#and the next chapter of sings the moon i guess | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

da-rulah · 6 months ago

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The Mayor's Daughter - Mary Goore x f!Reader [Part 6]

Summary: It was only a matter of time before you asked to see Mary's band, but he can't help the rising anxiety that you might just hate what he does… Still, he concedes, and you head to their show with him. If you thought Mary was hot before, oh boy… Now he's irresistible.

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: Teasing, sexual tension, cum play, sexual harassment, unwanted physical contact, use of a homophobic slur, violence, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, masturbation (f), cum swallowing, cum play

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

A/N: Well, look who's back... Mary's here. 😈 Thank you to all those who've waited to patiently for this next chapter. I hope you won't be disappointed... As always, thank you to me besties @her-satanic-wiles and @angellayercake for their encouragement and beta reading services - I adore you both.

AND, this one's dedicated to @kissingghouls, who had a birthday during the week and tested a little snippet of this chapter out for me 👀 I hope you love the rest of it 💕

You could have lay there all night. Truthfully, you couldn’t think of anywhere else in the world you’d rather be right now besides buried in blankets and pillows in Mary’s arms, looking out at the moon rippling across the water of the lake. The radio still played from the cab of his van, and you were content to listen to Mary singing along to his favourite songs under his breath.

You could feel him vibrating beneath you as he sang, your back pressed to his chest and laying against him between his legs. Every so often, he’d press a kiss to the side of your head, or readjust the way his hands lay across your stomach with his fingers intertwined with yours. You were just so comfortable, never having felt so safe and wanted before.

“Do you sing in your band, too?” you asked him, fiddling with the rings on his fingers absentmindedly.

“Hm? Oh, uh... Yeah I guess I do.” You turned your head to look at him, suspicion creasing your brow.

“You guess?”

“Well, it’s kinda more... growling? Some screaming. Bit of singing,” he shrugged, a little sheepish.

“Aw, and here’s me thinking I was the only one you growled for,” you teased, which earned you a laugh.

“Well you’re the only one who can drag it outta me like that,” he flirted, bouncing his eyebrows and planting a lingering kiss to the top of your cheek.

You got comfortable again, settling into his chest and wrapping his arms tighter around you. A few moments of blissful quiet passed as you thought about him on stage; what would he sound like? Look like? Was he good? You wanted to know.

“I wanna see you play,” you said earnestly. “when are you playing next?”

Mary clammed up a little behind you, suddenly wracked with insecurity and anxiety at the thought of you coming to one of his gigs. It’d feel pretty shitty if you didn’t like his music, and he was very aware that it wasn’t for everyone. While you never complained at the heavier stations on his van radio, you also didn’t strike him as the type to enjoy death metal. You were merely being polite, he was sure of it...

But then, this was him stereotyping again. Consciously now, he could see it and call himself out before the words left his mouth.

“Uh... We actually have one on Saturday.” You noticed the nervousness in his tone, the hesitation. You understood why; it must be a little scary to show someone you care about the passion that drives you as fiercely as music drove Mary.

“I don’t have to come if that’s too soon, I get it,” you tried to reassure him, turning around and smiling sweetly at him. But even that was enough to quell some of his anxiety, just your consideration.

“You know what?” he sat upright then, angling you a little better while the blankets wrapped around you fell to your waist, exposing you both to the colder night air. “I want you there. Even if you hate us, be nice to see a pretty face out there for me.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully, “You just want a groupie, huh?”

“Hmm, maybe,” he hummed, grinning cheekily and leaning into you to press his lips to yours. You giggled against his lips, letting him curl around you as you melted into each other. It felt so easy to you now, so unbelievably natural. You had to ask yourself why you had taken so long to get here. You could have had this all long, if the pair of you weren’t so stuck in those stereotypical little bubbles of yours.

But you were here now, and that’s what mattered. Not without its future flaws, you were sure, but it was a start.

Mary finished off the last song of practise without issue. By now, the band knew every song inside and out, so band practise was only ever a formality, or an excuse to get together and jam. But Davey always called one just before a show, in case there were any issues to iron out and to put together a running order for the setlist. He had a unit where they practised often, all their stage equipment stored in there save for their guitars.

“So where you been, Goore? Dropped off the face of the earth lately. Last time I saw you was days ago at the garage...” Forrest smirked with an accusation brewing behind his eyes – Mary could tell. He continued winding up the cable in his hands to avoid his eye contact, shaking his head with a smile he could barely hide no matter how hard he tried. That’s what thinking of you did to him.

“Ah y’know, about,” he avoided.

“Bullshit, you got a call and bolted. I remember.”

Mary’s arms slumped by his sides in exasperation, the curled up cable flapping against his thigh.

“Yeah, and before that last time we saw you was the bicentennial... Fuck’s up with you?” Jed was interested now, shoving his drumsticks into his beat up old backpack that had seen better days. Even Davey who was slotting his bass into its case very carefully – that thing was his baby, often reminding everyone it cost more than their rents combined – was suddenly very interested in where the elusive Mary Goore had been the last couple of weeks.

“You can’t even hide the smile. It’s a girl, ain’t it?” he chimed in, teasing him like a kid in a playground. “You gone soft?”

“Nah just had a lot of guitars to work on at the shop lately,” Mary shrugged, tucking the cable away into his own guitar case.

“Your pants are scorching right now, Mare...” Jed grinned, hopping up to sit on an amp stack.

Mary finally stood up straight and sighed, looking around at the guys who all had expectant looks on their faces. He knew he’d have to tell them eventually – they were only going to meet you in a few days anyway. He can’t hide you forever, especially when he’d been so sensitive about being hidden himself in your world... He was many things, but a hypocrite he was not.

“Alright, fine... Yeah, there’s a girl.” The nerves were evident in his voice, quieter and a little stuttery. Of course, the guys all jumped down his throat with “ooh”s and “wheeey”s, Jed even shoving his shoulder in a weird masculine display of celebration.

“Been holed up somewhere with some broad, ey?” he waggled his eyebrows at him. “Come on then, who is she?”

Mary was clamming up, having no idea how they were going to react to this. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shuffled on his feet. Forrest noticed his change, and squinted at him as he observed.

This wasn’t like him. Forrest was the most mature of the guys, had known Mary the longest – since they were kids – and he was very aware there were multiple versions of him. The front he showed the world, and the sensitive and broken guy underneath. Seeing him get nervous about a girl though... that had never happened before.

“You wouldn’t really know her, she’s not really... from our circle...” Mary dodged the truth as long as he could, but it was inevitable.

“Yeah no shit, between us we’ve exhausted our “circle”,” Davey laughed, making air quotes with his fingers. Mary winced at the thought of his promiscuous reputation; not a past he was all that proud of...

“You remember back at the bar, a few weeks ago...?” he started, and Jed jumped in immediately.

“That girl you stormed right past? You went back?” He leaned forward where he sat on the amp, excited to hear the gory details he definitely was not getting.

“No-”

“No fucking way,” Davey jumped in, recalling the night in question. “You’re still fucking her majesty?”

“She’s not-” Mary tried to get a word in, but Davey and Jed were having too much fun with this, interrupting him.

“The Mayor’s daughter? Fuckin’ hell, Mare,” he laughed with uncontained glee at the prospect. “I know she’s a hot piece of ass, but seriously? Girls like her ain’t into guys like us.”

Mary’s fists clenched at his sides. It was becoming clear the stereotypes were not contained to just you and him, but you’d both grown up in a world perpetuated by them. Forrest watched the scene unfold quietly, observing Mary’s reactions that were so out of pocket for him.

“Well she did fuck him in a public bathroom that night, Jed,” Davey joined Jed’s delight. “Daddy’s girl’s got a kinky side.”

“Shut the fuck up, Davey,” Forrest interjected on Mary’s behalf. Everyone’s heads whipped toward him, including Mary’s. “Fucking neanderthals, man...” The smiles from their faces were wiped clean, their proverbial tails hanging between their legs.

Forrest walked to stand beside Mary, folding his arms across his chest. “This could be a dangerous game to play, Mare. If her dad finds out...”

“He already kicked her out. For... other reasons...” Mary didn’t want to divulge too much of your shit to them, that wasn’t his place. He feared he’d already said too much when he saw the looks of shock and confusion on their faces. “She’s been staying with me the last few days.”

“Move pretty quick, don’t you?” laughed Jed, who was thrown a look of caution by Forrest and immediately shut up again with a mumbled, “sorry”.

“So you like her then, huh?” Forrest enquired with a smug smile. Mary nodded, biting his thumb nail. “She coming to the show?”

Jed snickered at the thought, effectively saying “yeah, as if she’d be into our music” without having to say the actual words. Mary shot him a warning glare.

“Yeah, she is actually,” he didn’t take his eyes off Jed, just begging him to say one more shitty thing. He didn’t.

