#and no fireplace or television. side tables & end tables

[violetdiary]

Modern Living Room (New York)

[mortalclace]

Living Room - Tropical Living Room

[ronswansonquotes]

Miami Open Family Room

[beta-isaac-lahey]

Contemporary Family Room - Family Room

[chinesekleptocracy]

Family Room - Beach Style Family Room

[flurry-of-stars]

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓈𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌 𝐻𝒶𝓁𝓁𝓈- 𝕴𝕴

⋆｡°✩𝓟𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓵𝔂⋆｡°✩ 𝕺𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 - 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝕴

⋆｡°✩𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕴𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖝 ⋆｡°✩ Fluff. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉: 7.8k (A/N:  I genuinely was not expecting such a huge response to the first part of this fic. Literally, all the comments and tags have made my week ♡♡♡ ) ⋆｡°✩𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖉⋆｡°✩

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵ An elegant melody fills your ears, your body trembling in response as the tune tickles your brain in a way nothing else can. Your shoulders seem to relax as each precisely, passionately played note soothes you down to the depths of your soul. The purrs of the old tabby on the other side of the table seem to grow louder, making the table tremble softly as he sleeps. You close your eyes for a moment, laying your head back, gold and black ballpoint pen gently laid on the dining table as you take the time to appreciate the song echoing through the small cottage fully, the scent of peppermint tea and the variety of flowers in the nearby vase teases your sense of smell. But something was missing from the melody. Of course, you were no musical expert. In your personal opinion, the cello was played immaculately. Elegantly. If allowed, you would sit here all day, warm cup of tea in hand listening to it being played. You can picture yourself lying in the grass, listening to the rustling branches overhead as the wind carries the melody. But something was missing. And for the life of you, you couldn’t put your finger on what that something was. Your eyes flutter open as you hear the piece coming to a graceful end. Scooting out of your chair, you head through the cozy candlelit cottage, and down towards the living room. There was no television. No radio or game consoles. A fireplace crackles nearby, warming the room up to a pleasant degree.

There are dustless spots on the mantle where it looks like a few picture frames or other treasured items once sat, along with an old Russian Orthodox cross hanging above said fireplace. An antique piano is against the wall, closest to the archway leading into the room. There’s a window seat to your right, but the curtains are drawn today. The author sits in the middle of the room on a padded, upholstered cello chair, facing the entry way. The fire crackles to his right, illuminating his figure in a warm yellow hue, the deep mahogany sheen of his cello reflecting the soft glow as he draws out the last note, pleasantly tickling your brain once more. You carefully step into the room, waiting for him to finish. His eyes are closed, his long lashes gently resting against his pale cheeks, shadowing his already dark-rimmed eyes. You offer a very gentle applause, his eyes slowly opening to gaze up at you through his long lashes. You notice a strong emotion in his eyes for a moment, but it’s gone too soon for you to recognize what emotion it could have been, hidden beneath his strands of raven hair. “That was beautiful,” you compliment, standing a few feet from Fyodor. He turns his body, gently propping his cello up on the stand to his left as you speak, “How long have you been playing the cello?” You notice Fyodor clenching his jaw momentarily as he looks away, a flicker of uncertainty filling your heart. Then, in a surprisingly soft voice, “Since I was six. I wanted to play the cello as soon as I could.” Your eyes widen a little, “You did?” Fyodor still doesn’t meet your gaze, his eyes never leaving that of the cello at his side. He holds his bow as he nods softly, his voice much softer than you’re used to hearing from him, “I had a lot of time to dedicate to it as a child...” His fingers touch his bow softly and when he finally turns to look back at you, you see the warm nostalgia in his eyes. For a moment, it almost seems he wants to say something more.

But like a candle being puffed out, it’s gone in a millisecond. He gives you a stern look, his voice returning to that serious tone you’re used to, “Did you finish translating the chapters I gave you yet?” “Ah, I’m halfway done with chapter five…” Just like the second chapter, his writing had begun going on a long tangent again. It was already spanning on twenty translated pages, with many more left to go. On the positive, at least it was the male lead’s mother rambling on this time. That was some form of improvement, right? “I just needed to rest my wrist for a little while, carpal tunnel and all.” You held your wrist as if to demonstrate your point. Fyodor eyes you suspiciously but eventually, he huffs softly, “Very well then. But do not slack off too much. We have a deadline to meet.” You’re momentarily surprised. You’re almost tempted to ask why he allowed you to rest but out of fear of losing your break, you bite your lower lip, silencing yourself. Your gaze turns away from his as he focuses on tuning his cello. That’s when your eyes fall on the dusty white door against the far wall, almost hidden in the corner by the shadows cast by the looming fireplace and Fyodor along with his cello, only revealed now by him turning his body to the side. You could see the dust etched into the crevasses, in the complex door engraving that resembled a floral design. It is stunning that someone carved something so intricate and beautiful into a door. You chew the inside of your cheek as you squirm from foot to foot; that door looked important. Tucked away in the darkness like that, like a hidden treasure. You can feel the door practically calling to you, singing like a siren, begging you to just take a peek inside. Or maybe you were just overworked. 

But it tickled that child-like curiosity in the back of your mind. You could feel a part of you practically giddy at the thought of what could be hiding inside that door. 

What hidden secrets could it hold within? Was it filled from floor to roof with all of Fyodor’s other novels Vivian had told you about? Was it full of all his royalties from his previous books? What if it was the door to another world, full of wizards and dragons and–!

You shake your head, an amused huff leaving you; you were letting your imagination run too wild today. Maybe you shouldn’t have reread all those fantasy novels over the weekend. You sigh, walking towards the grand piano. Sliding out the dusty bench from beneath and patting away a fine layer of dust, you sit down, hoping to strike up some form of conversation with Fyodor. Your mind reels back to what Vivian had said.

He's been through a lot recently. 

You stare at Fyodor as he tweaks the strings of his cello carefully, tuning it without sparing you a glance. And as you do so, you begin to take him in fully. The way his large cloak practically devours his lithe form. He looks so fragile. His pale complexion. He's as pale as you imagined a vampire would be.

His eyes look more tired than usual, the dark circles seeming to have darkened further this past week. You wondered if he was taking care of himself. Was he eating right? Sleeping well? 

You had seen the Russian brew many pots of tea with nothing but the utmost of care and witnessed him enjoying each cup he drank. But you couldn't recall ever seeing him eat anything. ….He must be eating something, right? 

“What do you like to eat?” You blurt out suddenly. Fyodor blinks, looking back at you with narrowed, confused eyes. You sit up straight, thinking of an excuse surprisingly fast, “Sorry, I feel a bit peckish but I'm unsure what I feel like so…” 

You gaze at the cream-coloured floral patterned wallpaper, grimacing, a wave of embarrassment flooding through you. You can still feel Fyodor's eyes on you as if he was trying to peer into your being and pull out the true intentions behind your words.

Maybe you should just go back to–

“There is some fresh fruit in the refrigerator,” Fyodor's voice makes you look up. He's turned away again, back to fiddling with the strings of his cello, “If that does not suffice, there should be half a loaf of bread and some cheese you can have.” 

Maybe it was just because you were so used to Fyodor scowling and scolding you, but even this simple gesture felt really pleasant. You nod, standing up and straightening out the folds of your embroidered skirt.

“Ah…thank you,” you take a few seconds to compose yourself. The carpet muffles your footsteps as you move out of the living room, and back towards the kitchen.

The old tabby is sitting up, licking his paws as you step into the small, open-plan kitchen. He looks up at you, fading blue eyes cautious but fascinated as you move towards the one item in this entire cottage that couldn't be any less Fyodor if it tried.

The pastel pink fridge. It looks fairly new too, possibly only a year old. It was an anomaly amongst the smell of old books and the soft burning of candles. Even Fyodor’s work phone looked like it needed a senior’s discount card. But maybe there was more to Fyodor than you first thought.

Maybe he was the type of guy who loved cats and pastel pink. Perhaps he had an all-pink outfit that he was just dying to show off to you. You giggle softly at the thought, images of your stern boss dressed all in pink, scolding you for not completing your translating making you almost burst out laughing. As you open the fridge, your amusement quickly dies. 

It's almost barren. Considering your fridge is only home to a two-day-old Chinese takeaway box, a half-eaten block of cheese you found on special and some bottles of water, that’s saying something. The bright red apples catch your eye first. There's also a tub of margarine, an almost empty bottle of milk, a punnet of blackberries and not a half, but a quarter loaf of bread and a few slices of cheese. Now you seriously had your doubts that Fyodor was eating much. This looked like it wouldn’t feed a mouse, let alone a grown man. But this would make do for the moment. Taking out the last of the bread, margarine and cheese, you make two simple cheese sandwiches. Placing them on a plate, you move on to washing a pair of apples and some blackberries. Once you’ve sliced the apples and added them and a few washed blackberries to the plate, you serve them in the middle of the table, moving Fyodor’s draft and your translations into the leather bag he usually kept them in. You refill both teacups with the still-warm peppermint tea before calling out, “Mr. Dostoyevsky, can you come here for a moment please?” As you sit at your place at the table, you listen to the sound of Fyodor’s footsteps as he approaches, his steps surprisingly light on the wood floor of the hallway and kitchen. His tired eyes lift in surprise as he takes in the sight before him. His gaze turns cautious, “What is this?” “It’s lunch,” you offer him a small smile, picking up your warm cup of tea. The tabby cat purrs, brushing against Fyodor’s arm the moment he steps close to the table. “I figured since I’m eating, I’d make you something too.” Fyodor scoffs, his eyes narrowing. His jaw clenches tightly, as though he is holding back the words he wants to say. You hear him inhale through his nose, his eyes closing for a moment. Then, he opens them, shaking his head. His Russian accent comes through much thicker as he mumbles, “You didn't need to do this.”

“I wanted to.” You say quickly once more without stopping to think. Your teacup clinks against the saucer as you place it down, backtracking quickly as Fyodor looks at you with a raised brow, one hand patting the top of the tabby’s head absentmindedly. “What I mean is I figured you would be hungry soon as well. So I figured why not kill two birds with one stone?” Once again, Fyodor stares at you as if trying to pull the truth from your eyes. You begin to shift, feeling a little uncomfortable under his gaze before he sighs. He moves towards the table, the legs of his chair squeaking against the floor as he pulls it out, sitting down, “Thank you.” You smile softly, an ember of warmth flickering in your heart as you watch the author nibble away at an apple slice. It may not be an extremely nutritious meal, but at least he was eating something. You could feel your shoulders relaxing, “You’re welcome.” ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵ “What about something like this?” Trixie spins around, showing off the beautiful emerald green dress she's selected for you. It’s short with a thin ribbon around the waist. Her smile is wide and bright as she twirls around a little, showing off the way the fabric sways, causing her teal jacket tied around her waist to sway with her movements, “I think it would look cute on you!” “Mmm,” you hum, clutching your coat tighter around your body. An earworm of a pop song is playing quietly over the speakers of the shopping centre. A few other customers around you, all going about their day as you eye the dress presented to you.  Although the dress was cute, its price made you hesitate: "I'm just browsing today. Maybe next time when I get paid." "But think about it!" Trixie insists as she follows you towards the sweaters that you've been eyeing, which are half-price - what a steal. She sways the dress once again and says, "This dress, along with that little black coat I have at home, would look great on you. A little bow here and there, and you'd look absolutely darling!" You chuckle softly, smiling at Trixie's excitement. She was a fashion connoisseur, always encouraging you to splurge a little if you could. “I do think it would be an adorable outfit,” you begin to reply, that dangling price tag and those frightened numbers printed on it preventing you from agreeing. You shake your head, resisting temptation. You pull yourself away before your resistance crumbles any further, “But I need to spend my money on something else this fortnight.” Trixie pouts, frowning a little before she puts the dress back. Her smile quickly returns as you gather a few of the reduced sweaters you had been eyeing since walking in. As you approach the cash register to pay, Trixie questions, "Is it wise to spend all your money on Mr. Grumpy after only knowing him for a week?" You let out a chuckle at the nickname. "Mr Grumpy". It certainly suited him well, given how often he scowled and scolded you. As you pay for your items, you respond, "Maybe it's true that he comes across as a grump sometimes, but if I cook for him, I can also cook for myself. It's a win-win situation." You thank the cashier, grabbing your bag as you and Trixie leave the boutique. As you and Trixie walk through the crowded mall, she reminds you that you don't know what he likes. It's a typical busy weekend, so you both have to navigate around other customers and head towards the food court for lunch. You can't help but worry about the possibility of the groceries going to waste if he doesn't like what you serve him. You frown, your eyes trailing down to the cold white tiles beneath your ankle-high boots. That was something you were very nervous about. Especially since you lived on a diet of microwave meals and fast food. You attempted to bring up the discussion about his preferred foods again when you finished translating the fifth chapter. He had given you a side glance, telling you not to bother him while he was writing.

The next day, you both were back outside, despite how cold it was beginning to get. Throughout the period, Fyodor was engrossed in working on the drafts for the upcoming chapters. You could still hear the sound of his pen scratching on the paper in your mind.

Meanwhile, you struggled to translate with trembling hands and chattering teeth, yearning for the comfort of his cottage. You felt like he’d done that just to stop you from asking again. As you slowly look up, preparing to scan the food court to decide what to get, your eyes catch the bold letters of a familiar bookstore. You gasp, your eyes twinkling a little, and a smile breaks onto your face as you nudge Trixie. "Hey, you didn't tell me they opened a larger store." Trixie gives you a playful side-eye, “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to spend your entire first paycheck on books. I thought I’d convince you to get a cute outfit first, some make-up or shoes for your new job–” She follows you as you begin making your way towards the store, an excited hop in your step. You hear her give an amused sigh as trails behind you, mumbling, “--But I guess we can say au revoir to your pay now.” "I just want to take a quick look," you insist, feeling irresistibly drawn to the store despite knowing how much money you've spent there before. You start walking faster, leaving Trixie trailing behind, until you finally step inside. The various smells and sights overwhelm you, sending waves of nostalgia through your body. It’s a lot busier compared to the smaller store you typically go to closer to your apartment. A few children are running around and playing between the isles as their mother tries to draw their attention in with a book, flipping between colourful pages as she tries to catch their eyes. You notice a small group of young women in one section, holding books and debating which ones they should get quite loudly as they flip through each book, fanning the pages with their fingers. Meanwhile, there's an older gentleman near the back who's struggling to read the blurb on the back of the book he's tugged off the shelf. He's patting his pockets for his glasses. You can hear more people between the other isles and for a moment, murmuring and giggling. Some even excitedly discuss the books they’ve found. You’re almost tempted to come back later. But the moment the smell of new books hits your nose, along with a hint of a coffee-inspired fragrance from the oil diffuser, you’re drawn back in. Maybe Trixie was right to not bring you here. You could already hear your debit card screaming for mercy in your purse. Speaking of, she sighs as she catches up to you, looking around with a click of her tongue. “Look at that. Books. Almost as many as you still have stored at my place.” She teases, making you nudge her with a grin. "I'm just here to browse," you insist, but your best friend gives you a sceptical glance. You scoff and reach into your bag, pulling out your purse and handing it to her with a smug smile to prove your point. She pockets it, but she still doesn’t seem to believe you, “I give it five minutes.” You scoff again, shaking your head as you begin to move about the store. You slip between other customers, making sure to not disturb anyone as your eyes scan every shelf, every book, new and old alike. This is like your own little piece of heaven on earth. Your own perfect paradise. Though your eyes do linger on the latest releases just a little longer. You move closer to the nearby bookshelf, your heart aching the moment your hands glide over one book in particular.

It looks like a short story for children, judging from the pastel sky and the cartoon unicorn on the cover. The stars in the unicorn’s mane glimmer faintly. On the front of the book there is a sticker that informs potential buyers that every dollar from each sale will be donated to a foundation for abused children. You are about to open the book when--

“You said you weren’t purchasing anything,” Trixie playfully comments, causing you to jerk your hand back as though the book had burnt you. She gives you a playful grin as you shrug. “There’s nothing wrong with admiring the covers!” You insist, grinning back at her as you slide into the next aisle, placing your hand over your aching heart.

As you round the corner, you were expecting to find the Young Adult section right ahead of you. However, to your surprise, you walked straight into the non-fiction aisle instead.

There were all sorts of books on display, from true crime to language books to history books. Although you have dabbled with non-fiction just as much as you have with fiction, you still have a preference for the latter. As you walk the aisle, you scan the shelves, keeping an eye out for any interesting covers when one does catch your eye. You’re passing by the cookbooks when you see a book with the title ‘Classic Russian Meals.’ At once, your promise is tossed out the window as you grab the cookbook, flipping through it swiftly. This…yes, this could be just what you need! Triumphantly, Trixie tells you "I knew you'd cave, bookworm." You plead with her, your eyebrows furrowed. “I have to make an exception for this.” You reply, closing the book and holding it tight to your chest. Trixie’s look becomes more curious as she listens to you. “This cookbook is just what I need." Trixie gives you an unsure look, but you know she’s never been able to resist your pleading. She sighs, reaching into her bag and passing you back your purse.

You grin widely as you hurry away to get in line to pay for it. She joins you a few moments later while you scan through the pages until it’s your turn. You hand the book to the owner, who smiles warmly and asks if you'd like a bag. "That will be $90," she says. You are taken aback as you hear the price. Ninety dollars? It's more than what you had budgeted for. You feel disappointed and disheartened as you realize that you won't be able to buy the book. It could have been a great boon to have, but unfortunately, you have to pass on it. You apologize and inform the seller, "I'm sorry but I can't afford--" Suddenly, a hand with freshly manicured and painted teal nails brushes past you as Trixie places her debit card on the reader. A small green tick appears on the tiny screen as she beams brightly, grabbing the heavy cookbook and passing it over to you.  “No bag today, thank you.” You hold onto your new cookbook tightly as she leads you out of the store. You look up at her with gratitude, and say, "Trix, thank you so much for doing this for me. You really didn't have to." You give the book a tight hug, a warm smile on your face, although you feel a little guilty. Trix waves her hand dismissively, smiling kindly at you. She warmly replies, "You know you're like a sister to me." Then, she grins mischievously and adds, "And who knows, if you master that cookbook, maybe the words on the back of the book will come true~" You frown as you flip the book over to read the blurb. You scan each paragraph until you find it. It’s right at the bottom in bold, white letters, “The perfect gift for any wife!” You can’t help but grin in amusement as you teasingly bump your hip against Trixie’s. “Oh, ha ha. Very funny, Trix.”

She giggles and nudges you back. Her voice is playfully mischievous as she replies, “What? I happen to think Mrs. Grumpy suits you~" ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵

There was one problem with your entire plan. You hadn’t taken into account transporting all of these groceries to Fyodor’s cottage. It was close to sundown when you caught the bus that would take you from the mall to the bus stop closest to the woods where Fyodor’s cottage was located. During the initial bus trip, you noticed that some people were giving you odd stares. Some young children who were below the age of four approached you to see if you had any sweets to share. Additionally, an older woman started to badger you about why you didn't take your husband along with you and ended up lecturing you about your lack of spouse. The bus driver sends you a worried glance as you leave the bus carrying an entire fortnight’s worth of groceries for two and a very thick, heavy cookbook, the heavy scent of diesel causing you to cough and shake as you begin your trek to the cottage. You hoist them along the familiar forest path you’ve taken many times now as the birds seem to stop singing the moment you enter. Perhaps even the little sparrows and drongos were shocked to witness you heaving several bags of shopping along by yourself. The trees rustle, causing a cascade of orange leaves to shower upon you. You felt like the tree was supporting you in your struggle. Or maybe it was mocking you. Either way, a few leaves weren’t going to get these bags to Fyodor’s. As you continue on your way, you catch a glimpse of the orange tabby cat as it disappears over the old, rickety fence and up a small flight of cobblestone steps, brushing against the legs of an old, heavy-set woman. “Oh, dear!” Her voice is thick with a heavy Russian accent. It’s thicker than Fyodor’s. She turns her head back inside of her home, calling out to someone else in Russian. A few moments later, a balding older man appears by her side. You’re a little surprised as they approach the rickety fence separating their small cottage from the cobblestone path, warm smiles on their aged faces, though the woman looks a bit more concerned for you. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t be dragging all this uphill by yourself dearie.” She looks towards her husband as she fixes her glasses, nodding, “Dima, help her, will you? Where are you going with all these bags?”

You shift a little awkwardly, smiling politely as the elderly gentleman with a greying beard approaches you, preparing to take a few bags off your hands. You appreciate the help but you didn’t want to strain this poor old man with your heavy bags. So you give him the lighter bags, “Oh thank you so much, you didn’t have to,” you reply gratefully, handing over a few bags before adding, “To the heart of the forest. You know, that little cottage near the lake.” The elderly woman gasps in delight. “You’re taking them to Fedyka? Oh isn’t that lovely, Dima?” Her hazel eyes gleam with the joy of a mother hearing that her child has made a friend. Her husband, Dmitry, gives a huff of approval. He doesn’t seem like a very talkative man. She clasps her hands together, smiling widely at you. “I hope he isn’t making you do all the cooking dearie. You make sure he helps out a little okay?” Your smile relaxes a little as you giggle, fixing your grip on the last shopping bags you’re holding while clutching the cookbook closer to your chest, “Yes ma’am–” “Oh sweetheart, there’s no need for that,” she gives a hearty laugh as she straightens out her apron over the top of her dress, giving you a polite nod, “You can just call me Olya dearie. Now you tell Fedyka to come and pay us a visit! You can both come along! We would be more than happy to have you, wouldn’t we Mitya?” “Yes Olya.” Dmitry finally responds. He turns his light blue eyes towards you, nodding softly with a smile, “It would be lovely to have both of you around.” You squirm in place, smiling politely. While you were a translator and you knew how to translate written Russian, you still couldn’t understand it very well when it was spoken. More so, you still struggled to understand people whose accents were a bit thicker, like Dmitry’s. You give a small smile and nod, “Thank you.”

Suddenly, Olga looks at the sunset sky, then back to you two, “We’ll work something out. Now you two best be on your way; it’s almost nightfall. Take good care of her and Fedyka, won’t you darling?” You give a very polite bow as you continue on your path, Dmitry at your side. You smile happily as you hear the birds around you starting to sing again as they fly for their nests for the evening. Fyodor didn't mention his sweet neighbors. Dmitry was friendly but hard to understand when wound up, his accent coming through much heavier the more passionate he got. As you proceed along the cobblestone path, dusted with what was likely one of the last batches of Autumn leaves, he talks to you. A grin on his face is vibrant, despite his age. His voice is slightly raspy as he speaks poetically to you about the nature surrounding you both. You offer smiles and polite nods, not daring to mention that you have no idea what he’s saying outside of a few words here and there. He turned out to be more talkative than you initially expected. Passing through the white archway, you notice a pair of doves on the outdoor table, cooing loudly yet beautifully to one another. A bonded pair, it seemed.

Your heart warms at the sight as yours and Dmitry’s approach sends them fleeing the scene, white feathers standing out boldly against the vivid kaleidoscope of warm colors draped beautifully overhead. You approach the cottage door, placing the groceries you’re carrying down to rasp your knuckles against the wood delicately. You wait a few seconds, expecting Fyodor to open the door.

But he doesn’t. Huh. That’s odd. You look around, listening out for any movement when you hear an upset cat for a heartbeat. You gasp quietly. It must be the tabby. So, you knock a second time. Maybe Fyodor had just been wrapped up in his writing and didn’t hear you the first time. Maybe he even fell asleep on his draft. He did look quite exhausted when you were last here. You shift from foot to foot as you chew the inside of your cheek. You were starting to worry now. This wasn’t like Fyodor at all. You considered the possibility that he had gone somewhere. Fyodor seems like a homebody but surely there are people he visits from time to time? Or maybe he goes on walks to get ideas for his novels? You consider asking Dmitry if he knows where Fyodor could have gotten to, but you’re worried about stressing the elderly man. Nor do you want to let on that you have no idea where he could be.

You consider calling his phone but knowing him, it’s likely still sitting in his drawer on silent after Vivian called on Friday. “It’s a needless distraction.” You’re getting close to trying to find a back entrance. Or maybe trying to break in through a window. But as they say, the third times the charm right? You lift your hand, your knuckles rasping against the wood once, twice and then, the door finally opens with a loud creak. Your eyes widen in surprise; Fyodor looks like death. His bloodshot eyes turn up, meeting your gaze as you stand before him, hands clutching tight back around the bags of groceries. His arm seemed to hang by his side like it was weighted down by bricks, his hand barely keeping its grip on the door knob. It’s been a day. How does he keep looking worse and worse? He almost seemed to be leaning against the door frame as his messy hair clings to his face, his typically distant eyes look at you apathetically as they slowly scan you and Dmitry by your side.

