of grey area.

“Oh I remember you, Baby Picasso.” The mint stripper somehow made his way over to your corner while you were busy swatching your palette. The nearly blank page in your sketchbook catches his eye. “Here to draw our Jiminie again?” Yes.

“Not necessarily,” you say. “But he was the one who brought me back here.”

“Ah, customer loyalty at its finest,” he nods. “That kid attracts most of our regulars.”

“Is he really that popular?”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed the aura’s different when he’s on stage.” He leans over your table and points at your grey-toned swatches in the corner of the sketch page. “Doesn’t it feel like the club becomes more… vibrant when Jiminie’s around?”

“It does, doesn’t it,” you press a finger to your lips as the wheels start turning in your head.

“But don’t let yourself get too caught in The Jiminie Effect. Otherwise you might end up getting hurt.” The mint stripper shrugs at you before the arm of a bold customer swipes him away. “Let me know if you ever want a taste of The Suga Rush, Baby Picasso~”

You wanted to ask what he meant by “getting hurt” from Jimin, but you’re pretty sure you already know. Jimin is an incredibly charming boy with a way of captivating an entire room, and you’re happy he’s found success as a popular stripper. That being said, you can’t help but also feel a little disheartened that there are so many others who share the same feelings for him.

Regardless, you’re at the strip club to support Jimin and collect the special treat that he promised you. Surely your relationship with the boy holds a bit more weight than the others. So you decide to get out of your own head.

Scarlet red. That’s the color you see when Jimin comes out onto the main stage with a silky red blindfold covering his eyes. The first thing you think is: wow, how the fuck is this guy not tripping or falling off the stage when he can’t even see in front of him? The second thing you think is: tiddies.

His open blazer flashes his nipples (and the rest of his gorgeous chest) as he graces the stage. It honestly looks more like a sensual take on contemporary dance rather than stripping at first. Even his hip thrusts have a flare of elegance to them. After all, Jimin’s a contemporary dance student, but the way he incorporates such a graceful genre of dance into his stripping performance shows how much of an artist he truly is.

But once the blindfold comes off, so does everything else. Jimin’s killer gaze, in addition to his taunting tongue, earns him a shower of bills on the floor of the stage as his performance comes to a close. Unlike the other strippers at the club, he does not interact as closely with the audience or make his rounds through the room. Instead, he makes a proposal.

“Tonight, I’m doing something a little different.” He picks his blindfold up off the floor and strokes it as he speaks to the audience. “I’ll be giving one lucky person a private lap dance and-”

An eruption of screams fills the room along with a surge of money being waved around before Jimin can even finish his sentence. He waits for everyone to quiet down, but the aroused crowd does the opposite. The rowdiness persists because everyone’s trying to be louder than the person next to them in order to catch their favorite stripper’s attention. That must be The Jiminie Effect.

And although the boy never got to finish his explanation, you assume the private lap dance has something to do with the red blindfold in his hand and will most likely be given to the highest tipper. Lucky them, you suppose.

Rather than throw some of your nonexistent money at the boy, you instead take the opportunity to do some quick sketches of Jimin’s contemporary performance while it’s still fresh in your memory. You want to capture his fluid motions and his undying passion for performing. With all of this and the blindfold in mind, you decide on a color palette. Scarlet red, a color of burning passion and sensuality, is an obvious pick. However, there’s another color you wish to incorporate-

When you take a peek back up at the stage for that other color, you’re surprised to see Jimin staring right at you, despite a huge sum of money being waved right in front of him by an expensive-looking woman. He mouths something for you to interpret.

“You,” his lips read.

“Me?” You don’t exactly know how to feel about the situation, but it doesn’t sit well with you. “Not me.”

He nods at you, still wanting it to be you.

You shake your head to end the conversation, but when people start turning around in your direction to see who has Jimin’s attention, you get up from your seat. Not to take Jimin up on his offer, but to excuse yourself from the club. You dislike strip clubs after all.

-

Back at your dorm, you sit at your desk, fleshing out some of your sketches of the blindfolded Jimin. You sculpt out his toned body and shade in a vibrant red flare to emphasize his illuminating aura on stage. Even then, your sketch is missing something. You’re missing something.

Knock. You check the time on your clock. It’s just past midnight, right around the time you’d assume strip clubs close for the night.

“Hi-” Jimin tries to say, but you close the door as soon as you open it.

Knock. You don’t open the door this time, so the boy starts talking from the other side.

“Y/N, I know you’re mad at me, but I-”

“Of course I’m mad at you,” you make a tsk sound. “I can’t believe you were going to choose me over all that money in front of you. Didn’t you see that Gucci lady at the front waving the wad of cash with your name on it? You almost gave up all that money for me. Fool.”

There’s a pause of silence before Jimin tries another attempt at getting you to open the door. Knock.

You open the door this time. The boy has a puzzled expression on his face.

“Wait, you’re not mad that your special treat went to someone else?” He blinks at you.

“A lap dance was the special treat you were talking about earlier?” You give him a duck face because you’ve made a grave mistake. “I thought we were getting ice cream or something.”

“Uhh well… we could get ice cream if you really want to? But my intention was for you to take that lap dance. It was meant for you, you know,” he chuckles over his failed plan.

“I really didn’t realize it was meant for me… I guess I’m really that dense, aren’t I?” Now you feel bad for thinking you’d be getting ice cream over a lap dance. Jimin was only trying to show that you were special to him, and you rejected him like an oblivious idiot. “I’m sorry, Jimin. If I had known, I’d-”

“We can still do it if you’d like.” He pulls out a silky red cloth from his pocket. “Perks of having a stripper neighbor, right?” You nod.

Waiting on your bed, you watch as the boy tries to hype himself up with the blindfold in his fists.

“I can help you tie it behind your head if you want.” You hop up from the bed to help him, but you’re wrong again. He backs you up until the back of your knees hit your bedframe and your ass falls onto the mattress. Suddenly his thighs surround your lap and his abs are in your face. Thankfully he decided to keep his shirt on for this one.

“Can I put the blindfold on you?” He dangles the red cloth before your eyes. It was for you, not him. And as intimidating as it is to make yourself so vulnerable, you’re intrigued.

“Sure… but you don’t want me to watch you?” You take one last look at his seductive gaze and voluptuous lips before your eyes are covered by the soft yet very kinky fabric.

“It’s something new that I wanted to try,” Jimin speaks in his normal voice before switching over to a lower, more suggestive tone. “As an artist, you rely a lot on your sight, right? Well I’m curious to see which senses will come alive when we take away your sight.”

Right away, you sniff out an alluring aroma of warm spices with naughty undertones. The blindfold must be drenched in cologne, but why are you only noticing it now? Or perhaps it’s the boy’s own intoxicating scent that you’re being enticed by. Either way, you must really like the scent because your nose is twitching like a bunny to get a better whiff.

The aroma continues to grow stronger as you feel finger tips graze ever so slightly against the back of your hand. The chilling sensation tickles more than anything, but then the boy lifts your hands and places them right at his waist.

“Tug if you want me closer, Kitten,” he whispers into your ear to give you a taste of the closeness before leaning back. Naturally, your eager little fingers curl into the threads of his shirt and tug as suggested. There’s a smooth shift in the boy’s body hovering over you. The soft sounds of his clothes rustling give you an indication of how close he must be.

To put it in perspective, you decide it’s a good idea to paint a picture of the scene in your head. A gorgeous boy is performing a lap dance on top of you as you sit blindfolded on the bed. His hands are pressed into the mattress on either side of you, his hips roll in a fluid motion, and his body grinds against an invisible wall that separates his crotch from yours. The mere thought of being under him is making it difficult for you to sit still.

You tug again and recline your back for Jimin to follow. The seams of his jeans drag gently along your outer thighs. His hot breaths tickle the exposed skin down your neck. “Do you want to feel me like this?” No, you want more.

Your fingers stray away from the boy’s hips, following the paths defined by his toned abdominals. Even through his shirt, you can easily map out the structure of his muscles, so you flesh out the details of the visual in your mind. This is much more engaging and “hands-on” than an anatomy textbook, you nod to yourself. But there seems to be a missed opportunity if the shirt stays on.

“Can you take off your shirt? For scientific purposes only.” You surprise yourself with the bold request, but the blindfold has made you feel some type of way. Shameless.

“Are you sure all of this is purely for science? Because I see you’ve already spread your legs out for me.” You hear a shirt being tossed aside before the mattress suddenly dips with something solid between your thighs. You assume it’s his knee when he nudges it into your crotch. Whatever it is, it’s making your body squirm for more contact.

“Maybe it’s a little more than just, uh, science.” You attempt to maintain a sturdy voice, but it’s hard not to pant when you’re overwhelmed with a heat you’ve never felt before.

“A little?” He questions you as his knee digs further into that spot between your legs. Oddly enough, you’re quite satisfied with the hot sensation created by all that friction, and you hope it doesn’t stop. “I think you’re more than a little wet down there, Kitten.”

“Oh,” you try to say, but it comes out more like a weak moan.

And of course, as soon as you show any sort of evidence of pleasure, Jimin decides to stop moving without saying a word. He stands there silently, probably smirking at how turned on he’s made you. He has to be teasing you, and you have to admit it’s working.

With his knee still wedged at your crotch, you situate yourself more towards his thigh and squeezes your own thighs around him. Your hips start moving on their own by instinct to find any sort of stimulation. It’s starts off as modest rocking back and forth against his body. You try to be subtle about it, as if the boy isn’t aware of your intentions. Surely riding his thigh whilst rubbing your wet lewd scents all over him won’t give it away.

“Oh, that’s your kink?” He sounds rather impressed. Once you finally find a good method and pace fore stimulating yourself on him, however, he pulls his knee back. “Let’s switch places.”

Next thing you know, your ass is sitting on top of Jimin’s lap with your legs wrapped around his waist for support. Without even thinking, your body continues to pleasure itself against boy, grinding and yearning for the wonders of sex.

You’d paint yourself a visual of the scene at hand to make everything more vivid, but you don’t really want to know what you must look like in such a helpless state. In times like this, you’re thankful for the blindfold-

“I wish you could see yourself, blindly humping and panting like a horny little puppy.”

You freeze at Jimin’s vivid narration of scene, regretfully imagining it as told. “Can I take the blindfold off?”

Unsure of whether you want to continue or end the stripper shenanigans once the blindfold comes off, the boy swiftly removes the cloth from your eyes and blinks at you. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the bright lights of your room, but when they’re back to normal, you remain seated in his lap and blink back at the shirtless boy.

For as intimate and steamy as it was a moment ago, neither of you know what to do or say. It’s a comfortable silence, although you do feel a bit embarrassed for showing the horny little puppy side of yourself to your neighbor. Besides that, you’re content. Your body finally relaxes, loosening its hold around the boy’s waist.

When Jimin comes to the conclusion that the stripper shenanigans are over, he lets out a chuckle to break the silence.

“What?” you pout.

“Nothing!” He throws his shirt back on, but not before you catch one last look of his tiddies and blossom tattoo. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get ice cream?”

-

“What were you laughing about earlier?” is the first thing you ask after taking a lick of your ice cream.

“You’re not gonna let that go, huh,” Jimin sighs into his strawberry sundae. “I was just laughing at you. Is that a crime, Officer?”

“But why?” You’d think you were holding an interrogation at your local late-night ice cream parlor. The boy in question rolls his eyes.

“You know how chemistry students always have to wear goggles during labs?”