“Nice, well I’ll train the apes up and have ‘em civilised for the lady. Don’t worry about it.” Forrest slapped a hand on Mary’s back in support, heading back over to pack up and clicking his fingers in the other’s direction to get them moving too.

Mary was grateful for Forrest stepping in like that. There was a deeper bond with him than the others, not just on account of the longevity of their friendship, but he’d been there through all of Mary’s shit. For a long time, Forrest was the only friend he had and if anybody understood him, it was him.

Forrest had his own shit too – neglectful parents, like Mary, but in different ways. High-powered, career driven types. They’d leave him with a nanny and swan off on business trips and fancy vacations, so he knew loneliness in his own way too.

While his friends were always a good laugh, Davey and Jed just weren’t on quite the same wavelength. Where Forrest and Mary had matured a little, grown up with a smidge of respect, they were trailing behind. They were still young men, trapped in rebellion, angst and male bravado. They needed reigning in from time to time, usually by Mary’s or Forrest’s hand but on more than one occasion they’d had their asses kicked outside a bar for their mouth. The point is, they were learning. Slowly, but they were learning...

Once the guys packed up their stuff – largely in silence – Davey and Jed muttered a ‘see ya later’ as they filtered out of the unit, but Forrest hung back as Mary rolled down the shutters and padlocked them shut.

“Hey Mare, does uh... Does she know?” Forrest asked, his voice low as the others walked down the alley of other units just ahead of them.

“Know what?” he asked, a little confused. “That you guys made a bet with me the first night? Yeah she knew that then, we laughed about it,” he shrugged.

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Forrest scratched the back of his head awkwardly. He hated bringing this up, it was such a sore subject for Mary... “Does she know... what her dad did?”

Mary’s eyes widened as it hit him – no, you didn’t know that. Mary hadn’t divulged that much to you, and he didn’t exactly intend to...

“No. She doesn’t need to,” he shrugged nonchalantly, avoiding the subject. Forrest didn’t press the matter, not wanting to drag Mary down that road any more than he already had. Instead, they took a few steps in silence.

“So go on then, tell me what she’s like...” Forrest nudged his shoulder as the two of them walked out to the parking lot. Mary smiled at the ground, babbling and singing your praises for as long as Forrest would allow him.

Watching Mary apply his make-up was becoming one of your favourite past times. He was so particular about it, specifically tonight as he applied it in the dingy little mirror in the corner of their dressing room. Day to day, he cared a little less but tonight was important – every gig was, to him.

It became very apparent to you very quickly that he took his shows very seriously. As much as he was there to have fun, this was more than just a hobby to him. He wanted this to go somewhere, to make something of himself. This was a dream that he’d worked his skinny little ass off for, and so everything had to be just right, his before-show rituals performed the same as always.

But there you sat, watching him from the battered two-seater couch in the room as he added the final touches to his skull paint. He pulled back from the mirror, looking at his reflection and smirking with a nod of satisfaction. But then he caught you in that mirror behind him, watching him without an attempt to look away.

“Lookin’ good, Goore,” you told him, leaning forward on your elbows, chin resting in your palm.

“I guess, but it’s missing something...” He seemed unbothered, making no move to add any more paints.

“The blood, right?” you asked, but he shrugged.

“Wanna try something new. Get over here, doll,” he instructed, beckoning you over. You rose from your seat, closing the distance between you both. He leaned back onto the sink, folding his arms over his chest as you got a little closer than necessary, stood between his feet and leaning your hands on the edges of the sink. Mere inches separated you, and you waited for him to continue.

“That’s a pretty shade of lipstick you got on tonight,” he flirted, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb and inspecting the red residue that lingered on it when he pulled back.

“You should recognise it, not the first time I’ve worn it for you.” If he remembered right, he’d know you wore it the first time he’d snuck in through your bedroom window; the same pretty shade of blood red. “You asked me back then if I thought it would look good on you, and then you kissed me.”

“I did, didn’t I?” he mused, feigning thoughtfulness. “And it did look good on me...” You giggled at that, and it damn near sent Mary to his knees right there and then. He would never get fucking tired of that giggle. “Have you got it on you?” he asked, before he could get too distracted by that pretty little sound.

“Of course,” you said, patting the little purse hanging from your shoulder and down by your hip.

“Good, you might need a touch up when I’m done with you,” he smirked. “Think you can make some pretty little lipstick marks for me?” You nodded, moving in to kiss him immediately but he stopped you, his finger on your lip. You pouted, sagging your shoulders.

He pulled his finger from your lips and pointed it to his cheek bone, where the black met the white of his thin and chalky paints. You took the initiative, and stood up on your toes to reach, planting a very deliberate kiss to the area. When you pulled back, you marvelled at your work; the prettiest lip stain sat where you’d pressed your lips against him. Mary turned his head to look sideways into the mirror behind him, smirking at the transfer.

“Perfect, need more though,” he said, turning back to you and pointing now at his jawline on the other side of his face. You obliged eagerly, lingering just a little longer this time and pressing your body against his where he leaned on the sink. You could feel his body tense under you, like he was trying to act cool and aloof but fighting an urge rising inside him...

“Can I choose a spot?” you teased by his ear, letting your breasts press into his chest just a little...

“Choose wisely, doll...” he warned, with no real warning behind it whatsoever. But you already had a spot in mind...

You tucked your head just under his chin, letting your warm breath fan over the expanse of skin around his neck before gently placing your lips directly over his Adam’s apple. You felt it bob as he swallowed with anxiety, the tension of holding back his urges to devour you becoming almost unbearable. You loved that you had this effect on him... He was supposed to be this cocky, self-assured little badass; so how come you could have him tensing and straining with just a few simple, light kisses? Because you drove him wild.

You lifted your hands from the edges of the sink, instead settling them on his waist while you parted your lips against his neck, letting your tongue lap at the skin briefly before pulling back with a smirk just as he let out a hum of satisfaction. You saw his head thrown back, his eyes shut just before he realised you’d disappeared and snapped his gaze back to you. The look on his face was priceless, silently asking you why the hell you’d stopped.

“Didn’t wanna smudge it,” you shrugged, smirking.

“You fucking minx,” he chuckled.

“One more,” you told him, digging through your purse to add another layer of red to your lips so you could leave the most definitive print this time. Then you leaned in one more time, as if you were going to kiss him on the lips – which frankly, by now, he was desperate for. But you dodged his advance and pressed your lips just to the corner of his mouth, planting a firm, red lip stain so prettily for him.

“There,” you leaned back, still crowding his space and holding his waist, “looks good.”

“Not fair of you to tease me like that when the guys are gonna be here any minute, and I can’t bend you over this sink and fuck you dumb,” he growled, knowing full well the effect only his words had on you. His brash vulgarity was such a turn on to you, especially now that you’d experienced Mary’s sweeter side, his tenderness and gentility. He was like Jekyll and Hyde, and knowing what a softie he could be when feelings were involved, it was all the more exciting when Hyde came out to play...

He pinched your chin between his thumb and knuckle, angling your head to tilt up to him a little more. “I seem to remember you wanted to see how pretty this shade looked smothered all over my cock, hm?”

Damn him. You had said that... Back in your bedroom that night, but he’d denied you in favour of being the one to taste you instead. If you had the time right now, you’d have dropped to your knees in a heartbeat, but that door would swing open at any moment, his friends and bandmates arriving to get set up and head out on stage. You hadn’t tasted Mary since the very first time you’d slept together, and frankly, your mouth watered at the thought.

“Shame I’ll have to wait a little longer,” you whined, pouting like a spoilt brat who didn’t get her way, but it only made Mary’s grin wider as he looked down at you.

As if Satan himself had planned the timing, the door handle to the dressing room rattled, alerting you to the presence of his bandmates arriving and startling you both to stand upright, Mary tucking you into his side with an arm around your shoulder almost protectively.

“Goore!” Jed strolled into the dressing room with his arms wide open, followed by Davey and Forrest lugging equipment in and glaring at the back of his head for not pulling his damn weight and carrying some of this shit himself. Jed walked straight up to Mary, ignoring your presence at first and forcing Mary into a typical ‘bro hug’ with heavy slaps to each other’s backs in greeting. But then he finally turned to you, a cheeky and mischievous look in his eye. “And this must be the Dutchess...”

Mary froze, desperately trying to think of something to say in your defence, anything to turn the attention away from Jed’s comment that he could only imagine stung so much worse with everything you’d been through lately. But he couldn’t think of anything... He’d told them to be good. To welcome you, to be fucking decent and immediately, Jed waltzed in and had to poke at an open wound.

Davey and Forrest stopped dead too, waiting in silence, everyone aware of the tension that lay heavy in the room just from one snide little dig at your family history...

You looked to Mary next to you and smirked, before turning back to Jed and folding your arms over your chest. You took a step towards him, looking him up and down as if inspecting him before putting on your best snooty impression, and saying, “I think you’re supposed to kneel before a Dutchess, are you not?”