His eyes seem to widen faintly at the sight of the elderly man with you. His lips turn upwards in a small smile that seems to lack energy, “My, my. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His dark eyes penetrate your gaze as you look up, offering a half-hearted smile as you lift the shopping bags off the ground, making them rustle faintly. “Your fridge was empty when I was here Friday, so I figured I’d fix that for you Mr Grumpy–” The name leaves your lips before you can stop it. “Mr. Grumpy…?” Fyodor repeats your words slowly as if taking the time to digest them. You freeze in place, clutching the shopping bags tighter as your heart drops. You swallow roughly as you try to think of a good response. You can’t tell how Fyodor feels about you calling him that as his brow quirks curiously but his eyes remain blank. You wanted to find a hole and bury yourself in it. You seemed to love testing fate and risking your employment, it seemed. Suddenly, a raspy chuckle comes from your right. Blinking in surprise, you turn towards Dmitry, noticing the amused grin on his face. His light blue eyes fill with amusement as he speaks to Fyodor in a warm tone, “Mr Grumpy! That name suits you when you go around scowling all the time, Fedyka! But my, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. Not since–” “It has been a while yes,” Fyodor gently interrupts the older man as the tabby cat curls between Fyodor’s legs, stepping out of the cottage with an old meow. Dmitry chuckles, placing the shopping bags he’s holding down as he crouches, scratching the cat’s chin. "Итак, Господин Толстой наконец-то добрался до дома, не так ли ?" He scratches behind the tabby cat’s ear and under his chin as he speaks to him, scratching the elderly cat’s greying chin fur, "Уже давно пора. Я уверен, Федька скучал по тебе" You pause, frowning a little as your mind reels, trying to understand at least some of the words Dmitry had said. You purse your lips and slowly look towards Fyodor, a curious look in your eyes. “The cat’s name is Tolstoy?” You ask. Fyodor gives a muffled chuckle, a near-praising look in his bloodshot eyes. "That's correct," he confirms with a nod, his lips curling up into a small smirk. "You seem to be getting better at understanding spoken Russian. Maybe if you keep it up, we'll soon be able to have full conversations in Russian instead of English."

Your brow raises; did Fyodor just tease you? His smirk grows as he steps out of the cottage, walking closer to you, “Allow me.”

He reaches out, taking a few of the bags you’re holding. You slide the handles for a few of the bags into his fingertips when he suddenly murmurs, “--Experience the flavours of Russian cuisine–” You gasp, quickly pulling back. A small chuckle escapes Fyodor’s lips, his smirk growing. Though it doesn’t stretch as wide as you’re use to, “A Russian cookbook, hm? Now why would you have that Огонёк​?”

You step back, holding the book to your chest like it was the most valuable treasure you owned. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. Your secret surprise had been foiled. Dmitry chuckles again, replying for you, “You know what they say. The best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach! That’s how my Olya hooked me!” Fyodor chuckles, turning his gaze towards Dmitry. There’s a look of familiarity and a twinkle of warmth every time his gaze crosses the old man’s, “I believe she is just trying to make sure I don’t expire before I can finish my novel.”

Dmitry laughs a little harder at Fyodor’s words, a chilly breeze brushing past the three of you. Tolstoy gives a small, upset sounding mewl as he scurries back inside. Fyodor watches him as he steps aside, allowing access to his cottage to you and Dmitry, “Come. The wind is beginning to pick up. And I do believe it is time for dinner.”

You allow Dmitry to enter first before following behind him. You hear Fyodor almost whisper behind you in a tired tone, "You couldn’t have chosen better timing if you tried, Огонёк." ✩

“Are you certain you know what you’re doing?” “Yes.” Your response comes quite quickly. Fyodor gives a huff of amusement as he finishes tucking the last of the groceries away in the fridge. He knows you’re lying. Not just by the way your nose is scrunched up or by your annoyed tone. But because you’re holding the knife backwards. You're attempting to cut into a carrot with the dull side of the knife. He finds it amusing but fascinating. He closes the fridge door as he approaches you, watching as the knife slides off the sides of the carrot as you huff in annoyance. “Are you certain?” He asks again, his voice calm and curious, despite the amusement in his eyes. He reaches out, gingerly grasping the knife’s black handle. You look up at him, a look of stubborn annoyance on your face that reads ‘I can do it.’ He turns the blade around, the sharp end now facing the carrot as he places it back into your hand. His hand slowly curls around yours as he nods, his voice serious, “Curl in the fingers on your other hand or you risk not just cutting the carrot.” He watches as you do so before gently guiding your hand, his cold fingers wrapping around your warm hand, the blade slicing cleanly through the carrot with his guidance, removing the top. He guides you twice more before pulling back, satisfied that you can handle it from here. He moves back towards the pink carnation teapot, filling it with boiling water from the kettle, and dropping the tea infusion cage inside.

He turns his head faintly. He can hear Dmitry talking to Tolstoy in the living room along with the papers of his draft being shuffled and likely read, he assumed. He turns his gaze back to you. You were more observant than Fyodor had first predicted. That was good. For the sake of his novel at least. But he worried how far your observant eye had led you. Did you really just notice the lack of food in his fridge, or did you also take in the way he held himself like his body was forcefully being dragged down by invisible hands?

Did you notice how sloppy his handwriting was? How weakly he was holding his pen? Did you see the ink blots on the pages where he had held the pen too long?

He narrows his eyes, watching as you scoop up the carrot chunks, dropping them into the broth boiling on the stove top before you speak up, “That’s the carrots done. Now the chicken.” Fyodor continues to observe you as you go about slicing the chicken next, tossing the chunks into a small bowl. Although the pieces are much too thick, he doesn’t mention it. He would help correct the mistake soon. Instead, he asks in a serious voice, “Were you not taught the basics of cooking as a child?” He sees you bite the inside of your cheek. You’d taken offence to his question. Perhaps he should have worded it differently.

You’re quiet until you finish slicing the first chicken breast, “I was taught how to make instant noodles and coffee.” You reply, grabbing the next chicken breast. He watches the knife glide through it as you speak, “My father was normally far too busy to cook. So we lived on takeaway and instant noodles most of the time.” Fyodor blinks. You had no experience cooking? And yet you had gone out of your way, purchasing a cookbook and the ingredients just to feed him? He goes silent, processing this information. You were strange. A puzzle he couldn't decipher. He feels a sensation rising in his chest, that familiar warmth flickering in his heart, like a lighter trying to ignite but unable to get the full spark. “Let’s focus on making your first home-cooked meal edible then,” Fyodor replies as he steps closer to you. He slides open the cutlery drawer, grabbing a second knife to slice the chicken chunks into smaller, bite-sized pieces. He nods at you, “Make the rest of the pieces smaller too.” He sees you nod as you go about correcting your mistake, making the pieces more bite-sized and manageable. Once he’s sure you have that under control, he begins working on the onion. Cutting off the root and peeling the skin back, he begins cutting the onion when he hears your question, “What about you? You seem to know what you’re doing so I assume—” “Yes, I was taught how to cook growing up,” he replies softly but quickly, interrupting you, the sound of his knife tapping against the cutting board filling the silent spaces in between, “Mother and I always cooked together, from the moment I was old enough to help her.”

He feels a wave of nostalgia rushing through his tired body before it coils around his heart like a string of barbed wire, cutting so deeply into his heart he almost winces physically. He breathes in, deeply but silently as he keeps cutting the onion, sliding the pieces into a container nearby. He notices you finishing up with the chicken pieces before you pause, hands pressed against the countertop as you mumble, your tone sounding melancholic. “That sounds nice.” Silence seemed to fall over the room as you double-checked the cookbook, adding the necessary herbs and spices into the broth as he stepped back, giving you space to work. He knows you have to make mistakes to learn from them, but he feels a tug in his chest to guide you. He gives a silent huff before turning his attention to the teapot. Right. He’d almost forgotten to serve Dmitry some tea. After checking over your progress one last time, he gathers the hot pot of steaming black tea, along with two teacups on an antique silver tray before he heads for the living room. Dmitry is sitting on the window seat, near where Fyodor had set up a fold-out table to work on his novel for the afternoon. The last rays of the setting sun illuminate the older man’s form as he gives Fyodor a warm, fatherly smile. He puts Fyodor’s draft to the side so he can place the tray down on the table, “I apologise for the delay, my assistant needed me. Will you be joining us for dinner, Mitya?” “I would love to,” he replies while Fyodor begins filling the cups. “But I have a meal waiting for me at home. My Olya too.” He chuckles as he lifts the teacup, taking a slow sip. Fyodor turns, grabbing the upholstered chair from nearby.

He sits across from the elderly gentleman as a raspy chuckle rolls off his tongue. “I was starting to think we wouldn’t get the chance to sit like this again.” He looks up at Fyodor, teacup clinking against it’s saucer as he places it back down, his light blue eyes carefully looking Fyodor over for a few moments, his brow furrowing with worry, “But my, you’re looking a little worse for wear. Has your manuscript been keeping you that busy?” “You could say that,” Fyodor replies, sipping gently on his tea. The warm liquid soothes his aching body as he sighs softly, holding the teacup carefully. Dmitry keeps a close eye on the younger man, a look of sympathy on his face.

Fyodor knew he was starting to put the pieces together. The true reason for his exhaustion. Dmitry was a smart man after all. But rather than pressing, Dmitry nods towards the archway, his smile growing a little, “I have to say, Olya and I were surprised when we saw that young lady. I thought you would never need an assistant?” Fyodor scoffs slightly when he's reminded of his previous statement, causing Dmitry to chuckle. “This is a different situation.” He takes another sip of his tea before speaking once more. “She is merely here to help translate the book for an international audience. Nothing more.”

“But you’re writing a romance novel, yes? Haven’t you thought about asking for a woman’s opinion on love and romance? It may prove beneficial to your novel.” “No.” His reply is short and blunt as his teacup finds it’s place back on it’s saucer. “Because she is here just to help with translations. I do not need any help when it comes to writing my novel.”

He sits back, getting comfortable as Tolstoy begins circling his feet. “I have written enough novels to know what I am doing.” “Ah but our Fedyka has never been in love, has he?” His smile grows softer, his eyes glowing with warmth. “Writing about love is no easy task. Not when it is such a complex emotion. Writing the words is one thing, but experiencing it is something entirely different.” “Then I should come to you and Olya for help, shouldn’t I?” There’s a pause. Then, Dmitry starts to chuckle. He rises slowly from his chair, using the wall nearby for support as he stands, grinning in amusement at Fyodor. “I thought you knew what you were doing, Fedyka?”

A huff of amusement leaves Fyodor as he smiles faintly. Giving one last hearty laugh, Dmitry reaches over, patting Fyodor on the shoulder. “Don’t give the girl too much trouble, you hear?” He gives his shoulder a squeeze before he takes his leave. Fyodor stays in his seat, watching as Dmitry leaves, a hum on his lips. Tolstoy leaps onto his lap, purring, his hand instantly moving to scratch the cat’s chin. He hums quietly, eyes narrowing slightly as he dwells on Dmitry’s words, his eyes transfixed on the honey-coloured liquid in his cup. A complex emotion, huh... “Hey.” Your voice shakes him from his thoughts. He looks up at you, standing in the archway of the living room with a smile that causes that flicker of warmth to glow in his heart once more, “I need a hand with the soup. Um...do you mind?” He pauses. Then he offers a faint smile in return as he stands. Tolstoy gives an annoyed mewl as Fyodor walks towards you, following you towards the kitchen.

He was a little worried about how your first homecooked meal was turning out but a part of him had some faith in you. You just needed a helping hand.

𝓛𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 ♡ © 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝓇𝓇𝓎𝑜𝒻𝒮𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈-𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦

Next

⋆｡°✩𝕿𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘⋆｡°✩ * Огонёк: Little Light * "So, Mister Tolstoy has finally made it home, hasn't he? It's long overdue. I'm sure Fedyka missed you." Dividers: @/saradika

[steviewashere]

Flames of Desire

Rating: General CW: NoneTags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Christmas, Light Miscommunication, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fireplace As a Plot Device, Hot Chocolate as a Plot Device, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, First Kiss, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sappy Ending This is for the Spicy Six-Ber Month Challenge, hosted by the wonderful @thefreakandthehair. I claimed the prompt: Fireplace.

❄️————————❄️ There’s a stack of watched, rented VHS tapes on the coffee table. Next to two half-empty mugs of hot chocolate, rapidly cooling from the mountains of whipped cream he had been egged into topping them with. And a warm body pressed from shoulder to foot next to him on the couch, watching on at the static ripples of Michael J. Fox’s face in Family Ties, television propped in the corner of the living room, volume low because their eyes have been dipping and dipping like toes into a prepped bubble bath—close to that pure, utter, and complete relaxation they’re craving.

His head is nestled awkwardly on Eddie’s right shoulder, propped up by a bony joint and his ear alone, and his neck is aching something awful, yet he’s simultaneously too comfortable to move. Eddie’s tracing his fingertips over Steve’s own right shoulder, his bicep, connecting moles that aren’t showing right now—somehow memorized by times where his shirt was peeled off, probably sometime in the late summer under an unforgiving sun, ready to sink into a pool he’s recently learned to not fear. And something is full inside him.

Full and large like the red-orange shifting flames coming from the centerpiece of the living room, the beloved fireplace he’s known to light since his dad showed him how. The Duraflame log lit up behind the screen, crackling low and painting the side of Eddie with the glow.

Eddie’s eyes do something beautiful because of the light. Glowing in their own way. Going from dark chocolate melted for their mugs to drizzles of honey swirling in spiced chai. Deliciously gorgeous no matter which way Steve observes them, even as cliche as it is to compare them to chocolate. They’re dark, though, the same way logs are for the fireplace. Dark, but made to be comforting. He hums, eyes still roaming over Eddie’s soft face, and keeps his neck angled sharply. The discomfort is worth it, here under Eddie’s warmth, his beauty, the heavily saturated love that flows through Steve—even if he tries to push it away.

We’re friends, he tells himself, not for the first time.

Something’s different about this one, though. Charged. He never felt this sort of adoration, this ember to full-blown bonfire in his chest. Never towards Tommy. Definitely not towards Robin, but there’s adoration there, too—different.

This one is coffee and pancakes, maple syrup smiles, and groggy giggles at the dining table. Candles with slow burn wax, vanilla wafts and cinnamon flames. Reruns and greasy pizza dinners, breadsticks from the same bag, wiping marinara from each other’s faces because the other can’t find it. T-shirts lost, coming back with amber-musk cologne and citrus-lavender detergent, soft sleeves and worn graphics, apologies loose from the tongue, covered by soft snorts and playful eye rolls—“don’t worry about it, at least it’s back.”

A vest he has yet to return, blood-free and loose strings stitched. The collar white-worn from how many times he’s stroked his thumbs over the fabric. Its weight in his lap, contemplated over time and time again. Questions forming in his brain about what Accept plays and who Judas Priest is; a tape stuffed in his bedside drawer, rewound and played again, The Last in Line. Handfuls of dice with polished edges, promises to himself that he’ll gift them this time, next time, some time.

Falling in love.

One slow step at a time.

Burning up with it now like the log in the fireplace. Slow and then all at once. Dancing, warming, glowing. Not like the weak foundations of a house; akin to relationships in the past that were one-sided, collapsing under its own weight. This friendship he has with Eddie is give one, take one. One foot in, then a hand, two bodies on a couch, bellies full of hot chocolate and Christmas gold coins from this morning—Eddie’s stocking dumped over his lap, “I’m sharing my fortune,” he had told Steve, “let’s eat up, sweetheart.”

Eddie brought him a gift.

A sweater he eyed at the mall in the town over. Some Macy’s sweater, an ochre yellow like his other one, the price tag noticeably missing. But Eddie’s smile—his smile—dimples proud and teeth shiny, eyes crinkled, honey brown from the glow of fire. He excused the rosiness of his cheeks to the fireplace, the heat of the room, the gentle breeze still coming in under the front door.

And he had handed over his own little wrapped thing. …And Justice For All tied off with a ribbon, ready to be popped into Eddie’s Walkman. Two years of friendship culminating, little gifts here and there, knowing Eddie would’ve gone looking. He steered Eddie away from the Metallica section of their local record store; only for a couple months, but it felt like a lifetime. He presented the tape with his own smile, with laughter when Eddie’s hands shook and he tumbled about the living room on jumping legs—all signs of sleep that previously exuded, gone in a single rip, pried away with the wrapping paper on the floor.

Jokingly, Eddie had smacked a wet kiss to Steve’s cheek.

He took the scraps like a starving dog.

If that was all he could get, it would suffice. They were happy. And close.

Closer, now. Burning fire, Family Ties, coin wrappers, hot chocolate mugs. And Eddie’s honey glistening eyes, dark like firewood, lightened by that sweetener.

Eddie looks away from the screen, mouth open with words poised, and spots Steve already on him. “Hey,” he says instead of what he planned, “somethin’ on my face?” There’s a sort of sleepy sweet gargle to his voice, deep in the vowels and loose on the consonants—like he can’t quite bother to clear his throat, too busy with already speaking, already looking directly at Steve. He watches Eddie make a show of trying to clean off his face, merely smearing his palm over his rosy cheeks.

“No,” Steve breathes, “just…” This close, pressed against each other, he can hear each soft intake of Eddie’s breath. He squishes his face deeper into Eddie’s shoulder, suppressing the urge to do something stupid; like grin without reason; like kiss him. Yeah, that’d be pretty dumb. “‘M really glad you came over today,” he murmurs.

Once more, Eddie glints. Smile stretched slow, teeth light orange from the flames, tired eyes, and pink cheeks. There’s chocolate in the corner of his mouth, now that he’s really looking, soaking in all of Eddie’s features; Steve’s fingers tingle with the urge to reach up and swipe it away. Eddie breathes out a chuckle, not sharp and brash like it normally would, but reserved—comfortable; private. “I’m glad I came over, too,” he says, speaking soft, “no place I’d rather be, honestly.”

“Even though you could’a spent the day with Wayne?” And it feels right, especially private, to keep his voice low, too.

“I mean…he understood, y’know? We usually do our holiday stuff the day after Christmas anyway. So.” Eddie shrugs minutely. “You invited me over for a date, sweetheart, I couldn’t say no. ‘Sides, I’ve been tiptoeing towards this for awhile.”

All at once, the room’s warmth evaporates from Steve’s limbs. He goes cold, frozen, completely and utterly still. His head pulls up quickly from Eddie’s shoulder, neck pleading from the movement. “Wh…what?”

“This date. I’ve been looking forward to it for a bit. I’d be stupid to pass it up.”

“Wait…wait wait wait. You thought this was a date?”

That makes Eddie freeze. His thumb still running over Steve’s bicep comes to a stuttering halt. Head whipping over, big bug eyes landing on Steve’s. Wide and caught and wholly confused. Meekly, “Is this…is this not a date?”

“Um…I…um, no?”

Just as fast as he froze, Eddie is pulling himself away. Arm falling from Steve’s shoulders, jumping a few inches away, keeping his hands to himself. “Oh…oh, fuck. Steve—I—I swear, man, I thought this was…oh, this is so embarrassing.” He tugs at the ends of his hair, face coloring a bright red, pink cheeks going pinker in the yellow-orange glow. Somehow, even now, Steve finds him still endearingly beautiful. “Jeez. And I…I was thinking of kissing you, too! I mean you didn’t need to hear that, but I—Oh my god, I should go.”

A part of Steve melts, just as plastic does in fire—quick and nauseous and horrible. And Eddie’s standing up from the couch, further flipping Steve’s now upset stomach, trying to get away from it all. But he’s faster.

Faster still.

He reaches out and tugs on Eddie’s right wrist, bringing him flopping back down on the sofa. Eddie looks to him again, just as startled and eerily fearful as before.

Steve can’t make his mouth spit out the words he should. All those things he’d been thinking. How beautiful Eddie is. The slow moments over the last two years, every moment one increment closer to getting what he truly wants. He should be nonsensical. Explain. Paint the picture. Just as he did in the past for other people he fell face first for.

But Eddie’s looking at him. At him. Honey eyes. Pink cheeks. Plump lips.

The chocolate in the corner of his mouth both from their drinks and the coins. That scar he received for trying to buy more time, silver and soft and healed on his jaw. His hair cascading to his shoulders, heavy and dark. And him just alive on the couch, here to share the holiday, lit by the fireplace, cozy in a Christmas sweater and sweatpants. Soft. Sweet. Sacred.

He leans in, slowly as to give Eddie time to dodge, but when he doesn’t—it’s a simple decision from there. Closing his eyes, even if he’s reluctant to do so, reluctant to not see Eddie’s beauty. But he kisses him. Once, tender, slow moving with his lips. Their mouths sticky when he begins to draw back for a second, but he doesn’t get the chance to pull away completely, Eddie is welcoming himself back in. Hands cupping Steve’s cheeks, fingers pushing lightly into the soft give of his face, firm where they’re placed, but overall gentle.

Eddie’s hungry with how he kisses. As if needing this. It’s a little sloppy, the way he drags his lips, but Steve doesn’t care. They’re kissing. Sweet and sugary and milk chocolate on their tongues, when they introduce them to each other. Slow, but sure. New.

Though, Steve kindles a new flame—one flickering in his chest, warm and fragile—a candle, a firebox where this kiss is the first of many.

When he opens his eyes, Eddie’s already looking at him. Looking at him, looking at him.

“I didn’t know it was a date,” Steve whispers.

Breathing a chuckle, Eddie swipes his hands tenderly down the sides of Steve’s neck, setting in the crooks of his arms, heavy as they lay. “I didn’t either, sweetheart.” Those molten eyes bounce briefly, left and right; there’s something laying in them that Steve’s never really seen directed at him before, gooey and tender. Maybe that’s love? “So…so that was a pretty great addition to that Christmas gift, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, words bright with his smile, “guess it is. Wish I knew it was a date.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. I would’a made us a nicer dinner instead of ordering pizza.”

“Next time, sweetheart. We’ll make a whole shebang of it. Keep the fireplace lit, have more hot chocolate, watch a bunch of movies…and we’ll have spaghetti and I’ll kiss you later that night and taste the tomato sauce you made. I bet it would still taste good.”

Steve wriggles slightly in his seat, hands wrangling up for Eddie’s, gripping to them hard. He can’t contain his bubbling excitement, stirring and stirring and swirling inside him. He’s too warm, under his pajamas, from the fire, from the love overcoming him. And he can’t stop smiling. Stretched wide, cheeks bulbous—so big he almost can’t see—eyes squinting hard. “Y’don’t know what my spaghetti tastes like, Eds,” he protests.

“Bet it would taste like that kiss did, though. Made with your love?”

He giggles and sways and swoons. “That was so corny.”

“Yeah, but I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No,” Steve sighs, relenting. He couldn’t even hide in his own hands. Face too bright and his body too vibrant and his heart pounding too hard, hard enough it could probably be heard if the television were turned down just a smidge. His stomach flips, a good way this time. And he’s too aware of the fact that his palms are clammy, fingers gripping too tight to Eddie’s hands, not wanting to let go. “Is it that obvious how I feel?”

Eddie lifts up one of his hands, squeezing his index finger and thumb together closely. “A little bit,” he says, “but it’s cute, Stevie. Could tell the moment I saw you lookin’ at me, your eyes all over me. Don’t even think you could see how I was looking at you, baby.”

“How were you looking at me?”

“Like I’m in love,” Eddie easily answers. “Because I am. Have been. For a long while now.”

“Really?” Steve breathes. “You’re in love with me?”

“Mhm. I love you to the moon and back, sweetheart.”

Steve squeezes their hands again. The fireplace crackles. There’s still chocolate on Eddie’s mouth. His heart beats hard, gazing deep into those swirls of honey, and it’s all so right. “I love you, too,” he murmurs, “been wanting to say that for forever.”

Tugging gently on their joined hands, Eddie begins to lean back on the sofa. “Come on, baby, let’s cuddle a while longer. Maybe we can gaze at each other some more?”

“Nothing else I’d rather do.”

❄️————————❄️

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #38

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 14.1k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

Seokjin's parents, or whoever from his family owns this cabin, surely know their style around interior design. As soon as you stepped into the huge wooden cabin, you could confirm Jimin's words of his parents being loaded. There's no denying that. Apart from the luggage laying here and there, everything is very neat and the whole place smells like wood with a hint of freshness.

There is an art hanging on the wall, a few pictures of snowy mountains and trees which makes you think this cabin is mostly used in winter. When you step out of the corridor, there's an open room with two big couches on opposite sides with two circled coffee tables between them. The fireplace looks modern but still matches the warm toned interior very well.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

You almost jump at the sudden deep but tender voice beside you. Taehyung smirks when he notices the way you flinch and lightly nudges him in the arm.

"Have you been here before?" you wonder, glancing at your friend who nods.

"Just once, it was like three years ago but this place has been renovated since then." he explains, hearing you hum in return as you stare at the flames in the fireplace.

This specific corner of this room is most likely used to just sit down and chill. Despite its modernity and size, it seems like a cozy place to be at and you can imagine yourself just sitting there, talking about whatever. It's even better that there's no television.

"Is this an old cabin? That's why they renovated it?" you ask, dragging your suitcase closer to you as you and Taehyung stand and admire the interior together.

"Oh no," Taehyung chuckles, "This place was beautiful even before they decided to renovate it. I mean, it looks way better now since the interior is more modern and it's up to date. It screams money in every direction you look but still... the previous interior had its own charm if you know what I mean."

"Yeah..." you murmur, "People renovate when they don't know what to do with their money." you think out loud, wondering how it'd feel like to be completely loaded.

And here you are, with a broken car that might be already fixed but it's still old and will need another fix in the near future. Luckily, you've managed to save enough money to be able to afford a newer car. Just two more months with your usual salary and working in a club, and you're all free to look for a better car.

"So..." Taehyung starts, lowly and cautiously, shifting from one foot to another which just makes you snort and arch your brow at him. "How are you?"

"How am I?" you chuckle, "Why are you asking me this?"

You're not stupid. You could've recognized his prying tone from the second he opened his mouth and he does a terrible job at trying to act as casual as possible.

"With Jungkook and Haneul being here," he clears his throat, "And Kiko."

You straighten yourself, sighing as Taehyung keeps his eyes solely on you watching you like a hawk. It's been a while since you and Taehyung talked alone, just the two of you without any of your friends. Sure, you called him because you were worried when Jimin told you he was sick. But there is only so much the phone call can do. It makes sense he voices out his worries, even though part of you knows Taehyung loves gossip and lives for the drama. Still, you can see honesty and genuine worry in his brown soft eyes.