“Yeah and when they take them off, they have this funny red imprint around their eyes,” you recall your old days in chem class. “Wait, are you trying to say I had funny red marks around my eyes after taking the blindfold off?”

Jimin shrugs.

“And that was funny to you?” You want to be annoyed by his childish humor, but you’re more so relieved that he wasn’t laughing about anything that happened while the blindfold was still on.

“It reminded me of how you always say it’s all for science,” he says, carving out a spoonful of strawberry syrup off the top of his ice cream with such precision. You know what he’s talking about—it’s your infamous excuse for wanting to get closer to the boy.

“Is it a crime for me to indulge in my scientific research, Officer Park?” You lick the ice cream off your lips with a playful tongue.

“Only if you abuse it,” he points at you as if to evoke fear before softening his expression. “But in your case, no.”

“Good.” You swipe a scoop of the boy’s sundae right in front of his face. “I don’t want you to think I’m just using you for your body so I can pass my art class...”

“I know that’s not the case, Y/N. Otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered with the whole blindfolded lap dance thing.” Jimin points to your ice cream cone, so naturally, you let him have a taste of it. “Because what’s the point of a handsome stripper giving you a lap dance if you can’t see what’s going on?”

“To feel things that you wouldn’t otherwise notice if you were too distracted by a naked body dancing over you?” you start munching on the waffle cone. “And by ‘feel things’, I mean emotions, not sexual pleasure. Just FYI.”

“Right, because you totally didn’t feel any sort of sexual pleasure while riding my thigh,” he nods.

“Right,” you nod along with a pretty good poker face. He’s on to you, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing what effect he has on your body. “Thank you, though, for not one, but two special treats.”

“There could’ve been a third if we’d just kept going-”

“Anyway,” you say, pulling out your sketchbook to change the subject. “That lap dance did give me some new art inspo.”

“It was quite the experience for a human-to-human interaction, huh.” Jimin scrapes the last bit of strawberry ice cream, watching as you flip through your sketches of him until you reach the ones from earlier that evening. You have a new color to add to the palette.

“Mhm,” you say, shading in the same color of the boy’s ice cream, the same color that his blossom tattoo represents. “But what do you think about this human-to-human interaction?” You wiggle your index finger back and forth between you and him.

“You mean us chatting over ice cream?” he asks and pauses for a second to think. “I like it. It’s a lot less, uh, intense than some of the other things you and I have done. But I like that.”

“Same. I think regardless of whether you’re a half-naked stripper or just a college kid eating ice cream, the world becomes more vibrant with you in it.” You flip your sketchbook around for Jimin to see.

“You drew me as a Super Saiyan?” He’s referring to his wicked blonde hair and the reddish-pink flare that surrounds his buff body. “Super Saiyans do make the world a better place, huh?”

“My human anatomy could still use some work, but you get the gist.” You don’t know whether to laugh or be offended by his weeb reference. Either way, he has a smug look on his face, as if being drawn as a Dragon Ball character is something to take pride in.

“Somehow the abs look super realistic though…” He strokes his nonexistent beard. “I wonder how that happened.”

You have flashbacks to when your fingers outlined a whole ass map of each individual muscle hiding beneath his shirt. You suppose your mental map translated well onto paper. “Yeah, that’s weird.”

“Let me know if you’re ever in need of another anatomy lesson,” he hums. “For science, right?”

“For science.”

[uchiha-senshi]

FaceTime

Summary: Hidan misses your touch, and there's no fucking way he's waiting to let you know that. Modern AU. NSFW.

(Or: Hidan interrupts your meeting so you can help him release some tension. Things get steamy.) Re-post.

Hidan x Reader. Smut.

Warnings: HIDAN’S FILTHY MOUTH. Dirty talk, name calling, degradation, etc.

Rules | Masterpost

When your phone went off during your meeting, you went as red as a cherry tomato, excusing yourself from the conference table as you rushed out the door. The ringtone was familiar; you had only set it for one, and one person only after all. The whole time you had ignoring the constant buzzing of your phone in your pocket, but it seemed that you had forgotten to turn off the ring volume.

When you were in a hallway away from the room, you checked your phone screen, before sighing and angrily clicking the red ‘end’ button. Your eye twitched once you noticed the several missed calls. You had explicitly told him that there was a staff meeting at this time, and to not call you. There was no way in hell you were entertaining him and his whims. You scrolled through the messages on your phone, feeling heat rise to your cheeks despite your annoyance.

“(y/n) im horny”

“lets video chat”

“why wont you respond”

“im as hard as fuckin rock i cant take care of this myself”

“(y/n) im REALLY FUCKING HORNY right now respond already goddamnit”

Just as you were about to reply, a FaceTime request popped up on your screen, and this time you answered it. You were met with the sight of your shirtless boyfriend, Hidan, his sangria-red eyes glaring at you.

“What the hell? Why wouldn’t you pick up?”

“Listen, Hidan,” you hissed. You knew he could be inconsiderate, but this was pushing it. “I told you I was at a meeting; I’m not just going to pick up the phone to help you—to help you fap!”

“Well, why the fuck not?” he said, indignant. “This is much better than that boring shit you have to sit through.”

You glared at him for awhile, before sighing in defeat. There was no point in winning an argument against Hidan, the man was as stubborn as he was contentious. Movement caught your eye, and you squinted at the screen. “Are you—are you jerking yourself off while we’re talking?”

Hidan rolled his eyes. “Of course I am! I told you I was fucking horny, didn’t I?” He angled his phone camera downward to give you a close-up of his cock, standing fully erect and flushed red, as his hand worked over it.

You nearly screeched, clamping your phone to your chest as you glanced around to make sure no one saw that. There was no one in sight, but nonetheless, you briskly walked towards the restroom at the end of the hall, which was conveniently a single room with a lock. After securing the door, you whipped your phone out to face a smug-looking Hidan. “Don’t do that, you dummy! I was in the hallway; anyone could behind me could have seen you!”

He snorted, looking as if he didn’t give two shits about the chance of exposure (and you knew from experience that he didn’t). “I didn’t tell you to answer your phone in public, woman.”

You bit back a retort. Hidan had propped his phone up against something, and you now had a full frontal view of him lazily stroking himself. Despite your reservations, you felt heat pooling in your lower regions at the sight. As if he knew this, he made a good show of squeezing his shaft as he stroked downwards, groaning and cursing with the motion. A thin bead of pre-cum formed at his tip, and he smeared it onto his head.

“Fuuuuuck. Yeah, that feels good. Fuck, you know what would feel even better though?” he said, making eye contact. He went straight to the dirty talk. “Your mouth working my cock, sucking the life out of me like the little slut you are—”

You rubbed your thighs together, feeling the unbearable dampness of your panties. You considered your options. With the door locked, there was no chance of anyone coming in. Since this bathroom was in the furthest east wing of the building, rarely did people come this way. And god, did you really miss Hidan. These past months without him had been unbearable, without his smart, cocky mouth, and his rough hands on yours, groping and slapping with no discretion. Did you ever miss the times when he would shove you against a wall, before slamming into you and using his shirt as a gag to muffle your moans….

You groaned, wrestling off your tie and jacket. You propped your phone up with a vase on the shelf, angling it so that he could see you fully, then unbuttoned your shirt with hurried movements. “You win, you little shit. You better make this worth me missing my meeting.”

“You won’t be disappointed.” Hidan grinned through the screen as you slipped the shirt off your body, leaving you clad in a lacy white bra and pencil skirt. You turned your back towards him, bending down and making sure to sway your ass from side to side as it slipped down your thighs.

Hidan groaned at your strip tease. “Fuck, you little bitch. Who do you think you are, teasing me like that?” He increased the pace of his pumping, tugging roughly at his shaft. “If you don’t hurry the fuck up, I’m going to fuck you so hard you can’t speak.”

“Oh?” you said, stopping short of unclasping your bra. “Who said you could boss me around like that, huh?” With slow movements, you unclasped each piece of your bra, sliding it slowly down your arms, before stopping right before the entirety of your breasts are revealed. Hidan groaned into the camera, muttering a “god—fucking—damnit.”

“I said so, you little slut. No one else can make you cum as hard as I can, or scream as loud as I can. Now let me see those tits.”

You removed your bra, the material pooling at your feet. The heat of your lower regions proved to be unbearable and you slipped a hand down your panties, biting your lip at how intense the sensations hit you.

“Shit, are you touching yourself already? Can’t fucking wait, can you? You’re so fucking wet for me and I haven’t done a thing.” Hidan attempted to sound smug, but his labored breathing betrayed his undeniable arousal.

“S-Shut up,” you breathed, circling your clit through your panties. “Y-You talk too much. If you’re not gonna hurry over here and fuck me good, y-you don’t…g-get to claim shit.”

“Pfft, claim shit? Babe, I always fuck you good and hard, and you know it. I know you can’t fucking resist me.”

“S-says the one who – ahh – called me, begging me to help him with his p…problem.”

Hidan grunted, his hand speeding up when he saw you, unbearably aching, discarding your underwear to touch yourself fully. You adjusted the angle of your phone before sitting down on the closed toilet seat. Your fingers trailed down to your button, and you clenched your eyes shut at the sensations.

“Damn right I did,” Hidan said distractedly, absorbed with the sight of you pleasuring yourself. He inhales deeply before cutting straight to the point. “So you gonna help me cum or what?”

“W-what do you think I’ve been d-doing, you…dumbass?” You gasped, losing yourself in the feeling of your touch. God, you hadn’t done this for awhile, and on your own, your fingers weren’t nearly as satisfying. But with Hidan here, even his mere presence and familiar filthy mouth—you were suddenly hyperaware of every brush against your sensitive folds.

He rolled his eyes once more. “Well, fuck, I’m not gonna cum like this, woman. Be a good girl and spread those legs for me.”

“M-make me,” you challenged breathlessly, before slipping two fingers into yourself. You made sure to drag out your moans loud and clear in the bathroom, as Hidan cursed violently from his end.

“God—fuck—don’t be such a fucking tease.” Hidan’s eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he took a deep breath. “Don’t make me fucking punish you when I get back there.”

“Oh?” Your movements stopped suddenly, despite the insistent pulsating of your clit. “What are you going to do about it, hmm?” You wanted—no, needed—to hear what he had to say. Needed to be talked down to, to hear that he was just as affected by the distance and as needy as you were.

Hidan’s voice was strained when he spoke. “I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard, you won’t even make it to the bed before I slam into you. You won’t be able to be such a fucking tease with that mouth of yours, not when it’ll be filled with my cock.”

You moaned, his lewdness fueling your imagination as you spread your legs apart. You thrust your fingers rapidly, your increased wetness making them slide in easier, as your thumb stroked your clit. Hidan soaked in the sight of you spread before him greedily, taking in every inch of it, from your head thrown back in pleasure to the way your body trembled with needy gasps.

“Fuck,” he said. “Fuck, fuck, shit, you’re so fucking hot, fuck.” His pumps became rougher as he practically manhandled his shaft, jerking at his cock roughly. It was good, but he needed more. “Squeeze your tits.”

One hand came up to grope at your breast and you moaned brokenly, clenching your thighs shut. Hidan greedily took in the sight, squeezing himself.

“Now play with yourself,” he demanded. “I know you can fit another finger in there. You always suck my dick up so fucking tight. Like you can’t get enough of it, huh, you slut?”