Another moment of silence passed, Jed’s face twisting from one of slight shock, to mild amusement. “Nah, I’m sure Goore kneels at your feet often enough for everyone,” he teased, winking at you. “I’m Jed,” he introduced, holding a hand out to you which you gladly took, watching as he lifted the back of your hand to kiss the back of it briefly and bow his head in mock respect.

“I remember,” you laughed, looking back at Mary who was looking at you with concern, but also pride... You had handled that better than he could have expected, cleverly inserting yourself into the humour rather than allowing yourself to be offended by it. You took the power away from Jed, and instead, earned his respect. You didn’t miss his exhale of relief.

“What’s with the lipstick, Mare?” Jed asked, pointing generally at his face. The others looked over too, now registering it wasn’t fake blood on his face, but lipstick – suspiciously the same colour as you were wearing.

“Trying something new,” Mary shrugged with a smirk.

“That your way of telling the ladies you’re taken now, eh?” Davey laughed, waggling his eyebrows. “Goore is off the market!��

“Better be, I don’t wanna have to get the claws out,” you warned, stepping back into Mary’s side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You dropped your voice a little lower so only Mary could hear, “at least, not for anyone but you.”

Mary just smirked down at you, biting his lip at the thought of your nails dragging across his flesh in the heat of passion later on tonight. You were being very distracting this evening...

Forrest and Davey reintroduced themselves to you once they’d set the equipment they carried down, the room settling into a far less tense environment. You sat yourself back down on the small couch and let the preparation for their gig unfold before you, chiming into conversation every now and then where you saw fit. Jed would throw you a few more jabs, but you managed to bat them right back at him like it was child’s play. And with each comeback, you earned just a tad bit more respect out of not only him, but Davey and Forrest too.

The guys went to soundcheck before the venue opened, while you hung back in the dressing room citing that you wanted to see the real show first. You’d rather see Mary in all his glory and performing than playing to an empty club for the first time. When they came back in, you could see the excitement had grown within the band, the buzz starting to build for the show now that they’d set up and were ready to go.

The beers had started to flow, just a few to keep them coherent enough to play of course, but the atmosphere was changing, building right up until the moment the stage manager came to collect them. The guys all downed the remainder of their beers, gathering whatever little bits they needed before heading out on stage. The guys wandered out of the door without Mary, leaving the two of you alone.

Mary pulled you to your feet from the couch, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Keep yourself safe in the crowd, yeah? Can get a bit rowdy...” he warned, a hint of anxiety present in his features. Not just at the thought of you alone in a crowd of metalheads moshing without a care in the world, but at the thought that you might just hate his music. That thought had been niggling away at him for days, ever since he first invited you.

“I’ll be fine, gonna stick by the bar so you know where to find me when you get off stage,” you assured, pulling gently on the spike of hair he’d now styled in front of his face to sharpen the point for him. “Oh, wait!”

You rushed out of his hold and towards his backpack, digging through it until you found his make-up kit and rushed back to him. You picked out the little vial of fake blood you knew he kept in there, dropping the kit down on the couch behind you.

“Can’t go out there and be ‘Mary Goore’ without the ‘Goore’, hm?” you winked, uncapping the bottle and resting the nozzle on his hairline, letting it drip and dribble down his face just enough that it wouldn’t interfere with the pretty lip stains you made earlier. You screwed the cap back on and threw it back into the bag behind you.

“Part of me is starting to think the blood turns you on a little...” he taunted, that stupid little smirk on his face again. You wanted to one-up him, to have the last damn word... And so, with a quick check to make sure the two of you were in fact alone, you grabbed his wrist and directed his hand down to hem of the short denim skirt you were wearing, pushing it up your inner thigh until you could manoeuvre his fingertips to push the edge of your panties to one side and slide over the little mess that all this damn teasing had caused, coating his fingers in it...

You pulled his hand from under your skirt and lifted it to between the two of you, giggling in a way that had him stirring beneath his jeans.

“I think maybe it does...” you tormented, letting go of his wrist and making your way to the doorway, leaning against it as if you were about to leave. Mary stood in awe of you, his hand still hovering in front of him as he looked between you and the shine on his fingertips a few times before snapping back to reality and realising he had a damn show to put on.

He did the only rational thing he could think to, shoving his slick fingers into his mouth to clean them off while he held eye contact with you. You felt yourself flutter at the sight, gripping onto the doorframe a little tighter. This mother fucker really knew how to rile you up...

“I’ll need more of that later, doll,” he told you sternly, stepping towards you. You took it as your cue to run, heading down the hall towards the club laughing almost maniacally as Mary stomped after you, his anxiety over performing for you replaced with a simmering need to get it over with so he could just fucking have you.

It had only been ten minutes since you’d left the dressing room, but you were getting a little antsy waiting... This wasn’t your usual scene, and you’d hoped that maybe your first time in a goth club you’d have Mary at your side to make the experience a little less intimidating. The majority of the crowd were men, all metalheads, and while you were more comfortable here than at any political event or frat party you’d ever been to, you were sure you stuck out like a sore thumb.

This club was in the city, and so you weren’t worried about anybody really knowing who you were save for Mary and his bandmates. But you were still finding yourself, figuring out your style and the wonderful thing about goth clubs is that everybody here went all out for the aesthetic. You felt boring, mundane even in the outfit you’d chosen. Sure, it was all black, but you’d thought the fishnet top over a black cami was daring... But in this scene, it wasn’t.

You felt out of place, and without Mary at your side, you were sure you didn’t blend in nearly as much as you were hoping to. So, keeping to the edge of the club by the bar felt like a safe option. While everyone’s eyes were up front on the stage, you could stand back and watch as your boyfriend – well, you hadn’t exactly talked about a label, but you figured – owned the stage. And watch, you did.

From the second Mary got up on that stage, you couldn’t look away. You hadn’t seen him play much, just a little here and there on that battered old acoustic of his, but never like this... He had such a command to him, this enigmatic energy that captivated you. Clearly, he was in his element. He’d told you it was his dream to perform, to be successful with his music and watching him now, you could see he put every fucking ounce of his soul into it.

His music was heavy; you expected that. The lyrics were dark, screamed and growled into the microphone like he was possessed. You could understand why he was nervous for you to hear it, to see this dark side of Mary. Music like this wouldn’t appeal to the masses, sure, but it certainly did to you. He was starting to learn there was a dark side to you too, buried and covered up with pretty pink bows and glitter but it was in there. No wonder you were attracted to Mary like a moth to a flame...

There was something about him on stage that just sparked something... Perhaps the way he handled his guitar, his fingers moving so deftly through the manic riffs he shredded. Perhaps it was the way he growled into the microphone; a deep, gravelly noise that made your breath catch in your lungs. Perhaps it was the way the crowd responded to him, adoring him and screaming for him and yet you knew that he was yours.

The combination of it all was driving you wild. Riling each other up before the show certainly hadn’t helped, but you found yourself forgetting you were ever anxious to step foot in a club like this alone and focussing solely on him. With each song, you fell deeper into this almost obsessive need for him.

Your demise finally came when a few songs into the set, his eyes landed on you. And the fucker smirked.

With his eyes trained on you, he spoke into the mic.

“Are you morbid?” he growled. The crowd screamed back at him, but he wasn’t talking to them. Not really.

You bit your lip, unable to look away from him or even blink as he stared at you, as if he was waiting for you and you only to respond.

“I said, are you morbid?” he insisted, the crowd screaming back again, louder this time. All you could do was nod pathetically, squeezing your thighs together and squirming just from the way he sounded, his stare... His smirk spread into a menacingly dark grin, his make-up and the lighting acting to enhance his devilish persona. He was turning you on, and he could see it.

“Fuck yeah, you are,” he snarled, immediately running his fingers along the strings of his guitar to make it screech and diving into the next song. You could have sworn you felt the ghost of his touch as he did, as if his fingers were running their way up your inner thigh and not the neck of his guitar – the thought had your cheeks flushing, hidden under the dim lighting of the club.

Watching his set was like torture. You tried to focus on the songs, to get into the music and as much as you were enjoying it you just couldn’t tear your eyes from him. When you’d first met Mary at the dive bar, he’d had this arrogance, this cocky self-confidence to him that lured you in but the more you got to know Mary, the more you knew that was a front a lot of the time. He had that softer side, that insecurity that he masked. But this version of Mary? This was where his true confidence lay, and it might just be the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

As all good things must come to an end, so did their set. The crowd cheered and roared for them, and you found yourself fidgeting while you waited for them to come off stage, pack up their gear and for Mary to come and find you. Impatience had you leaning on the bar, beer in hand and tapping your foot to the metal playing through the club now that the show was over. When you finally felt two strong hands sliding around your waist from behind you, you let out a sigh of relief, smiling to yourself as you span in their grasp.

“And what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in this dive, huh?”

It wasn’t Mary.