And it's only fair he's asking you this, specifically. He probably thinks this trip will end up with drama, considering Jungkook is here with Kiko and you are with Haneul. Most importantly, he still thinks you and Jungkook were dating. Even though he could see you and Jungkook being the same old you, from all those times you've hung out with your friends after your 'break-up', this time you're not kissing or touching each other because you're no longer dating.

Regardless of that, he finds it weird that all of you are here and are about to spend the New Year's Eve together. And you can't blame him. It's weird for you too but you pushed your bitter emotions and thoughts about Kiko aside. All you want is to have fun and celebrate New Year with your boyfriend and friends.

Looking around, you realize there's no one around you and everyone is in safe distance from you and Taehyung, catching up with each other.

"Come here," you murmur to him, taking him by his wrist and pushing him aside, closer to the wall so you're not standing in the middle of the entrance. Dragging your suitcase with you, you ignore Taehyung's doe eyes and the quite intrigued look he gives you. "I've to tell you something."

"Spit it out sis, I'm all ears." Taehyung says excitedly, causing you to snort as you scold him with your frown.

"But you've to promise me not to yell when I tell you."

Thinking about this now, you should've told him when you will be alone with him but now it seems to be like the right time. You just have to make sure Taehyung won't catch any more eyes and ears as soon as you tell him. You know him. He can be quite expressive.

"You're not pregnant, are you?" Taehyung widens his eyes, suddenly eyeing your stomach that's perfectly hidden with your sweater.

You almost choke on your spit. "What? No!" you exclaim.

"Ahhh, I hate when you keep me waiting. Tell me." he whines like a little kid, causing you to roll your eyes at his impatience. Is this how Jungkook feels like when you're being impatient and whiny? Probably.

"Okay," you sigh, embracing yourself to tell Taehyung the truth but not before you look around to see if there are any prying eyes on you. There are not. You're the least interesting pair to look at, not when everyone seems to be too invested to catch up with one another or give praise to Seokjin about the cabin.

Here we go.

"I don't really feel weird about Jungkook being here with Kiko, well, I do feel a little bitter over it." you roll your eyes at yourself. A little bitter? A lot, actually. Judging by the way Taehyung raises his brow, he probably thinks the same thing.

"As you should," he purses his lips, nodding furiously as his fluffy hair bounces on his head. "God, I still can't believe he's with her. Not after everything she did to him. Can you believe that?"

"Tell me something about it." you murmur, but Taehyung doesn't stop there.

"You are so much better than her," he says, almost proudly at himself for saying it as it makes you chuckle in amusement. "Sorry, I know you are with Haneul right now but still." he shrugs innocently, causing you to wave him off.

"Well, the thing is..." you start, looking around once again as Taehyung's brows pinch together in confusion. "I know how it makes Jungkook look because he brought Kiko and we were dating--" The way you say dating causes Taehyung to frown even in bigger confusion.

"I mean... I know you guys are... well, you. So I'm not even surprised you seem unaffected by your relationship, okay maybe a little bit but I'm not catching up. You better spit it out before I start whining again." he warns you, causing you to laugh silently as you shake your head at his goofiness.

"Me and Jungkook never dated. It was all fake," you tell him quietly, leaning closer to him so he can hear you perfectly as his mouth hangs open as soon as you say it. He freezes in his spot and you push his chin up to shut his mouth as he slowly looks at you.

"Please say something, this is already getting too awkward for me."

"Fake?" Is all he mumbles, quietly and innocently as he widens his eyes.

"Yeah, we had this deal and it included me pretending to be his girlfriend."

"What? No!" he suddenly whines loudly, or more like yells, causing Seokjin and Hoseok to look at you from afar as you scold Taehyung with a nudge to his forearm.

"What do you mean no?"

"I've been shipping you for months!" he exclaims, causing you to shush him again as he ignores you and looks completely shocked at the sudden news. "Woah, I can't believe this. You guys played it all along? This is so fucking dissappointing."

You snort at him. "Come on, me and Jungkook are friends."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh friends for sure," he spits sarcastically, ignoring the way you press your lips into a tight line. "But you were all over each other, you can't possibly make me believe it was all fake!"

"Taehyung, be quiet please," you scold him, pleadingly staring at him as he just shakes his head in utter shock. "We were all over each other because we--oh fuck it. We were hooking up."

Taehyung dramatically spreads his hand over his chest as he gasps. "You were hooking up?" he whisper-yells, lips stretching to a wide smile. "Well, at least that's something. How was he?"

"Tae, I'm not telling you that."

"Is he bigger than Haneul?"

"Taehyung!" you scold him, cheeks red as Taehyung devilishly cackles. "I just thought you should know. I felt so bad for not telling you and Jimin from the start. You kept asking about us and were so confused all the time, I really felt bad. But it's not something you go and talk about so freely." you tell him, mainly trying to change the topic which Taehyung eyes you for a moment but doesn't say anything about it.

"No, I get that," Taehyung says softly and understandably, "Wow, I need a shot after this."

You laugh at him. "Come on, let's go upstairs to check our rooms. You are sharing a room with Jimin, right?"

He nods, stopping you by calling your name quietly when you're ready to take a step. "I won't tell anyone. It's your and Jungkook's private thing, as much as I'm disappointed by the news," you roll your eyes playfully, "But thank you for telling me. I won't tell anyone, not even to Jimin."

"Oh, Jimin already knows." At this, Taehyung's jaw falls on the floor as he looks scandalized.

"Jimin? He knew?"

You sheepishly shrug, "Yeah, he only found out recently though. It was when we went ice-skating, me and Jungkook got into an argument and then I told Jimin. It was me who asked him not to tell you, I'm sure it was very hard to keep his mouth shut since you guys are like friend soulmates or whatever. I wanted to tell you by myself or with Jungkook, but now felt like a good idea."

"So who else knows?"

"Only you, Jimin and Kiko, I think. That is if she didn't tell Hoseok which I personally think she probably did."

"What? She knows too?" Taehyung is even more shocked, scrunching his nose.

"Yeah, Jungkook told her. I mean, I can understand that. At least she doesn't have to feel too uncomfortable with me being here even though I don't really care if she does or not. But it's better for everyone if she knows the truth. And you know Jungkook, he's been always honest."

Sounds like Jungkook, Taehyung thinks.

"Does she at least know you were banging her man?"

You snort at Taehyung, pushing him to the side as he laughs. "Yeah, he told her that part too."

"You said you and Jungkook argued. Did his competitive ass annoy you again?"

You smile at that, fully knowing what Taehyung means. It happened more than once that you got annoyed when you and Jungkook were hanging out, with Jimin and Taehyung too of course, and he got too competitive at whatever you were playing or doing. It caused arguments between you two, or more accurately you being annoyed and pissed at Jungkook while he kept making fun of you and teasing you for being so grumpy.

"No, I wish it was one of those stupid arguments that aren't really arguments," you admit, "I just said something painful and hurt him, even though he asked me to respect his decision."

"Oh, shit. Don't tell me you brought up Kiko cheating."

You cringe, just enough of an answer to Taehyung. "Yeah, it's even worse because Jungkook just voiced out his worry about me going late from work and using public transportation. So I told him to worry about his own girlfriend and he said something about not having to worry about her because she's not stupid... and I might've said she's just stupid enough to cheat. I know, I know!" you exclaim, already seeing Taehyung's pursed lips and the whole face that screams 'not cool'.

You feel your insides uncomfortably squeeze from the recall of your and Jungkook's argument. There's nothing you can do to change it, what's done is done. At least you and Jungkook managed to work it out.

"I feel bad enough about it. I was being such a bitch. He asked me a couple of times to respect his decision and I just brought that up. I hurt him that time, Tae."

"Don't blame yourself too much," he tells you, "You guys are both so fucking stubborn but whatever happens between you two, you manage to work it out." he says as if he could read your previous thoughts.

"We did manage to work it out," you admit, "He's just so good and seeing him with her, out of all people is just..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Ever since Jungkook told us in a club she cheated-- well, I might've called her a bitch."

You gasp, "No you didn't!"

"I sure did," he muses proudly, "But hey, I'm just having my friend's back. Jungkook definitely deserves better but that guy is so fucking stubborn and too blindly in love."

"As long as he is happy." you shrug, ignoring the way Taehyung glances at you for a few seconds.

"I really was happy for the two of you when you said you're dating. I was very confused and shocked at the beginning for sure, I think we all were, I just can't believe you faked it." he chuckles in disbelief, causing you to give him a gentle smile and a shrug.

"I'm sorry for lying to you guys. We felt guilty about it this whole time."

"No, it's okay," Taehyung waves you off, "Dammit, I was saying the other day to Jimin that you and Jungkook looked so good together."

You awkwardly nibble on your lower lip, simply shrugging. "That's just because you were shipping us." you try to joke, seeing how Taehyung purses his lips and determinedly nods.

"I sure was," he agrees, "But hey, Haneul seems like a nice guy. I'm happy for you."

"He is," you smile. At the mention of Haneul, he must be waiting for you in your room for the next few days. "Should we get upstairs to check those rooms?"

"Yeah, let's go." Taehyung says, still looking quite shocked from the news but overall he gives you a reassuring smile as he leads you upstairs, helping you with your suitcase at the stairs.

The second floor and its design is just as magnificent as what you've seen of the cabin so far. The mixture of white paint and wooden ceiling creates a modern but very warm feeling to it. Your attention to the wonderful interior is washed away as soon as you see Haneul, peeking from one of the rooms with a big smile as he waves you over. You smile, making your way towards him and curiously stepping into the bedroom, while Taehyung informs you he's going to check on Jimin and their room.

"It's beautiful here," Haneul comments as soon as your mouth falls open.

The bedroom is not huge but probably bigger than the bedroom and kitchen together back in your apartment. There's nothing special in the room besides the bed, two chest of drawers and a tall wardrobe. What else do you need there, right? From the looks of it, it looks like the bed is king size.

"This was the last room with one bed. I hope you don't mind." Haneul informs you, murmuring the last sentence self-consciously as you turn around to be met with him nibbling on his bottom lip.

Letting out a gentle chuckle, you walk towards him before you hug him. "Of course, I don't mind. We're sharing a bed when you sleep at mine, remember?" you cheekily remark, looking up at him as he sheepishly nods and grins, pleased with your answer as he pecks your lips.

When you pull away from each other, you decide to unpack some of your clothes. Everyone seems to do that, judging from the constant rustling and people walking here and there, until Seokjin calls for everyone to come downstairs in ten minutes.

"I guess he wants to tell us something." you think out loud as you neatly place one of your jeans into the drawer.

"How long have you known him?" Haneul asks, placing his own clothes to the other chest of drawers, stealing a glance at you before he goes back to his task.

"Who? Seokjin?"

He hums, kneeling to his suitcase to pull out more of his clothes.

"I don't know to be honest. He's not exactly my friend. Jungkook, Jimin and Tae introduced me to him since he's their friend, along with Hoseok and Namjoon. You'll meet them later," you tell him once you see him frown in confusion at the foreign names. "But I've seen Seokjin a couple of times, nothing fancy. Just whenever I hung out with the guys and he was there with the rest of the gang."

You glance at Haneul whose eyes are attached to his own task, but you notice the way he nods along your words. He's cute while he does it, making you smile at him. He genuinely seems curious about your life and never fails to try and get to know you even more. It's one of the things you appreciate about him the most.

"Should we go downstairs?" you ask after a moment. You can always place the rest of your clothes and stuff later.

"Yeah, let's go," Haneul says, closing his suitcase as he drags it beside the chest of the drawers, so it's not placed messily in the middle of the room. He does the same thing with yours which you thank him for. Just as he's ready to take your hand, his phone starts to ring.

"It's my mom," he says, brows pinched together for a moment. "I've to take this."

"Yeah, of course. I'll wait outside or downstairs." you tell him, giving him some privacy.

He gives you a gentle smile, thanking you as you're already getting out of the room and closing the door to muffle the sounds from other rooms and a hallway. Just as you're walking out of there, you bump into a firm body that makes you let out a surprised yelp and almost stumble back to the closed door.

"Easy there, tiger," Jungkook muses, hands securely on your shoulders to prevent you from bumping into the door. "Barely an hour here and you're ready to run for the hills?"

His amused toothy grin is the first thing you see when you fully take him in, your eyes rolling but your own lips twisting to a grin. Typical Jungkook. It wouldn't be him if he didn't have any snarky remarks.

"Not yet, bunny," you remark back, satisfied smirk curving on your lips when Jungkook scrunches his nose at the nickname. "I hope there won't be any reasons for that."

Jungkook opens his mouth, probably saying another smart remark back but he's quickly cut off by fuming Taehyung whose feet thump against the hard floor.

"Jimin is so freaking annoying," Taehyung complains as soon as he walks over to you, pouting like a little kid as you snort. "Can you believe that? I specifically told Jimin I want the bed near the window and what did he do?"

You open your mouth, barely taking a breath before Taehyung is already opening yours, not waiting for your answer. You hear Jungkook holding back a laugh as he amusingly stares at Taehyung.

"He said he wants that bed too!"

"Tae," you bite back a laugh, "How old are the two of you exactly?"

"That's not the point!" he exclaims, making you put your hands in surrender.

"How did you guys solve it?"

"We played rock, paper, scissors of course."

Of course, they did. They do it all the time. There's not a day when you don't see them playing that kids game to make this fair. To be completely honest, it's what everyone does when you hang out and can't decide on things. However, Taehyung and Jimin are a completely different story when it comes to bickering. They're acting like a married couple that's been married for forty years or two siblings that just have to bicker every five minutes. There's no between, honestly.

Snorting, Jungkook looks at Taehyung's scowl. "I get it that you lost?"

"I did." he grumbles.

You're almost certain by the end of the night, Jimin will leave the bed for Taehyung just because he cares about him. And Taehyung would do the same thing.

Taehyung's goofiness is nothing new to you or Jungkook, or to anyone who knows him well enough to know that's a significant part of him. But there are different stages when he gets like this and when he lets out annoyed huff, aimed at no one else than Jimin, you can smell the sudden whisk of alcohol coming off his breath.

"Taehyung-ah, are you perhaps drunk?"

Jungkook arches a brow at Taehyung, staring at his and your friend questionably as Taehyung cutely widens his eyes as if he's been caught by his parents. He goofily grins, just proving your assumptions to be right.

"I'm not drunk," He doesn't look drunk, that's right. But without a doubt-- "I may have drank two or three shots. But don't look at me like that, you two! It's your fault!" he accuses, whipping his fingers at the two of you as you both stare at him with big eyes.

"Our fault? How is that our fault?" Jungkook exclaims, scrunching his face in a frown at the accusation as you already rub your forehead, staring low at your feet.

"I know." Taehyung whispers, leaning towards Jungkook who just pulls away and flicks him in the forehead at the obvious smell of tequila coming from him.

"You know what?" Jungkook whispers back, clueless as he glances at you, seeing you acting as if you're not there in the first place. "What is he talking about?"

"Jungkookie, I must say," Taehyung says, patting Jungkook's shoulder. "I'm disappointed."

"Wha--"

"Oh god, he knows about us." you exclaim, no longer standing Taehyung's talking and walking around the topic.

There's a high chance Haneul will walk out of those doors any second, he definitely doesn't need to hear any of this. Thank god, Taehyung is at least quiet and not loud as usual. Luckily, Jungkook doesn't need any more explanation because he understands you right away, brows shooting up in understatement.

"Ah," Jungkook lets out, "What's so disappointing about that?"

"Don't even ask," you interrupt Taehyung as soon as you notice him opening his mouth. He already said enough. "You," you point at Taehyung who just grins amusingly. "Don't blame it on us. We all know you wanted to taste that tequila you bought at the gas station."

Taehyung frowns before he grins all over again, shrugging innocently. That's right. He thought he's being sleek with the huge bag that was supposed to be 'full of snacks' as he said when Jimin questioned him. However, the clinking sound is what gave him away as he stepped into the car.

Although, Jungkook looks a little clueless about the whole tequila thing, only because he drove in his own car and not with you. Nevertheless, he seems to get the point as you notice the corner of his lips quirk up in an amused smirk when Taehyung doesn't even hide it anymore.

"Where is your room?" you ask Jungkook, changing the topic to not make it seem as if you're making an alcoholic out of Taehyung. He's not. He just loves to have fun and taste alcohol whenever there's a party going on. He might've started a little bit earlier to your taste but it's Taehyung. You can't be surprised at this point.

"There," Jungkook points towards the direction of his room, which undoubtedly he is sharing with Kiko.

Just as you look in the direction he's pointing at, luckily their room is on the opposite side and one room away from yours to be completely opposite, the door opens and Kiko comes out of it. She looks around for a second, noticing Jungkook straight away and with that you and Taehyung too. You swear you see her tense a little bit before she puts up a small smile and makes her way towards you.

Jungkook quickly turns around to you, specifically looking into your eyes as he points his finger at you. "Behave," he warns you, turning around to Taehyung before you can get a single reaction out of you.

"And you too." he tells Taehyung, causing his own mouth to open in a silent surprise as you snort under your breath.

"I'm not doing anything." you reply to him, scoffing a little bit but you put a little smile once he looks back at you, brows scrunched while his dark eyes remain on you sternly.

"I'm serious." he manages to get through his teeth, giving you a last warning before the door opens from your room and Haneul comes out, a little surprised by the amount of people standing in front of it.

"Oh," he lets out surprisingly, eyes looking for you. He finds you in a second, giving you a little smile but you notice something weird in his eyes as you get closer to him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" you place your hand over his forearm gently, head tilted back to have a proper look at him.

In the distance, you can make out Kiko's voice. "Hey Taehyung." she says gently, a little bit more braver than when she was greeting you.

"Hi." he greets her back casually.

You turn your attention back to Haneul who rubs his face a bit as he lets out a sigh. "It was just my mom. Apparently my grandma doesn't feel too good. She's been sick for a while." he explains, your features twisting in a worry and apologetic look.

"I'm sorry. You wanna go home?" you ask him gently, voice quiet and tender as you hear the rest of your friends (and Kiko) talk about something which you don't pay attention to.

"Ah, no. Mom said she'll keep me updated. There's nothing I can do anyway. My parents are going to hers to look after her."

It's definitely not good getting this kind of news, especially when he's here to relax from all the stress from college and have fun. It's saddening and you just hope whatever has been going on with his grandmother will pass and nothing bad will happen.

Nodding, you don't say anything else although there's a need inside you, wanting to assure him that if he has any doubts about being here you could just go back with him. But you decide not to say anything, it'd just make it look as if you don't want him here and there's not a place to talk about this some more.

Especially not when Haneul obviously wants to change the topic, turning his attention to your friends as he makes out with a new person.

"Hey, I don't think we've seen each other." he says kindly, taking a closer step to them as his eyes look at Kiko.

You watch her lip balm lips turn into a welcoming and sweet smile, something you want to roll your eyes at even though you're not sure why. Have you really grown so opposed to her?

"Hi, yes, I don't think we've met." she tells him, already stretching her thin arm towards him as you watch your boyfriend take it with a polite smile.

"I'm Haneul."

"Kiko, Jungkook's girlfriend." Oh, god. Can you roll your eyes now?

Clearing your throat, you snake your fingers around Haneul's wrist and pull him to you a little. "Seokjin called us, I think we should go." you speak, clenching your teeth while your eyes look at Haneul as he nods and lets you tug him a bit, not noticing the sudden shift in your behavior.

Little do you fail to notice the way Jungkook gives Kiko an apologetic smile, gently taking her hand.

"She'll come around." he tells her quietly, looking in front of him to watch your back, hand grasping Haneul as if somebody would snatch him from you.

Yeah, you'll come around. Right? At least he hopes so. He doesn't know how many more pep-talks he can give you.

"Friends, family... welcome!" Seokjin calls out happily, looking at everyone. As soon as you've made it downstairs, everyone has gotten comfy on two huge couches and chairs while Seokjin has stood up on the little step to make himself higher.

The closest to him, in one of the chairs, is sitting what you believe is his wife. You remember her from their wedding, she appears to look more soft and natural, minus the wedding dress and make up she had on. Even then, she was very beautiful and without doubt just right for Seokjin. You're not blind. He's handsome and wouldn't go for someone ugly for sure. Who knows, maybe he's not that type to care about the looks of others. And she's also Kiko's best friend which makes you feel a little uneasy, even though she looks kind and sympathetic.

"Some of you've been here before but to those who haven't, or have it doesn't really matter," A round of chuckles resounds in the huge open room and even you and Haneul let out one at Seokjin's awkward posture. Even from this distance you can tell the tip of his ears are turning red.

"Hyung, cut it short. Your ears are red." Taehyung calls out, cackling when Seokjin chuckles awkwardly but sends a glare at Taehyung who has managed to erupt another round of laughter from everyone.

"Anyways, I wanted to say welcome regardless if you've been here before or not. Make yourself home, there are many more rooms you can use..."

Seokjin's words somehow blend as you look beside you, Jungkook's arm pressed against you as more people are squeezed on this couch. It's hard to focus on Seokjin's words and him explaining important information about the cabin when there's Jungkook, whispering something into Kiko's ears which makes her giggle. You tap your fingers against your knee, pursing your lips a little to mute their annoying whispers but it's hard to do. Jungkook chuckles at something and presses a kiss to her cheek, at least it looks like he did from where you're sitting.

That's it.

"Can you guys shut up? I don't hear him." you scold, eyes boring to Jungkook even before he turns around to look at you.

You see him glare at you, clenching his jaw a little at your obvious jab as you give him a sweet smile before you cuddle to Haneul. However, your boyfriend is too interested in what Seokjin is saying that your interaction with Jungkook goes completely unnoticed. He does pull you closer to him, sneaking his arm around your shoulders as you make yourself comfortable.

Seokjin talks for a few minutes, mainly warning everyone not to break any of the vases that apparently his mother adores. It's funny how an almost thirty year old man looks a little scared at the mention of a possible accident of one of the vases breaking. The whole conversation is comfortable and even funny, chuckles and laughter resounding every few seconds.

"...oh, there is no staff around to clean this place while we're here, so please everyone... just clean after yourselves and don't make too much of a mess. Or if you do, just clean it."

Of course, they usually have staff around to clean this place and keep it nice and neat.

"Okay, so I bought some stuff before coming here but I'll need someone to go grocery shopping. Someone should also stay over with me to prepare the wood and fire outside. We should prepare the food for grilling, so I need someone in the kitchen with me too."

Hoseok offers to stay, along with Namjoon as Seokjin's wife is staying in the kitchen with her husband. You see Seokjin talking to Hoseok, most likely talking to him about all the tasks as Hoseok nods along. You stand up, along with everyone as you look around before you see Namjoon making his way towards you.

Your lips automatically stretch to a huge smile. "Namjoon, hi!" you exclaim happily.

God, was he always this tall? He looks just like you remember him on the camping trip. The only difference is his choice of clothing, perfectly matching the weather. He's wearing washed out jeans with mustard colored sweater while his hair stays brushed up. Now that you see him, it got longer.

"Here's my hiking partner!" he calls out cheekily, grinning with his dimple popping as you laugh. You do remember complaining, he's obviously hinting at that. But you weren't that bad, were you? "Hi."

"How are you? It's so nice to see you again," you tell him, still smiling as Namjoon fills you with how he's been, which doesn't really involve that much just that same old stuff. He asks you the same thing and you technically say the same thing back, there's nothing much to tell him. He's not your close friend but it's always nice to talk to him.

"Oh, this is Haneul. My boyfriend." you introduce Haneul, who's been politely smiling the whole time the two of you have been talking.

"Oh," You notice his brows shoot up for a moment, eyes looking behind you. You look back, noticing Jungkook who's in the middle of conversation with Kiko and Seokjin's wife whose name you still don't remember.

"So I heard," Namjoon shakes himself out of the surprise, even though he looks like he heard the news about you and Jungkook breaking up. Still, a grin stretches onto his lips as he outstretches an arm to your boyfriend. "It's nice to meet you, man."

He probably finds it weird to see everyone here; you, Jungkook, Kiko and now your current boyfriend. But just like on the camping trip, he doesn't ask questions and keeps himself out of it. You watch them greet each other, manly just like guys like to do it with the whole 'bro hug'.

"So, did your girlfriend finally make it?" you ask, remembering you've seen him with a girl when you arrived.

An automatic smile makes its way on his lips. "Ah, yeah! Sweetheart, come here! Let me introduce you." he calls out.

It takes a few seconds to fully see who he called over, until a gorgeous girl smiles at him and walks over to you. She's gorgeous. Her dark skin is what captivates you the most, it looks like there's not a single flaw on her skin as it's glowing underneath the lightning of Seokjin's expensive lights. Her dark and curly hair looks soft, touching her shoulders delicately as she flashes you with white and perfect teeth.

And he thought you're a model when he asked you about your job.

"This is Maya, my girlfriend. Sweetheart, this is Y/N. I don't know if you remember but I told you about her when I went on the camping trip."

Maya looks at you, a warm smile spreading on her plump lips. "Ah, the camping trip that I didn't go to," she jokes, causing Namjoon to chuckle as he gives her a kiss into her hair. "I wish I could go, I heard all the funny stories from there. I'm Maya, nice to meet you!"

You chuckle, taking her hand and shaking it in a polite greeting. "It's so nice finally meeting you! I'm glad you could make it this time." you tell him, smiling at her.