“G-God, yes,” you gasped out, too far gone in the sensations to care what you’re saying. You add another finger to your thrusts, moaning as you hit a spot that has your toes curling. “H-Hidan—fuck—I need to cum so bad,” you whined.

“You’re not going to cum till I say so, you slut,” he grit through his teeth, his movements becoming jerky, erratic.

You whined again, breath hitching you began to ruthlessly thrust into that spot before curling your fingers. Your other hand grasped onto the toilet seat beneath you, attempting to find some semblance of grounding. You hadn’t teetered so enticingly close to release in a while that you grasped at any chance to cum, including an idea that popped into your head.  

“Do you remember…that night we went out for dinner with Kakuzu and Kisame?” you said between gasps. “You p-played with me underneath the table, and followed me to the b-bathroom afterwards.”

“Fuck, you were giving me those fucking eyes across the table.” He lost himself in the memories, tilting his head back and clenching his eyes shut as he stroked himself harshly. “You wanted to be fucked. You nearly attacked when we got to the stall.”

“You took me against the door,” you continued. “And god, it felt so amazing having your cock slide into me, a-ahh. The door kept creaking as you pounded into me….We scared everyone away from the bathroom.”

Hidan smirked, his breath coming out in heavy pants now as he faced you with a devious glint in his eye. “No, it was your screams…that made them run. Couldn’t keep that voice down, could you? ‘Hidan, Hidan, fuck me harder, please Hidan’—you dirty whore.” He groaned.

“I-I—“ You bit your lip hard enough to draw blood, your thighs tensing around your hands. The metallic tang on your tongue has you moaning. “I still think about it a-at night. When you come back…fuck, I just wanna ride you till morning.”

He snorted, his voice coming out strangled. “Damn right we’re gonna fuck like crazy when I get back. You better clear out that week, ‘cause…there’s no way in hell you’ll be able to w-walk.” He cursed at his stutter, feeling himself get dangerously close to his end.

“I-I…I want you to take me in public again.  A-ah, some place where everyone c-can…hear your skin slapping against mine…w-where I have to bite down on your fingers t-to…hold back my screams, a-ah, w-where…y-you bite down on my shoulder when you c-come to…muffle your groans.”

“Fuck, (Y/N). Fuck.” Your words proved to be Hidan’s undoing as he groaned, his body lurching forward as he came in spurts. A steady stream of curses flew from his mouth as he stroked himself through his orgasm, his release spilling down his fingers. Breathing heavily, he continued to slowly move his hand up and down his shaft as it throbbed in overstimulation.

Likewise, the sight of Hidan’s intense climax was all too much for you. The pressure building steadily in your lower regions escalated to the full out crash of a wave. Gasping, you came hard around your fingers, white flashing beneath your eyelids. Your body was locked in place for the longest time, before you slumped forward on the toilet seat, struggling to regain your breath as your lower regions pulsed in the aftermath.

“Shit, that was hot,” Hidan grunted, having witnessed your orgasm through the phone screen. He felt heat creep into the base of his cock, and before he knew it, he was at half-mast again. He sent you a cocky grin, speaking up once you had regained coherency. “Well, looks like you can help me out again, eh?”

Through the haze retreating from your mind, a knock on your door had your heart jumping up to your throat. Your eyes widened as you glanced at Hidan, whose smirk turned downright evil at your predicament.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, lillypotterml

September 18- Pepper in the middle of the fight in Civil War, for lillypotterml

Written by @quartzcelticas

Pepper sighed, eyes unfocused as she looked out the window. A fine misty rain was falling, the sort that seeped into everything leaving the world damp and chilled. She almost missed that feeling, the elevated temperature that the Extremis gave her meant she never felt the cold anymore, her body automatically adjusted for it. But without that same chill, she could have been anywhere in the world, instead of feeling it and knowing to her bones that she was in London. She had been in the city for almost six months. 

Staying in New York, watching as Tony’s heart broke, because of her, hadn’t been an option. And going back to California without him had also been unappealing. She still loved him, she just couldn’t stay with him and living somewhere she associated with him so strongly was just salt in everybody’s wounds.

Therefore, Europe.

Specifically the London branch of Stark Industries. The city didn’t hold any great sentimental value to her or Tony. It was neutral ground.

Only in the last few weeks had they been able to talk, before that all communication had been by email or messages left with Friday. The loss of Jarvis was still a hole in her heart that she wasn’t sure she would ever get over. The AI had been more than a sophisticated computer program, he had been a friend. Each week the emails or messages got longer. Filled with the everyday trivia and science rambling that she expected from the genius superhero.

He wasn’t the only Avenger to keep in contact. Natasha stopped by when she was in the area, which could mean anything from down the street to the Eastern Hemisphere, Thor and Jane had dinner with her every month or so, and Captain Rogers had appeared in her office three months ago asking for her help.

She had given it gladly. The favour had been attached to an interesting International Legal question that filled her nights when she had missed the chaos of New York, or Malibu.

“Ms Potts, we have been given permission for take-off. Please secure your seatbelt.” Mr Allenson, SI’s pilot, informed her over the small plane’s intercom.

= + =

The hop from London to Berlin was short. They circled in the sky above the city waiting for landing permission for longer than it took to get there. It was wearing at her patience, but she understood the increased security that required it. It hadn’t been a good couple of days for the European Mainland.

On the ground, a bodyguard and driver were waiting for her next to a dark blue town car. The car crept across the city, the usual traffic of a large metropolis almost unnoticed to the occupied businesswoman. She used the drive to review the documents that PROToN, the not quite AI that Tony had made for her when Jarvis had been corporealised, had collected.

They pulled to a stop in front of a metal and glass construction that wouldn’t have been out of place in SI’s real estate portfolio. A besuited man was waiting for her. An agent to escort her, the usual twinge of grief for a different D & G wearing g-man was quickly squashed. The man stepped forward to open the door and hand her out of the car. Pepper Potts didn’t need the help but knew the value of accepting it.

He hustled her through the building, her heels clicking a staccato beat on the marble floor. She heard them before she saw them. Hurt and anger that she hadn’t heard in Tony’s voice in a long time.

“GIVE ME A BREAK! I’m doing what has to be done.” He was yelling as she walking in.

From his place sitting at the conference table, he couldn’t see her enter. Steve could. It was his attention on her instead of him that caught Tony’s. He turned to face her, expression shuttering.

“Pepper?”

“Tony.” It was the first time they had seen each other in person since the disaster of a dinner that she had walked out on.

“What? Why are you here?” Confusion quickly took over from the anger, the hurt was still there lurking in his eyes.

“I was helping Steve with something and found this.” She held out the tablet for him to take, video already queued.

A man neither of them recognised strode across the grainy CCTV footage of an almost empty carpark. He paused just before leaving frame, his face rippling, morphing until he looked like Sergeant James Barnes.

“That was in Vienna an hour before the bombing.” She told them. The video had a timestamp but she wanted to drive the point home.

“Wait, I’ve seen him.” Steve stopped. Stopped moving, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. Mind going over every face he had seen recently.

“The Psychologist!” He was running from the room before either of them could ask who he meant. They followed him. Catching up when he was stopped by a security door. The man from the video on the other side with Sergeant Barnes. Steve was pounding on the door, demanding to be let in.

“Steve?” A woman Pepper didn’t know came up behind them, Natasha and Falcon, Sam Wilson, behind her.

“We have to get him out of there.” Steve continued to try and punch his way into the room.

Around them, the power flickered and died. Red-emergency lights flooded everything in blood red. Something the man inside the room said pulled the Sergeant’s attention from watching Steve attempt property damage. The bound man twitched, saying something they couldn’t hear. No, maybe. Turning his head away and closing his eyes, trying to block out the world. He couldn’t hide from whatever was haunting him so he had to fight. His metal arm wrenched from the thick clamps that had been putting on a show of the holding him. Slamming himself into the reinforced glass, over and over again.

The man from the video was walking around the cage, still talking.

James finally broke through the cage. Too late.

Between one breath and the next, the restrained Sergeant’s body language transformed, from a man trying to fight his own mind, to someone dead inside. Eyes staring straight ahead, worse than a thousand yard stare, there wasn’t anything playing in his mind. He was waiting for orders. Unquestioning. The change sent a shiver down Pepper’s spine.

They were talking too quietly for them to hear.

James was moving again. Mechanical, but danger written in every line of his body. He was through the door that Steve had weakened in seconds. Swinging at the man standing in his way.

Steve refused to fight back, dodging blows that would incapacitate a lesser man if they landed.

A hand wrapped around her elbow, trying to draw her away from the fight. “Pepper, get out of here.” It was Tony. Tony without his suit. Breakable and soft without his armour.

“No.” She wrenched her arm away. Eyes and nail beds began to glow. She would protect the man who had protected her so many times.

Unwilling to hit his best friend, Steve could only dodge for so long. The heavy metal fist cracked into the Captain’s jaw. One hit KO. Then Pepper was the only one standing between one of the best killers in history, and a vulnerable Tony.

Time slowed down as her chemically enhanced adrenalin spiked. The mechanical arm was swung at her head, just as hard as it had been swung at Steve, no allowance for gender or apparent strength. She was an obstacle for the Soldat and nothing else but his best would do. She ducked even as one hand darted up, long elegant fingers wrapping around the cool metal. Without the weight behind her, she would never be able to stop the movement, but the heat flowing from her hands quickly slagged the mechanisms and plating of the wrist and hand.

The Soldat stumbled back, the first hint of emotion flickering to life in his eyes. Fear. It was a start. He came back again and again. Each time the metal arm came within reach she melted it a little more. Not wanting to hurt the man locked inside. She held him off long enough for Steve to come to.

Down one arm, the other super soldier was able to subdue his friend, wrestling him to the ground.

The Soldat struggled, grunting and groaning but not speaking.

“Bucky. Bucky, stop. Please.” Steve begged even as he dodged a kick, not releasing his hold.

Pepper’s adrenalin was burnt up by the Extremis raging through her system. Knees going weak, Tony’s arm around her waist was the only thing that kept her on her feet.

“Come on.” His voice was soft, loving. She had been the one to leave after all, his feelings had never wavered.

Leaning into him, she allowed herself to be led away. Natasha sweeping past her, a syringe of something in her hand.

[cyruslookedback]

ive had this idea in my head for a while, and i would get way happier if you wrote it (because it would be more of a suprise.. kinda). can you make a short fic where jonah is like, dared to kiss a boy or something and the people who dared him keep making fun of him because hes too scared to do it so the jonah gets T R I G G E R E D and he goes up to cyrus and kisses him in front of them and everyone except jonah is shook and then cyrus asks cyrus about it later (idrc how long later is) :D

I took inspiration with this, I hope this is in the realm of what you were asking for. Feedback is very appreciated everyone!!

Jonah couldn’t remember how he had gotten himself into this position. Sitting in a circle with all of his closest friends, a bottle in the center of them just asking to be spun. Two of his ex girlfriends a part of that circle as well as his newly discovered crush. This couldn’t end well.

Okay so maybe Jonah had an inkling of hope that he’d spin the bottle and it would stop on Cyrus. They’d kiss and it would all happen in slow motion. There would be fireworks as their friends cheered. He wanted magic.

But what were the odds of that happening? One in nine, that’s what. That’s only 11%. And that was just to get the bottle to land on him. That doesn’t guarantee anything. Yet Jonah still let his hopes rise.

Buffy was the first to spin, and it landed on T.J. of all people. Despite her protest T.J. went in for the kill, only to have her turn her left cheek. Once his lips made contact with her skin, a look of utter disgust washed over her face, sending the rest of the group into a fit of laughter. 