A strange faced smirked down at you, a thick and heavy beard to match the blonde hair that fell in untamed waved past his shoulders. His lip was pierced, straining from where he bit it while his eyes drank you in from head to toe as if you were some kind of prize. He reeked of cheap spirits and sweat, his forehead shining under the club lights as if he’d been in the mosh pit for the duration of the set.

Beside him was someone you’d mistake for his twin, if it weren’t for the black hair and obvious difference in size and stature. The man holding you was tall, but solid. His friend was shorter, his body unhealthily thick. But still, he matched the description of your metalhead stereotype, and he too was dragging his eyes all over your body.

Immediately your smile dropped and you shoved both hands into the guy’s chest. He stayed put, his solid frame too strong to waver but your push forced you back against the bar far enough to get out of his hold.

“Waiting for my boyfriend, actually,” you snapped, laced with disgust. The blonde guy just laughed incredulously, as if he didn’t believe you.

“I don’t see no boyfriend,” he said, looking from side to side as if that proved his point. He stepped further towards you, trapping you against the bar and holding onto your waist again. “Can pretend I am for the night if you want?”

He leaned into you as if he were going to kiss your neck, but you leaned further back and out of the way, trying to push him away from you. All you could do was stop him just short, rather than rid your body of his hold completely.

“Yeah, no thanks. Get off me!” you yelled.

“Don’t play hard to get, darlin’. He’s just bein’ friendly!” his buddy chimed in, laughing as he took a swig of a drink he clutched with his sweaty little sausage fingers.

“Said I’m waiting for my fucking boyfriend, piss off!” You gave him one final shove, and while he took a step back, he didn’t let go of you.

“I got a better offer, baby. You could have us both if you wanted...” he smirked, glancing back at his friend who laughed with him.

“Don’t think she wants either of you, Corbin.” Relief set in when you heard his voice materialising next to you, a hand with rings you recognised planting itself on this guy’s chest and pushing him back with enough force that he finally let go of you.

Mary stepped between you both, squaring up to the blonde without a second thought.

“The fuck would you know about it, Goore?” The blonde – who you now understood to be named Corbin – sneered, clearly irritated by the arrival of Mary instantly.

“Well, ya see, that’s my girlfriend you had your grubby little paws all over. And I don’t really like it when people touch my things,” he shrugged, but his tone was far from indifferent.

Corbin and his greasy little friend roared with laughter, as if the idea of Mary and you was the funniest joke they’d ever heard. That pissed you off...

“As if a hot piece of ass like that’s gonna fuck you,” he roared, shoving Mary’s shoulder. You could see Mary take a deep, slow breath to collect himself. This guy was testing his damn patience. And you’d never seen Mary handle a situation like this before. But what you did know, was he was fiercely protective of the people he lo- well, people he cared for... You weren’t sure what was about to happen, but you just wanted these pricks to fuck off.

“Watch your mouth, man,” he warned, his fists curling up at his sides until his knuckles turned white. Corbin and his buddy were still laughing.

“Hey, hey darlin’... blink twice if you wanna ditch this fag and come hang out with some real fuckin’ men,” Corbin snorted, shoving Mary’s shoulder again. “A girl like you deserves a real dickin’ down!”

You didn’t hesitate, hocking back a decent glob of spit and launching it in his direction. The laughter ceased immediately as it smacked him on his cheek with a wet splat, dripping into his beard as he jolted in surprise. He wiped it with his hand, flicking it to the floor and while his gaze darkened on you.

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he sneered, stepping towards you threateningly as if he were going to grab you but Mary got in the way without hesitation, shoving him and landing a solid punch to Corbin’s cheek with a sickening crack that had everyone within radius turning to look at the commotion.

Within seconds Corbin retaliated, grabbing Mary’s shirt with two fists and headbutting him, shoving him back against you and in turn, the bar. Bottles knocked to the floor, smashing as Mary took a punch to the nose before getting his footing and throwing one back.

It all happened too quickly, a brawl breaking out so fast as you got shoved to the side and landed on shards of glass cutting into your palm. You ignored the pain and the wet feeling on your hands in favour of trying to grab the collar of Corbin to drag him off, but his black-haired friend grabbed you instead, pulling your arms behind your back and holding you against him as you watched Mary trying to overpower this solid piece of shit.

“Mary!” you shrieked at him, turning to the asshole holding you back. “Get the fuck off me, you fucking inbred bastard!”

From the crowd, Forrest appeared next to you and dove into the fray, grabbing Corbin’s collar like you had failed to and dragging him backwards to the floor, straddling him and landing a punch or two himself to his gut. Mary leaned over the bar, catching his breath while two men in black polos and cargos charged in, one pulling Forrest from Corbin, the other pulling him up and restraining him with his arms behind his back.

Forrest immediately backed down, holding his hands up in the air while the bouncer who’d intervened let him go, focussing his attention on the asshole still trying to claw his way to Mary. In a last ditch attempt, you kicked your heel between your captor’s legs and tucked it behind his ankle, pulling it until he fell to the floor and freed you. You ran to Mary without hesitation, pulling him to stand upright and holding his head in your bleeding hands to inspect the damage. You couldn’t tell if all this blood was yours or his.

“You gotta keep that bitch on a fucking leash, Goore!” Corbin screamed, still struggling against the bouncer to get a few more swings in. Mary lurched towards him, but you grabbed his shirt, pulling him back to you.

“You’re done, man!” the bouncer yelled at him, starting to drag him through the crowd of onlookers than had gathered. Corbin’s face projected a vile expression of pure hatred, smeared in blood that matted his hair and beard.

“I’m nowhere fucking near done, you watch,” he threatened, “you’re an easy guy to track down, Goore! I’ll fuckin’ find you!”

Mary glared at him as the bouncers dragged Corbin and his friend out of the club, kicking them to the curb. You diverted his attention back to you, gently pulling on his jawline and cupping his face to take a good look at him and remind him that you were right here and you were okay, in the hope it might dissipate the fury in him.

Forrest stepped up to Mary, concern creasing his brow. He’d managed to avoid injury, no fresh blood on him anywhere but his knuckles.

“You good, man? I can’t tell what’s fake and what’s real...” He waved his finger at Mary’s face. Mary smeared the back of his hand against his bust lip, scoffing at the sight of real blood on his hand. “Corbin’s a dick, you know he’s always lookin’ for trouble, man,” Forrest scolded, “You can’t rise to it!”

“He needs to learn not to run his fuckin’ mouth,” Mary growled.

“Hey, enough, tough guy...” you told him, lightly smacking his chest. “C’mon, let’s get you patched up.” You took his hand in yours, weaving your fingers in his despite the blood and pulling him through the crowd towards the door you’d come through earlier that lead to the green room backstage.

The heavy music of the club quietened to a dull roar behind you as the backstage door shut, and you lead Mary down the hall to the dressing room. He was silent, stewing in his head over the things Corbin had said to him, mulling over his anger. When you got him inside, you locked the door behind you, wanting a moment of quiet to patch him up. You let go of his hand and grabbed his make-up kit that you’d chucked on the couch, heading over to the sink you’d pressed him against earlier to wash your own cut up hands and dampen some cotton pads from his bag.

He lingered by the door, awkwardly stood in silence while you filled the sink. You hadn’t said a word to him, and frankly, Mary was terrified he’d gone too far, that you were pissed at him – or worse, disappointed. He never wanted you to see him like that, he wanted to be better, but he’d stooped to the level of a mindless thug because he couldn’t control how he reacted when it came to you. He’d have let it slide at the comments about him, but the second Corbin spoke down to you? He may as well have waved a red flag to a bull.

“Come here,” you told him softly, holding your hand out to him. Without a word he did as he was told, standing next to you by the sink while you ran the cotton pads under the warm water. Lightly, you began to dab at a wound by his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled quietly. “Didn’t wanna fly off the handle like that.” You smiled as you dabbed at his face, replacing the bloodied pad for another fresh one.

“Always rushing to save me,” you cooed, “my hero.” Mary chuckled at that, because of course he rushed in to save you – as if he ever wouldn’t...

“You’re okay though, right?” he asked, tilting your chin you guide your eyes to his for a moment. He was so gentle, searching with genuine concern. You just smiled at him and nodded. “Did you at least enjoy the show?” he asked, changing the subject now he knew you were okay, and figured you weren’t mad at him. If you were, he’d know it by now.

“I think you know that I did,” you joked, coyly. “You were incredible up there.”

Mary smirked down at you, battling between his sense of relief that you hadn’t despised the heavy music and his smugness at the blush that was no longer hidden in the dim lights of the club. Frankly though, you had started this. You turned him on before he went on stage, and where else was he supposed to channel that energy?

“Oh yeah? What did you like about it?” He feigned innocence, letting the smugness win. Of course he did, this was Mary after all... You thought for a moment, avoiding his watching eyes and continuing to dab at the blood that had dribbled down his face and collected around his nose and lip.