You're not sure if you, or Jungkook, would define the camping trip as a completely fun one. Sure, there were fun times that you experienced but overall, the end of it just made an impact on you both. Specifically on Jungkook, considering he had a second heartbreak in the spare of a few months. Everyone else seemed to have fun that time. Well, apart from Kiko as well who seemed to be just as sad about everything and Hoseok who had her back the whole time.

You introduce Haneul to her before the atmosphere lifts up to a casual conversation of Maya describing her excitement to be here, and finally spend some time with Namjoon's friends too.

"Sorry to interrupt," A manly voice suddenly joins the little circle you've made, Seokjin stopping just right beside you as he looks at you and Haneul. "You two are going shopping for some groceries. Is that fine?"

Everyone probably has their own task to do and it seems like you and Haneul were the only ones without one.

"Sure, but we don't have a car and I don't know a way around here." you admit.

Sure, someone could lend you a car but it still doesn't change the fact you don't know it around here. It's your first time here and even though you could easily use navigation, you'd rather not. You don't feel confident enough to be driving around on unknown roads and streets. And there's a lot of snow on the roads anyway.

"Ah, Jungkook is going too. You're going with his car and he's driving. I just need more people to pick and buy groceries. There's a huge list of things that everyone seems to desperately want and need right now," he rolls his eyes a little at that, not hiding his annoyance but you can see he's joking, judging by the way he laughs. "It's a lot. But if the four of you go, it'll be quicker and there's a lot of things to buy anyway."

Four? 

You look behind Seokjin, finding Jungkook standing just a few meters away from you with no other than Kiko standing beside him. She clings to his arm, kissing him on the cheek as they both have somewhat intimate conversation.

Great. Just great.

Not wanting to show your annoyance, or cause any drama, a tight smile makes its way on your lips as you glance at Namjoon. Somehow, he seems to be the only one that's catching on the awkward situation and offers you a crooked smile. Maybe even Seokjin knows how awkward the drive will be, but something tells you he could care less about whatever drama or situation you've going on.

They don't know about your unwelcoming feelings towards Kiko. All they see are two exes driving together with their current partners which naturally makes things awkward.

Mustering the last pieces of confidence, you offer everyone a smile as you and Haneul bid your goodbyes. Haneul is completely clueless to the inner battle you're having, joining you while being his happy self.

Even Jungkook can tell as soon as he glances at you approaching, the little annoyance hidden behind your eyes. Straightening himself, his brows almost shoot up apologetically. It is what it is.

"Are we going?" you ask casually, ignoring Kiko's eyes on you.

"Yeah, sure, let's go. Seokjin already gave me the list." Jungkook says, leading everyone outside as you make your way down to his car.

The way down there is quiet, everyone just simply making it down the hill without falling or stumbling on the snow. You and Haneul take the seats in the back, Jungkook obviously taking the driver's seat as Kiko takes the passenger one.

Is it weird to see her sitting there when it has always been you who used to occupy that seat? It's weird to be sitting in the same car with her. So much for trying to avoid that when you were coming here. Universe must be hating you for allowing this to happen.

Jungkook's playlist starts playing as soon as he turns on the engine, his car roaring to life as Haneul starts sharing his excitement about the car and riding in it. Being a college student that pays for his part of the rent could possibly dream about affording such a car. Jungkook happily answers his questions, his tone remaining casual and even a little cocky.

Jungkook has never been that type to brag about things he can afford or own, he's not doing that right now either. But he seems to be somehow proud to tell all the information about the engine and car model itself. The car takes your breath every time, so there's no doubt it takes Haneul's breath too.

"...it has plenty of cargo space, so it's really spacious." Jungkook says, his voice slowly coming back to your ears as you stare from the window.

"That's amazing!" Haneul lets out excitedly, like a little boy. It's truly cute to see him being so excited about a car, it makes you smile.

"I heard you're still in college. What's your major?"

Yeah, and your smile is gone. 

You know you're just being bitter. She's trying to make a conversation, but you'd be rather if she would just keep her mouth shut and stop being this nice and welcoming person. You're bitter, you know that.

However, Haneul seems to be more than happy to answer and make a conversation with her which annoys you even more. He's the one that sits right behind her, even leaning closer to her seat as he answers her.

"Real estate. I wasn't sure what to pick, my mom said picking something amongst business is for the best, so I..."

You can feel eyes on you, staring into the rear mirror just to see Jungkook's eyes already set upon you for a second before they go back to watching the road. Even just that second made you stop breathing for a moment, not sure what to make it out of his dark eyes. It's not like he was warning you, but simply checking your reaction which made you just squirm on your spot. Sighing, you look away and spend the next ten minutes listening to your boyfriend having a friendly conversation with Kiko.

No one questions your silence and the lack of interest in their conversation.

"...meat, ginger, more rice and water bottles. Okay, we have all of this," Jungkook speaks thoughtfully, lips slightly pursed in thought as he reads Seokjin's list of groceries.

He said he bought something on the way to the cabin but god, he wrote every single possible thing to that list. Your cart is almost full and since there's a good amount of everything since there are eleven of you, so you've to make sure there is enough food for everyone.

"Oh, we need potatoes, tomato sauce, gochujang and those shrimp flavored snacks. I think Hoseok likes them, I don't know the name."

"Ah, I know what those are. I'll grab them." Kiko offers, gently placing another kiss to Jungkook's cheek as he sheepishly grins down at her, watching her walk away.

Pushing away the urge to roll your eyes, you sigh and look at Haneul whose eyes are already on you. He gives you a smile. "I'll grab those potatoes, so we can go." he says, causing you to nod as you thank him.

It's not like you're annoyed to see Jungkook being happy. It's not that. It's just enough to be spending too much time close to Kiko, especially since she doesn't hesitate to kiss or touch Jungkook every few seconds. You've never been a fan of PDA anyway and it feels like she's just rubbing it into your face because from what you can remember, she has never been this affectionate before. You've no idea what she's trying to prove but that woman annoys you to the roots. Still, you seem to be unaffected, usually brushing off the attention she almost seeks.

Jungkook opens his mouth, eyes already staring at you as you interrupt him before one single word can make it out. "I'll find that tomato sauce and gochujang." you tell him, turning around on your heels and not waiting for any reaction from him.

You're not being petty. Someone would say you are. But honestly, you don't need any lecture he's about to give you or him trying to speak to your soul in desperate need to act like you like his girlfriend. He knows that's not the case and the more he pushes, with Kiko's desperate need of showing off her boyfriend, just pisses you even more. You were relatively fine as long as you didn't have to spend alone time with her.

Finding the aisle with sauces takes you a few moments, you take the time to walk through different types of aisles until you find it. There are various types of tomato sauce and you're quite puzzled which one to pick. There are cheaper ones but expensive ones too. Since Seokjin gave you his card, it shouldn't matter to you which product you choose, not caring about the price. Still, you don't like to waste anyone's money even if he's the one buying and obviously the one being loaded.

You decide to choose the one you usually buy for yourself. It's a proper medium when it comes to its price and you already know it tastes good, even though you don't think there could be that much difference when it comes to a tomato sauce.

Standing on your tiptoes, you do your best to reach for your chosen brand of tomato sauce. The tip of your tongue slightly peeking from your lips, your fingers lightly brush against the dark red can and you almost curse under your breath, growing annoyed at the height.

That's until you feel someone behind you, chest brushing against your back before it's almost pressed against you. You almost focus on the scent coming off the body behind you but the tattooed hand grabbing a can of tomato sauce reveals the identity of the person behind you sooner.

"Let me get it for you," Jungkook mutters raspily, grabbing one of the cans as you turn around.

You almost bump him straight into his chest, causing him to take a step back as he holds it for you.

"Here."

"Thanks," you mutter, taking it from him as you place it into the cart he pushed here. You didn't even hear him coming. "Are you stalking me now?" you joke dryly, peeking at him under your lashes causing him to snort.

"You wish, shorty," he says, patting the top of your head as you grunt at him in disapproval. "No, I just went to grab some more snacks and I saw you struggling a bit here."

"Is one can enough though? Shouldn't we get more?"

The one you were going for is a bigger version of the one you usually buy for yourself. You've no idea what Seokjin wants to cook that needs tomato sauce, but one big can probably won't be enough for eleven people. You don't have to be perfect at math to know this.

"Yeah, we probably should." Jungkook muses, reaching for one more and almost backing you to the aisle with his chest. But you don't move, nor scold him like you usually would. You stand there, feeling his body rubbing against you for two full seconds until he straightens himself but is still close to you. You've to tilt your head to be able to look at him properly.

"Do you know what personal space is?" you mutter, feeling your cheeks getting red for some reason. Oh fuck, what is happening?

"You out of all people know that I don't," he jokes cheekily, causing you to take a deep breath as you look at the aisle behind him. "Hey," he suddenly speaks up, sighing when you stubbornly stare at the pasta packages instead of him.

"Look at me woman." he groans, poking you in your cheek which annoys you even more, but at the end works because you glare at him and look at him just like he wished.

"What? You're so annoying, by the way. Do you know that?"

"Yeah I know thanks to you, you tell me that often," he grins, leaning down to put the can in his hands into the cart. "I just wanted to talk to you. I know this is not your ideal type of a trip and I can sense your annoyance from miles away. But can you please not give Kiko such a hard time? She's trying to get along with everyone."

Of course, this is what he wants to talk about.

The scoff that you give him doesn't go unnoticed by him, but you do notice the little hurt in his eyes when he's welcomed with your cold response.

"I'm not gonna talk to her like she's my friend. She isn't, Jungkook." you point out, words muttered through your clenched teeth. It's even worse when his dark eyes look straight into yours.

"You've barely said a single word since we got into the car. It's obvious to everyone there's something on your mind. I just don't want any fights." he almost pleads, brows raising in a silent plea.

"I'm just not in the mood of trying to act all friendly with her. I'm sorry, Jungkook but that's not what I promised. I haven't even said anything to her." you exclaim, growing more irritated with this conversation. Why does he always want everything to go smoothly and perfectly?

"Yeah, I know. All I'm asking is... you look like a huffy kid. That's all I'm saying." he points out, causing you to actually laugh, sarcastically of course.

"A huffy kid, really?"

"Really," he deadpans, "You don't see me acting like that towards Haneul."

Your mouth falls open for a split second before you react right away. "That's not fair Jungkook and you know that. Haneul has never hurt me like that and he's a good guy."

"Kiko is good too, I'm sorry you can't see it," you roll your eyes again, causing him to take a deep breath almost as if to calm himself down before he continues. "All I'm saying is that you wouldn't feel good as well if I was being a dick to him."

"Yeah, because you've no reason to be a dick to him." you deadpan this time, features twisted in a confusion mixed with annoyance.

"Y/N, please," he whispers, slowly reaching for the restless stray pieces of your hair that have gotten into your eyes but you're too stubborn to move it and break your cold and annoyed persona.

Your breath gets caught into your throat when you feel the tip of his fingers accidentally brush against your cheekbone, a huge red light blinking furiously in your head.

"I don't want any drama." He moves the restless strand behind your ear, retrieving his hand back as you blink at him.

God, you really want to kick him in the balls. How can he always be so soft and gentle with you? It's like he's doing it on purpose, knowing exactly how to act to tag onto strings in your heart. It makes you feel like an ass, guilty even for acting this way even though you could've been way worse. But you don't want any drama too. You're just not going to pretend--

"Kookie?"

Your head snaps to the voice coming from the right side, your eyes meeting Kiko's figure as she walks towards the two of you with hands full of the same snacks. She's looking at Jungkook first before she glances at you, her brown eyes slightly narrowing.

"Is everything okay?"

She visibly eyes the close proximity between you two, even though it's nothing dramatic because he's not that close to you. You mean... you can smell his cologne but he's at least your arm length away from you. It's not like this looks wrong but thanks to your and Jungkook's scowled features, it's quite obvious the tension in the air.

"Ah yeah, we were just talking." Jungkook says, offering her a soft smile as he goes to help her.

"I can do it, Kookie." she giggles once he takes a few bags of snacks from her and you just stand there, not really sure what to do or say.

You busy yourself by grabbing a gochujang package instead.

She glances at you when she puts the bags to the almost full cart, eyes knowingly glancing at Jungkook as if she knows you were talking about her. It makes you realize that she most likely could feel the cold shoulder you've been giving her. She's not stupid enough to not tell when someone just doesn't like being in her presence. Maybe she was the one who talked to Jungkook about you acting this way. But he probably wanted to talk to you because of his own decision and judgment, since you've been in their presence nonstop – in the car and now in the shop. There was no time and place for her to talk to him about this.

"Come on, guys. Let's find Haneul and let's go. I'm getting hungry." Jungkook tells lightly, giving you a glance as he takes the cart with Kiko right beside him, hooking her arm around his.

Nodding, you join them, noticing the way Kiko looks back at you for a moment with an unrecognizable stare before she turns around and pays attention forward.

Once you find Haneul, you go to the cashier while Jungkook pays with Seokjin's card for all the groceries. Your eyes almost bulge at the final price, noticing Haneul doing the same thing that makes you silently giggle. Thanks to Jungkook's spacious truck, regardless of packed presents for you, Taehyung and Jimin, it's easy to load all the bags there.

The drive back to the cabin is somehow more relaxed and you even join in the conversation, mostly talking to Haneul who luckily is talkative enough to make the whole ride and conversation more joinable. Jungkook's words ring in your mind regardless of you being more relaxed and talkative. Now that you're replaying your conversation, he still makes you annoyed by approaching you like that and making you feel like you're the bad guy here. But you can't help but feel slightly guilty because you're completely aware of your kind of bitchy attitude. You still could've been nicer even if you wanted to make it clear that you and her won't be friends.

As you get out of the car, everyone takes a few bags while Jungkook makes sure you and Kiko are holding the less heavy ones (he even takes seven bags just so you and Kiko are holding only two bags). Jungkook and Kiko are walking ahead of you, almost entering the cabin while Haneul is walking right beside you in silence until he decides to break it.

"Hey, what's going on with you and Jungkook's girlfriend?"

You tense for a moment, releasing a sigh. Well, now you feel even shittier since he noticed your inhospitality towards her. It's even worse because he's clueless about this whole thing.

"Why?" you mutter, an obvious act of trying to prolong the time when you actually have to explain yourself.

Whether Haneul notices or not, you don't know.

"Well... you seem to be quiet when she is around. Maybe I'm reading into this wrong, but I get the feeling you don't like her that much. Am I wrong?" he asks hesitantly and carefully, making your features soften from their tensed position.

"Ehh, you're not wrong," you tell him unsurely, seeing his soft brown eyes staring at you in a silent encouragement. Even if he doesn't tell you that, you can see that he appreciates your honesty and doesn't push you to answer if you don't want to. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I just... I don't think it's my business to talk about their relationship," And you're mainly protecting Jungkook's privacy. "But she just hurt him really badly and he got back together with her, it's been hard for me to process that because he deserves better."

You've been repeating this to everyone whenever you're explaining your inhospitality feelings towards Kiko. If you just said that she cheated, you surely wouldn't have to explain that much because it'd be quite obvious while you don't like her that much since you want to protect your best friend. Everyone knowing Jungkook knows he deserves all the love and is the most precious boyfriend she could ever have. But you won't say it out loud, people are not stupid and some of them can probably guess what happened in their relationship. Still, you're determined not to say the actual cheat word in any form.

"Really? She looks like a nice girl. I wouldn't have guessed she hurt him."

Thankfully, Haneul doesn't ask for any details that you wouldn't give him anyway.

"None of us did." you mutter.

"I think it's nice of you for having his back. You're a great friend, Y/N." he tells you, giving you a smile as you force yourself to give him one back.

"Yeah, I wish he could see that. I mean, I think he does see that and overall, he asked me to respect his decision multiple times and it's not really any of my business. But I can't help but feel... bitter and cold whenever she is around."

"I think it makes sense that you're not able to drop it. He's your friend, princess. From what I've seen, you really cherish people close to you. I don't know exactly what she did, although I think I get an idea, and I think it's important to accept and respect his decision because ultimately it's his life and relationship. But also he can't expect you to be just all nice when in your own way, you're protecting him. I do think you should let it go, though."

"I just don't want to pretend that I like her. I haven't even said anything to her. I'm just not interested in being friends with her." you exclaim a little frustratingly, stopping just in front of the entrance.

"And that's okay. Nobody can push you to do that," Haneul says, lifting his lips up in encouragement. "You're not like, secretly in love with Jungkook, right?" he asks sheepishly, but you can see the little panic in his eyes.

"What? No!" you tell him straight away, brows furrowing that he'd suspect such a thing. Just because you care about your best friend doesn't mean you're in love with him. You thought he knew that. He thought he just understood that your friendship is close and special.

"Okay, I just wanted to make sure. Sorry I asked," he says, cheeks slightly tinted red from the cold and embarrassment.

Honestly, you don't think it's something to be embarrassed about. He just wanted to make sure, just like he said. But you're naturally growing annoyed from all the assumptions about you and Jungkook. Someone would say you could've gotten used to it by now. You haven't.

"I know everything is new, our relationship and I'm still getting to know you every second, your friends too. It's interesting to see your friendship with Jungkook, I don't think I've seen friends being that close. But I trust you, I'm sorry if it looks like I don't. I just don't want to get myself involved in something that I don't know of. I really like you, Y/N." he explains, your features softening once again.

Why don't you feel like you don't deserve him? Maybe you don't. You've no idea how much understanding you'd be if you were in his position.

"I like you too." you admit. It's not like you haven't said those words to yourselves before. But it's still a nice reassurement for both of you. It's too soon to admit any deeper feelings but if your relationship will go the same way like it's been going from the start, you think it won't take long for you to admit those deeper feelings.

He leans down, a little awkwardly considering his height and the weight in his hands, but he still makes sure to meet you for a kiss.

Seokjin deserves all the success his restaurant is getting. The food he cooked, with help from his wife, tasted delicious. After you came from the groceries, a supermarket situated twenty minutes from the cabin, you went to unpack all the bags which caused the whole kitchen island to be filled with food and ingredients. Seokjin shooed away everyone who wasn't on the 'cooking team' as he called it. So you took that time to go for a walk around the cabin with Haneul.

It has cleared your mind a little and you've found and let yourself relax in his presence only. The guilt from your previous conversation with Jungkook is still there but talking about it with Haneul definitely helped. It makes you like him even more. He understands you, or at least is trying to.

Hoseok, Jungkook and Jimin cooked a soup, a typical kimchi stew meanwhile Seokjin and his wife, who just helped like he claimed at dinner, cooked his restaurant's special. He used traditional Japanese style of cooking, the same thing they do at his restaurant. There was beef, eggs, mushrooms and more vegetables that tasted amazing. You've never eaten something like that and everyone praised Seokjin, who seemed to like the attention and praise.

You've spent the rest of the evening after dinner playing board games and Taehyung's favorite UNO, sarcasm guaranteed as he spent at least ten minutes whining about the rules. You're not surprised though, you had a hard time remembering the rules yourself but at least you weren't whining about it. You actually tried to act as if you understood it, which made you lose anyways.

With a few bottles of alcohol opened, the board games are long forgotten and placed back to its place. The karaoke machine in the basement – yes they've a whole basement at least a good part of it used as a place to dance and have a party – resounds from downstairs. Taehyung's voice is loud enough to not be recognized, an amused snort leaving your mouth when his voice cracks but he carries on like it never happened in the first place.

You make your way to the kitchen, bringing a bottle of tequila like Seokjin asked you to, too busy cuddling with his wife who seems to be sleepy but determined to stay and watch the fun unfold.

Opening the fridge, you search for its bottle as you notice the brownish liquid after a few seconds. You close the fridge, gasping when you notice Jungkook leaning against the counter.

"Fuck!" you yelp, hand pressed against your chest as you hold the bottle of tequila even tighter. "Why are you creeping on me?"

Jungkook laughs, shaking his head at you as he brushes past you and opens the fridge. "Still flattering yourself as always," he muses, joking as you see his grin before he momentarily disappears behind the fridge door.

He pulls out a bottle of whiskey, shaking it a little in front of you to explain himself. "Just grabbing this."

"Uhm, uhm." you purse your lips, jokingly acting as if you don't believe his explanation as he narrows his eyes at you playfully and even rolls them at you.

"Are you having fun? I haven't talked to you since we came from the shop." he starts, voice empty from all the amusement and joking, sounding more gentle and careful.

"Yeah, I am. I guess there just hasn't been the time to talk." you tell him, watching his brows pinch together.

"What do you mean? There's always time for us to talk."

You chuckle at that, finding it somehow cute how serious he's taking this but to be fair, there hasn't been that much time to talk to him for real. You were spending the time with Haneul as you went for a walk and then dinner happened. Jungkook was seated on the opposite side from you, so he wasn't even sitting next to you. And now that everyone moved to the basement to drink and just have fun, you mostly talked to Jimin and Haneul. It wasn't intentional though. Jungkook seemed to be talking to Seokjin, Hoseok and Kiko of course. He was in that circle, well until you just bumped into each other.

"Well you were with Kiko and everyone else, and I've been with Haneul." you shrug, somehow feeling stupid for even explaining this.

"Y/N," Jungkook says softly, "I wanted you to come here so we can have fun too. Just because Kiko is here doesn't mean I can't talk or have fun with you."

You didn't know you needed to hear that after he just said it. Somehow, his words bring comfort to you and it makes you flutter at his kindness and attentiveness as always.

"Of course, I know that..." you murmur, smiling a little.

"Then let's show Taehyung how to rock at karaoke." Jungkook teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You laugh at him, shaking your head. "I'm not drunk enough!" you exclaim, but Jungkook ignores you and wraps his hand around your wrist pulling you towards the basement.

"Jungkook!" you laugh, as he keeps tugging you almost making you stumble on the stairs.

"You're always saying that excuse, you're not getting away from this. We're gonna show everyone how to do it."

"Jeon!" you laugh, holding a tight grip on the bottle. "At least let me put the bottle before I drop it."

He listens to you, doing the same thing with you but not until he pours himself a whiskey and you tequila. "To have fun and to our singing skills?" he asks, causing you to snort as you nod and go along with his toast.

Your glasses clink as they meet each other, the alcohol burning your throats as you make your way to the karaoke machine. You notice Haneul sitting on the couch giving you a surprised look to see you in front of a karaoke machine while Jungkook tries to find a song. Luckily, Taehyung's duet with Namjoon has ended as they happily hand you the mics.

Your boyfriend gives you a thumbs up when you look at him, only now noticing Kiko sitting next to him as he chats to Jia, Seokjin's wife. She's her best friend, so you're not surprised to see them having a nice conversation while giggling. Taehyung plops himself next to Haneul, offering him a tequila bottle. He accepts it, taking a few gulps straight from the bottle.

Haneul doesn't like partying with his friends too much. It's not like he doesn't like it at all, but like he told you, he prefers not partying every Friday like they tend to. He'd usually bailed on them, wanting to just relax in his rented apartment which would usually cause his friends to whine about him not going. Now, you're a perfect excuse for him not wanting to party every single weekend or free day.

But just like every guy his age, or it doesn't necessarily have to do anything with age, he likes to loosen up and there's nothing wrong with him drinking. You see him talking to Taehyung, watching them for a while until Jungkook takes one of the mics from you and grins at you.

"You ready?"

"What did you pick?"

"Jason Derulo, you know this song for sure."

You look at the name of the song. How can you not know this song? Everyone knows this song and the words to it, it brings you back to 2010 and this kind of music. As the electric guitar's sound, the intro of the song starts to play, you and Jungkook move yourselves to have more space. The sound of the new song catches everyone's attention and you hear Jimin and Taehyung cheer loudly, causing you to snort as you shake your head at your friends and their silliness.

"Jeon Jungkook!" Jungkook sings into the mic, instead of saying 'Jason Derulo' as it is in the original song. It makes you burst out laughing as he gives you a grin before he starts singing.

"Everybody's looking for loveAin't that the reason you're at this clubYou ain't gonna find a dance with him, no, noGot a better solution for you girl," Jungkook sings, passionately as he doesn't forget to play his role just right as he's looking at you, pointing at you every now and then as he sways his body to the rhythm.

One of the reasons you love karaoke, when you're drunk enough (thanks to the tequila you actually find yourself having fun and relaxing) is the fact you and Jungkook enjoy it every time. You could be singing about heartbreak, love or a song that doesn't make sense but you make it work as you play your roles just right.

"Just leave with me now, say the word and we'll go,I'll be your teacher, I'll show you the ropes,"

He moves closer to you, swaying his hips as he dances while doing so causing you to laugh at him.

"You'll see a side of love you've never known, I can see it going down, going down,"

This time, you bring the mic to your lips, Jungkook already grinning as he's singing, ready for you to join him which you do.

"In my head, I see you all over meIn my head, you fulfill my fantasyIn my head, you'll be screaming more,"

Taehyung's cheers and sometimes even screams can be heard in the distance, along with Jimin's as the two friends are your biggest fans, drunk fans. Taehyung keeps jumping up and down while sitting, the guy showing his excitement and overreacted fangirling with his entire body. Haneul chuckles at that, being the one who sits next to him as he turns around to watch you and Jungkook. He has never seen you look so free, maybe it's the fact you've had a fair share of tequila but you don't look too drunk. You're just having fun, dancing and giggling to the microphone whenever Jungkook wiggles his brows. Surprisingly to him, Jungkook sounds amazing and your voice isn't too bad as you both sing the chorus together.