“Come on I can’t be that bad.”

“Keep telling yourself that Teej.”

Next to the spin was Amber. She’d only recently become a part of the Good Hair Crew™. A title that has expanded to many more than just the original three founders. Her spin pointed directly to their newest member, Gus. 

Amber didn’t even flinch. She crawled over to the boy as if he were her prey. The already nervous boy looked as if he was going to pass out, but once her lips were planted on his, a whole new Gus was discovered.

Now it was Cyrus’ turn. Jonah was uneasy at this point. There was no coming out of this unscathed. Either he had to kiss Cyrus, which just the thought of it had him terrified, or he had to watch Cyrus kiss someone else which was even worse. He wanted to kiss Cyrus. He really did. He was just worried that there would be no magic. This was only a game after all. If it lands on him it’s only an obligated kiss and not the requited crush he desired. 

That’s when it happened. Jonah could see right down the mouth of the bottle. His dreams were about to face reality. 

Him and Cyrus dazedly looked at each other. Cyrus didn’t seem to excited about who the bottle landed on, and Jonah didn’t know how to feel. 

“It looks a little like it’s pointing at the open space. You should do a re-spin.” Jonah contested.

“Are you kidding me? It’s dead on. Be a man and kiss him.” Amber countered. She was the only one Jonah told about his crush, or him being bi for that matter. Of course she wasn’t going to let him get out of this that easy.

“I had to kiss Toe Jam over here, it’s only fair.” Buffy added.

“You didn’t even -”

T.J. was cut off by Buffy’s hand covering his mouth

“You know I’m a stickler for the rules.” Cyrus finally spoke up, and it was his approval that sealed the deal for Jonah. He was still shaking, his attempts at mustering up the slightest bit of courage failing once he got a glimpse into Cyrus’ eyes. Cheesy as it is, they made Jonah melt.

Slowly but surely the two made their way towards each other to the center of the circle. It wasn’t happening in slow motion, but they moved slow enough that onlookers might say it was. Once they met, after a few moments of hesitation, they kissed. 

It wasn’t just a peck, and it definitely wasn’t the tongue wrestling session Amber and Gus had prior. It was short and chaste, yet strangely fulfilling. There weren’t fireworks, there weren’t cheers like he had imagined, just a few giggles. And although it wasn’t the magic he wanted, the reality didn’t disappoint. 

That was it. The kiss happened and they continued on with the game. They each had to share kisses with the some of the others a few times. The kiss with Amber really did change Gus, that was for sure, but none compared to the one they had. 

Later that evening as they were all preparing to watch a movie and go to sleep, Cyrus pulled Jonah out onto the patio.

“So… that kiss.” It sounded less like a statement and more like a question. A question Jonah wasn’t sure how to answer.

“It was only a game. You’re the one who’s the stickler for the rules.”

“Look, I’m not usually one to be so forward, but it didn’t feel like it was just a game as you so eloquently put it.” It was like he could see right through Jonah. His glass house was being shattered right before his eyes.

“Okay, so maybe it wasn’t… just a game. I don’t expect you to reciproca -”

Cyrus kissed him, effectively cutting him off in the middle of his word. 

It was magic

It was really magic. This time there were the fireworks. No time seemed to pass at all. It wasn’t forced like before. It was spontaneous and genuine and everything Jonah had dreamed a kiss could be. 

As they parted, Jonah’s mind was begging for more. But he was lost in the boys eyes once again.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t reciprocate? According to Andi and Buffy I am ‘painfully obvious’ to quote them.”

“You must’ve forgotten that I am ‘painfully oblivious’. I didn’t even know you liked guys let alone felt anything for me.” 

They just laughed.

New revelations between the two had them speechless after that. They could hardly do anything but stand there and smile like the adorable idiots they were. But so were the other eight who watched the entire interaction take place from the window without a curtain.

It wasn’t long before the two noticed the rest stalking them from inside the house. All they had to do was stare at them to get the message across, and they all walked away immediately. Well except of course for Buffy who gave them a thumbs up and a suggestive nod.

“You think maybe tonight was an elaborate scheme to get us to kiss?”

“Honestly I wouldn’t put it past them.

[thecrotchhand]

health class >:(

-ug

-did somebody say rick of suicide

-”ooh, there’s a laser!” -student teacher

-good ways to manage stress- “punching a hole through the wall”

-”do you have a long-term goal?” “dying”

-”we should deport justin bieber back to canada”

-”if you say you're gonna do something, then do it" "i'm gonna kill myself ;))"

-"i'm busy singing Africa by Toto" *off-key singing continues*

-"when you lose weight, where does it go?" "it goes to weight heaven"

-the guy next to me started playing Africa quietly from his phone

-"i'm talking to bowl cut. just kidding chris. i love you." "...i'm getting a haircut."

-"you don't lift to get swole" -st

-"that sounds not good for you" "i'm gonna try it"

-"during pregnancy, the women in here are gonna need more folate, iron, and calcium" "no, i'm gonna need a coathanger"

-"liar liar pants for hire"

-"is eustress good stress or bad stress?" (long silence) "it's good stress! yay!" -st

-good ways to relax- "11 hours straight of anime"

-"everything's gonna be ok" lmao good joke

-"precipitation... wait i mean perspiration. it still counts, it's raining from your body."

-ways to manage depression- "kill yourself :D"

-help the teacher (flynn) has been yelling at us for the past five minutes

-uh oh she said damn it's gettin' wild

-she went back into her office after and all of a sudden we hear a quiet "oh, happy Wednesday"

-"is it possible to have an abortion 700 weeks late?"

-"what's the r-word we talked about?" "rawr XD"

-"what does autonomy mean?" "it's like grey's anatomy but for cars"

-alcoholism is a good sims trait

-guy: sneezes

guy's friend: "god bless... america"

-”what do you say to your sibling during an argument?” "you should've been aborted" “no”

- "your personality might be kind of boring" "like a potato!" "yeah"

-"what does down to earth mean?" "it means you're like the lorax, you speak for the trees"

-"he was happy?" "yeah! put him working with me and larson for ten years and... we fixed him!"

-the student teacher generally has a habit of sarcastic yaying and it entertains me

-"jason (chris) move your head" "just throw a rock at it, it'll move"

-someone was trying to come up with weird phobias and someone suggested genital herpes

-"sir you've been diagnose with hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia " "aahHH"

-"if someone comes up to you and says a mean word, you're gonna be upset" "hey sam" "what" "fuck"

-"i found a big circle"

-"*cough* flynn"

flynn, out of nowhere: "i heard that"

-"have you guys seen cabin in the woods?" "wait, the one with the cabin in the woods?"

-:(

-"let's say you don't have a gun" "pft, not in america"

-we were talking about miscarriage and cody goes "fetus... deletus"

-examples of anger- "when mcdonald's doesn't have ice cream"

-video from the 80's: "depression isn't talked about"

-a seal saved this guy's life and he just: 'ah yes it was all because of god' ¿¿¿???

-80's commercials are the weirdest shit

-yepperdoodles

-"...gonna get addicted to xanax"

-"you guys all did a really good job on your tests" "i got a C" "i got a D+" "yeah there wasn't a single person i was not happy with"

-"you say you see really good scores, but what i'm seeing is a D"

-examples of compromise- "i got a D+, but i feel i deserved an A, so let's meet in the middle with a C" "but what do i get out of it?" "if he passes the class, you don't have to see him anymore"

-"oh no my one feeling"

-"what are some ways to resolve conflict?" "killing yourself"

-"put away the candy this is health class"

-(talking about conflict) "...then the fire nation attacked"

-(softly) "yo what the heck dawg"

-"if they started a rumor-" "kill them"

-"when i was-" "a young boy"

-"you got two more weeks with the student teacher, then you get me back" *high pitched screaming*

-"they never broke out, and then one of them broke out"

-"wrestling uniforms are skimpy"

-(across the room) "hey man, can i touch your butt?" "i don't mind, dude"

-"let's say my wife is going to leave me and i'm... celebrating! oh wait"

-"they're fat and skinny, they're white, black, pink, purple, and orange-" "trump"

-"listen, idiotface"

-"do you think... the government is hiding the cure for cancer...?"

-i love government conspiracy theories during health

-"i... declare... bAnkrUptCY"

-"are we watching a movie?" "maybe if we're lucky it's the ring and it'll kill us"

-lmao i don't need drugs to feel numb

-"aww, flynn, we know you're drinkin' a bottle in the back room" "yeah, just look at ya, why wouldn't i?"

-The Weed™

-"weed stops your sperm from being produced correctly" "perfect, it's birth control too"

-"weed might shrink your... parts" "i think i'll just stick to meth"

-"weed might give you a special needs child" "it's wilson 2.0!"

-"i'm gonna be a drug dealer but not a mean one like a nice, happy 'eyy, wanna buy some drugs? :3'"

-oh no, grandma's growing weed in the basement

-"ahh, the weed's on fire"

-"guess that's how they caught the drug dealers. the deer were high"

-teacher: "ooh, i just sounded like yoda: don't smoke The Weed™"

-"hey, where can you buy a still? asking for a cousin"

-"raise your hand if you want to watch hentai"

-this guy keeps responding to people with "yes, my child?"

-"they put aborted fetuses in vaccines" "oh honey no"

-"how do you keep yourself from getting sick?" "stop breathing"

-examples of painkillers- "cocaine"

-"i know elvis presley is still alive because the king never dies"

-biggest drinker in our grade: "am i gonna be an alcoholic?" class: "you already are"

-c o m p r o m i s i n g  p o s i t i o n

-"trick question, i am hentai"

-"what would you do... if i said i could put you in your own hentai"

-"you're gettin' a hole in your nose oh my goodness"

-"depression" "nope" "wait... depression"

-"I can't remember the happiness i felt before drugs" "i can't remember feeling happiness at all"

-"oh you're back! just in time for meth"

-"oh my garage"

-"lotta meth in that town" "nah just incest"

-"it kills your brain cells. which some of you can't afford (staring directly at the class alcoholic)"

-"why do dentists have the highest suicide rate?? probably because everyone hates the dentist, i dunno"

-"that's accusations" "uuuuuhh no" "oh"

-"oh my gads. you got some meth?"

-"in the puss!" "terms" "sorry. vag!"

-"there's a pretty good chance that drug came out of someone's anal cavity" "that's why i don't do heroin"

-"hey, whose buttocks did this come out of?"

"i'm gonna go shoot myself with some dog food, brb"

-"oh my chicken pie"

-"i've been told we're gonna draw a penis"

-help they're genuinely discussing giving babies steroids

-"most of the female reproductive cells are useless" "just like my brain cells"

-the teacher keeps referring to developing babies as "little rat" and "alien creature"

-"if you eat my period snacks, i will eat you"

-*chiming* "is that santa??"

-"what's the only fluid that doesn't go to the baby?" "water" "no" "air" "no" "earth" "..." "fire"

-"you're supposed to snort those calcium pills" "don't snort the calcium pills"

-"mr. o'reilly, when'd you miss your period?"

-"is it true you puke the day after you get pregnant?" "no, if you puke the day after, it's from the alcohol the night before"

-fetus = jumbo shrimp

- i too, am a very sad lookin' heart

-"no, you cannot throw up your baby"

-"now that we've taken the baby home, we need to figure out what to do with it" "flush it down the toilet"

-"if you wear a hat all the time, all your hair is gonna fall out and die" "ha ha kevin, you're gonna die"

-"since i was 14. and i'm 112"

-"big dumb"

-"what do you want to be when you grow up?" "dead"

-"my parents say: 'hey... whatcha doin' with that 24-pack?'"