“Well, y’know... Just the control you had of the crowd, like they were eating out of the palm of your hand for most of it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in thought, “You do like it when I take control, huh?” This fucking guy. The blush on your cheeks returned hotter than ever, radiating across your face.

“Shut up, I’m cleaning you up,” you told him, desperately trying to hide the smile fighting to curl your lips.

“What for? Thought the blood turned you on...”

Only Mary could go from being involved in a bar fight that left him covered in blood with contusions on his face, to doing his very best to rile you up. But perhaps you were just the right amount of fucked up for him, because it was working.

Your arms sagged to your sides and you finally made eye contact with Mary. He was staring down at you intensely, waiting in silence with that conceited little twinkle in his eye that was already starting to turn a shade of purple under the smeared remains of his make up. He leaned against the sink again, parting his knees and pulling you towards him by grabbing the belt loops on your skirt and tugging gently. You followed him too easily for your liking, only needing the gentlest of coaxing.

“I thought... you were morbid,” he tormented, just like he had from the stage. Your chest seemed to flutter, heart stumbling over its own rhythm just as the words in your brain you thought you might use to respond did. But you were rendered speechless, hypnotised even.

Even partially cleaned up, Mary looked rough. What you couldn’t understand, is why it seemed to excite you the way it did. Was it knowing that he’d suffered his injuries while fighting for you? Was it the thought that he’d fought a guy twice his size just to defend you? Or did the split lip and bruising just give him an even more menacing look that flooded your body with uncontrolled heat?

You found yourself leaning into him, hesitating as your lips barely brushed his when you remembered they were injured, and a kiss would surely hurt him – especially the kind you were looking for.

He raised his hand to pinch your bottom lip again, just as he had earlier, inspecting the colour of them once again.

“That really is a pretty shade, doll...” His voice rumbled in his chest; you felt it, now that you were so close to him.

“Blood red,” you whispered, slightly garbled thanks to his grip on your lip. He grinned at that, the most beautifully sadistic little grin, before he let go and pushed his battered lips against yours in a deliberate and heated kiss.

He grunted on impact, pain shooting through his lip but it only spurred him on. Mary was no stranger to mixing pain with pleasure and for you he’d take it all. He didn’t hold back and didn’t expect you to either, your lips clashing together as you found a rhythm. Your hands – now barely bleeding, but still tender – planted themselves on his chest when he pulled you closer by your belt loops again, having you lean so far into him your hips crashed into his.

His hands held you in place like that as he forced his tongue past your lips, lapping at yours almost grotesquely. It had been a while since you’d seen Mary’s feral side, but here he was under the dressing room’s harsh luminescent lights trying to devour you as if you were his last meal on death row. Your hands grabbed at his chest, nails scratched at him to try and grip onto him but falling short thanks to the barrier of his shirt.

Hands grabbed at everything they could, both of you seeking the other out and feeling as if close just wasn’t close enough no matter how harshly you pressed against each other. You could feel his jeans growing solid, taught under you and just the mere thought of him hardening at this alone had you pressing your thighs together and pushing your hips into his as much as possible.

Mary pulled his lips from yours just for a moment, pressing his forehead to yours as he groaned at the intoxicating mix of the pain that pulsed through them and the pleasure that pulsed through his growing erection.

“Now’s your chance, doll,” he panted. You looked him in the eye, glaring intensely back and forth at one another. “Show me how pretty it looks, hm?”

It took you a second, but then the penny dropped...

“I seem to remember you wanted to see how pretty this shade looked smothered all over my cock, hm?”

When that penny dropped, so did you, immediately falling to your knees between his feet and reaching for the studded belt that held his jeans up. He watched through hooded eyes, gripping the sink behind him to lean his body weight on it while you undid his jeans and pulled them down just enough to expose the trimmed hair that tapered from his stomach down past that delicious ‘v’ line of his hips.

You reached past the hem of his boxers and fished your prize from its confines, laying heavy and thick in your palm. It was almost shameful, the way your mouth watered at just the sight of him, the feel of him in your hand but there wasn’t even the tiniest part of you that cared.

You looked up at him through your lashes, gently stroking his length and taking in the view from below him. The lust in his eyes had your body setting itself alight from the inside out. He looked dangerous, waiting for you to do as he wanted. He had full control of you with just his stare and without a single word... What he wanted was very clear, and you were more than happy to oblige knowing that obedience would earn you a reward.

Truthfully though, you wanted to do this for him just as much as he wanted it. Even when he was on stage, all you could think of was bending to his will, doing whatever the hell he wanted you to in order to derive his pleasure from him. You wanted him to take control of you, to channel that same darkness you saw in his eyes as he played and growled into the mic and use it on you.

And so, as you stared up at him through those pretty lashes of yours, you opened your mouth and lay your tongue flat on your bottom lip, never breaking eye contact as you leaned in and lay the reddened tip of his cock on it. It was your turn to put on a show for him now, to prove yourself worthy of reward and worship him like you were kneeling at an altar rather than his feet.

He inhaled sharply, hissing through clenched teeth when your tongue made contact with his head. You kept your eyes on him still, circling your lips around him and relishing in the purr that sounded from above you. How had you failed to do this for him since that very first night in the dive bar? How had you resisted? The way he’d reacted to your mouth last time should have been enough incentive – it certainly was now.

Frankly, you were appalled by how long it had been since you’d taken him in your mouth like this... You’d more than make up for it now, slowly leaning further into him to take as much of his length into your mouth and throat as possible while still holding your gaze on him.

The eye contact was driving Mary insane, seeing right through you and knowing you wanted him to watch, to see how good you were being for him. You were freakier than anyone would give you credit for, and only he knew that. Only he got to see it.

“That’s my girl, huh? Fuck...” he praised, one of his hands letting go of its death grip on the sink and running through your hair as you bobbed slowly. You whimpered a little at the approval, particularly when his fingertips grazed over your scalp, nails scratching and massaging. The pleasure was nothing like what you wanted, what your body craved but you’d take any bit of praise, any kind of encouragement he was willing to give.

When he wrapped his fingers in your hair, tugging at it gently to encourage your movements you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his thighs, grounding yourself while he groaned above you. You relaxed your throat, swallowing more of him until your nose nuzzled against his skin and his grip on your hair tightened, holding you there.

Mary was losing his mind, his head rolling back and eyes squeezing shut when he felt your throat constricting around him. He pulled on your hair to lift your head off him, giving you an opportunity to breathe but all you did was hollow your cheeks and breathe through your nose, using your fist to pump the half of his cock that was now exposed.

You suckled at the tip for a moment before pulling off him completely, holding eye contact again and stroking him where you knelt. You made sure he was watching you when you began to press deliberate kisses to his shaft, leaving slightly dull lipstick stains against his pale skin. Mary grinned wildly, stroking your hair and allowing you to mark his cock in red stains like you’d promised him.

“Dirty girl,” he keened, “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” You didn’t answer with words, only nodding as you started leaving open mouthed kisses, tongue laving wetly at the ridges of his cock where veins protruded. “Such a pretty colour...” he chuckled, starting to lose control of his hips as they rolled towards you, chasing the feeling. He so badly wanted to be buried in your mouth again, surrounded by that delicious wet warmth...

You didn’t tease him for much longer, taking the tip past your lips again and sinking down on his length. The moan he released had arousal pooling between your legs, and your own need was becoming hard to ignore. But you would, knowing that Mary would pay you back for your patience – if not now, when he got you home...

“So tempting to use this pretty mouth of yours, doll... See how much you can take.” That was an invitation, an open hint to ask for your consent to do just that. The thought of pulling back to give verbal consent was just not sitting right with you – a second of neglect to his now weeping cock was a second too long, and you weren’t about to neglect him at all. Instead, you gripped the hem of his jeans and pulled his hips towards you, indicating you wanted him to use his hips, to move and use you just as he’d said.

“Oh, you want that, huh?” You nodded, pulling again. “Shit...” he hissed, pushing himself up from leaning on the sink to stand in front of you, all the while you never let him slip from your mouth.

With his feet firmly planted to the floor either side of you, he wrapped his hand in your hair again and began to rock his hips; slowly at first, savouring the feeling and watching intently as you sat so prettily for him, obediently taking everything he gave you. But he couldn’t help himself – the sight at his feet completely maddening – and he found himself thrusting a little faster, testing how much you could take. When you didn’t struggle at all, he amped his thrusts up again, grunting and moaning above you. It took all your willpower not to let go of his jeans and dive between your own legs for some friction, some kind of relief from the arousal overtaking your body.

As if he read your mind, Mary used his free hand to rip yours from his jeans. “Touch yourself,” he ordered, “Until I can feel your fucking moans on my cock.”

You had no willpower to deny him, immediately diving your hand beneath your skirt and pushing your panties to one side to circle your clit with the juices that had gathered there. You whined in satisfaction, the sound vibrating along Mary’s shaft and spurring him on to bury himself to the hilt in your throat.