"Some dudes know all the right things to sayWhen it comes down to it, it's all just gameInstead of talking let me demonstrate, yeahGet down to business and skip foreplay,"

Haneul's eyes widen at the lyrics, especially when he sees you tilt your head back as you laugh at Jungkook before you subtly bite onto your lower lip, smiling through it. He knows it's just a song and you both are having just fine, but he feels a weird pinch in his chest at the sight of you and Jungkook. He trusts you. He knows Jungkook forms a large part in your life and he's a very special friend to you. You're both close and to be fair, he's still trying to get to know you and your friendship with Jungkook.

So he looks at Jungkook's girlfriend, just out of pure curiosity to see her expression since he's still very new to your relationship but also getting to know you better, which also involves people around you which are your friends.

He finds her silently watching the two of you before she slowly sips on the wine. Okay, he barely sees any reaction from her which sucks because it doesn't do anything with his curiosity.

"Is that normal?" he asks, finding her turning her head slightly to look at him.

Kiko is pretty, very pretty actually. She's wearing a casual outfit, just some jeans and white shirt with mint colored cardigan but somehow she looks elegant in her own way. Maybe it's those dangling earrings that she's wearing and soft waves that she curled her black hair into. Somehow, Haneul deduces that they create a pretty couple with Jungkook. And he hopes it'll stay that way because your obvious close friendship to him is still a ball of wonder for him. And of course, he's just trying to understand it before he can let out any bitter emotions in the open.

Her eyebrows raise a bit at his question and he tilts his back to you and Jungkook, still singing your hearts out, pointing to the two of you. Kiko follows his vision, simply watching before she just shrugs.

He realizes he won't get any more reaction from her. Maybe he expected some explanation or her opinion about your friendship. Most of all, maybe he wanted her to say 'oh, it's totally normal, they're like this'. Keeping a cool head, he knows you're the best person to assure him of this. You explained your friendship to him, you told him you're close to Jungkook and even voiced your worry, worried that it'll affect your relationship with Haneul.

And he assured you he understands it and won't cause any problem just because your best friend is not a female. If there was a female standing next to you, he wouldn't bat an eyelash at that. No one would. That's just how it is.

But he's different. He won't be jealous just because nature tells him to be, or his own male ego.

Taehyung's loud cheers and the round of applause is what shakes him out of his thoughts, his distracted eyes focusing on you to see you smiling giving Jungkook a high-five before you make your way towards him.

An automatic smile spreads on his lips, seeing you cutely approaching him as you sit onto his lap. You wrap your arms around his neck, Haneul already leaning for a kiss which you gladly give him. He pouts when you give him a peck though, he was hoping you'd give him a proper kiss. You just giggle, kissing his cheek.

"I'd say I was your biggest fan but I think it's hard to compete with Taehyung." he teases, watching you tilt your head as you giggle looking at Taehyung who's already doing shots with Jimin.

"I can totally understand that," you muse, glancing back at your boyfriend, both of you chuckling at your friend. "Well, I need another shot of tequila from that excellent performance I just did. You want some?" you ask, arms sneaking off his neck as you brush them against his chest and you see his breath hitch for a second.

He bites into his lower lip, letting it go as he points at his filled glass. "Thanks though."

You smile, standing up as you scurry yourself to the small kitchen where alcohol has been brought. It's just a small room with a kitchen counter with no fridge or microwave. Taehyung drunkenly stands up too, shouting at Jungkook and pleading with him to go one round with him too. The younger one obviously declines Taheuyng but his older friend insists, whining like a little kid which causes Jungkook to sigh as he's already taking back the mic that he put away just a few seconds ago. Shaking head with an amused smile aimed at his friend that drunkenly tries to find the right song.

The theme song of Arirang starts to play a few seconds later, Haneul's attention interrupted for a moment by Hoseok sitting next to him. They haven't talked that much but he's been introduced to him already, so he's quite pleasantly surprised when Hoseok actually starts making a conversation with him.

He's too immersed with chatting to Hoseok, not noticing Kiko standing up too and sliding past them.

In the other room, you pour yourself a tequila shot but don't reach for it to chug it, enjoying the little quietness and muted music accompanied by Jungkook's stable and Taehyung's drunk voice before you go back. You chuckle to yourself at them, putting the tequila bottle back. At this rate, you should bring it with you but you want to avoid anyone spilling and breaking it. Everyone seems to be drunk or at least clumpy and tipsy enough to let that happen. You're sure Seokjin wouldn't appreciate it. At least none of the expensive vases have been broken.

You hear someone else coming to the room, their footsteps gentle but loud enough to be recognized. You expect to see one of the guys with the same purpose like yours to come here. However, Kiko is the last person you expect to come here. Your muscles tense underneath her brown eyes and the look she's giving you. She simply looks at you but that's not what irks you. It's the same softness of her features she always seems to sport.

It's quite obvious she hasn't come here to grab one of the bottles or snacks, or even pour herself a glass when she simply stops just at the edge of the counter and looks at you.

"Are you having fun?" she asks, lightly and friendly that it mildly surprises you.

Your brows furrow momentarily, wondering what's her intention and this conversation. She is trying to be nice and friendly to you, you can clearly see that. But it pisses you off that she knows you're not very fond of her and she just keeps trying to get on your good side. You're fine with her as long as you don't have to talk to her.

"Listen," you start, voice neutral and steady. "We don't have to pretend to be friends."

"We could be." she says right away, almost too quickly but yet, her voice sounds light and offering.

It actually makes you want to snort at that idea. You're that kind of person that wants to be left alone by the person you find irritating in any way. Most importantly, she knows that you're not interested in pretending to be friends with her. You respect her being with Jungkook and you knew what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to come here, with the knowledge of her being here as well. You're not looking for any fights with her and you're not planning to say anything bitchy to her, because you're not planning to suddenly start a conversation with her in the first place. But that doesn't mean you're interested in any kind of pretending just because she can't clearly leave you alone. Ah, it irritates you how good she's trying to be. It actually makes you feel kind of bad for your own thoughts and feelings but you can't help it.

"Are you kidding?" you ask nonchalantly, scoffing slightly as you see embarrassment crossing over her features as she hugs her cardigan closer to her.

She looks at her feet for a second before she braces herself to look at you again. "It'd be best for Jungkook's sake."

Her words actually make you snicker under your breath, no amusement on your face as you look deadly in her eyes. "So you suddenly care about Jungkook's sake? You should've thought about that sooner." you point out, voice empty just like your features.

Again, you watch embarrassment crawling back to her face as she clears her throat.

You're not usually the person who confronts other people. You wouldn't tell her anything if she didn't come up to you and brought this topic first. But now that she actually has the audacity to bring Jungkook's sake, something she hasn't thought about when she went to the same bed with another man, just sparks a new wave of anger and annoyance in you.

Just the obvious look on her face and her silence is saying she probably can't disagree with you because you're right. She knows that. You can see the guilt written all over her face and for a second, you actually feel slightly bad for how small she suddenly looks underneath your gaze. Just like you said, you don't like confronting people and arguing but sometimes it's inevitable and sometimes it comes naturally. But you're also someone who has their friend's back no matter what and let's be honest, you like to voice out your opinion, especially when it's an opportunity for it.

And you weren't raised like this. Maybe it's the alcohol flowing in your blood, even though you know you're not drunk. But you can feel the ease of your muscles and mind. That's enough of a clue for you to know that your mouth is much more free than usual. And most of the things that have been sitting stubbornly in your mind are set free, the words spilling out of your mouth with no limits.

"I'm already trying my best for Jungkook's sake, so let's not push it. I'm not going to act like we're friends because we're not," you inform her, crossing your arms over your chest as she stares at you like you just kicked her in the face. "Listen, I'm not going to send daggers your way but I'm not going to pretend I like you."

Her features twist in hurt but you're not sure if she's trying to hold back herself. You feel bad for saying those things but they're true. They might be hurtful but at least they're honest and you're not pretending to be someone you're not.

So you take your shot, brushing past her as you leave her standing there with her pounding thoughts.

Your mind doesn't feel at ease after that. You feel bad nevertheless of your words being honest. And you know if Jungkook saw your interaction and heard you, he'd be disappointed and hurt. Just like that, you feel annoyed once again because no. You weren't the one coming up to her and you didn't do anything to her. She is the one who came up to you, using Jungkook's sake as an excuse for her shitty behavior and the hurt she caused Jungkook.

Plopping next to Haneul, you find him in the middle of conversation with Hoseok, which is quite surprising because you wouldn't think they've that much in common. Haneul glances at you, welcoming you by putting his arm around your frame as he pulls you closer, offering you a smile as he nods to whatever Hoseok has been telling him. You give him a smile back, mustering the best out of you and he luckily doesn't notice how dishonest it is.

Moments later and you see Kiko, Jungkook's eyes finding her almost immediately while he's chatting with Namjoon and Seokjin. You watch his face light up as she approaches them. Even from them being meters away from where you're sitting, you can clearly see his brows furrow slightly as he scans her features. You watch his mouth moving, asking her something as she shakes her head and tells him something. The conversation seems kind of intimate as Jungkook makes sure to lean towards her, so they can have some privacy.

He evidently voices out his worry while Namjoon and Seokjin seem to get the clue, the two of them fooling around chuckling and talking. Kiko just shakes her head, her hand squeezing Jungkook's biceps as she gives him a kiss to his cheek. Turning around, she leaves him standing there with a confusion written on his face as he watches her girlfriend make her way upstairs.

He seems a little baffled, lips slightly pouting before he looks up. Almost immediately, his eyes find yours and it's like he can see right through you.

And then his brows furrow again, his dark eyes boring into yours even from across the room.

Shit.

[vnards]

Bear!Price Pt 7

The lessons continue and the evening passes. You and Price going back and forth on different defensive techniques and vulnerable points in case attacking is the only option. By the end of the night, he’s confident you could take care of yourself if anything were to happen.

You both are breathing heavier after a few more sparring sessions before calling it a night. “You did well.” Price appraises. You smile. “Could I get you a cup of water?”

“Please.”

He walks to his front door, grabbing his keys on the way to unlock the door. By the time he’s found the right key, he feels the heat from your body behind him, waiting for him. He pauses, “I-I can bring it out here to you.”

“I was hoping I could take a seat for a moment?” You look up at him with those eyes and Price swallows any nerves that may be showing.

“O-Of course,” he allows you to step through his door first, holding his door like a gentleman. And to give him time to recover from the whiplash of you entering his space. His den.

John pushes through the thoughts of the beast coming forth. Mine. Water. Getting her water.

He continues his momentum to the kitchen, trying to stay on task. He robotically grabs a glass and gets you the filtered water in the fridge.

Price finds you look around his living room, the fireplace, that hasn’t been lit just yet, that sits under his television with a couch soft blankets. “I like your cottage. It’s cozy.” It’s yours.

John clears his throat as he offers you your drink. “Thanks.” He looks for something to say, anything. But yet, he just stands there, mouth flopping like a fish.

Luckily, your focus wasn’t on him. Simply the pieces of him that lay around. His hands find his pockets once more. The silence makes him antsy. He’s been under much more stressful situations that demanded him to sit and wait. But he can’t. Because it’s you.

“John,” He snaps his attention towards you, “I have a confession.” He waits with bated breath as he watches you place the glass on the side table. He finds his senses have snapped to attention as well, the bear lingering under the surface. He tries to remain calm. You sway towards him and he has to focus on keeping his feet planted. “I didn’t just come here for a lesson…”

You place your hand gently on his chest, right over his heart, as if you hadn’t stolen it already. You look up at him and he could swear he’s being put under your spell. Your scent so strong to him he could barely think about a response, “You didn’t?”

“Well, let’s just call it an appetizer.” You’re flirting with him. Messing with him in a way only you can do.

“An appetizer?” It seemed John could only do so much than repeat what your beautiful voice lilted to him. You stepped closer to him, your perfume, your scent, your arousal became prominent in his nostrils.

“I like you, John.” You admitted. His muscles tense. You offer your lips to him, “And I think you like me too.”

Mine.

His face is burning with heat as you toy with him. He forgets he needs control. He takes your lips, his arms wrapping around you to never let you step away. You taste just as sweet as he imagined. He’s about to bring his hands to gently touch your face before he notices his claws are out.

He uses his body to pin you against the wall, so he can hide from you. He takes a deep breath, trying to remember. By the time he gets himself together, he sees you looking up at him with those eyes of yours and he nearly croons for you, smitten, “You taste so sweet.” He admires longingly. He goes in for one more taste of you before he stops.

You look desperate for more, “You don’t know what you’re getting into you with me.”  He counters, needing an excuse to not ravage you right here, right now.

“I want to know”, you chirp. Former Special Agent Captain John Price nearly loses control of his beast.

John is careful to keep his paws off you, too worried about the last time he’s worn down his claws. He searched his brain for an excuse not to fuck you tonight.

His mind went blank again as you kiss him again, pressing your body against his. Your tits cushioning against his body that he could only describe as soft. His grunts are broken by a deep growl as he tries to remember not to touch everything you’re offering to him.

For some bloody reason…

“John,” You’re breathless against his lip, aching for his touch, “Please…”

Price always knew he was selfish. Territorial. He’s a born predator. It’s in his nature.

But you were not prey. You are not meek or shy.

Price will not devour you. He will savor you. But first, he has to find control within himself.

“Not this time,” He turns you down softly. He can see the barely there flinch, “I want to do it right, sweetie.” That catches your attention again in your lustful haze, pupils open. “Take you out on a few dates.” He leans down to kiss your cheeks, soft, “Spoil you,” his lips descend to your neck, “Tease you,” his teeth feel sharp when they nip at that soft flesh of skin.

It takes a moment for you to come back in your daze, something Price secretly takes pride in, but you relent, “Okay.”

John’s smile is genuine, more than pleased, “Thank you, Honey.”

<-previous part next part -> masterlist ->

[cami-stuffs]

Dominate You (NSFW)

A/N: This fic is related to chapter 13 of Pushing Towards You Series.

Warnings: Dom!Larissa x Sub!Calista; Smut; Cufflinks; Blindfolds; Orgasm Denial; Anal Plug; Double Penetration; Shapeshifting; Dominance; Orgasm Denial; Cunnilingus; Fingerfucking; Aftercare.

Calista has never been to Larissa's private quarters at Nevermore. Usually, the two spent their nights at Calista's apartment since Calista avoided a meeting with Artemis and Gaia if she slept at school. The room was a tiny one-room apartment; the only thing missing was the kitchen, which Calista imagined Larissa used at school.

A large arched window lighted the room. Calista noticed that there was a window seat directly below. The sight brought a smile from Calista as she imagined Larissa sitting there, reading a book on calmer days. Next to the window, on one of the walls, there was a shelf with several books, and right in front, a small table with two chairs and a floor lamp. Calista imagined that there would be a mini library for Larissa where she would read, study, or even eat her meals.

Next to the bookcase, there was a fireplace with a television, two armchairs, a sofa, and a coffee table. Clearly, Larissa made this arrangement to indicate that this would be her living room. On the opposite wall, next to the window, was a door. Calista imagined it would be the bathroom but needed to check if her bet was correct. She would have time to verify it later. Next to that door was a dressing table, where Larissa spent the first few hours of the day putting on makeup and working on her hairstyle.

On the wall, opposite the window, and next to the bedroom's entrance door, there was a large double door where Larissa's closet would be. But Calista needed more curiosity to open it. Larissa's bed was in the middle of the room: a four-poster bed and a nightstand on each side. The bed was big enough to accommodate four Larissas lying down comfortably. The magnitude of the piece of furniture caught Calista’s attention.

There were two pieces of rope hanging over the bed. Initially, Calista thought they were to close the curtains. But, paying a little more attention to the scene, she noticed that the ropes hung on half of the bed and handcuffs at their ends. Calista felt heat rise to her face as she realized what Larissa had planned for their night.

When Larissa entered, Calista was in the center of the room, looking at the bed with the box in her hand. Bringing a bottle of her favorite wine and two glasses, Larissa lingered momentarily at the door to admire the scene. After so many years apart, she had given up sharing that room with Calista. Larissa closed the door with a soft thud, not to startle Calista and still bring her back from her thoughts. Calista moved slightly as if telling Larissa that she knew of her presence, giving Larissa a chance to approach and place a kiss on her neck gently.

"Everything okay? I hope I didn't scare you." Larissa moved her gaze from Calista to the ropes in the middle of the bed. Larissa could feel the stiffness in Calista's body. "Come sit with me, my darling." Gently, she intertwined her fingers with Calista's and pulled her toward the couch.

The two sat on the sofa, facing each other, and Larissa served the wines, passing one of the glasses to an anxious Calista. For a moment, the two were silent.

"Tell me, what's going on in your mind, my love?" Larissa took Calista's fingers to her mouth and kissed them.

"I've never done this before," Calista confessed, looking away from Larissa. Despite accepting, Calista didn't know if he could meet Larissa's expectations, which made her uneasy.

"Don't worry about it, my love. We'll start slowly, and whenever you want, we'll stop." Larissa placed her index finger under Calista's chin and lightly pulled her head until her eyes met. "You will let me dominate you, but ultimately, the control will be all yours." With that, a smile slowly formed on Calista's face, and Larissa came forward to kiss and reassure her.

"I just want to meet your expectations and make you feel good. I love you, Riss." Calista said, opening her heart to Larissa and exposing her insecurities. 

"I love you so much, Lis. Being here with me already exceeds my expectation of having you back." Larissa spoke with her eyes fixed on Calista, cupping her face with both hands. "If you're not ready, we can just lay down and cuddle."

It was clear to Calista that Larissa wanted this. But she knew she wouldn't be forced to do anything, ever. And the ease with which Larissa gave up this moment of pleasure, to the detriment of Calista's well-being, lit a fire inside her chest. In one quick movement, Calista climbed onto Larissa's lap, positioned the legs on either side of her thighs, and kissed her deeply. Larissa was taken aback, but she returned the kiss willingly, and with her hands on Calista's back, she brought their bodies closer.

"Take me to bed, Riss." Calista moaned between Larissa's lips.

"In a few moments, my love. First, we need to adjust some things." Reluctantly, Larissa pulled Calista away a little to look her in the eyes. Calista pouted, and Larissa laughed. "We need to talk about safe words." At that, Calista straightened up and paid attention to Larissa. "Everything I intend to do, I will tell you. I will always ask how you are feeling. You will say green if you feel good, and I can continue. Yellow, if you want me to slow down. Red, if you want me to stop. I don't need any justification; if you say red, I'll stop immediately. Did you understand?" Calista nodded in understanding. "And I'm going to need you to express yourself verbally, always." Larissa looked at her expectantly.

Calista wrapped her arms around Larissa's neck and placed her mouth close to her ear. She said in a low, sighing voice, "I understood, mistress." Larissa gasped, grabbed Calista by her ass, and lifted her onto her lap, taking her to the bed. In front of the bed, Larissa placed Calista on the floor and sat on the edge of the mattress.

"Take off your clothes for your mistress, like the good girl you are." Larissa propped herself up on her elbows as she watched Calista in front of her.

Calista began unbuttoning her shirt, keeping her gaze fixed on Larissa. As the shirt opened, Calista's bra and torso became exposed; Larissa tilted her head and let her jaw drop, mesmerized. Calista dropped her shirt on the floor before she could undo the button on her pants. At that moment, Larissa raised her index finger and spun around, asking Calista to turn her back to take off her pants, as happened in the hotel room in Burlington. Calista hummed with a smile on the corner of her mouth and complied.

Repeating what she did previously, Calista lowered her pants, sticking her butt towards Larissa. This time, she didn't take off her panties. Larissa looked at Calista as she leaned over. Calista's panties didn't cover her entire cheeks, leaving much of it exposed and going through the slit.

"Come here, let me take off your underwear." Calista heard Larissa say in a firm but soft voice. Larissa's blue eyes darkened at Calista's image. Desire was written all over her face as she reached out to Calista, guiding her between her legs. Larissa pecked Calista's breasts that protruded from her bra with her moistened lips and smoothed her back, slowly moving her hand up until she found the clasp.

When the bra fell to the floor, Calista's breasts were so close to Larissa's mouth that she shivered when feeling the hot breath. Larissa placed her palms on either side of Calista's breasts and brought them together in the center of her chest, running her tongue over both nipples at the same time. Calista's moans and sighs were low while Larissa bit and sucked her bosoms. Calista made Larissa groan softly, placing her hands on the back of Larissa's head and intertwining the fingers through her hair. Larissa turned their bodies, and Calista now found herself lying on the mattress, with her legs off the bed and Larissa in the middle of them.

There was no teasing this time. Larissa knelt in front of Calista, removing her panties as she bent down and placed her legs on each shoulder. Larissa took the mouth straight to Calista's clit, sucking lightly and making her moan loudly and squirm. Larissa's tongue ran all over Calista's pussy, lingering a little longer in her little hole. "Delicious!" Larissa praised softly, making Calista's bud flutter.

Calista began to feel a hot sensation in her lower abdomen, and her muscles began to tense. “Oh, Mistress, this is so good. I wanna cum. May I?” Calista didn't know if she could handle it if Larissa denied her request. But confirmation soon came. "Cum for me, my beautiful girl." Calista listened before feeling another suck on her clit. Arching her body, Calista came, moaning loudly and grabbing the bed sheet.

Larissa climbed the bed towards Calista and kissed her softly, waiting for her to return from her peak. "How are you feeling, my darling?" Larissa whispered in Calista's ear while stroking her hair.

"Light. Like I could levitate." Calista said with a smile on her face and eyes closed.

"Good. Let's move on." Larissa knelt on the bed in front of the ropes and offered Calista her hand so she could do the same. "I want you to get on your knees while I handcuff you with your arms up. Color?" Larissa kept her gaze fixed on Calista to catch any sign of discomfort.

Calista's eyes went from Larissa to the handcuffs. Calista felt a light tickle at her core. With her eyes back on Larissa, Calista smiled. "Green, Mistress."

Larissa smirked and placed a light kiss on Calista's lips. "Sit on the bed, under the handcuffs, and raise your arms for me, my dear."

Calista obeyed promptly. The handcuffs were padded. Larissa chose not to leave marks on Calista's wrist the next day. Sitting on the bed, Calista's arms were almost entirely stretched out, but it wasn't uncomfortable. After handcuffing Calista, Larissa positioned herself on her back and wrapped one of the arms around her torso, pulling her up and making her land on her knees.

The new position allowed Calista to lower her shoulders more comfortably. Larissa got out of bed and undressed, looking Calista in the eyes. Calista lightly bit her lips, smiling. There, naked, on her knees, and handcuffed to the bed, Calista felt exposed and desired at the same time. The tickling sensation once again appeared in her slit, and she made to close her legs, seeking some relief. Larissa noticed the movement. "My girl is squirming. Are you feeling any pain?" A mischievous smile crossed Larissa's smile. Calista groaned and shook her head. "Words, my love. Use your words." Larissa commanded, pursing her lips.

"I'm feeling fine, Mistress, thank you." Calista whimpered.

Leaving Calista's sight, Larissa went to the sofa and returned with the toy box in her hands. Calista felt a slight tug of anticipation in her center as she saw the package being uncapped. From inside, Larissa removed a blindfold and showed it to Calista.

"I want to blindfold you. But if I do, you can no longer anticipate my movements. My voice and my touch will guide you. Color?" Larissa waited anxiously. She also felt ticklish between her legs.

"Green, mistress, please." Calista blushed, and the tickles turned into small shocks running through her clit.

"Good," Larissa said, smiling and climbing onto the bed towards Calista.

Kneeling behind Calista, Larissa smoothed her back and thighs, grabbing her cheeks and separating them slightly. Calista moaned, throwing her head back and finding Larissa's chest for support. Larissa kissed and nibbled Calista's shoulders while the hands ran down her stomach and up towards her breasts. The chains that held her were the last things Calista saw before Larissa blindfolded her. In the darkness, Calista's other senses heightened, and now she heard Larissa moaning softly and felt Larissa's breasts press against her back.

Calista leaned against Larissa's and felt her hands running over her body. Larissa lowered one of her hands and lightly caressed Calista's swollen clit. With circular movements, Larissa gently pressed Calista's bean while the other hand closed lightly around Calista's neck, giving it a light squeeze. "Color?" Larissa asked in a hoarse voice.

Calista felt the pressure on her neck and the shock on her button. The feeling was ecstatic, and she almost missed Larissa's question. "Green, Mistress." She managed to say, hearing Larissa moan in her ear and feeling wet kisses on her neck.

Larissa placed kisses and bites on Calista's neck, being careful not to leave any marks on her. Her hand continued to apply light pressure to Calista's throat, nothing more than what was allowed. In Calista's pussy, Larissa's hand was now stroking her entrance, lightly inserting and removing the tip of her finger, teasing. Calista felt her second orgasm building and wondered if she would have to beg again.

"Cum again for me, babe." The answer came from Larissa herself as if she had read Calista's thoughts.

Larissa felt her cum approaching, but it wasn't time to release her yet. When Calista returned from ecstasy, Larissa gently got out of bed towards the box and took a deep breath. Larissa felt a slight pain in her clit as she denied her orgasm.

Calista felt the mattress move in the dark as Larissa left the bed. Calista's body was even more relaxed, and, sitting on her knees, Calista felt her legs shaking after the second orgasm. The mattress moved again, and Calista felt Larissa's body approach behind her.

"That's a butt plug," Larissa said in Calista's ear as she spread her cheeks and rubbed her arse with the toy. "I want to insert it into you and leave it there while I eat your pussy. Give me a color, pretty girl."

Calista remembered the last time they played with her butt. Calista enjoyed it, but it was Larissa's finger, not a plug. She tried to remember the size and shape of the plug when she rummaged through the box, but her mind was already too clouded to remember. Her mind was restless, but her body was asking for the experience. She remembered the safe words and knew she could ask to stop at any time.