-"did jeffery dahmer's mom love him?" "hope not"

-"ohh i love the smell of babies *sniff sniff*"

-"they can be found in places that are... places"

-"why are there rotting apples under here?" "no you gotta let those ferment"

-"what's something you lose by age 3?" "hope"

-the guy in front of me had marvel porn on his phone????????????? hentai hulk's bright red ass is permanently ingrained in my mind

-"what am i supposed to do to live 2 more years? wrap myself in bubble wrap and eat brussel sprouts?"

-"for every 10 pounds overweight you are, subtract 1." "-50"

-"you're wearing a flamingo shirt, you're no one's favorite"

-"you don't snort viagra"

-"how do you feel about having guns in our home?" "how do you feel about how quickly i'd use it to kill myself?"

-"hey, 2 seniors walking down the hallway! wanna give her your papers?" "outta my way. hey! get back here and gimme your papers, ya bums."

-"it's not just the genitals that transfer STDs" "left calf"

-"what if they got an STD some other way?" "drinking sprite"

-"...serial monogamy-" "cereal is for mornings"

-"...trading sex for-" "chicken nugget"

-"you wanna try sex wearing a hazmat suit, go ahead" "don't kinkshame me"

-"STI: spaghetti time infection. it's an epidemic"

-"g- ross"

-"AIDS didn't come from sex with a monkey" "it's definitely about sex with monkeys"

-"what kinds of drugs do i need if i have AIDS?" "nothing, you wanna die"

-"do you know what they do to get rid of genital warts?" "chop your dick off" "mix wart cream with water and drink it"

-oh no they found out what they do get rid of genital warts

-"they shove a q-tip in your penis" "iiiiii'd rather die"

-"is that what tinder is? swipe right if you want crabs?"

-"i would suggest not setting your genitals on fire"

- "your penis doesn't do tricks"

-"do you have a driver's license? *nod* "do you have a car?" *nod* "are you a big boy?" *unsure nod*

-"i know it's only the last day but i will make you suffer for every last minute" "then i'll just do what i always do *sleeps*"

-our resident alcoholic was washing the board and people were jokingly flirting with him so he tied his shirt into a bikini and continued washing so the teacher docked him points for it. don't worry he was already failing

[limitedrevolverworks]

My Mother 2.0 [2]

[Chapter 1]

Above all else, it’s the silence that that he cannot comprehend.

A deep quiet fills his ears, flooding with a silence so paradoxically deafening. Mere instinct reaches out as best it can, grasping for the slightest vibration it could feed to eardrums sorely starving for that hint of familiarity, but all it can scoop out of the stale air is an utter anomaly it doesn’t know what to make of. The frightening shadow of an indecipherable unknown looms over him, daring his powerless, broken shell to do something, anything about it that he obviously cannot. He could chalk it up to the numbness that seems to envelop his entire being, from the smallest atom to the very thoughts produced by his half-comatose brain, but even in his stupor, the boy knows better. And of all the interrogatives pressing down on him, this one feels the most daunting precisely because he can blame it on himself, rather than some factor outside the scope of his perceptions. It’s a minuscule, vibrant spark of audacity that the very mind culpable for its creation regards it with cautious hesitation, unable to fathom its own ability to birth it. For a time that his diluted consciousness desperately stretches into a seeming eternity, the child refuses to acknowledge the one truth he could process, choosing instead to wallow in an uncertain oblivion that is at least partially of his own making. It’s a long, drawn out, tiresome battle, a silent war fought without weapons, a peaceful, stubborn conflict where nothing happens aside from waiting, waiting.

Waiting.

He doesn’t realize the gradually shifting tide of his struggle until his sole serviceable eye timidly spreads open to brave the unknown sight that has been waiting all along for his acceptance.

Now, the boy finally admits it: that the very unknown he should fear, he very much welcomes far more than anything he’s ever been acquainted with.

And so…

At last…

Time begins to flow anew.

“Hey now, awake alread-D-D-D-D-D-y? Go figure.”

The rapidfire barrage of glitchy reverb is interspersed between words that sound like they’re rattling within a box made of thin metallic sheets. The auditory concoction stampedes its way through the child’s hearing with all the grace of a bombardment and hurting twice as much.

It’s odd, though.

Common sense etched deep inside tells him that the optimal response should involve either lots of thrashing and screaming, or curling into a ball and quietly begging for it to end. There’s the fact that the neural pathways in charge of his muscles are currently fueled with a thick, uncrossable gel paste-like form of paralysis, but that’s not the whole of it. The pain is far from pleasant, yet it conveys a clear message - that he is alive, and not anywhere he would recognize. One of these two conclusions fills him with something akin to relief; the other, not so much.

It’s hard for the boy to decide which corresponds to which. He decides that, for the time being, a better way to keep busy what few of his brain cells are awake would be deciphering exactly what it is that he’s staring at.

Through the fog blanketing his vision, the child sees grey lips, framed by a shade of dull blue well on its way to fading into the latter color. The plated shape gives him the impression that it must be a helmet covering the rest of the stranger’s face, but the two halves hug each other so harmoniously to form a solid mass that he questions this interpretation, despite any other making little sense. He seeks answers in the single black strip cutting into the superior portion: the bright red dot swimming inside it, however, dumps only more questions onto a pile that has already grown rather healthy.

His eye begins to burn, reminding him of such a basic need as blinking that he’d seemingly forgotten in his stupor. The boy’s eyelid trembles: will it manage to arise once more, after it’s fallen? The darkness was daunting, but he felt safe within its embrace. It tasted different from the one he’s grown accustomed to - ah, hold on, that’s not quite right.

As more and more of his consciousness tears itself free from its sleepy cocoon, the child begins to make sense of his own thoughts. He understands that it’s not quite that his unconsciousness felt safe in and of itself - rather, it’s what he feels now, after he’s already gotten out of it. Knowledge informs his less rational side, rewriting his immediate past in light of the present. It’s the fact that he knows what comes after the darkness, that leads him to trust it for the first time his short, young life. And for how utterly fruitless his attempts at making heads or tails of his present predicament may be, he has no doubt that he prefers it to the routine that preceded it.

Lingering for a long, drawn-out second more on the thing that may or may not be a face, the boy tells himself that he has nothing to lose anyway. And in the simple act of blinking once, he perceives the rush of an emotion he’s never known he could harbor.

If he’d ever had any conception of it, the child could relish in his first taste of freedom.

“Do yourself a fa-A-A-A-A-A-vor and don’t move, will you?”

More words come out from a mouth that doesn’t move to spell them. The boy speaks his obedience with silent immobility: at the end of the day, old habits are too stubborn to lie down and let themselves die; he receives a nod for his effort, or lack thereof.

“Not that you can move an-N-N-N-N-yway.”

From the corner of his vision, the boy witnesses what seems to be a shoddy impression of a shrug from a pair of stiff shoulders that must have been made for anything but.

“Had to strap you good in case these aneS-S-S-S-S-thetics failed to do their job, and what do you kno-O-O-O-O-w? Never trust chemic-C-C-C-C-als a couple centuries past their expiration date, kid.”

Peeling off the various layers of noise and glitching haunting it, the voice digs out the impression that he’s been talked to by a woman, despite his eyes’ struggle to acquiesce with this conclusion. If what she’s wearing is a protective suit of sorts, it’s nothing like the ones he’s seen.

Panic threatens to seize him. Could they have transferred him to another research facility?

No! No!

He’d just begun to warm to the idea that perhaps, finally, it had all ended, but now that his lucidity has wrestled back control of his ability to process things properly, he wonders how he even came to that conclusion. His path had never, ever strayed from its repetitive course until that fateful day. Why, exactly, should he believe it to be the case now?

Foolish. Stupid stupid stupid! He dared dream for the first time ever, and he knows that all it did was set him up for greater anguish than he’s ever known. Because now, he has tasted hope. It’s far too late to retrieve the resignation that he cast away at a whim. He’s left himself vulnerable, discarded his fragile shell in the spur of a momentary madness. For all he knows, he’s left himself bare against a realm of suffering that could surpass anything he’s experienced. That is… that is…!

He wants to cry. To scream atop his lungs until his throat will have burned away along with what’s left of his sanity.

Burning…

His throat is burning. He feels a lump in it that has nothing to do with the one born from his desire to cry his heart out. The distraction is a tiny one, yet he clings to it as best he can, a minuscule island in an ocean of self-made terror. He notices now that the noise he was picking up while barely conscious is his own breathing. A ragged, drawn out sound like dusty wind sweeping off a gravelly path. The boy’s eye moves down on its own, seeking an explanation. It can only manage to pick up the vague shape of a cylindrical shape, jutting out of the edge where his pupil meets his lower lid. The woman bends aside so that her masked face can meet his gaze again, her head tilted even further to express what her “face” simply can’t.

“Yeah, that w-W-W-W-W-W-W-ould be the reason why you’re tied like a b-B-B-B-B-undle of rations. I can’t have you thrashing all ov-V-V-V-V-er the place with a tube sticking out of your throat… wait, hold on. Does it hurt? Those painkillers I stuffed you w-W-W-W-W-W-ith are three decades older than the anaesthetics.”

There’s a long, drawn out pause filled mostly with one-sided blinking, and little else.

“Oh! Right! Can’t move! Sorry, this one’s on me. hA-hA-hA-hA!”

For a moment, the boy thinks his… caretaker? Captor? Whoever that may be, the way her voice spazzes out at the end and her whole body shakes, it looks and sounds dangerously close to a seizure. It comes to an abrupt conclusion and a return to her very relative normality, which means… what exactly was that supposed to be?

“That’s a face you’re making there… well, half-F-F-F-F-F a face. Did I startle you, maybe? Sorry, faulty voice m-M-M-M-M-odule. Gave up trying to fix it a couple centuries ago, not worth the has-S-S-S-S-S-S-sle. You don’t find many conversational partn-N-N-N-N-N-ers around these parts, you know?”

He doesn’t, but then again it’s not like he can point that out.

“Anyway, anywa-A-A-A-A-A-y, I’ve just told the IV to inject you with another sleepytime cocktail, so sit tight and relax. You’re g-G-G-G-G-G-oing to be doing a lot of that, honestly, at least until I’m done downloading all this medical training software for the surgery.”

A metal-clad arm raises: at the end of it, fingers lightly curl around a wire that begins somewhere outside the boy’s scope, and ends in a rectangular protrusion connected to a similarly shaped hole in the side of the mysterious stranger’s neck. It makes about as much sense as anything else the child has learned about her, and he’s given up trying to put together all the clues he’s been given into a cohesive, discernible whole.

“I mean, a thracheos-S-S-S-S-S-tomy’s a piece of cake by itself. But anything beyond going stabby-stabby on your tr-R-R-R-R-R-R-achea is a tad more complicated than that. I haven’t half a clue what they’ve d-D-D-D-D-D-one to you up there in that big floaty world of theirs, but whatever it was, it made a mess of your throat. There was enough goop stuck in there I had to spend an hour drain-N-N-N-N-N-ing it to make sure you wouldn’t choke on it. I reckon that when my scanning module’s been updated, we’ll disc-C-C-C-C-C-over that the rest of your body’s even worse for the wear.”