“Don’t hold back, make yourself cum.” And you didn’t, wasting no time building up to pleasure and doing everything you could do get yourself to the edge. It never took long with your own fingers, not when you knew the goal was just to cum as quickly as possible. There was nothing to savour, you were rushing not for yourself but to give Mary exactly what he wanted.

“You fuckin’ wait, doll... I’ve been too sweet on you, hm?” he warned. Truthfully, the sex recently had taken more of a sensual turn now that feelings were involved but there was still a filthy side to Mary, and he knew you had it too. There was no harm in mixing it up a little here and there... “Wait ‘til I get you home. I’ll have you fucking screaming for me...”

You believed him. You knew what he was capable of, and you had no problem letting him do whatever he deemed necessary to elicit those screams that you couldn’t create here. But his promise had your hips bucking against your hand, chasing the high that fast approached. Your moans echoed around his head, vibrating down his cock over and over as he used your throat.

“Come on, doll, cum for me. I’m not letting go ‘til you do,” he groaned, tightening his grip in your hair until your roots burned but all it did was spur you on... You hollowed your cheeks for him, using your tongue to please him as he fucked your throat. Your fingers sped up, furiously circling your clit and pushing you closer and closer to the brink until you snapped...

Your hips jolted and thrashed where you knelt, the floor harshly bruising your knees. Moans ended up as choked garbles as you came harder than you’d expected for such little build up. The only thing keeping you remotely in place was Mary’s grip on your hair, holding your head for him to continue fucking your throat with reckless abandon now, too turned on to hold off as soon as you fell over the edge of euphoria.

“That’s it, doll... Fucking hell...” he growled, biting into his already injured lip and trying desperately to hold onto his own control. He waited, watching you as he used your mouth, getting closer and closer until you stopped squirming beneath him.

“Where?” he panted, desperate now, “where can I finish?” He sounded frantic, panicked. Truthfully he was, because if he didn’t get some kind of answer soon, he’d be unable to hold off, and the thought of ruining his orgasm was too devastating after all the work you’d put in for him... You just pointed at your full mouth and sucked at him harder, earning you a roar of “Fucking SHIT” as he threw is head back one final time and lost all control.

You took every drop of his spend you could like a champ, holding what you could on your tongue as his hips slowed to a shallow splutter and he whimpered and grunted above you like an animal. He looked ethereal, despite the injuries to his face as he found his pleasure in you.

You waited patiently as he caught his breath, the last dribbles of his spend finding their way onto your tongue as you lapped at his now over-sensitive head. He leaned back against the sink again to steady himself, looking down at you sat prettily waiting for him like a puppy dog waiting on a treat. Your lipstick had smeared across your face, messed up by your kisses and his borderline brutal motions. And yet, you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

Even prettier when you opened your mouth for him, and showed him what you’d collected on your tongue.

“You waitin’ for permission, or something?” he laughed, pinching your chin to tilt your head side to side and inspect you. You just waited in silence, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Lipstick’s ruined, baby. Gonna need a fresh coat...” he bent down until he was eye level with you, “Or maybe a gloss?”

With a wink, he dipped his finger into your mouth, coating his finger in his cum and spreading it over your lips gently as if it were lip gloss. It sparkled under the lights of the room, matching that playful twinkle in your eye.

“So pretty...” he complimented, watching as you now closed your mouth and swallowed what was left. Mary watched in awe, almost pissed off that his cock had softened and for now, he was spent. Just that act alone had him wanting to worship you like the goddess you were. But he’d have to wait until he got you home...

But Mary being the nasty little shit he was, wanted nothing more than to do whatever he could to keep the fire going, to fan the embers and turn you on as much as you did him. And so, he took your hand in his, helping you up off the floor. Then with one hand, he wrapped his fingers around your neck and held you still, moving in to kiss his gloss from your lips.

You knew from the first night you spent with him he had no problem with the taste of his own release, but as long as he kept finding new and ridiculously sexy ways to show you that, you’d always find it one of the hottest damn kinks of his... You melted into his kiss immediately, adoring the taste of him on your tongue mixed with the fresh blood of his split lip he’d bitten into. Was it a nice flavour? No. But it was the very essence of Mary, and it had you drifting into a world of your own as you made out with him.

Suddenly, the doorhandle rattled, followed in quick succession by a heavy thump on the door and an “ow!” being yelped through the wood. It sounded like Jed, trying to get in without knowing you’d locked the door when you came in to clean Mary up. He’d tried shoving the door open with his shoulder, only to collide with it instead.

“Hey, what the fuck?” he yelled through the door. Quickly Mary parted from you, tucking himself back into his jeans and doing them up. He stepped to the side and made his way slowly to the door, giving you enough time to take another cotton pad from his kit and run it under some fresh warm water, wiping away the red smears from your face to look somewhat presentable. Your hair was still wild from Mary’s grip, but you didn’t quite have time to get it back to normal before Mary let Jed into the dressing room, followed by Forrest and Davey on his heels.

They looked around the room, flitting between the two of you who in your effort to look nonchalant looked more guilty than if they’d caught you mid-blowjob.

“You fuckin’ animals...” Jed laughed, slapping Mary’s chest as he walked further into the room to gather up their kit. “Glad we got here in time, don’t need your ass print on our shit Mare.”

They thought they’d caught you before anything happened... Good, you’d let them believe that.

“You good, man?” Forrest asked, “I know he landed a few punches. You look rough.”

“Thanks,” Mary scoffed. “Did he look worse at least?”

“Oh yeah, think you broke his nose. Blood everywhere, looked crooked. Nice,” Davey laughed, “Bouncers shoved him out on the street while I was having a smoke, he was pissed.”

“Bastard deserved it, has done for a while,” Mary shrugged.

“We’re gonna load the van and head out, you two alright to get yourselves home?” Forrest asked, picking up some of the kit they’d brought in the dressing room after their set.

“Yeah we’re good, not over the limit,” Mary turned to you then, “you ready to get outta here, doll?” You just nodded, turning to pack up Mary’s kit and drain the sink of the pink-tinted water.

It didn’t take long to shift the gear into Forrest’s van with you and Mary helping out. Surprisingly, all the guys gave you a hug as they were leaving, citing it was nice to meet you and hopping into the van – not before Jed got in a jab about ‘going easy on Mary’ despite his new ‘bad boy look’ when you got him home. You just promised him you wouldn’t with a wink, to which he laughed.

As they drove out of the parking lot, Mary turned back to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him.

“Shall we?” he asked with a suggestive tone, swaying you in his arms and smirking down at you.

“We shall...” you sang, leaning up onto your toes to plant your lips to his in a slow and delicious kiss. He hummed against your lips, his hands grabbing at your waist as you introduced your tongue to the mix – but he soon cut you off.

“Get in that van, right now,” he ordered, earning a giggle from you. You span in his arms and felt a playful smack to your ass as you began to walk towards the passenger side of his van, Mary making his way into the driver’s side.

The tension in the front seat was thick and heavy, anticipation for the moment he finally got you home building with each passing second. At some point, Mary reached over and placed his hand on your thigh, stroking his thumb over the bare skin and letting it slide inwards. You twisted in your seat, allowing him the room to slide a little higher, just to tease...

Once out of the city and back on home turf, you threw caution to the wind and leaned over the centre console to kiss at Mary’s neck, nibble at his ear, anything and everything you could do while he drove – very carefully – through the streets he knew like the back of his hand.

“You want me to total this thing, doll?” he growled. You just giggled, sucking a hickey into his neck.

Eventually, he pulled into his apartment complex, parking up in his designated spot. As soon as he took his seatbelt off he was shoving you back over to your side and climbing over the console himself, his hands everywhere all at once as his lips engulfed you. You fucking loved riling him up like this...

“Do you know how tempting it is just to fuck you right here?” he growled as his lips made the descent down your neck.

“I’d let you,” you laughed, “but I gotta stop by the 7/11...”

“Huh?” he pulled back from you, confused. “You didn’t fancy mentioning that before I dived over here?” he teased. You giggled again – and of course, had no idea what that did to him, inevitably making the unfolding situation in his jeans worse.

“What? I’m out of birth control...” you whined. “And as much as I love the idea of you railing me until the sun rises, I really don’t fancy motherhood any time soon. Pharmacy isn’t open this late, so condoms it is. Just for tonight.” You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to the end of his nose.

“Fine by me, condoms make me last longer anyway,” he smirked. “I’ll come with.” He started to retreat back to open his door, but you stopped him.

“No no, it’s fine. It’s just around the corner. I’ll be like five minutes. You take your stuff upstairs, get a little rest – you're gonna need it...” Mary sighed in defeat.

“Alright fine, you got your phone on you, yeah?” he checked, a little concern on his face.

“Yeah yeah, I’m good. I’ll see you up there,” you leaned in to press another kiss to his lips, jumping out of the van and heading down the street in the direction of the local convenience store.