"Green, Mistress." She replied after pondering.

Larissa noticed the moment of hesitation. "Let's go slowly; you'll give me the color."

Larissa lubricated the plug and positioned it at the entrance to Calista's hole. The cold sensation of the lubricant made Calista startle and let out a low moan. Slowly, Larissa inserted the plug. Calista felt a slight burning sensation and a stretch, hissing; she thrust her body forward and said, "Yellow."

Larissa stopped immediately. With the plug half inserted, she held it still firmly in place with one hand while the other hand slid down the front of Calista's body, stopping right at her clit. Larissa knew the feeling. Slowly, she rubbed and massaged Calista's bud, relaxing her body.

"That's it, my beauty. Just relax." Larissa whispered in Calista's ear while she massaged her clitoris. "Give me the next color when you feel ready."

Little by little, Calista adjusted to the plug, and Larissa's caresses helped her. She already felt that pressure and throbbing again. "Green, mistress," Calista said after a while.

This time, Larissa made light, circular movements, applying pressure to the plug as if screwing it. The other hand continued massaging Calista's pussy. Sometime later, the plug was fully inserted into Calista.

“Good girl. You’re taking it so good.” Larissa purred in Calista’s ear, leaving pecks on her neck.

Larissa effortlessly lifted Calista by the waist, placing herself beneath her between her legs. The plug moved inside Calista, making her moan and squirm, and she already felt her walls clenching around the void. Straddling Larissa's lap, Calista now felt a bulging press against her pussy and realized that Larissa had shifted.

"Do I need to ask for a color, my pretty girl?" Larissa whispered with her mouth on one of Calista's nipples and rubbed the tip of her dick at her entrance.

"Ohh...no, Mistress. But...Ohhh...It's green." Calista moved her hips towards Larissa's cock, feeling it slowly slide inside her. Larissa laughed softly and then gasped when she felt herself inside Calista.

Calista felt fulfilled entirely now. Larissa's dick pressed against the plug and increased Calista's arousal. Calista's next orgasm was approaching before she even started grinding; she already felt the twisting in her lower abdomen when Larissa's voice brought her back.

"You're only allowed to cum after me," Larissa whispered. "Now, be a good girl and start twerking." With her hands on Calista's waist, Larissa began the movement, dictating the rhythm.

Larissa felt the plug move inside Calista as she pounded her, massaging her cock. Having held back the first orgasm, Larissa felt the second being quickly built. Calista kept Larissa's words in her mind and held back the next approaching climax. She wanted to be a good girl, but her body was already showing signs that that wouldn't be possible. A flood of sensations washed over her body, with both holes filled, Calista writhed, and her walls clenched tightly around Larissa and the plug at the same time. She came screaming loudly, her head feeling cloudy and her ears muffled.

As the euphoria of cumming wore off, Calista remembered that Larissa hadn't cum yet and felt the rigidity of her Mistress's body beneath her. Without warning, Calista's body was lifted into the air, and Larissa came out from under her. Once again on her knees, Calista heard the sound of chains being released, allowing her to lower her arms completely despite still having her hands cuffed.

Larissa was silent as she moved around the room. Calista was still blindfolded and didn't know what was happening around her. Suddenly, she felt Larissa's hand on her back and another on her hip, applying pressure and bending her body forward. Calista now had her head resting on a pillow, and her ass was open and perky. She already anticipated what was coming and felt her inner walls tighten again.

"I thought you were my good girl. But you couldn't follow my orders." Larissa was now behind Calista, caressing her back and rubbing her crotch against her. Again, she had to hold back her orgasm, and the sensation of pain increased; she needed relief.

"Oh...sorry, Mistress. It was so delicious, I couldn't help myself. But I can be your good girl again." Calista moaned and slowly rocked her hips, looking for more of Larissa's touch on her already very sensitive sex.

"No apologies now, my baby girl." Larissa had a mischievous tone in her voice. Positioning the tip of her dick at Calista's free entrance, Larissa pushed inside. "Now, I will need to punish you for disobedience." She pounded Calista firmly. "But first, you'll make your mistress feel good."

Larissa moved her hips back and forth, watching her cock move in and out of Calista's pussy hole. Her hands gripped Calista's hips to hold it in place as she pushed her body against it with hard, fast thrusts. Larissa felt the pressure in her lower abdomen increase. Having been denied her orgasm twice, Larissa was desperate to unload herself inside Calista. A warm sensation began to rise in Larissa's chest, and she felt as if her insides were twisting.

"Give me a color." She commanded, almost shouting. Upon hearing "green" coming from a panting and overstimulated Calista, Larissa increased the speed of her hips, punching Calista's cervix hard. She didn't stop until she came, feeling the hot liquid coat the entire inner wall of Calista's pussy.

"Oh...mistress, may I cum?" Calista asked for permission this time, but she doubted she could hold back if Larissa refused.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” Larissa responded with a muffled voice returning from the sensation of post-cum stupor.

Calista peaked for the fourth time on the same night and in a short time. It was pleasurable, but her clit was so sensitive that it felt like it was being pinched. Larissa removed her cock from inside Calista and gently pulled her legs, making her lie on her stomach. Calista felt her hands being freed and the knot of the blindfold being undone.

She blinked a few times to get used to the light returning to her eyes. Still lying on her stomach with her arms above her head, Calista rolled onto her side until she was lying on her back and lowered her arms, relaxing her body and catching her breath. She still felt the plug inside her arse and wondered when Larissa would remove it. Larissa had gotten out of bed shortly after releasing Calista. She returned from the box with a new toy in her hands.

"Time for your punishment, my beautiful girl." She responded as she received a curious look from Calista.

"I thought that rough fucking was my punishment," Calista responded, feeling as if small electrical waves passed through her swollen clit.

"Oh...No. That was just me, needing a blast." Calista smiled mischievously. "This right here is your punishment." She raised a double-ended strap onto Calista's eye level. "Remember I said I wanted to feel you inside me? So now is the time. I believe you still have the plug in." Larissa knew so. But she wanted confirmation. Calista nodded. "Words. I need to hear you."

"Yes, Mistress. I still have the plug." Calista cooed as she watched Larissa put the strap-on on her and adjust it on her pubic bone. Calista felt filled again as the dildo on her end was inserted inside her.

Larissa climbed on top of Calista, opening her arms at shoulder height. Leaning forward, Larissa kissed Calista intensely, running her tongue all over her mouth. Breaking the kiss, Larissa bit Calista's earlobe and whispered, "You're just going to watch while I ride you and touch myself. It's forbidden to cum and touch me until I say otherwise. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress. I understand." Calista moaned softly, squirming beneath Larissa.

"Then repeat my orders so I can hear you," Larissa commanded with a strict voice.

"No cumming, no touching, until you, Mistress, say so," Calista repeated the orders, which she found difficult to follow.

"Good girl," Larissa said, kissing Calista again before positioning herself.

Larissa positioned the entrance to her pussy at the tip of the silicone dick and slowly sat down. She was wet enough not to need lube, and it wasn't her first experience, but the slow movement allowed Larissa to feel the entire length of the fake cock penetrating her. She straightened her body and looked at Calista.

"Eyes on me all the time," Larissa said as she began to move her hips back and forth slowly.

As Larissa rode, Calista felt the dick move inside her, pushing against the plug. She kept her eyes fixed on Larissa, watching how her body slowly responded to the thrusts. Larissa panted and moaned, never taking her eyes off Calista's. Those blue eyes looking directly at her turned Calista on; she had to grab the sheets not to hold Larissa and force her to move faster.

Larissa leaned forward and supported herself on Calista's hips. Gradually, Larissa increased the speed of her thrusts until, once again, her body was washed by the sensation of pleasure. Even though she was cumming, Larissa kept her gaze on Calista, even though her eyes were half-closed. Calista watched Larissa's body contract and her mouth fall open. It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen. Larissa cumming all over her.

Larissa continued to move slowly, returning from ecstasy and catching her breath. She looked at Calista, smiling. "I'm going to need help with the next one," Larissa said. Calista reached out to touch her, but Larissa raised her hand, stopping the gesture. "No touching. I'm going to pleasure myself. You're going to keep watching, but this time, we're going to cum together. If you touch me, I'm going to add a few spanks to your ass with the plug still on."

Calista's eyes widened when she heard about the spankings. If she could imagine bending over Larissa's lap with her bare bottom being spanked, it would make Calista feel those tickles between her legs. "Maybe another time", she thought.

Larissa started giving strong thrusts again, and now her hand touched his clit with smooth, circular movements. The other hand touched her breasts and pinched her nipples, sending a wave of pleasure through her body. Calista watched the whole scene, amazed. She knew she could cum, but she held on to wait for Larissa. The fake dick and the plug poked her walls harder as Larissa rode and rolled on top of her. Larissa, in turn, felt the heat rising through her body again. The sight of Calista about to cum increased her arousal.

"Mistress...I'm about to cum." Calista said, feeling the tension in her muscles and the spasms in her walls.

"Cum for your Mistress, my beautiful girl. I'm almost there." Larissa responded, panting, increasing the speed of her pounding.

Calista came once again. She felt her lower region contract so hard that she thought she was going to expel the plug from inside her. She arched her body and raised her hips, thrusting into Larissa harder and deeper. The tip of the dildo poking her cervix was the trigger Larissa needed to cum. Moaning loudly, Larissa's body fell forward, leaning on Calista.

Calista and Larissa were exhausted and panting. Slowly, Larissa got off Calista, panting softly. As always happened, Larissa took the lead in the aftercare. Gently, she removed Calista's strap-on and asked her to turn on her back to pull the plug. Larissa knew that removing the plug could be as painful as inserting it. She lay down behind Calista, leaning their bodies against each other, gently kissing her neck. Her hand smoothed Calista's cheeks for a moment, and then, holding the base of the plug, Larissa slowly removed it. Calista started and hissed softly. She felt slight pain and a feeling of emptiness in the area.

"How are you feeling, my love?" Larissa asked softly, wrapping Calista around her body. "Did I hurt you?"

"Exhausted. But incredibly relaxed and happy." Calista smiled and settled into Larissa's arms.

"I think we need a shower before bed." Larissa laughed. She gently pulled Calista out of bed and lifted her bridal style.

Calista laughed as she was lifted and rested her head on Larissa's chest, enjoying the tender moment.

The door next to the window did, in fact, give access to Larissa's bathroom, as Calista suspected. Larissa placed Calista on the floor and turned on the shower, letting the water run for a few seconds until it reached the appropriate temperature.

Larissa helped Calista get into the shower and slowly washed her body, massaging her back and shoulders. Upon regaining her strength, Calista flushed Larissa's body, returning the same kindness.

Calista hadn't brought pajamas, so she picked out some of Larissa's comfortable clothes to sleep in. Calista chose a Nevermore Class of 1991 shirt. She had one like it at home and thought this was the appropriate time to use it. Larissa smiled when she saw Calista wearing that blouse and pulled her in for a kiss.

Larissa picked up Calista, wrapped her arms around her, and pressed her against her body. Calista snuggled up to Larissa, and before falling asleep, she said, "I love you, Riss. Thank you for today."

In response, Larissa squeezed Calista softly, kissed her head, and said, "I love you so much, Lis. Thank you for being here with me."

[theboywithburninghands]

Hello and Happy Pride! I have the penultimate chapter of the murder mystery au for you. It’s a doozy, there’s romance and conspiracy and root beer. Enjoy!

T/W: Murder, suicide, mild surgery, emotional abuse, fantasy racism

Animals Ch. 4: Dogs

You have to be trusted by the people that you lie to

So that when they turn their backs on you,

You'll get the chance to put the knife in…

—

Pomni was dimly aware of a deep ache in her side. This pain wrestled her from sleep, and she blinked awake. She looked up, but instead of her apartment’s cheap popcorn ceiling, she saw a ceiling with visible oak joists and beams. She looked down at herself, and saw a red and black checkered wool throw blanket wrapped around her rather than her quilt. She looked around and saw herself in a wood cabin, sparsely decorated. A sturdy wooden table and chairs in the middle of the main room, a braided, dull-colored wool rug laid across the floor to keep one’s feet warm, a brick fireplace with a shovelful of still warm ash in the hearth. Tilting her all the way up, she could see a small CRT television sat on an end table, in front of a cheap brown loveseat with red chenille cushions. It looked like someone had slept there last night, the pillows stacked at one end and a rumpled blue blanket on the couch.

She raised her arm to check her watch. It hurt a lot. She saw that her arm had been wrapped up in elastic gauze, but her watch was still on her wrist, although the screen had cracked. 7:21 AM. She moved the blanket aside with her left hand, her good hand, to look at herself. She was in a black t-shirt too large for her that appeared to be ruined by a bleach stain, and what appeared to be a pair of red long johns, also too big for her.

She heard the flush of a toilet and a door open at the far end of the room, but she couldn’t turn all the way to look without aggravating the pain in her stomach. A heavy pair of boots approached the bed, and she thought about throwing the blanket over her head like a child hiding from the monster in her closet.

“Hey. You’re up.”

A deep and growly voice greeted her. Above her stood a burly rabbit-wolf hybrid in a white collared shirt, black dress pants and a pair of black suspenders. He smiled sheepishly, trying not to show too much of his enormous teeth. She recognized him. He was the butcher shop owner.

His name was… Jax.

“Sorry, I just got back from feeding my livestock…Do you remember what happened last night?” the rabbit asked.

Pomni thought. She came home, and she couldn’t get in her apartment, and then…

“You got attacked by a Nightwalker,” the rabbit-wolf said. “I’m not sure what happened before then, but I found it biting into your side right outside your apartment. I know you probably feel horrible, and I don’t blame you, but you actually got sorta lucky. Nightwalkers like to travel in packs, so you probably ran into one that had wandered off from the group. A juvenile or runt or something.”

Pomni looked at him with big eyes. He cleared his throat.

“We should get you to the hospital as soon as we can. I patched you up as best I could, but I’m no doctor. You prolly need stitches.”

He looked at her again. Neither of them said anything for a moment. Jax’s ears pinned back, and he scratched behind one of them.

“…Uh. You were freezing too, so I had to warm you up by the fire and get you into dry clothes. Didn’t want you to get hypothermia…” His ears perked up. “A-Are you hungry? I can make you some food.”

Pomni opened her mouth to speak, but an eruption of coughing came out of her instead. She winced at the pain that flared in her abdomen when she did, clutching at her belly after her throat was sated.

Jax looked away with a grimace. “I know, I’m sorry… hang on, I might have something for the pain and cough. It’s not much, but…”

Jax looked inside the first aid kit he left sitting on the table. There was a small packet of extra strength aspirin inside that he gingerly opened with his large fingers. He went into his bathroom and found some acetaminophen in the medicine cabinet, filling a small glass cup with water from his kitchen tap. He carried the pills in one hand and the cup in the other.

“Can you sit up? I don’t want you to choke.” he asked.

Pomni attempted to scoot up in bed, but the nerves in her arm flashed with a pain that cut right to her ulna and she whimpered.

“Here, I’ll be quick,” Jax set the pills and water on the table and gently put his paws under her armpits, sliding her up against the headboard. She whined from the brief pain, but she remained sat up as Jax brought a chair over to the side of the bed and picked up the medicine and cup again.

“Open,” he requested. She opened her mouth and he put the pills on her tongue, bringing the brim of the glass to her lips. “Easy…”

She drained the entire thing, panting and then coughing again, her face crumpling in pain.

“That's all I got,” he growled meekly, putting a paw onto her left shoulder.

Pomni panted, sniffed twice through a clogged nose, swallowed, and managed to speak.

“Jax… weren’t you in jail? Did you… escape..?” Her voice was raspy.

Jax smiled a bit, still doing his best to hide his fangs. “Nah, I got bailed out. No idea who did it. My dad’s never seen that much scratch in his life.”

“Zooble wanted to bail you out yesterday but they didn’t have enough money…” Pomni mumbled.

“Sounds like them. Nah, I got no idea who did it. But I’m glad they did, cuz that way I was in time to get that Nightwalker off you. What were you doing outside?” Jax asked.

“I got locked out… Slipped and fell on the steps… I lost my keys at Kaufmo’s house…” Pomni rasped.

“Kaufmo’s house?”

“I went yesterday… I wanted to see if there was…” Pomni had to stop to swallow, smothering another cough. “If there was anything that might implicate someone else for his… you know… murder.”

Jax tilted his head, letting out a short, breathy laugh. “That’s… Uh, why? I mean, thank you, but-”

“Because you didn’t do it. I know you didn’t do it. Those detectives… I saw the way they looked at you. It wasn’t fair…”

Pomni bit down on her left hand’s fingernails. “But… if you got bailed out, then it was for nothing, wasn’t it..?”

“No,” Jax leaned forward a bit. “That’s… I don’t think any stranger’s ever stuck their neck out for me like that. Thank you.”

Jax smiled again. It was too wide to hide his large, frightening teeth, but Pomni’s pale face became dusted with pink anyway.

“We didn’t find anything anyway before the repo men got there. Just a bunch of pills and a scrap of burnt up paper someone flushed down the toilet…” she wheezed.

Pomni coughed again, groaning at the pain it caused her. Jax rubbed her shoulder.

“We should go to the hospital. I’m not all that hungry right now… But I don’t know if I can walk.” Pomni admitted. “Is it cold out?”

“Uh, I can turn the weather on.”

Jax got up from his chair and pressed the power button of his television with a hollow tink sound. The screen hissed to life, and the audio kicked in.

“-surprised everyone yesterday when he posted bail for Mr. Kingston.”

Jax’s eyes widened somewhat, and he sat down on the loveseat. The same news anchor that was interviewing Jax’s dad on Main Street yesterday now stood in front of the police station. The scene cut to Autumnvale’s mayor, a teeth-humanoid in an impeccably tailored red suit jacket and yellow scarf, standing at a podium in front of town hall.

“The people of Autumnvale have made their stance quite clear. The persecution of crossbreeds is already intolerable enough as it is, and the demonstration out here has shown that Autumnvale is just as tired of it as I am. Therefore, due to my dissatisfaction with the investigation and the evidence, I posted Jax Kingston’s bail yesterday evening.”

The crowd erupted into equal parts cheers and shouts of protests. The picture cut back to the news anchor.

“Police informed ADC news this morning that Mr. Kingston was privately released at 6:15 last night to avoid a scene. The detectives who arrested Mr. Kingston, as well as Kingston himself, have yet to be reached for comment.”

Pomni couldn’t quite turn to look due to her injuries, but she heard Jax give a short, incredulous laugh.

“I’ll be goddamned… Mayor Mason actually did it.”

He gave another short laugh, switching channels on the television to the weather.

“Do you know him..? The mayor?” Pomni asked. She couldn't help but smile right along with the butcher.

“He saved me. He found me when I was a baby, after my fake parents abandoned me. He also helped these grow in.”

Jax showed off his entire maw of razor sharp teeth. Pomni couldn’t help but shiver, despite how kind he had been. When something had big teeth, it was scary, a primal feeling buried deep in her animal brain.

“Is that… a good thing?” Pomni asked.

“Suuure it is. I’m part wolf, meat’s part of my diet. Plus, if I didn’t have that passion, I never would have opened the best butcher shop in the country.”

Pomni smiled again. “Well, I’m happy for you. But we still don’t know who actually did it… Killed Kaufmo I mean.”

“That can wait. You need the hospital. The only issue is, it’s not getting above 23 degrees today, and your snow clothes got… really messed up.”

Jax picked up her puffer jacket with the massive hole ripped in the side from off the table, and in his other hand, showed her fleece and black long sleeved shirt, the blood had dried on both to the point that it would probably never come out in the wash, unless said wash contained antimatter.

“Ohhh… my mom bought those for me…” Pomni said weakly. “They were part of my going away present…”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to sew.” Jax replied. “Ragatha might, but I don’t even think she could fix a mess this bad… But the good news is, I’ve got spare winter stuff. I used to wear it as a teenager, but it’ll probably still be big on you…”

He went over to the wood trunk at the foot of the bed and opened it, the hinges squeaking. After a few moments of rustling, he got out an insulated brown leather jacket with cream fur trim, a gray trapper hat and baggy, dark green squall pants.

“It’s not Gucci, but it beats freezing.” Jax said.

“You know what? That’s fine with me-” Pomni had another coughing fit, clutching her midsection in pain.

“Fuck..!” she exclaimed.

Jax rose to his feet, putting the chair back under his table. “Yup, that’s my cue to get you to the hospital. You need help getting dressed?”

“Uh… no, I uh…” she stammered with a blush.

“Look, I already cleaned you up and got you changed into dry clothes last night, so it’s no big deal. I don’t want you torturing yourself over pride or anything.” Jax said, looking up at the ceiling.

“I mean… I can do it. Just… if I need help, I’ll… call you? I guess?”

“Sure. I can hang out in the bathroom. Just holler if you need anything, okay?” Jax said. He set the clothes down on his bed, tucked his hands into the pockets of his work pants and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

It took a good fifteen minutes and a great deal of whinging on her part, but Pomni got herself dressed. The only thing that hadn’t been swapped for something dry and warm was her underwear, which she silently appreciated quite a bit. She examined the bandages on her belly, which were reddish-brown with blood, but otherwise fairly clean. The wounds on her forehead and back had been washed and bandaged as well, although a few locks of her hair were quite sticky with dried blood. She needed a shower when it was safe to take one.

“Okay, I’m done.” Pomni called out, sitting on Jax’s bed.

Jax exited the bathroom and smirked upon seeing Pomni.

“I know, I know, I look like I’m wearing my dad’s clothes.” Pomni sighed.

“You look cute.” Jax replied.

Pomni felt her cheeks warm up. “Th-Thanks… so, are we just gonna call an ambulance? Since I don’t feel strong enough to walk…”

“Haven’t got a phone. I can walk you there.” Jax said. “What would be the most comfortable way for me to carry you?”

“You don’t have a car..? Or a horse?” Pomni asked.

“Nope. I get everywhere on my own two feet. When you’ve lived in this backwater as long as I have, you get good at moving around quickly and quietly.”

Pomni sighed. “Okay, fine. I guess we don’t have a choice, really.”

“What? Are you worried I’ll drop you? I carried you all the way here before, didn’t I? While running.”

Pomni sighed. “Okay. But before we go, can we get my keys? I know they’re still sitting there under his back window…”

“I’ll get ‘em after I drop you off. Hospital first. Come on, upsy.”

Jax scooped Pomni up carefully, placing his hands around the gash on her back. Pomni made a faint squeak in surprise, but luckily, he didn’t aggravate her wound. He must have gotten really good at picking up dead weight over the years.

“Shit, you’re tiny. Like lifting a bag of corncobs.” Jax grinned. Up close his teeth were even bigger than they looked, each one about the length of a toothpick.

“Yeah, well… you stink.” Pomni shot back. “You always use bacon grease as soap?”

Jax laughed. His chest bounced. “As if you can smell anything right now.”

“I can smell you. You ever thought about bathing once every few years?” Pomni covered her nose, but her smirk betrayed a playfulness to the gesture.

He opened the door to outside, shutting the door behind him and locking the door. Impressively, he balanced her on one palm and still managed to keep his hand off her back wound.

The morning air was freezing, as expected. Pomni felt a wave of shivers roll through her body upon feeling the bitter winter cold again. She felt her body gearing up for another coughing fit and clapped her hands over her mouth.

“Don’t worry, I gotcha…” Jax said.

She let out a painful, barking cough into her gloves. She winced from the pain, which was only mildly dulled from the pill Jax gave her. As it finally subsided, she turned her head to the side and spat a gob of phlegm into the snow.

“Nice shot,” Jax chuckled.

“Mmmrrrrgh…” was the only thing Pomni managed to say. She rested her cheek against his chest. The warmth felt good.

—

While Dr. Wren’s office was the town psychiatric clinic, Autumnvale Regional Medical Center was where citizens were treated for injuries or sickness. It was a small building not too far from town, only one floor with twenty beds, five nurses and three doctors.

The nurse at the reception desk did a double take from her pulpy romance novel when a six foot tall rabbit-wolf entered the lobby, carrying what looked at first like a bundle of clothes, but was actually an adult woman.

“She fell down some stairs and got attacked by a Nightwalker. I did my best to patch her up, but she needs real medicine and stitches. It hurts for her to walk, too.”

The nurse narrowed her eyes at Jax before looking at Pomni. “You… fell down some stairs..?”

Pomni caught on immediately and rolled her eyes. “Yes, I fell down some stairs. He didn’t do this to me. He saved my fucking life, actually.”

She let out another barrage of coughs and groaned in pain, Jax smiling gratefully at her,

The nurse soon had Pomni in a wheelchair, taking her to the emergency room. The surgeon, a Persian woman almost as short as Pomni with rectangular glasses and bright red lipstick, tended to her. She applied some local anesthesia to Pomni’s belly and removed the bandages, Pomni only feeling a faint rip as her skin had gone totally numb.

“You know, these are cleaned and dressed quite professionally,” the surgeon said as she removed the gauze from the bite mark with a pair of forceps. “Your friend out there did a fine job. So, tell me what happened?”

Pomni thought a moment. It was easier to focus now that the pain had finally been put on mute. “There was this… I don’t want to call it a dog, it had hooves and no hair…”

“Nightwalker,” the surgeon said, picking up her suturing needle and threading it with Kevlar. “Awful monsters, they are. They come in all different shapes and sizes. Some of them move on two legs, like people. Some of them have too many arms and legs.”