Silence falls anew at the end of a series of informations that the boy tries to digest all at once. Half of his features are still perfectly usable, and could lend themselves to expressing what a metal visage cannot. But the child does not visibly react to the news given to him. His lips do not smile. His eye does nothing but look at the one speaking to him with a half-lidded stare, unsure of what to make of any of it, less of all his worry that this may be a prelude to a nightmare.

The boy is tired. He closes his eye, deciding to thrust himself to the darkness, and the infinitesimal chance of salvation hiding in it.

If he has any hope left in him now, it’s the old, familiar brand that cannot wait for his body to do away with itself.

Sensors that were state of the art back when they were made do their best to try and do what they weren’t built for. The staticity on the little human’s face brings up correspondences with old, untouched corners of her databases. Visual data from times long forgotten by those they begot, visions of broken husks of flesh and bone, deader than the corpses of their comrades. Some of those fallen to the very same iron-cast hands that have done their best to keep a lone boy from biting the bullet, based on what can only be defined a whim.

The automaton born of war kneels besides her guest, and wonders. She does so by sending microscopic sparks across a net of data swimming inside her artificial brain, in search of an act that no medicine or surgical procedure could emulate - a way to heal something other than a body.

Something comes up. A tiny possibility buried among billions of others, at the very edge of her range of intended abilities. Fragments of culture acquired for mere curiosity and to stave off whatever form of boredom a machine could even feel to begin with, knowledge thought obsolete until it came up in this very moment, suggesting a pattern that seems convincing enough to be put into tentative, awkward practice.

Thunk. Thunk.

The child raises his eyelid, startled. A gelid, hard sensation is spreading on his head, where his forehead gives way to his disheveled hairline, right next to where the chitinous substance has overtaken the rest of it.

His view is obscured by something. A shadow that robs his sight of light, only to let him seep through again, cyclically going through the motions while the sharp feeling becomes more defined against his skin. It’s only after the fifth time that the shadow finally relents and draws back enough for him to find its source, staring at him through a red, unblinking light.

“How is it? I’m not entirely confident since it’s my f-F-F-F-F-F-irst time, but apparently headpats are supposed to feel g-G-G-G-G-G-ood for young humans like you.”

Her hand approaches again, stopping short of reaching him. It reels back just enough that he can see the black band where her eye resides, and the mouth whose lips cannot flap, nor curl.

“You want me to stop?”

He hadn’t noticed it before, taken as he was with pretty much everything else assaulting his senses, but… there is something about this voice. Beyond the metallic-sounding raspiness, aside from the occasional slip into an ear-piercing torture, there is a tone about this voice that feels unmistakably reassuring.

It’s a rough, alien-feeling sort of softness.

The boy’s eye lingers on the hand hovering above him, shifting to the person staring back with what he decides must be expectation, then back to the hand.

The lid falls like a curtain, letting the centuries old anaesthetics do their job. If he wishes to protest, he doesn’t make the slightest attempt to show it.

As sleep beckons him back to its thoughtless cradle, the child hears it again. Thunk. Thunk. It’s cold, and hard, so much so that at the epicenter of it he can feel a sharp, prickly pain.

Yet somehow, he doesn’t mind.

[anamelesstraveler]

Thanks to @semisweetshadow I am FEELING some Bodhi adopting tiny cadet Finn. So here’s my hastily put together attempt at it, that left me pacing the floor in excitement in the middle of writing this. So ENJOY friends! I fudged the ages because STANDARD TIME DOESN’T EXIST IN SPACE Y’ALL so fuck it. Finn’s gonna be about 5, and Bodhi’s mid to late 30′s. So this is like... what, ~10 ABY?

Warnings for obligatory child soldier warning, mentions of past drug use, and a very brief moment of a suicide attempt (the First Order looks down upon their soldiers being captured)

Bodhi wonders at what point he can say he’s getting too old for this. He’s not yet forty, but the number is coming up on the horizon. And on some days Bodhi feels several lifetimes older.

“Commander Rook...”

Some days like today.

“Stand down, Lieutenant,” Bodhi orders, keeping his voice as even and nonthreatening as he can. The blaster that had been trained on him jumps nervously to the soldier standing behind him and back. It’s not the first time Bodhi has had a blaster pointed at him.

It’s the first time the one holding a blaster on him is a child.

Bodhi knows better than to consider any mission routine. Leia asking him to take a squad out to the Outer Rim, specifically to this barren planet in the Baralou system, to scout for Imperial remnants was bound to go wrong somehow. There had been a base hidden among the inhospitable rock and snow of the planet. The base is Imperial. The evidence is clear in every industrial line of the place, an unsettling ghost that Bodhi wishes had been consigned to the past. It’s abandoned, though. 

Well, almost abandoned.

The child can’t be older than five. All big, terrified eyes and a round baby face. His dark hair is close cropped in severe military manner, which is just as disturbing to Bodhi in combination with his tiny, perfectly pressed Imperial gray uniform and his equally tiny blaster. A blaster made to fit a child’s hands.

A blaster that is currently aimed at Bodhi’s head with steady hands, even if the child is clearly scared of his mind.

“Hey,” Bodhi coaxes. “Everything’s alright. We’re alright, aren’t we?” He stays perfectly still where he’s crouching in the dim storeroom. The child flinches, but his aim barely falters. “My name’s Bodhi, and this is Tonc. What’s yours?”

The boy’s eyes flick from Bodhi to Tonc, who Bodhi can glimpse lifting his hands a little higher in a show of peace, and back. “D-Designation: FN-2187,” he whispers.

Bodhi frowns, wonders if his enhancers are processing the barely audible words correctly. “Okay. Can I have your name too?”

The child just looks confused. “FN-2187,” he repeats, a little louder. No, Bodhi’s aural enhancer isn’t malfunctioning. “Sir,” the boy amends hastily.

They’ve given the boy a stormtrooper designation. Bodhi has met plenty of “DX”s and “TK”s in his life under Imperial rule. But never like this.

This is something else. Something sickening.

“Okay... FN-2187.” Just saying it feels wrong, the word foreign and inhumane in his mouth. This is a child. “What happened here? Where is everyone?”

For the first time the steady line of the blaster wavers. “I-I... They left. The minders came and woke us up. Told us to get ready and r-report to the shuttles.” If not for the hesitancy in his voice, Bodhi would think he’s speaking with a (very small) soldier rather than a little boy.

“You evacuated?” he asks. FN-2187 nods. “Did you get separated from your family?”

It takes longer for the boy to answer that question. And when he does, his face is screwed up in confusion. “Family?”

“Yes. Your... your parents? Whoever was taking care of you? The people you stayed with?”

“Oh. You mean the Instructors? They were on the shuttles with the other cadets. I... I-I got scared and hid. I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Commander,” comes Sefla’s voice through the comm hooked over Bodhi’s good ear. “I’ve found the control room. No sign of anyone yet. Only cleaner droids here.”

Bodhi carefully presses the talkback on the receiver hooked into the sleeve, his eyes still trained on their little companion. “We’ve got one here, Sergeant,” he says lightly. “No threat, though.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call having a blaster pointed at your face ‘no threat,’ Bo,” Tonc mutters behind him.

Bodhi keeps his smile in place. “Easy,” he hisses, because the relaxing of FN-2187′s arms snap into perfect posture once more at Tonc’s voice.”We just want to know what happened. Maybe get you back to your family.”

“A-Are you Rebels?” the boy asks, his voice hitching higher. A new fear comes into his eyes now.

“We’re from the New Republic,” Bodhi explains gently. FN-2187 only grows more agitated.

“We’re not supposed to get taken by Rebels,” he hiccups.

“Commander, I found something,” it’s Maddel’s voice in his ear this time. “I found the barracks. It’s... shit, Bodhi. It’s a nursery. It’s just kids’ bunks from wall to wall. They’ve got serial numbers on ‘em. They’ve got cribs with serial numbers, Bodhi.”

But Bodhi only barely listens to her, because FN-2187 has finally broken from his frozen fear. And turned the blaster around, pressing the barrel up under his chin. Both Bodhi and Tonc let out bitten out curses, jolting into movement before aborting their knee-jerk attempts to reach the boy. “Wait!” Bodhi gasps. “Wait, wait, come on, son.” Bodhi has never called anyone son in his life. The last time he even remembers hearing the word was Galen on Eadu, coaxing him out of a stim-induced panic attack. “Put that away. There’s no need for that. We won’t hurt you--”

“N-No soldier can be taken alive,” the boy stammers. His eyes well with tears, that roll down his round cheeks in fat, heartbreaking drops. “A g-good,” he starts to sob, wincing as the shaking of his body jams the blaster muzzle harder into his chin. “A good soldier is not taken p-prisoner.”

“You’re not a prisoner,” Bodhi says. His heart is in his throat. “You are not a soldier. We’re not taking you prisoner. Put the blaster down.” He stealthily shifts his weight, mind whirling.

“Bo...” Tonc warns behind him.

Luck, the universe, the Force - whatever Bodhi can dare to call it, is with them. The stretch of silence afterward is abruptly broken by a flash of red light around them, and the shrill hum of an alarm.

The boy flinches back, blaster dislodging in his shock.

And Bodhi leaps forward, and snatches it from his hand. He passes it behind him blindly, thankful that Tonc has leapt into motion only a fraction of a second after him.

Little FN-2187 wails, in fear or rage, Bodhi can’t say for certain. A wild swing catches Bodhi in the jaw, more jarring than it is painful. He wraps arms around the struggling boy and lifts to his feet, wrestling with flailing limbs. “Status?” he snaps into the comm, rearing his head back to avoid being ruthlessly headbutted by the screaming child. “What’s that alarm?”

“Not good, boss,” Sefla calls back. He sounds out of breath, like he’s running. “Something activated in the control room. Self-destruct. Not sure if it’s remote or was timed, but I don’t wanna stick around to find out.”

“Self-destruct--” Tonc yelps. “Kriff, I hate these Imperial bastards.”

‘So do I,’ Bodhi silently agrees. He shifts the still wriggling FN-2187 in his grip, and activates the comm. “All operatives back to the shuttle!” He’s already following Tonc back out into the hall, enhancer straining to filter out the blaring alarm. With his comm in his good ear, mentally ticking off the “copy that” and “roger, commander”s of his squad, and the alarm messing with his other, he barely hears Tonc ask the question.

“What about the kid?”

FN-2187 has stopped kicking and screaming. Bodhi would have expected the sobbing to come next. But the boy is still and silent in his arms now. And stiff as a board. 

Bodhi peers over at his fellow soldier and friend. “We can’t leave him here.”

Tonc winces. “Not denying that.”

“Then we’ll figure the rest out after we’re off this planet.” Bodhi hefts the boy higher on his hip, other hand shifting his legs up instead of just hanging limply. Has the boy never been carried before?

“Let’s go.”

END.

[creativitytoexplore]

First Urges: A Homo Monstrum Chronicle by Kevin Stadt https://ift.tt/2WBj9vA Alex lands a date, just in time for the plant-based Apocalypse; by Kevin Stadt.