Mary watched you walk away – absolutely nothing to do with the way your ass looked in that skirt, of course – and gave in, knowing there was no arguing with you on this. So instead, he got out and fished his guitar case from the back, along with his backpack of make-up and guitar picks and headed upstairs. He hummed to himself as he climbed the two flights of stairs up to his floor, content and happy despite the bar fight that had broken out.

Truthfully, Mary couldn’t believe his damn luck. He’d landed a girl like you, worked at the differences and insecurities and whilst it was still a work in progress, you were his. He’d won the biggest battle, let his walls down just enough to let you in so you could take care of the rest together, brick by brick.

Mary rounded the corner to his apartment, shoving his hand into his pocket for the keys to unlock the front door when he stopped, frozen and staring straight ahead... Something wasn’t right.

The door to his apartment was slightly ajar, the wooden frame splintered by the lock as if it had been forced open with a crowbar. He couldn’t hear anything, only silence spilling from the crack in the door, but Mary knew better than to go charging in...

“I’m nowhere fucking near done, you watch!” Corbin’s threat echoed around his head. “You’re an easy guy to track down, Goore! I’ll fuckin’ find you!”

Corbin had made good on his promise. And for all Mary knew, he was still inside, waiting for him. Waiting for you.

Quietly, Mary set his things down in the hallway, rifling through his bag for his cell phone, typing a quick message and hitting send before he fished into the hidden pocket inside and pull out a Swiss army knife. Handy little thing to own, when you own a guitar workshop and play in a band. Never know when you might need it to screw something together, or cut or saw something. He’d never needed to use it for self-defence before, and frankly, he felt sick at the thought of it. But he wasn’t going into that apartment without something.

Slowly, and quietly, Mary stepped towards his front door. His heart pounded in his chest, sweat beginning to form on his brow as fight or flight began to kick in.

He took a deep breath, flicked the knife attachment out of its hiding place, and slowly pushed open his front door...

You sifted through the aisles of the 7/11, humming to yourself one of Mary’s songs that you particularly liked from the show tonight. With condoms in hand, as well as some assorted snacks, some beers and a few toiletries, you headed over to the register ready for the sluggish teen employee to ring you up.

They took their sweet time, and you tried your best not to look impatient. It was late, after all, and this poor kid had the graveyard shift. You wouldn’t wanna be here either, in their shoes. Not that you’d worked a solid day’s work in your life, mind you...

As the poor kid moved at the pace of a turtle scanning each of your items, your phone buzzed in your purse. Figuring Mary was asking you to pick something up for him, you checked it, only to have your heart jump into your mouth, and your stomach fall out of your ass...

Don’t come home. Not safe. Call Forrest +1 (618) 107-1423

#mary goore x reader smut #mary goore fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore x reader #mary goore #repugnant fan fiction #repugnant fanfiction #repugnant #repugnant band #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfic #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost the band #mary goore smut

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ivnxrori · 7 months ago

Text

When Sun and Moon meet - S2

Zuko x Fem!WaterBender!Reader Enemies to lovers

As one of the Princesses of the Northern Water tribe, you were blessed with a gift by the moon. However you were permitted to be allowed to use the gift at all costs. From many hidden waterbending usages, the aftermath of the avatar visiting the Northern Tribe had led to your beginning journey, hiding yourself as a water bender as a princess from the Northern water tribe

Warnings: fighting

Masterlist

҉ * ‧͙ ⋆ ⁺ ༓ ☾ Chapter 9 - Tied with the Gaang

I woke up to wind breezing through my hair and a cloudy sky in front of me. Is this another dream? I lifted myself up only to see Katara with her eyes widened. “Y/N!” She hugged me, I confusingly hugged her back making the three look back at us. I recognize two of the three. Aang and Sokka but there was a short girl who appeared to be blind. She wore a green outfit which makes me think she's part of the earth kingdom. “Where…am I?” I asked Katara, pulling back. “We saw you in Lake Laogai, we thought you must've drowned, '' Katara explained. I attempted to recall the moment from yesterday but my brain was still fuzzy. “We saw the chain cuffs around your wrist. What in the world happened to you?” Sokka asked as I tried to put the pieces back together. I remember now…It was a miserable moment. I felt so embarrassed now, my horrible attempt at making everyone happy was the cause of me here. I feel the wave of Deja Vu, this isn't the first time I passed out just to wake up to a flying bison. “I don't remember” I mumbled, lying. Katara nodded and looked at the earthbender “You might not know her but her name is Toph, and earth bender” she pointed at Toph. “Toph, this is Y/N” Katara introduced us as we both awkwardly waved to one another.

“We’re about to land” Aang announced and the next second, we landed on an island.

҉ ☾

“When did you guys find Appa?” I asked. “How did you know Appa was gone?” Katara questioned as I shrugged. “I saw plenty of missing posters around Ba Sing Se so I assume so”.

“Look we escaped from the Dai Li, we got Appa back, i'm telling you we should go to the Earth king now and tell him our plan! We’re on a roll”.

“One good hour after weeks of trouble isn't much of a roll” Katara retorted, moving her hand to rest on her waist. “We can build on it!” Sokka added “What plan are you guys talking about?” I questioned. “The Earth King has no idea that there is a war going on, is getting manipulated but this scary guy and we need him to assist us in the invasion on the eclipse” Sokka explained. I nodded warily, still confused about the manipulation and invasion. “What makes you think we’ll get his support?” Toph asked. “I don't know if you've noticed but things don't usually go that smoothly for our little gang”. They continued discussing whether or not to leave Ba Sing Se or to make peace with the earth king. I was still lost on what they were talking about, I assume they were connected to the attack I had to experience in lake laogai. “But now that we have Appa back there's nothing stopping us from telling the Earth king the truth” Aang flew down from Appa. “See Aang's with me!” Sokka hugged Aang. “Would they even believe you?” I asked curiously. “We just have to try,” Sokka responded. “Well…I guess if the Earth king knew the truth, things could change” Katara put her hand on her chin, leaning towards their plan. “I don't trust the new Sokka, Long Feng brainwashed you! Didn't he?” The earth bender accusingly pointed at Sokka. Us 5 turn around and see the Dai Lee’s ships. “That's the Dai Lee’s ships” I learned to take a closer look. “They’re probably looking for us! So?” Sokka turned for Katara's confirmation. Katara thought for just a moment before agreeing. “Let's fly.”

҉ ☾

“Can we please buy a new saddle? Riding bareback is terrifying!” Toph exclaimed “What even happened to the saddle?” I grip onto Appas coat, squinting my eyes from the impact of the wind. “Long story” Sokka said, hard to make out from the wind. “There it is, the whole thing is the palace, '' Sokka pointed. I maneuver my head to take a better look of the palace. “The earth king's chamber should be at the center.”

“We have to be careful Long Feng probably has warned the kingdom we’re coming” Katara warned

“Why would you assume that?” Sokka questioned

“Why would we not assume that” I retorted “If you ask me, I think we’re just gonna sail rig-” Sokka’s sentence cut off from his own scream from a rock that barely missed us. “What was that?!” Toph yelled out. “Surface to air rocks! More incoming!” I attempted to take a better look at where the surface rocks were coming from, it seems like this place is heavily guarded. I felt the impact of some of the rocks almost hitting us, my heart racing in the process of almost getting hit many times. Aang jumps down to blow away several guards, by the time he was finished Appa landed which was our que to jump down. The guards were lined up on the side, not a single space in between. I pulled out water from the bottle, pulled their legs and threw them as far as I could. Katara used a more gentler approach yelling out sorry’s many times. Somewhat made me feel like I was the bad cop but oh well. Toph was able to topple many guards over by rock slabs, allowing us to make our way closer to the palace. Katara went first across the bridge, me following behind her. She was able to push all the guards in the water under the bridge which enabled me to ice the water keeping them stuck. I jumped over the river making my way towards the long range of stairs. More guards appeared, charging at us down the stairs. However Toph was able to turn the stairs into slabs making them slide down. A block carved out beneath us was able to escort us up the slabs, letting us have a clear view of all the soldiers falling which was quite funny. “Seriously, we’re actually on your guys side!” Sokka yelled, as if that's going to change their minds. He winced looking down at the soldiers falling “Sorry…” We managed to get in the building with Toph’s and Aang’s major support with earth bending. “Toph! Which way to the earth king?” Sokka asked looking around “How should I know? I'm still voting we leave Ba Sing Se” Toph retorted, pushing away the guards. “Sokka, you look at that side while I look at the other” I pointed to the other side as Sokka nodded, both of us splitting ways. After the defeat of the guards, behind the mess there was a huge door which screams royalty. “The king is definitely in there” I pointed behind the mess. “Now that's an impressive door” Sokka ran towards the door attempting to kick it open but to no avail. Aang helped with his airbending and was able to break down the door, making Sokka fly through. “A little warning next time!”