“Uh huh. Well it came over and bit me, hard. It must have seen I was already hurt. But Jax… he got it with a knife and carried me to his house. I would’ve bled out or froze without him…”

Pomni coughed, the nurse giving her a menthol drop to soothe her throat so she wouldn’t jostle the surgeon’s needlework.

“Well, we’re all glad you’re safe. Did you ever find your keys?” the surgeon asked with a slight smile.

“No, but I know where they are…” Pomni said, sucking on the menthol drop. It felt great on her throat but tasted like chemical honey. “Jax said he’d go get them.”

“Well, that’s good. I’m glad you have someone who can look after you here, even if you’re from out of town…” the surgeon said as she cut off the thread with a pair of scissors before moving to the next bite. “Your wounds aren’t infected, but we are going to give you a tetanus and rabies shot just in case. I’m also going to give you some painkillers, are you allergic to any medication?”

“I have a sulfa sensitivity,” Pomni said. “Oh, I am on antidepressants though… I have the pills in my apartment.”

“We can probably give you some if we have any in the hospital pharmacy. I’ll have to check if they haven’t expired. Have you had anything to eat?” the surgeon inquired.

“No. Since my stomach doesn’t hurt right now, I could go for something to eat. I also need to call my parents. Man, they’re gonna be pissed…”

“Don’t be silly, they’ll be worried and relieved. I’ve seen it happen plenty of times.” the surgeon replied as she started on the next wound.

Pomni sighed. She supposed the surgeon was right, but she really hoped that her parents didn’t panic and want to take her back home. She was four hours away from the big city anyway, it wasn’t like it was a short trip for them. She had work to do as well, not just for school.

—

Jax sifted through the snow under Kaufmo’s back window. The drift wasn’t as heavy due to a colossal pine tree that had probably been here since before the town was even founded, but it was enough to hide a small object like keys.

Eventually, he found a few bits and bobs that might be in a lady’s purse buried in an inconspicuous patch of snow: a half eaten roll of breath mints, a bobby pin, and a ring of keys. Jax held up the keys between his thumb and pointer finger. It was one of those flimsy 99 cent things you could buy at any gas station, with two keys and a little charm dangling off one side. The charm appeared to depict a little blue smiling face with black eyes and sharp teeth.

“Hm. Cute,” Jax said to himself as he tucked the keys into his pocket. He looked into the window . So she had really gone in there looking for clues, huh? Brave of her, if careless. Well, now that the government repossessed all of Kaufmo’s things (he probably didn’t have a will), whatever clues there may have been were long gone.

That is, unless the cleaners hadn’t come yet.

Jax shaded his eyes and looked into the window. Too dark to tell. He tried the window. It was locked. He tried again, a little harder. It didn’t move. He tried again with his full strength. There was a loud twuuuuuung accompanied by the sound of metal clinking across a wooden floor, and the window slid open. Jax double checked to see if anybody was around, then climbed inside.

There wasn’t any furniture at all in the condo, really. The refrigerator in the kitchen appeared to be the only thing left. The hardwood was covered in gritty bits of crud that must have been under rugs, dust bunnies and a couple bits of loose change and chewed pen caps that had lived under couches and chairs for who knows how long. It smelled dusty and lonely. Jax rubbed his nose.

He took a brief look inside the bathroom. It was still a bit grimy, but otherwise empty. He checked the mirror cabinet. Empty. He opened the toilet lid, then closed it. Yeah, he wasn’t about to go sticking a paw in there, sorry Pomni.

He checked the last room, the bedroom. It was the only room with carpeting, and thus Jax could see where everything used to be thanks to the impressions in the floor. A bed, a dresser, something like a bookshelf or wardrobe. That was it. There was another window to the outside, but it wasn’t like you could take those out of the house too. Nothing in the closet either.

He turned to leave out the window he came through when his boot kicked something tiny on the carpet, about the size of a pebble you’d put in an aquarium. It skittered across the carpet and tapped the wall, coming to rest after rolling a short distance. Jax picked it up and held it towards the light filtering through the window.

A capsule, half blue and half orange. The blue side marked with a string of letters, TEBA, the orange marked with numbers, 7199. He sniffed it. Smelled like… the floor. His sense of smell was good, but he couldn’t pinpoint what a pill was for just by sniffing it once. He put it in his back pocket for later, then stepped out of the window into the snow. Maybe Pomni knew what it was for, or one of the doctors at the hospital. He crunched up the sidewalk back towards the hospital. He was always thankful for his fur, it was like having a coat year-round.

“KINGSTON!”

Jax’s long ears sprung straight up upon hearing a voice call for him. He growled and turned, expecting to see Trevor or some other goon waiting to pick a fight for “getting off easy.”

Instead, it was two people on a striped horse. The person in the rear clambered off the back and ran forward, a chess piece shaped fellow in a red flannel jacket and bucket fishing hat.

“Jax..! Oh, my boy!” Kinger threw his hands around Jax’s burly torso and pressed an ear to his chest, squeezing him with all his might.

“Dad..! Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t…” Jax began. He could feel Kinger’s breath and shoulders hitching.

“We all thought they were gonna put you away forever, Jax…” Kinger whispered, tears running down his face.

“…I did too, dad.” Jax replied tenderly. He hugged the old man back as tight as he could without hurting him. His real dad.

“I’m so glad you’re here…” Kinger sobbed.

“Me too… I’m sorry I didn’t call, really. Something huge came up, I- OOF!”

Jax felt a fist box him in the side. He looked over to see Zooble, their fist raised and quaking.

“Something came up, huh? It better have been life or death, you stupid! Meathead! Asshole!” Zooble punctuated the last three words with three more sharp blows to the side. Jax’s arms were still around his adoptive father and thus too preoccupied for a counter hit.

“Zooble, cut it out already, that shit hurts! Sorry dad…”

The cowboy relented with a huff and hugged Jax as well. The butcher rolled his eyes, but smiled and put an arm around them too.

“So what was so important you couldn’t let your friends and family know you were outta jail?” Zooble demanded.

“That art student girl, Pomni, she- I was on my to vi- I was on my way home and I saw her getting attacked by a Nightwalker. She needed help.” Jax explained.

Zooble withdrew and tilted up their hat incredulously. “Wait, Pomni? Seriously?! I just saw her yesterday, we were casing Kaufmo’s place over there for any evidence that might get you off the hook? She got attacked! Shit, man, I hope it wasn’t ‘cause I left her behind…”

“Good job son! Killing a Nightwalker all on your own… your mother would have been proud!” Kinger said, at last releasing Jax and wiping his eyes.

“I know she would’ve, dad… But no, it wasn’t you, Zooble. She lost her keys.” Jax held up and jingled Pomni’s keychain. “She’s in the hospital now if you want to see her. I had to keep her from bleeding to death last night…”

“Ugh. What a fuckin’ mess… Sorry, Kinger. I’m glad she’s okay though.” Zooble said, putting their hand and hook on their hips.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Jax,” Kinger said. “And good for you for helping a stranger. I raised you right.”

“You know she’s got a crush on you, right?” Zooble added, a smile in their voice. Jax arched an eyebrow.

“What? Don’t be stupid. She’s just thankful someone was around to save her skinny little butt.”

“Ohhhh no no, we figured it out yesterday. She’s got a huuuge crush on you. I bet she thinks you’re her knight in shining armor now.” Zooble elbowed the butcher in the side.

Jax scoffed, but there was an unmistakable shy smile on his face for a moment before it turned into a smirk.

“A crush, huh? You mean like the kind you have on Gangle?”

Zooble rolled their eyes. “This again? Don’t try and change the subject, man.”

“I’m not. I’m very much still on the subject of crushes. In fact, I think I was just thinking about what those flowers left by Kaufmo’s house were originally for. There was a card left in the bouquet.”

Jax removed a small paper card with elegant lavender cursive written on it from his back pocket. Zooble somehow turned even more pink.

“Let’s see, ‘To Gangle, From Your Secret Admirer,’ with two little hearts after it! How cute! Now who do ya think coulda left that there, hm?”

Zooble flicked the card out of Jax’s paw and pulled the brim of their hat almost entirely over their face, climbing up onto ZigZag.

“We’ll meet you at the hospital, FangFace. I’m gonna go tell Ragatha about what happened and hope she doesn’t swoon.”

“You better tell Gangle too. Unless you’d rather send her a card, ‘Secret Admirer.’” Jax leered, feral teeth on full display.

He ducked an apple thrown at his head, waved goodbye to his dad, and watched the two of them ride off into the distance.

Jax put his hands in his pockets, smiling a little less wickedly to himself. So, she had a crush, huh? He couldn’t think of a time anyone had ever liked him like that. There had been a few disgusting remarks thrown his way by some of the lint-brained, redneck wife-beaters that hung around the bar and hardware store. It must have been some kind of weird sexual racism thing, where you hate someone for their race but at the same time think they’re hot. Gangle told him about it once. He didn’t much care why. The mouths that issued those taunts now had significantly less teeth or tongues in their heads anyway.

But… he was alright with this. He liked her too, and it felt good. For ages, he didn’t understand stories with romance in them. Putting your mouth on someone else’s mouth and calling them cute things always felt weird and sort of childish to him.

But… Now he got it. Maybe he could try doing those things with her, if she was okay with it. He’d have to watch his teeth though.

—

Pomni had been on the phone with her mother for almost 30 minutes. The nurse, a sheep woman, had sat her in a wheelchair and trundled her down to the white corded phone on the wall.

“Of course I understand, mom, but I’m not going home… Because I’m okay on my own… I’m 25, mom! If something happens with my stitches, I’ll just call an ambulance… Yes, they have ambulances here, mom, they’re not Amish… Mom, I have insurance, you helped me set it up! I’m not going to max out my copayments, I- look, can I talk to dad? Well, when’ll he be home..? Oh, okay. You didn’t tell him I was in critical condition or anything, right? Thank you.”

Ragatha sat nearby, reading the newspaper. She had, of course, dropped everything and closed the café when Zooble informed her about Pomni’s ordeal, rushing over to the hospital to check on her. Ragatha had tried to call Pomni twice the previous evening to let her know about Jax being bailed out, and was nervous the rest of the night upon not getting an answer back. Sitting here and keeping an eye on Pomni helped curb some of the guilt she felt, however irrational it was.

“Everyone locks their doors around 6:30 or 7:00 around here, and now I kinda understand why… I’m only joking, mom… Um, I don’t know about tonight, it’s a four hour drive. Okay. Okay, well, if you’re dead set on coming tonight, leave ASAP, and book the room now. Like, now now. I know you’re worried, mom, but I don’t want you or dad getting hurt… Uh… Shoot, I don’t know the name of the inn. Do you want to talk to Ragatha? She can help. I need something to drink, anyway, my throat hurts... It’s just a cold, mom. Okay, here she is. Love you too, talk in a sec.”

Ragatha was over by the phone in a heartbeat, Pomni handing it off to her and wheeling her way down the hall towards the drink machine.

“Hi, Ella! Holding up okay?” Ragatha said in her sweetest voice. “Oh, I understand, all of us are shaken up. But she’s a tough girl, she’s doing awesome. Okay, you got a pencil?”

Pomni reached the humming drink machine and took her pocketbook out of her purse. She shook out a few coins into her palm, sorted out three quarters and poured the rest back in. She reached up to the machine’s coin slot gingerly and dropped in two quarters. The surgeon told her to not bend too far up or down to keep from popping any stitches, so she had to awkwardly push the coins in with the very tip of fingers to avoid stretching her arm out. The last quarter slipped off her finger and chinged onto the floor, rolling a few feet away before laying tails-side up.

“Goddamn it…” Pomni rolled her eyes and reopened her pocketbook. She didn’t want to risk ripping her sutures.

“Here,” a deep voice said.

Pomni looked up to see Jax picking up the quarter and sliding it into the coin slot. From her sitting position, he looked even taller.

“What do you feel like?” he asked, hovering a finger over the selection buttons.

“Root beer, thanks,” Pomni said with a smile.

Jax pressed the appropriate button with his thumb, the machine whirring for a moment before a silver can of Barker’s Root Beer clunked noisily into the vending slot. Jax picked up the can and cracked the pop top. He sniffed it and recoiled.

“Smells like medicine,” he said as he handed it off to Pomni.

“I just took painkillers, a decongestant and my anti-depressants, I know what medicine tastes like.” Pomni smirked.

She took three long swallows of root beer, the manufactured hyper-sweet taste like ambrosia after the pills and bland hospital food, the cold and prickly bubbles easing the dryness of her throat. She belched, grimacing in disgust and putting a fist to her mouth.

“Euck- okay, that tasted like medicine…”

Jax laughed a bit, then reached into his pocket and offered Pomni her keys. “These are yours, right?”

“You found them…”

As she took the keys , she turned over his large paw and placed a small kiss on his knuckle. Jax looked at the back of his hand like it had suddenly grown an extra finger.

“Sorry,” Pomni giggled, blushing. “Was that too much?”

“No, it… I just… I’ve only ever gotten those from my mother.” he replied distantly.

Pomni smiled. For all his razortooth smiles and talk of blood and butchery, there still existed something warm and fragile inside that bulky frame.

“I could give you one on the lips too, if you wanted.” Pomni said, keeping her gaze on the floor.

Jax’s moon yellow eyes widened somewhat. He scratched the back of his head and looked at the ceiling for a moment before looking back down with a short laugh.

“Why?” he asked.

“I want to,” Pomni answered without hesitating.

Jax opened his mouth to answer. He found he had no words. He gently gripped the armrests of Pomni’s wheelchair and lowered his upper body down to her eye level. Up close, he looked… fluffy. Downright huggable. His eyes, usually so laser-focused and piercing, darted about.

Pomni went for it. She leaned in carefully and laid a chaste kiss on the rabbit-wolf’s lips. Jax’s ears pinned back, but his eyes closed with hers for the moment it lasted.

The kiss broke, only lasting a moment or two, and the two of them stared at one another.

“My breath wasn’t bad, was it?” Jax asked with a sheepish, sharp-toothed smile.

“It can’t have been any worse than mine, I haven’t even brushed my teeth today.” Pomni replied.

The two of them laughed shyly, before Pomni touched her forehead with Jax’s and closed her eyes.

“Thank you for everything…” she whispered.

“Pomni, hun! Your dad is on the phone!” Ragatha called from around the corner.

“Coming!” she replied, her voice still slightly weak. She gave Jax one more grateful smile before turning her chair around and wheeling towards the corner.

“Oh! Pomni, wait! I found something at Kaufmo’s house.” Jax took hold of one of the push handles to keep Pomni from leaving, taking the capsule out of his back pocket. “Look. You said he dumped all his medicine, right?”

Pomni handed Jax her drink as she took the pill from his paw.

“Oh. Yeah, this is- this is like the kind I take! It’s Prozac. Or the generic version of it, at least. It-”

Pomni blinked, then held the pill closer to her eyes and squinted. She thought for a moment before she gasped and covered her mouth.

“What?” Jax asked urgently.

“I think I know what happened to Kaufmo.”

“What? Seriously? You’re not just-”

Pomni nodded feverishly. “I think I’m onto something. But there’s one thing I need you to do for me before we go pointing any fingers.”

Pomni handed Jax back the pill, whispered something to him, then wheeled forward, only for Jax to grab a push handle again.

“Wait, how am I supposed to convince them to do that?!” Jax demanded.

“Use their biggest weakness against them. Be scary.” Pomni said with a smile before wheeling around the corner.

“Ragatha! Do you have any idea how to get in contact with ADC?”

2 hours later…

The news anchor checked her makeup one last time before taking her mark, in front of the hospital by the double door entrance. The protestors from the previous day had gathered outside, some carrying signs congratulating Jax, others had signs asking for more justice to be served on the part of crossbreeds. The news anchor tapped her earpiece.

“We’re rolling? Okay- Thanks, Rob, many folks in Autumnvale, including myself, were floored to hear this afternoon’s story. 22-year-old Jax Kingston, proprietor of the town butcher shop, faced arrest on suspicion of murder only yesterday. However, Autumnvale’s Mayor Caine Mason posted Kingston’s half-a-million dollar bail out of his own pocket, citing ‘dissatisfaction with the evidence and investigation.’ And it would appear that Mr. Kingston did something truly heroic not fifteen minutes after he was released from the town jail.”

The footage cut to B-Roll of a young woman in a hospital bed talking to a nurse.

“25-year-old grad student Pomni Freeman found herself in a life or death situation at 6:30 last night, when she fell down the flight of stairs outside her apartment and encountered a juvenile Nightwalker waiting for her at the bottom.”

It cut to Pomni laying in her bed. She looked quite tired.

“It just walked up and bit me in the stomach. Like it was the most natural thing in the world…” she said.

“It must have been terrifying. Can you even describe how you felt?” the interviewer said from off camera.

“Like I was going to die. Alone, cold and screaming…” Pomni replied dourly.

The news anchor continued.

“But, in a miraculous stroke of luck, Kingston heard her screaming and rushed in.”

It cut to Jax being interviewed. He loomed over the entire news crew. The boom mic operator had to stand on a stepladder.

“I got the monster off of her, then I got her somewhere safe.” he grunted.

“How did you feel?” the interviewer asked.

“…Afraid.” he responded after a lengthy pause. “Afraid for her.”

It cut to B-Roll footage of the mayor, Caine Mason, at his desk, working on some important-looking paperwork.

“ADC was informed of these events via an anonymous tip just a few hours after the mayor announced that he bailed out Mr. Kingston, ”

It cut to Caine, at his desk, fingers knit together.

“Hopefully this will serve as an example of how crossbred people are just as deserving of our respect as anyone else. This is a landmark moment.” he said.

The camera cut back to the news anchor.

“But not everyone agrees, Rob. As you can see, some townsfolk have gathered outside Autumnvale Regional Medical Center behind me, some to celebrate Mr. Kingston’s achievement, others to-”

There was a commotion behind the anchor. The crowd appeared to be agitated by something occurring at the entrance.

A shape humanoid in a green and yellow poncho and cowboy hat had wrestled the megaphone out of Dr. Wren’s hand, shouting into it.

“EVERYONE LISTEN UP! Pomni Freeman has an important announcement regarding the…uh…”

They paused, looking at a nearby woman made of ribbons and a white mask for help. She whispered a few things to them, and they spoke up again.

“…regarding the encouraged suicide of Kaufmo.”

The news anchor waved at her cameraman, “Keep rolling, keep rolling!”

Pomni Freeman, still in her wheelchair but wearing a brown leather jacket and a gray trapper hat, both too large for her, and rolled over to take the bullhorn. Jax stood right beside her.

“Test, test… Okay. Uh. Hi, everyone. I can’t talk very loud, I have a cold. Uh, as you know, Jax Kingston has been the chief suspect in this case. But… I’ve uncovered some evidence that proves otherwise. I know I’m not a cop, and I’m willing to sacrifice my scholarship for the evidence I’ve obtained. The truth is… Kaufmo really did just kill himself.”

She held up a small blue and orange capsule.

“Uh, this is Fluoxetine Maleate, also called Prozac. It’s an SSRI that helps with anxiety and depression. Kaufmo took these just as I take them, every morning. The one I’ve got right here, it’s a fake. A placebo. I had Jax ask one of the doctors to check and make sure it was a real pill, pretending it was one of the ones I got from the pharmacy. I’m… sorry I lied to the hospital staff, but you wouldn’t have believed me if I had just asked you to analyze it. I have the proof right here…”

She held up some complicated looking paperwork.

“What tipped me off was the letters and numbers on the capsule. Anyone that takes generic Prozac will tell you the pattern on the capsules is always TEVA-7189. This one says TEBA-7188. It’s just a capsule of sugar.”

There was a murmur in the crowd.

“Kaufmo was on fake antidepressants. That’s why he killed himself. He was taking all different sorts of medication, but he wasn’t improving. So… he gave up. He decided to end it… Nothing was helping… But why? Why was it all phony?”

She turned slowly to glare at Dr. Wren.

“I know what you did, you twisted fuck.”

“What I- excuse me?” Dr. Wren replied.

“You call yourself a doctor? You gave Kaufmo placebos for who knows how long, so his depression got worse. Then, when the poor man offed himself, you dumped the fake pills, and replaced them with real ones in case someone ever tried testing them. I found all those pills you flushed down the toilet!

“But that wasn’t the only thing you flushed, was it? Nope. You burnt something and flushed it down the toilet too. Right? What was it? Something to push him over the edge even further. Hate mail? Some kind of threat? Something that would make him lose all hope. The final nail in the coffin for him to end it all.”

Dr. Wren had gone red in the face. “Young lady, these are completely baseless allegations! How can you say something so-”

“I’m not done! Then, when he hung himself from that pine tree, you slit his arms with one of Jax’s knives, hid the knife badly so the cops would find it and blame Jax, and then you waited for him to get arrested so you could send out a rallying cry to aaall these people who actually wanted to help, and you could look like a hero. Well, I hate to tell you, Dr. Wren. You’re not a hero. You’re a freak! All you did was bully a man that everyone loved into killing himself, then you made the guy who was already the town pariah into the main suspect because it looked good to defend him!”

“Stop this right now! You’re demeaning an entire movement with your lies! You don’t-” Dr. Wren let out an incredulous laugh. “You don’t have any proof that one word of your insane story is true!”

“You’re right… I don’t,” Pomni replied. “None of this has any hard evidence, there’s not even any proof that this pill came from Kaufmo’s house. Just my word. But guess what? You’re the only one that can prescribe anti-depressants around here, and I’ve got proof that these didn’t come from the hospital pharmacy and that they’re fake! I don’t care if you don’t get convicted! I don’t care if this all gets thrown out in court and you walk! You’re DONE. I know that you’re guilty! And now everyone else knows you’re guilty! Here in town and out in tv-land!”

Pomni pointed the bullhorn at the news crew, who were still rolling. She turned back towards Dr. Wren, whose face had bleached.

“Congratu-fuckin’-lations! You made a good movement look worse and you took a man’s life away! Was it worth it? Do you feel like a hero?!”

Pomni devolved into a coughing fit, dropping the bullhorn to the ground with a clatter. Jax held her handkerchief to her mouth, then wheeled her back towards the hospital entrance, the cowboy and ribbon woman following after them. A growing murmur began to rise in the crowd, Dr. Wren staring dead-eyed into space. The news anchor turned back to the camera and swept her hair out of her face, clearing her throat.

“Well. I guess that’s back to you, Rob.”

[chimcess]

Waterlog (5) (Teaser)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 11.8k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: Panic attack, small argument, mental health discussions, past mental health issues, past anger issues, past violence talked about, nothing super graphic, pda, they are THAT couple, super supportive friends and family, Jimin is an angel, and he likes to call reader that ;), little to no knowledge about how swimming works but i'm trying my best; more to come in official posting... Release Date: est July 5th at 6pm est

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“What do you think of the place?” He asked.

Blinking, I tried to disguise the fact that I had not been paying attention to a single thing since we walked inside. Letting my eyes wonder, I almost laughed at how accurate Jimin’s description of his house was. 

Standing in his living room, I marveled at how dark everything was. Black leather sofas, a dark gray fluffy rug, a flat screen, and a black iron fireplace were the stand out pieces. There were a few family photos on the mantle and a fake potted plant beside it, but other than that it was completely barren. It was just as sad and depressing as he said it would be, but instead of feeling disappointed it only made me smile. Everything in here was his and now I was included in that. 

“I love it.”

He laughed, squeezing me impossibly closer, “You don’t have to lie. I know it’s the quintessential bachelor pad.”

“I’m not lying,” I argued. “It’s perfect. Very you.”

“Even the dusty, ugly, fake Der Rose Jungkook got me as a housewarming gift?”

“Especially that,” I joked.

“Okay clown,” He laughed, pulling away from my side. “Go sit on the couch and I’ll make us some hot chocolate. Need to warm you up.”

Giving me the remote for the very large television hanging above the fireplace, Jimin promised to be back soon and left me in charge of finding something good to watch. After flicking through a few channels, I ended up settling on 21 Jump Street and ogled at Johnny Depp and Holly Robinson Peete. My dad and I used to watch the show together when I was young, and it brought me back to the few happy times that we had. I really needed to call him.

“Damn that’s a handsome man.”

I jumped, “Jesus you scared me.”

Jimin laughed, setting down two mugs on his coffee table. They were steaming hot and I decided to leave mine to cool off for a few seconds. Taking his seat next to me, Jimin was quick to throw his arm around my shoulders and pull his legs up onto the sofa. 

“Get comfortable,” He said, crossing his legs. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah,” I snorted, curling my legs up next to me and placing my head on his shoulder. “That’s the problem.”

“You’re being extra flirty tonight,” He teased. “I like it.”

I chose to stay quiet and watch the show. This was one of my favorite episodes. Hanson, Hoff, and Loki go undercover to try and solve a string of drive-by shootings between a couple of gangs, and Booker is trying to investigate a dirty cop on the force. I always loved the scenes between Johnny Depp and Holly the most. They were so cute together and the chemistry was crazy even though their characters never ended up together.

Jimin started playing with my hair, his fingers gently caressing my neck before scratching my scalp. It felt amazing and I relaxed even further into his side. After that episode was over, he leaned down and put his head on top of mine. Another episode came on, this was the second part to the previous, and I let my eyes close. This was really nice. And to think I almost let it all go to shit because I could not keep myself from spiraling.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be,” He whispered back, placing a small kiss on the top of my head. “Never apologize for being upset.”

Taking a deep breath, I thought about what Hoseok had said. There was no reason to tell him anything right now, or at least, the “L” word did not need to come into conversation. Still, it felt wrong to keep him in the dark. Jimin was always willing to listen and I felt awful for lying to him earlier.

“I really like you and sometimes it scares me,” I admitted quietly. “I called Hoseok to see if he had any advice. Sorry I lied about that.”