Alex had no way of knowing that the seeds of a new world had already sprouted, could not have imagined how man would mutate before the close of day. He sat in the back corner of a Northern Prairie Community College classroom, watching a fat black and yellow bumblebee hover over the spring peonies outside the window. The flowers led him to think of her, and he shifted his gaze to where she sat several rows over. Covered in freckles, eyes almost as dark as the black hair she always seemed to hide behind, wearing a blue sundress, heavy black boots, and a full sleeve of tattoos down her left arm, she typed on a laptop as the teacher lectured. The debate in his skull drowned out the class discussion of Cormac McCarthy. She's WAY too hot for you, dude. You look like Ed Sheeran with a gut. But, while she exerted a gravity on him that made paying attention in The 20th Century American Novel impossible, none of the other guys even appeared to notice her. Maybe she just presses my particular buttons? He leaned back in his chair. No way. You wouldn't even be able to get a sentence out. A parade of embarrassing memories of talking to girls crowded his consciousness. The discomfort growing on their faces as they watch him try to get the words out. The way they try to let him down easy, usually with something like, "I have a boyfriend." Dr. Owen, an ancient white-haired professor with a hint of Texan drawl, interrupted Alex's thoughts. "Alex, any ideas?" He felt his face warm. "Uh..." Dr. Owen leaned on the podium, book in hand. "Well. If you don't know the answer, I guess we're all in trouble. You're my go-to guy." "Just zoned out for a second. C-c-could you please repeat the question?" "What do you think of the significance of the title, Child of God?" "I think no matter how dark the main character gets in the story, he's still just a human on some level. Whatever we might become, we were all k-k-kids once. Started out innocent, children of God. The world ch-ch-changes us into monsters sometimes." "Very good answer. Thank you, Alex. In McCarthy's work, many characters..." Alex relaxed as the attention shifted away from him. He straightened in his chair and glanced at her. Their eyes locked for a moment, then she looked down and brushed her hair out of her face.

Alex stepped in dog shit. "God damn it." He raised the bag of food he brought home from his shift at the Korner Kafé to balance as he gingerly lifted his foot. A rusty Honda Civic pulled up to the trailer next door. The neighbor, Ricky, swaggered out onto his porch with Zeus, a massive Doberman. Zeus's beady eyes darted back and forth between Alex and the car, and his sharp ears alternated between pricking up and swiveling backward as he growled. Ricky's skeletal frame swam in a black Insane Clown Posse hoodie as he waved the car to pull closer to the trailer, and his tight jeans did nothing to hide the device locked onto his ankle. His skin seemed little more than a thin patchwork of meth-mite rash and neck tattoos laid over a skull. The Civic's window rolled down and Ricky pulled something out of his hoodie pocket as he bent to it. The guy in the car took it and exchanged it for cash in a smooth, practiced move. As the car pulled out and Alex and Ricky each approached their respective front doors, Alex paused to make a little show of wiping his shoe in the grass. "Hey man." Ricky lit a cigarette and squinted at Alex through the smoke. "Hey." Alex tried to affect a friendly, joking tone. "Dude, I just stepped in a big pile of dog poop in our yard. Can you maybe have Zeus not drop those b-b-bad boys over here?" Ricky cocked his head and took a drag. "The lady on the other side of you has a dog, too. I think it was hers." Alex took a deep breath. Part of him seethed, but another part of him knew starting trouble with Ricky wasn't a great idea. "Dude, Mrs. Scott's dog isn't half as big as the d-d-dump I just stepped in. And anyway, she picks up her dog's business with a bag like every time." Ricky narrowed his eyes. "Wasn't Zeus." Rational fear slid into the background of Alex's brain, and anger dissolved his inhibitions. "Man, I've seen him shit over here a dozen times since you got back. My little brother plays in this yard. Or at least he used to before that dog showed up." Ricky flicked the still-burning cigarette toward Alex and pulled his hoodie up just enough to reveal the black butt of a handgun sticking out of his waistband. "Fuck off, dude. And don't ever talk to me again." Then he loosened his grip on the leash just enough so that the Doberman suddenly shot forward several feet, making Alex jump and drop the bag of burgers. Ricky laughed and flipped him off before disappearing into his trailer with a slam of the door. Alex picked up the bag and muttered to himself about calling the cops as he climbed the front steps, taking his shoes off on the porch before coming in. "Ma? I'm home." She came down the hall beaming at him and hugged him tightly, still wearing a skirt and blouse from teaching. "Aw honey, you didn't have to buy dinner. I could have made something. I'll give you the money for it." "It's okay, Ma. You were up to your eyeballs in second g-g-graders all day. Tony made these for us because I stayed a little after work to clean out the back room." She took the bag and squeezed his arm. "It's just that you do so much. I wish you didn't work this hard." "Oh, stop. Where's Justin?" "In his room doing homework. I told him if he wanted to play that video game with you later, he better get it done now." Alex followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, lowering his voice. "Ma, I think we should call the cops on the n-n-neighbor." She stopped unpacking the burgers and let out a sigh, looking older than her forty-eight years. "Please, Alex." "Come on, Ma. Dude's selling drugs in plain view. We can't have that around Justin. Not to mention, half the time that fucking Doberman is r-r-running loose -" "Language." "Justin can't even play outside anymore." "Believe me, I know. But if he gets arrested again, his mother will be destroyed. I honestly think it could kill her." Alex rolled his eyes, but she held up a hand. "No, seriously. He's Lorraine's world. And her doctor just put her on medication for her heart. Says she's at risk for a 'cardiac event'." "Come on." She stepped closer to him and put a hand on his cheek. "Lorraine's been my friend for almost twenty years. Let me talk to her. I'll see if she can get him to stop." Justin appeared in the doorway wearing a green Hulk t-shirt two sizes too big for his skinny build. "Get who to stop what?" Alex waved the issue away. "Nothing. You hungry?" The boy's bright blue eyes grew wide. "Did you get sweet potato fries?" Alex lightly punched the boy's shoulder. "Yeah. But just for me and Ma. Forgot to bring you anything." Justin started slap-boxing at Alex and within seconds they were laughing, yelling, and wrestling their way out into the living room over their mother's protests that they should wash up and come eat.

A few minutes before the next lit class, Alex's heart skipped a beat as he pretended not to notice that she'd sat right next to him. He feigned indifference, locking his eyes onto last week's notes, all the while wondering at the amazing scent he could just barely pick up on. A hint of perfume, or maybe her shampoo? Something sweetly floral. Is she looking at me? Alex read the same line of notes over and over, trying to act natural. Her pen hit the floor next to his foot. He bent over in a flash, then cursed himself for doing it too fast. As coolly as possible, he held it out to her. To his horror, he heard himself say, "You dropped your pen." You dipshit. You think she doesn't know she dropped her fucking pen? But when she took it she smiled, said thanks, and brushed her hair behind an ear. "Hey, you work at the Korner Kafé, right?" Please, please don't stutter. Just this one time. He cleared his throat. "Yeah." "Thought so. I'm pretty sure I saw you there once." Alex nodded, completely blanking on what to say next. Jesus man, SHE started a conversation with YOU and you are dropping the god damn ball here. But talking about being a dishwasher at a greasy spoon didn't seem like the kind of thing that would score him any points, and he had a hard time seeing a logical transition to a different topic. After a few moments of excruciating silence, she said, "So do you like McCarthy?" His mind buzzed with calculation. He'd got the sense that a lot of the women in the class weren't fans of the author - too focused on the dark, the violent, the transgressive. They might have liked The Road, but Child of God was probably a tough sell. Yet he told the truth. "Yeah. He's my favorite novelist, actually." "Totally. Genius, right? By the way, I'm Megan."

She started chatting him up again as soon as Dr. Owen finished class. He almost felt lightheaded with the impossibility of it, and kept wondering if he was acting weird. Dude, doesn't matter. Don't get your hopes up. As they emerged outside into the spring afternoon sun, he assumed they'd naturally part ways. Should I ask her out? Or maybe I should just take this as a victory for now and wait to see if she sits by me again next time? A group of guys pushed through the doors behind them. One held up his phone for the others to see, and as they passed by, said, "...some kind of alien-looking shit making people lose their fucking minds." Megan squinted and shielded her eyes. "Which way are you going?" "Home." He gestured toward the path that wound through Miller Woods toward the trailer park. So, let's tally up all the ways you're selling yourself to her: you have a menial job, a stutter, and live in a trailer. "No way. You live in Deer Park?" He tried not to deflate too visibly. "Yeah." "Awesome. My cousin lives on the north edge of Deer Park, and she's like my best friend since forever. I practically lived at her place there on the weekends when I was a kid." "Really? I live on the other side. Must be why I never saw you there." "Maybe you did. Who knows?" "No. I'd for sure remem-" He caught himself and his face warmed. She smiled and elbowed him. "I'll take that as a compliment. Hold on and let me text my cousin. If she's home, I'll walk with you. Okay?" Minutes later, his brain struggled to process the fact that he was walking alone on a beautiful spring day with Megan. As the campus receded into the background and the cool shade of the woods surrounded them, they talked about friends, family, and school. "I feel like I should m-m-major in something more useful than English, but I really l-l-like literature." God damn it. He'd done pretty well up to now, but suddenly his stutter was locking him up. He cursed himself silently and gritted his teeth. Megan said, "Hey, I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I totally had a stutter until like the fifth grade. So... I don't know. Easier said than done, but really you don't have to worry about it or feel weird about it. At least not around me, I mean." He let out a breath. Oh my God. You should totally marry this girl, dude. "Cool. Thanks." They strolled in silence for a moment before she said, "Whoa. Look at that!" Megan stepped off the trail and approached a bizarre plant almost as tall as them. A thin, craggy, purple stalk held up a single flower like nothing Alex had ever seen. Hundreds of wispy, black, thread-like tendrils dangled from a central bulb. Alex caught its scent. Somehow it smelled like a heady combination of home, of love, of childhood and possibility and hope. It smelled like happiness, and he closed his eyes and pulled it deep into his lungs. "God." He wanted to say more, but suddenly putting a sentence together felt like a monumental, confusing task. Alex found his feet taking him right up to it. The thread-like tendrils waved, and for a brief moment some quiet part of his brain noted that no breeze blew. Megan stepped nearer, too, closing her eyes and putting her face so close that her nose almost touched it. Alex did the same without consciously deciding to do so. The flower's tendrils reached out to him. They caressed his skin, each glancing touch setting off fireworks in the pleasure center of his brain. Alex saw the flower doing the same to Megan, and for an instant a thought passed through his mind that this was weird, that flowers didn't normally do this, but the notion broke apart before it even fully formed. One of the tendrils found Megan's ear, then another her nose, her mouth, and her eyes. The threads snaked into these openings, and she shuddered as if in climax. Alex sucked in a breath as the wisps penetrated him, too, every opening on his skull. He pushed his face even closer, nearly losing his balance and wishing only that the flower had more threads and he more eyes and ears and noses. Psychedelic fireworks of color exploded in Alex's brain and he heard himself groan. He was dimly aware that he'd fallen to the ground. His vision smeared and slid as dizziness overwhelmed him, and his consciousness ebbed away by degrees into the sweet relief of blackness.