He shook his head, “I’m not upset with you, angel. Sometimes they scare me, too.”

“Really?” I had never really thought about that before.

“Of course,” He chuckled, moving away to look down at me. I lifted my head in a rare act of bravery. “I don’t think you understand just how amazing you are.”

I smiled lazily, unable to look away from him. He looked so beautiful in this lighting. The tv on one side of his face, the darkness in the rest of the house casting a dark shadow on the rest of it. I noticed his head inching closer, eyes heavily lidded as he watched me, waiting for a reaction. Heart pounding, I did the only thing I could think of. I closed my eyes and tilted my head higher.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

[quite-right-too]

Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace) - Chapter Three

Summary: After preparing for the arrival of her new housemates, the last thing Rose expected was for one of them to be the man whose flat she had snuck out of the night before. Thank you to my amazing beta @demdifferentstories-29 for dealing with my indecisiveness and random plot jumping for this chapter. She is the glue that has been holding this story together by making it legible and keeping the timeline straight.

Read here on AO3

“Absolutely.”

Just that word — that one, single word — changed the dynamic of the household immensely.

Well, it did for James and Rose, at least.

For starters, it took several weeks full of awkward shuffling and hesitant glances before life found a bit of a rhythm for the group. Nobody seemed to notice that any time Rose and James brushed against each other, even just a little bit, their cheeks would have the slightest tinge of pink. Sobriety turned out to be one of the downfalls when trying to confront your growing feelings for your one-night-stand-turned-housemate.

They also didn’t notice the fact that James and Rose had begun to get along quite quickly as the month continued. Maybe a little too quickly, all things considered.

The household would often host movie nights — usually twice a week if everyone’s schedules aligned — and the genre was entirely dependent on whose turn it was to pick. Jack usually went for action while James tended to lean on the science fiction side of things. However, Donna loved a good romcom. Rose would argue that she wasn’t picky, but horror seemed to be a genre she wasn’t a huge fan of.

As things would have it, James and Rose got into a habit of sharing the love seat during the films. It started out innocently enough with either person on the opposite ends of the cushions to give the other enough space. 

Until it got too cold, of course.

After four movie nights — one of which being a horror movie — it seemed that the two of them were more comfortable with just being near each other. A warm blanket would be shared, with Rose leaning against his side while they watched the scenes play in front of them. When she got startled, she would curl more into him while he tightened his arm around her. Sometimes his fingers would trace mindless circles onto her forearm as they laid together. Even after the grotesque scenes were over, she stayed cuddled into him.

And on days where they weren’t all either working or spending time together as a group, it was easy to find James holed up in the library. He took solace in the quiet, comfortable room that held so many secrets within the confines of the pages.

The library itself wasn’t massive by any means. It was generally one of the darker rooms in the house, only being lit by the soft, warm glow of the table lamps or fireplace. Glancing around the room, a large portion above the fireplace was taken up by an ornate painting. It wasn’t actually a painting, but rather a television disguised as such. A large red and gold oriental rug took up the majority of the central floor space, and sitting atop it was a rather comfortable brown fabric couch facing the fireplace. In front of it was a rectangular dark wooden coffee table. This was exactly the spot James spent most of his time.

Reading was a pastime that Rose had silently enjoyed for most of her life. The ability to immerse herself in a world that was entirely alien to her helped a lot during the hardest times in her life. It was late, so she wasn’t surprised to, once again, find him in the library. Attention fully focused on the book, he didn’t notice when she walked in — or the fact that she was staring.

The golden lighting from the lamp on the side table accented him beautifully, shading in just the right areas. She could see his eyes as they moved erratically across the page, glasses on the bridge of his nose. He wore a simple light grey jumper that accentuated his lean torso perfectly. The burnt sienna pants made his legs look extra long as they laid out in front of him and took up the rest of the couch. His signature cream trainers completed the look, everything about the scene screaming ‘James’.

God, she wanted to draw him.

As Rose quietly entered the library, she attempted to not disturb the state of concentration that he was currently in. Unfortunately, the floor creaked under her foot, prompting a small jump from James when he finally noticed her. 

“Oh, hey,” he coughed nervously. Shifting awkwardly in his seat, he quickly rearranged himself in such a way that his legs draped over the edge. “Here, have a seat.”

How could Rose say no when he gave her a soft smile that made her heart flutter?

“What’re you reading?” she questioned as she took a seat on the cushion next to him. His free hand nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he closed the book that was now forgotten about on his lap. 

“It’s a book on astrophysics. Well, technically it’s not just a book — it’s arguably one of the best books on astrophysics.” He handed it to her, continuing his rambling. “It’s ‘An Introduction To Modern Astrophysics’, and it’s brilliant!”

She gazed as he adjusted his glasses to sit properly on his face and she can’t help but notice just how attractive he is.

Okay, maybe she wants to do more than just draw him right now.

“So, what are you, some kind of teacher?” she teased. Looking over the leather-bound hardcover, it was obvious that it was well loved. Her fingers traced over the embossed cover and an image of a younger James looking through the book during his years in uni flitted through her head. She couldn’t help but smile as she handed the book back to him.

“Doctor, actually,” James retorted with a smirk. He tossed it onto the coffee table, grinning as she cocked her head at him.

“You’re joking, right?” His left eyebrow raised, an amused twinkle in his eyes. He wasn’t. “Doctor of what exactly?”

James waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, you know. This and that.” He leaned back against the couch, propping his legs up on the coffee table and looking directly at Rose. “Although, my main degree is in astrophysics. I recently got a second degree in philosophy, though.”

“You think you’re so impressive, don’t you?” Rose crossed her arms, staring back at him. “I suppose there’s a lot I don’t know about you, Doctor .” The nickname rolled off her tongue naturally.

He realised that he was very fond of it.

It had been about two days since that simple interaction. It had ended with a mobile ringing and James suddenly having to go per Donna’s request. Albeit a bit disappointed, Rose had already learned better than to keep the ginger woman waiting.

He was yearning for another interaction with Rose. Just the two of them. Alone .

Three days after that, car keys in hand, James pulled his jacket on at the door. It was a classic green field jacket, reminiscent of one you would see a soldier wearing. As he opened the door, Rose rounded the corner.

“Where are you off to, then?”

“Ah, I’m just off to get some chips. Had a craving, y’know?” he explained.

“And you’re driving there?”

He looked at her quizzically. “Of course I’m driving there. Why would I walk into town when I have a car to get me there so much faster?”

“There’s a chippy down the road from here. It’s more than within walking distance.” A laugh bubbled from her throat. “Blimey, did you even look into what was around before moving in?”

Her laugh lit a fire within him that made him match it. “No, I don’t suppose I did.” Pocketing his keys, he opened the door and held it open for her. “Since you seem to know the way so well, Miss Tyler, care to join me?”

She bit her lower lip as she smiled. “I would love to, Mr. Noble.”

The walk there was quite nice. The quiet town was 30 kilometres away from the city and adjacent to the Thames, which gave them a beautiful riverfront view while they strolled in. Being from central London, James and Rose were used to seeing the widest part of the river, always bustling with noise, as opposed to the small, peaceful section of it that they got to experience here. The walk there was spent laughing, telling each other small memories they had. Rose told him about the estates she grew up on and her mum. She felt the warmth bubble up within her as he smiled at her — not with pity but with understanding. He told her about how his family hadn’t been very well off either, most of his fond memories revolving around his relationship with Donna and their grandfather. The cool October breeze nipped at their faces as they walked hand in hand.

Neither knew who started holding their hands first. Fingers fit together perfectly, arms swinging between them during their trip down the riverfront walkway Thames.

It wasn’t long before they arrived. The chippy was small, boasting only outdoor seating and a small awning above the ordering window. The smell, however, was absolutely delicious and made James’ stomach gurgle. They quickly ordered their chips and sat down at a table, excited to continue their conversations.

“So,” James asked, “how did you meet Jack?”

“He saved me from being drenched in a rainstorm. Gave me a lift back to my flat that I shared with my mate Shareen. Then he had the audacity to ask me out on a date!” She shook her head, chuckling.

“Well, I can see why,” he spoke softly. “You’re beautiful.” His chin rested in his palm as he smiled at her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to break the rules about bringing up our…” He trained off, swallowing hard. “Anyways, go on.”

She attempted to cover the blush on her cheeks. “Well, we hit it off and stayed friends, nothing more. We ended up both needing a new place to live and rented a flat together until he got his grandad's house. It wasn’t a huge love story, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Her teasing smile was met with one that matched. “How do you know Jack?”

“We met when we were both soldiers. We were pilots, however of different sorts — I flew a fighter jet for the Royal Air Force as a combat pilot. We were both stationed near Suffolk for a time and ended up travelling together soon after we got out.” James sniffed, finger tracing the same circular patterns into the table. “A lot of things happened during my life when I served, Jack being one of them. I can’t say it was a grandiose romantic meeting either.”

James didn’t talk about his military past often. Part of it was the memories — the shame he felt when he was engaged in combat, taking the lives of so many. Not even just members of the enemy militia, but innocents caught in the crossfire — children, even. The sinking feeling in his stomach when he responded to the transmissions that would come in from his radio.

‘TARDIS One, this is Whiskey Zero Seven. Target number echo-alpha-foxtrot four thousand. One round. OT direction heading five-zero-five-zero.’

“Copy,” James responded over his radio, “mark target.” He began to lose altitude, preparing for the close air support the joint terminal attack controller had requested.

They were in a city in Afghanistan. It was still a fully functioning city, full of life and children and normal people. If it hadn’t been for the Western media’s portrayal of the state of combat, nothing would have seemed out of place.

‘Mark out.’

“Looking.” His eyes scanned the landscape as he manoeuvred his aircraft to the coordinates given to him prior. He spotted the distinction he was indicated, pressing his thumb onto the microphone button on the centre stick. “Contact.” Committing to his attack run, he gave another response. “In.”

‘Clear hot.’ 

The release of ordinance confirmation was all he needed before he released the laser guided bomb from his terminal and watched from his navigation panel as it hit the intended target — an apartment-type building where the enemy snipers had set up their nest, directly along the route generally taken by NATO forces.

“Ordinance deployed.”

‘This is Whiskey Zero Seven. Cease ordinance. Good effects.’

He tried to ignore the knowledge of the innocents who had been in that building, completely unaware of the horror that awaited them.

Rose’s name being called disrupted the spell they had weaved during their conversations. Offering him a small smile, she stood up and went to grab their chips. “Be back in a mo’.”

Utilising the time he had with her away, James worked on composing himself. Some of the techniques he had learned after being home helped him push away the disheartening thoughts and bring him back into reality. He was alone with Rose. They were getting chips. And he was really trying hard to not think of this as a date.

Sitting back at the table, Rose handed him his basket of chips. “I’m bloody starving.” She quickly grabbed a chip, tossing it into her mouth. 

The first bite caused Rose to let out a moan — one that would have been completely obscene and downright filthy , had it not been for the fact that it was caused by some chips. 

The sound pulled him completely out of his thoughts of war and deep into his thoughts of his initial meeting with Rose. How she sounded when her nails dug into his back while he drove his hips into hers, savouring the feeling of her — tight and wet around his cock.

James had never been more thankful for a table to be covering his lap.

It didn’t take long before they had themselves completely enraptured in conversation again. It was mostly simple banter regarding their living situations. 

“You really need to learn where the dishes go,” he quipped while swallowing the starchy snack. “Cups and bowls go on different shelves.”

“Oh, come off it,” Rose laughed, tossing the chip in her hand directly at the man sitting across the table.

“Oi!” It wasn’t hard for James to catch the chip, eyes wide in mock disbelief at the assault that had just taken place on his person. “That is unfair , Rose Tyler!” He grinned at her, popping the chip into his mouth as she giggled joyfully — a noise that James would be willing to hear every day if he could.

“All’s fair in love and war, Doctor.” It came out automatically.

He smirked, standing over the table to get closer to the teasing blonde across from him. “So, I’m the Doctor then?”

“No arguments from me.” She met his gaze, leaning over so they were nearly nose to nose. His eyes shone like stars when she looked into them, the brown pools of a man who had seen so much in so little time — reflecting the beauty of space and exploration. Of war and triumph. If they both went a little further, she knew she would be able to feel his breath on her lips. 

When his hands instinctively went to hold hers, she gladly intertwined them.

[foxenfreefinds]

Build And Buy Navigation (Will Be Edited As More Tags Are Created) :: Updated August 20th 2024

Activity  

Music | Grills | Bar | Easel  

Appliances

Laundry | Dishwasher | Oven | Refrigerator | Stove  | Fireplace  

Arch  

Tall Arch | Medium Arch | Wide Arch | One Wide Arch | Two Wide Arch | Three Wide Arch | Four Wide Arch  

Beds

Separate Bed | Bed Frame | Bedding | Single Bed | Double Bed | Kids Bed | Toddler Bed | Infant Bed  

Decor

Sculptures | Small Sculpt | Medium Sculpt | Large Sculpt | Extra Large Sculpt | Rugs | Mirror | Pillows | Plants | Dividers | Clutter | Cabinets | Toys | Wall Decor | Paintings | Posters | Wall Sculptures | Graffiti

Display

Shelf | Wall Shelf | Standing Floor Shelf | Standing Table Shelf  

Doors  

Tall Doors | Medium Doors | Wide Doors | One Wide Doors | Two Wide Doors | Three Wide Doors | Four Wide Doors  

Electronics

Television | Gaming | Computer | Stereo

Floors  

wood floor | carpet floor | tile floor | stone floor | masonry floor | linoleum floor | metal floor | outdoor floor | misc floor  

Lights

Lamps | Outdoor Lights | Wall Lights | Ceiling Lights

Seating

Chairs | Sofas | Loveseats | Ottoman | Bar Stool | Highchairs | Bean Bags  

Plumbing  

Walk In Shower | Shower Tub | Bathtub | Shower | Sink | Toilet  

Storage

Book Shelf | Dresser | Closet | Toy Box | Chest Storage  

Tables

Dining Table | Coffee Table | End Table | Side Table | Desks | TV Cabinet | TV Stand | Counters

Walls

Paint | Wallpaper | Tile Walls | Paneling | Brick Walls | Rock And Stone | Siding  

Window Decor  

Curtains | Blinds | Window Boxes 

Windows  

Tall Windows | Medium Windows | Wide Windows | One Wide Windows | Two Wide Windows | Three Wide Windows | Four Wide Windows 

[loveinthevalley]

Chapter 1

The gentle warmth of sunlight on my face was the thing to wake me up. I took a deep breath and stretched the blanket above my head in an attempt to shield myself from the offending glare. The soft down was immediately unfamiliar. This wasn’t the cheap Amazon blanket I was used to. I snapped up with a gasp and darted my eyes around the room.

Where the fuck am I.

I was surrounded by quaint cabin walls and a window with wooden blinds to my left. The room was rather spacious with nothing but a wardrobe and nightstand with a blue vase containing yellow flowers. If this was a kidnapping, I supposed the accommodations could be worse. I took note that my wrists and ankles were, in fact, free and I was not chained up. 

I took one more glance around the room trying to steady my thoughts and quietly look for clues. My eyes locked onto something poking out of the arrangement next to me. Embedded in the flowers appeared to be a card. My heart began to pick up speed again as I reached for the small piece of paper expecting some Jigsaw-esque instructions and an explanation as to why I was there. What I found was almost worse as it explained absolutely nothing: written in delicate cursive on blank cardstock were the words, “Welcome to the Valley!

The valley? What valley? As in San Fernando? Had someone kidnapped me and brought me to California? How the hell did I sleep through being dragged halfway across the country?! I listened carefully to check if I could hear anything in the house. I held my breath for what felt like minutes before I finally determined there was nothing but the birds outside the window. Whoever had done this to me certainly felt comfortable enough to leave me alone

I let my legs fall over the side of the bed and carefully pressed my bare feet against the wood floor. There was a creak and I hesitated, once again listening for anyone who might have heard. Once I felt safe, I stood up and tentatively approached the window and proceeded to open the blinds.

It certainly seemed like I was in the middle of nowhere. The sun was up but still relatively low. It must have been around 8:00 in the morning. The sunlight streamed through a smattering of trees, but just beyond them, I could make out a dirt road leading into the distance. This certainly didn’t look like California, but if it was it would be in bum-fuck nowhere. However, a dirt road meant something at least. Civilization couldn’t be too far. If I could get a head start before whoever brought me here came back, I might be able to get help.

I made my way around the bed to the other side of the room. There was no door leading to the rest of the house, just an opening. Before proceeding, I realized there could still be anyone waiting for me around the corner. I grabbed the blue vase and held it tightly in both hands. This would have to do. I crept through the doorway – each step making a loud creak. If there was someone here, they knew I was up now.

The room adjacent was a living room with a fireplace, television, and a small table with a single chair tucked under it. A modest kitchen also resided at the other end of the room. And that was it. There was nothing else to the cabin. There were no other rooms and the only door was at the front of the house. I was all alone. With a sigh of relief, I placed the vase down on the table.

My relief was short-lived, however, as an unsettling feeling crept over me. Why does this place feel so familiar? Two things gave it away: the gray and white tile delineating the kitchen from the living room, and the ornate, rust-colored rectangular rug in front of the TV. I approached the rug with disbelief. No way. I would recognize that stupid pattern from anywhere. Dozens of save files. Hundreds of hours of playtime. Sure, some of it was a bit different, but that stupid rug was just the same.

I ran back into the other room, no longer concerned about the volume of my footsteps. Instinctively, I looked at the wardrobe next to the window. This was different. Maybe I could find a clue. Something, anything that would disprove the unhinged thoughts rushing through my head. I whipped the doors open and saw only a few clothing pieces hanging up and some boots sitting on the bottom. I began rifling through the flannel shirts and overalls looking for an explanation. The last thing I looked at was a tattered men’s leather jacket. In one pocket was a wallet, and in the other was a folded-up letter:

If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change. The same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature. So, I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

The letter slipped through my fingers and I began to feel light-headed. I steadied myself against the bed and sat down. Staring at my hands in my lap…I began to laugh.

What a strange dream to be so lucid in. I haven’t even played this game in weeks. I closed my eyes and attempted to fly. Might as well if I was lucid dreaming. But nothing happened. And how could I have such clear thoughts in a dream anyway? There must have been a different explanation…

Before I could think of anything else, a gentle knock rapped against the door. My heartbeat immediately raised again as the thought of some elaborate kidnapping came back to the forefront of my mind. If there was someone dangerous out there, I might as well face them head-on. I retrieved the vase from the table and crept toward the door placing my hand on the knob before realizing…the door was chain locked from the inside. Whoever was out there likely posed very little threat to me. Still confused, I set the vase down and turned the knob opening the door just enough to catch the chain.

A man with a gray mustache wearing a brown newsboy hat greeted me on the other side of the door. You have got to be kidding me. He had a warm smile but was clearly confused by my caution. 

“Good morning, neighbor!” he chirped. His head tilted to the side as he tried to look around the room. 

“Hello…” I responded, instinctively blocking his view. He then looked me up and down.

“Hope I didn’t wake you! I figured you’d be up and about pretty early to catch as much daylight as possible.” I then realized I was still wearing my pajamas. They were the ones I had put on the night before. He extended a hand through the gap. “Name’s Lewis. I’m the mayor here in Pelican Town! Pleased to meet you, Love.” I stared down at his hand. Wait. “Love?” Gross. Why is he calling me that?  If I was going to get answers, I was going to have to play along. I grabbed his hand firmly.

“It’s good to be here, sir.” I released his grip, closed the door slightly, and removed the chain giving the door free reign to swing open.

“No ‘sirs’ necessary!” he chuckled. “I’d like to think we’re all family here in Pelican Town.” With nothing blocking his view, he looked around the room. His face lit up with a smile. “I see you got our welcome gift.” I followed his gaze to the flowers on the table. 

“Oh! That was from you?”

“Just think of it as a gift from all of us,” he replied. “The vase and flowers were sourced from talented folks around town. I even got someone to write the card. I should have been a doctor with how bad my handwriting is,” he chuckled. “It’s rare we get someone new in town. We’re all very excited to meet you.”

This didn’t seem like some delusional stalker. He was completely earnest. My mind raced with questions needing answers, but if he was serious, I would look like a lunatic. I needed to be subtle. Who would be the first person who might have answers for me?

“I can’t wait to meet everyone. My grandfather told me so much about all of you.” The Mayor’s smile dropped and his eyes softened.

“I’m sorry for your loss, dear. Your grandfather meant a lot to the people here. He was a fine man.” I did my best to put on a sympathetic smile, but it wasn’t easy considering I had not lost anyone.

“It’s been difficult, but I think I’ll feel closer to him now that I’m here.” It was time to use the conversation to my advantage and find out more about the ‘rules’ of this world I’d been thrown into. “One person he mentioned was Rasmodius. Does he live close by?” His brow furrowed in confusion.

“I didn’t know your grandfather was close to the Wizard.” That was my answer. Magic is…canon? Is that the word I should use here? Surely if anyone knew what was going on it would be him. If my “grandfather” wasn’t close with him, I would have to think quickly of an excuse.

“I don’t know much about their friendship to be honest. He left me a letter and mentioned how much the Wizard knew about the Valley and that he might be able to help me settle in.” I hoped this would be convincing enough to get him off my case. Mayor Lewis shrugged.

“I s’pose so. I’d say you could learn a lot by talking to just about anyone in town, but if you want to talk to the Wizard he’s about a 45-minute walk toward the southwest. Need someone to show you the way?” I didn’t want company, but I had to admit I wasn’t eager to get lost in some unknown forest.

“I think I should be fine. Mind drawing me a map?” Lewis reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved a pen and a small notepad.

“You’re lucky my memory’s not what it used to be. That’s the only reason I carry a pen and paper on me.” He began to crudely sketch the path to Rasmodius’s tower. It was just how I expected it to look. Once he finished, he tore the paper off and handed it to me. 

“Mind if I keep the pen? I moved in with just about nothing.”

“Sure thing, Love. Actually, keep the whole notepad too. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of planning to do to get this place up and running.” I took the pen and notepad. I’d need to collect my thoughts somehow if I was going to figure out how I got here and how I was going to leave.

“I appreciate the warm welcome, but I’ve got plenty to get to!”

“Oh, I won’t keep ya. Come into town and chat me up any time if you need anything.” The Mayor gave me a smile and a nod and made his way off the porch. 

It was as he was leaving that I finally got a chance to take in my surroundings. An expansive plot of land sprawled out before me, much larger than I could have guessed. Oh my god. This is real. A crude fence surrounded the entire plot of land which appeared to be somewhere around 10 acres. To the west of the house was a large, rundown barn. Toward the south was a dirt path leading out of the property and into the woods. East was the dirt road I had seen earlier along with what appeared to be a tool shed. Scattered across the property were several plots of what appeared to be once-tilled soil now overgrown with weeds.

Feeling overwhelmed, I shut the door, retreated inside, and set the pen and notepad on the table. I returned to the bedroom and changed into a pair of work pants and a red flannel shirt. Looking at myself in the wardrobe mirror, I couldn’t say this was my typical style, but I had to fit in. Besides, it was all I had. I approached the front door in my boots and took a deep breath. I can’t put this off. I need some answers. I opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.

[furnitureforthelivingroom]

Sector Furniture For the Living Room

The living room is the heart and soul of your home. It’s where you gather with family and friends to create memories that last a lifetime. That’s why it’s important to choose the right furniture for your living room. Whether you want to channel your inner boho or go for an industrial look, there are plenty of options available. And if you’re not sure where to start, the professionals at Home Furniture Plus Bedding are here to help! We’ll walk you through the basics of choosing and arranging your living room furniture, so you can transform this space into the home of your dreams. Check their site to know more details nábytok do obývačky.

Sector Furniture for the Living Room

There are several types of furniture for the living room, including seats, sofas, tables, cabinets, and other storage units. Seats and sofas are designed for sitting and lounging, while tables and cabinets are used to store various items, such as media equipment, drinks, snacks, or books. The seating and lounge area is the focal point of the living room, so it’s important to select a comfortable and stylish sofa or sectional with a comfortable chaise end or armchairs.

If you opt for a sectional, consider selecting one with two chaise ends to maximize the seating capacity of your living room. This Gail three-piece sectional from Walmart features sleek leather upholstery with wide tufting and chrome-plated legs. It also includes a center console for TV placement and extra storage. The sofa has a modern silhouette with clean lines and a plush pillow top for additional comfort.

When it comes to arranging your seating, the most popular option is a face-to-face arrangement. This allows everyone to see each other and facilitates conversation while maintaining a clear view of the fireplace or TV. Adding a few extra chairs around the sofa, like Ginny’s pair of MCM style chairs in a classic patterned fabric, gives the arrangement some visual variety without taking up too much floor space.

To maintain a sense of balance in your living room, be sure to leave at least 30” to 36” of a walkway between large furniture pieces. This ensures that you can move through the room easily and prevents people from bumping into each other or hitting their heads on furniture. If you need to add additional seating, opt for a side chair or nesting table near the coffee table instead of a third sofa.

In addition to seating and storage, there are several other essential pieces for the living room, such as a coffee table, end table, and lamps. You’ll also need a television stand or entertainment center for your electronics and other items. The best entertainment centers combine rustic and contemporary farmhouse design elements for a look that’s both stylish and approachable. This one from Home Furniture Plus Bedding fits most flat screen TVs and has a built-in hidden storage cabinet behind barn-inspired doors for customized shelving for electronics, DVDs, or other items. It also has a convenient pull-out shelf for storing books and magazines.