When Alex came to, he found himself lying on the ground in the dark near the plant. Megan was gone. His phone vibrated in his pocket, but when he took it out he couldn't think of what he was supposed to do with it or how it worked, so he dropped it. He noticed fibrous white roots covered in fine hairs reaching up out of the ground around the plant, and an intense desire to bring the flower food overcame him. Alex set off through the dark, aware that he could see everything perfectly in the moonlight, that he could hear every animal skittering in the darkness, that he could smell the trees and earth and even the worms beneath his feet. What's more, his mind was quiet, almost empty save for the occasional clear impulse. Gone were the incessant words, scenes, and stream-of-consciousness dialogues of his old mind. He crossed neighbors' yards in a straight line toward his trailer, and he heard Zeus already growling at him a hundred feet away. Without deliberation, Alex broke into a sprint toward the sound, propelled by a strength and speed he'd never imagined before, and at a dozen paces distant leaped toward the dog and came down on Zeus's neck with his knee and felt it crack and the body go limp. Some part of him recoiled in horror at what he was doing, but another part of him reveled in it. What do you think of that? Not so fucking scary now. Alex snapped the dog's chain with little effort and turned back toward the woods, dragging the Doberman through the neighbors' flower gardens. When he threw the animal's carcass on the root system, a moan escaped his throat and his legs turned to jelly. The roots reached out to the body and attached to it everywhere. An image flashed in his mind - he saw himself throwing the Doberman on the roots again, but this time with the dog alive. The ache of pleasure that followed brought Alex to his knees.

The next thing he knew, he found himself standing in the dark in Justin's bedroom, watching the boy sleep. Something in his mind, an insistent impulse, wanted him to take his brother to the plant. He stepped backward and scrunched his eyes shut, shaking his head. His own voice rang out clearly in his skull. No, not that. Anything but that. Less than a minute later he stood in his neighbors' house, next to Ricky's bed. He could hear the sleeping man's heart beating and blood flowing and could smell the pizza Ricky had eaten for dinner, the hot dogs he'd had for lunch, his soap and socks and breath. The giddy anticipation of bringing the plant such a prize mixed with the perverse thrill of transgression and the warm adrenaline charge of impending violence. He grabbed Ricky's t-shirt and Ricky's eyes popped open, his face a mask of shock and anger. Alex watched the neighbor's hand shoot out and snatch an aluminum baseball bat positioned near the head of the bed, and without thinking or even realizing what he was doing, Alex swatted Ricky's face with an open palm. Ricky grunted and went limp, falling back on the bed with a smear of blood on his cheek. The neighbor's breathing and heartbeat continued. Alex lifted his own hand and studied it. A thin, needle-like claw with a drop of sharp-smelling viscous liquid at its tip retracted into his palm. As he breathed heavily, part of him sickened at the claw, at the whole scene. What am I doing? But as soon as the objection appeared in his thoughts, it garbled and glitched and slipped away. His mind hummed only with the urge to throw Ricky to the flower. And when he did so some minutes later, the bliss visited upon him brought tears to his eyes.

In the clear light of morning, he padded in through the back door and kitchen making no more sound than a cat and stood behind his mother, who sat on the edge of the couch watching the news with a hand held over her mouth. The screen flashed images of men in hazmat suits examining plants just like Alex's, and then video of EMTs working on a woman as they rolled her into an ambulance. "...dozens of attacks in the Green Oaks area overnight. They appear connected to the appearance of the unidentified plants, and authorities warn local residents to stay home, keep doors locked, and above all avoid the plants and anyone who has come into contact with them. Call 911 immediately if -" Alex felt pulled in different directions. He wanted to hug his mom. To talk to her and say sorry and be forgiven. To understand what was happening. But he also ached to hunt. He shifted his weight and the floor creaked. His mother shot up with a scream and turned around, her eyes wide and hands shaking. Tears fell down her face, and she mouthed words that he couldn't understand. She took a step forward and reached out to him, stopped, cried harder, and pulled back. Visions of slapping her and throwing her on the roots flooded his mind. He bent over and punched himself in the head over and over, trying to drive them out. Putting together even one simple syllable took all his will and concentration, and as he grunted the word through gritted teeth, he suspected it may be the last human language to pass his lips. "GO!" While he battled to root himself to the spot, some foreign growl in his chest, the spike in each palm popping out, his mother sprinted to Justin's room. Alex clenched his teeth and fists and his whole body shook in a cold sweat. The last thing he saw of his family was his mother running through the front door, pulling Justin along in his pajamas, both wearing expressions of sheer terror.

When he returned to the plant again, this time with two neighborhood cats, Megan was there. He tossed the cats to the roots and shuddered with the pleasure of it and noted a new human body face-down next to the flower, a large, bald man. Megan spoke no words but smiled and hugged him with a strength that drove the breath out of his chest. The happiness of being in her arms compounded with the joy of the plant seemed almost too much for one heart to bear. As she pulled back, he saw excitement written all over her face, and she gestured mutely toward the flower. Since he'd last seen it, the plant had sprouted several clusters along its stalk, each of them with a dozen long, thin, orange seedpods. Megan regarded them thoughtfully for a moment, then chose a lighter-colored pod and picked it. She took a bite from it, then held it out to Alex. Black seeds dotted the yellowish, creamy flesh of the fruit. He took a bite, and the rush of it was such that he had to pause regularly as he chewed to moan and get his breath. Alex let the fruit roll on his tongue before swallowing it. It tasted like some combination of strawberries and grapes, but with a mind-numbing narcotic jolt. They ate and regarded the corpses in various stages of digestion around the plant, several human-sized, many more pet-sized, roots enveloping each with hairy, groping filaments. The decomposition and absorption of the carcasses struck Alex as sublimely beautiful. Before long, though, a new craving began to set in. Megan, too, seemed to feel it. She glanced around restlessly and let out a low whine. As the moments passed, a vague need to move on grew pressing, and a weight settled on his chest, making it harder and harder to breathe. Sharp pains began to stab him in the gut. Finally, Megan took him by the hand and led him away. The farther they got from the plant, the better Alex felt. They walked a long time, avoiding houses and roads and the distant wail of sirens, across the newly-tilled corn and soybean fields of their town, and those of the next two towns. They hit upon a creek and followed it until dark. The creek wound its way eventually into woods, a place Alex had never been before, and as they surveyed the surroundings, he felt pressure in his bowels. He scanned the woods with unguessed calculation, feeling for the right place. A spot of earth, equidistant between several trees and dark with rich soil, spoke to him. He bent over it and dug a hole with his hands, glancing up to see Megan doing the same elsewhere. Then he pulled off his shoes and pants and left them there and squatted, careful to pass just a bit of stool into the hole, then lovingly and painstakingly covered it. Alex found another spot some ways off, and another, and another, until between them they'd dug and filled in a dozen holes. When she rejoined him, he looked into her eyes and knew she felt the same joyful longing as he, and they set off in the dark, hand in hand, to find food for the precious, hungry young.

[agnesmariedayao]

10 Things You Learned in Preschool That'll Help You With best piano for beginners

BALDWIN THERES a new baby in the house. She weighs 600 pounds and has a whole mouthful of teeth. Eighty-eight! She is adopted, not our own, technically, and because of the circumstances of the adoption, we have already named her - Mother. If this baby could talk rather than rattle the windows when she sounds off, she might express objections to the dateline on this column. Her family name is Steinway.

Shes a grand baby, and vice versa, five and a half feet long. She fits the alcove in our living room as though it was made for her. She was born in the Steinway workshops 42 years ago, and came to us in the spring.

She arrived somewhat out of tune, but so might you be if youd just been trucked to Long Island from Maine standing on your head. The circumstances of the adoption:

The mother of a friend bought the piano in 1940 (the year is inscribed on Mothers gold cast-iron harp) for her family, and while the acquisition certainly added to the class of the living room, nobody in the family but my friends mother played the piano, and at that only two songs.

Some years back, my friends mother died, and when the estate was dealt with, the piano was an outstanding item. My friends spouse is a classical pianist and already has a piano. And so the 1940 Steinway needed a good home, my friend told me, and it was adopted by a couple who live in Maine.

The couple were planning a major move to Maryland, but in the apartment they wanted, there was no room for a baby grand. And so, once again, the Steinway needed a good home. A Steinway, I said. I had a Steinway once. Incredible instrument. Tough action - really made you learn to play. Even to read music. I ...

You what? my friend inquired. Well, I said, it was a lot like your friends problem. We were living in a one-story ranch home in Hicksville and the grand was a D model, just below concert length, see, and it took up most of the living room. So I traded it in for a spinet. Got a good deal.

I did not tell my friend that, when playing for parties, I had whacked that Steinway so hard that I broke the hammer of the middle G and had stamped the pedals so hard that the sustaining pedal stuck forever, making the notes all run together if you touched that pedal. There was a madness in my method. I wanted a Steinway again.

And so the adoption was arranged. I would pay half the cost of the moving - a Steinway, for $100! The going price for such an instrument, old as Mother is, is something around $5,000 - and the piano would stay with us for my lifetime, then revert to my friend or heirs. But the adoptive owners took their time about moving.

Robert Frederick McMorrows fingers itched for the Steinway as much as mine did. He is one of our resident adult sons who is already a bass-guitar player and is studying piano. Our spinet, a Sterling, has given us 22 years of service and is still in good voice, but the coils of the deep-bass strings are unraveling.

The other resident adult son, Thomas, is an electric-guitar player whose amplifying equipment would crowd a stageful of Rolling Stones.A grand piano? he howled. Where are you going to put it?

Pay no attention to him, Robert said. Howm I going to sleep with that thing going off like a cannon under me? Thomas asked. You guys practice all hours of the day and night! The neighbors will all go deaf!

Months went by. And then, in the spring, we received a call from somebody called Al, who had just turned off the Long Island Expressway and was confused, as any State-of-Mainer might be, about how to get to Baldwin. I gave him directions. Ill be on our corner waiting for you to guide you in, I said.

Nearly an hour went by. Then the biggest tractor-trailer rig that has ever come down Grand Avenue rumbled toward me. I pointed into our street. Al made the turn and the top of his rig performed some tree surgery on a neighbors venerable maple. Neighbors came out to gape. Another piano? said Mike Ruggierio Sr., from across the street. Why dont you just hire a band?

Al and his helper moved the piano, wrapped in quilts, into our alcove and set it up. How can you lift a thing like that? the former Eileen Palmer asked. Ive moved these alone, Al said.

Piano movers are mighty men; I remembered, when my first piano was delivered to an apartment I was living in, not having the money to tip the movers who had wrestled the thing up six flights, and the boss mover saying, quietly, If I had an ax, Id chop that thing up for firewood.

I paid the money, Al and his man went off toward Maryland, and the former Eileen Palmer bent over the keys. She played two bars of a song taught her by a piano teacher when she was a girl in Portland, Ore. Havent heard that in years, I said.

Wont hear it again - I never learned the rest, she said. I remembered my friend telling me of listening to Mothers mother playing her two numbers, Traumerei and Au Matin. Sit down and play this thing, my wife said.

Robert Frederick McMorrow stood over me as I ran through My Shining Hour. That was the test piece I had played in the showroom of the piano company house that had the spinet, and the Sterlings sound sold it to me.

What a sound, Thomas McMorrow said. I got up. He sat down. He tested the bass authority. Hey, Dad, you cant play this thing, he said. The keys are like pumping iron!

Theyre supposed to be, Robert Frederick McMorrow said. May I? I had to go out. R..F McM. looked like part of the piano as he ran through Beethovens Fur Elise. He may play that piano all night, his mother said. He did. I couldnt wait for him to leave on business of his own, the next day. At the keyboard, I felt like a Horowitz commanding a concert hall: all that expanse of mahogany stretching out in front of me, when, playing a spinet, the pianist is usually staring at a wall.

To accommodate the Steinway, the Sterling had been moved into the dining room. It looked sad there. To give it equal time with Mother, I went over to it when Oh, You Crazy Moon entered my mind. It felt like a toy. When the tuner came, I had him bring both pianos up to pitch. Duet, anyone?