We ran towards the king, with our weapons drawn out. Even with everything going on, I still don't understand. I also don't understand how I managed to even get in this position. “We need to talk to you!” Aang spoke up. “They’re here to overthrow you” The guy, with the same mustache, hair and deep voice. My eyes widened, that was the same guy who attempted to trap me in the underwater…thing? “No! We’re on your side. We’re here to help.” Sokka attempted to convince the king. “You have to trust us.” Katara added. “You invade my palace, lay waste to all my guards, break down my fancy door, and you expect me to trust you?” The Earth king spat. “He has a good point,” Toph agreed. I shrugged “Your guards didn't even try to hear us out.”

“If you’re on my side, then drop your weapons and stand down”. The king said out loud. I hesitated and looked around seeing the others doing the same thing. Silently agreeing to drop our weapons once Aang did it first. “See, we’re friends, your earthiness” Aang held his hands up in defense, awkwardly chuckling. I internally face palmed at what he said, ‘Earthiness’? Seriously? My thoughts were put in a halt by the earth benders handcuffing our hands by their earth bending. “Hey we dropped our weapons!” I spat. “Detain the assailants” He ordered, the guards slid in and surrounded us, every gap covered. I grumble in irritation. “We’re your allies!” Sokka tried to convince the king.

“Make sure the Avatar and his friends never see daylight again” The king turned his head towards his assistant in shock. “The Avatar? You’re the Avatar?” He pointed towards Sokka in disbelief. Sokka deadpanned “Uh, no, him” He pointed to Aang with his head. “Over here!” Aang joyfully said as if he wasn't getting arrested, the rocks which were supposed to be cuffed around him floated around his hands once he raised his arms, locking back down when he put his arms back around his back.

“What does it matter, your highness? They’re enemies of the state”

“Perhaps you're right…” No longer, a bear came feeling interested in Aang, happily licking him as he giggled. “Though Bosco seems to like him. I’ll hear what he has to say” The King said, making Long Feng glare in irritation. Aang goes on explaining what has been going on for 100 years, which is unbelievable that he even had to explain it. After trying to convince the king that we’re on his side, to the point we had to bring Appa out to prove a point he agreed to looking into the matters. Which made all of our previous disappointment into an awkward contentment.

“Dai Li, arrest Long Feng. I want him to stand trial for crimes against the Earth Kingdom” The Earth King announced to his guards, taking Long Feng away. Finally, after much effort we managed to prove our innocence and our rights. Going to a public transport train only to find the underground base destroyed, then riding on Appa anxiously without a saddle to see the drill that the fire nation drilled into the walls of Ba Sing Se. I was even shocked myself not knowing any of this, it must have been Zuko’s doing. I was stupid enough to give him the benefit of the doubt for some reason. “Looks like Long Feng is Long gone Ha!” Sokka joked wiping his invisible tears humoredly “Oh, yeah, I've been waitin’ to use that one”

҉ ☾

After officially getting the Earth Kings support in the invasion, we went to Long Feng’s previous office who had been holding letters from everyone out of Ba Sing Se. I wasn't expecting a letter till I heard my name called “Princess Y/N”. I flinched hearing my name and hesitantly grabbing the scroll. I unrolled it immediately checking who it was from…it was from my father.

Dear Y/N,

This letter is not just from your Father and Sivoy but from the whole Nother Water tribe. We dearly miss you in the water tribe however we love you enough to accept whatever you do. Everything in the northern water tribe is perfectly fine, don't worry about us. We planned to help our sister tribe which I know you’ll be happy to hear. We wish you a peaceful, happy and safe adventure Princess Y/N and everyone in the tribe appreciates you very much, make sure you come back safe and once you do we’ll hold a memorable feast. Whatever you do Y/N, don't give up.

From Father, Sivoy, Northern water tribe.

I smiled softly from the letter, I wouldn't have ever received it if I had drowned. Spirits…how immature I am, leaving the whole tribe in guilt. I couldn't even imagine it, nor do I want to. Luckily I finally retrieved this letter which was very difficult and I was thoroughly satisfied. However the last sentence gave me chills down my spine, I swear I have heard it before… Oh well, I'll focus on it later.

“Y/N who is it from?” Katara asked as I smiled joyfully. “My family”

҉ ☾

“I’ll stay with Katara in Ba Sing Se” I said, planning to join Katara. “Are you sure? Don’t you want to see your family in the Northern water tribe?” Aang asked as I shook my head. “I'm not ready, I’ll for sure see them another day” I smiled. Katara hugged me “I have another girl to join me!” she squealed “No offense Toph” She said sheepishly. “None taken” Toph put his hands up as I chuckled.

“I’m really gonna miss you guys” Toph said sadly.

“Me too” “Yeah”

Katara and Aang embraced Toph in a hug. Sokka and I stood aside awkwardly. I havent met them long enough to consider me as a friend. Until I felt a warm embrace squishing me into a hug. “Great! That's enough! Okayyy we love each other” He patted Katara and Aang’s head. I laughed breathily and embraced them back. “Y/N you're planning to come with us on our journey right?” Katara asked. I felt a silent plea with all of them making it harder to say no. “If you guys want…i'll come along” I said, making them cheer and laugh in glee. Katara, Toph and I waved off Sokka, Aang and Appa on their journey. I silently wished they would come back safely. “Get back safe Toph” Katara and I said out loud waving to Toph who was leaving. “I will!” Toph yelled back, waving. “Let's go back to the Earth Palace, they want us there” Katara said, initiating me to follow which I did. However I felt a wave of uneasiness hit me, is everything going to be alright?

<- Back - Next ->

a/n: WOOO new chapter! Yesterday was my birthday so I was plannig on posting it I just wanted to celebrate my birthday. Hope yall enjoy this chapter, I know there is like no zuko but I promise he will come, I just wanted the character to be part of the adventure instead of just plotting them down Take care of yourself nad have a nice day :)

taglist: @luvkvni @katovano @karmaswitch @someonesmember @velvet-spider @sh3sa1dwhat @nerdisthenewcool @meiraloves2dmen @fqnfics101 @iluvme547 @leaderwon @yukihatesreoyo @heart4hees @4l3x1s @kkissaku @corpsebridenightamare @newjellis @fatkish@pbeckn26@jasminesacademia @kyo-kyo1

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whatsnewalycat · 2 years ago

Text

Psychomanteum / Chapter 11

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC (2nd POV)

Chapter 11: Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings

Chapter Summary: The first day in LA is a mixed bag.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 11.8k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, insecurities, mirror, angst, fluff, acting career things idk, video call, awkward/nervous speech patterns, toxic mother/family of origin issues, food/eating/hunger, argument, mentions of: infidelity, addiction, death, and infertility, crying, comfort sex, dirty talk, eating ass, oral sex (both r) face fucking, deep throating, squirting, anal play and sex, impact play, hair pulling, maybe a hint of degradation

Notes: Chapter title from "Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings" by Father John Misty. Oooo a new banner, who is she?! I apologize for how long this is, it really got outta hand. Thank you for reading!!!

[ Tag List ] [ AO3 ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ Series Masterlist ]

“Holy shit, Dee,” you breathe, squinting as your eyes adjust from the darkness of the garage to the bright, open home.

Dieter walks ahead of you, tossing his keys and sunglasses on a glass console table, kicking his shoes off onto the gleaming hardwood floor. Each noise seems amplified in the jarring silence.

It smells like lemon pine-sol, and, based on how uncharacteristically spotless everything appears, you guess that he has someone come in and clean while he’s away.

“It’s–I mean, wow–” you stammer, shaking your head as you examine your surroundings.

The vaulted ceiling’s stained teak backbone stretches from one end of the house to the other, rafters extending from the beam like wooden ribs. On one side of you lies a dining room and kitchen, on the other, a living room and patio entrance. Light pours in through the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows like giant frames showcasing the greenery of the patio, all lush with palm fronds and waxy-leaved bushes.

The home’s décor is quintessential Dieter.

Eclectic. Moody. Maximalist.

Jewel- and earth-toned furniture, in all different finishes and fabrics, fill the open floor plan. The white walls are cluttered by art, a hodgepodge of creations. Prints and acrylic paintings and black ink illustrations, including some of Dieter’s originals. Plants are scattered around, next to windows and on tables, thriving in their glazed ceramic pots.

Your fingers twitch, longing to experience every texture this buffet of materials has to offer. You feel yourself getting a little moon-eyed as you marvel at the place he calls home. It’s surreal.

And, if you’re being honest, daunting.

When Dieter spends time with you in your domain, you feel you know him at his core. A loveable, chaotic, free spirit, who busies himself sketching and “taste testing” while you bake. Which mostly just means he eats cookies off the cooling rack when he thinks you’re not looking, but sometimes he draws pictures of you while he does it.

You know him as someone who watches shitty TV and shittier movies with you just so you can make fun of them together, someone who theorizes out-loud about existentialism and Garfield in the same breath, who wraps himself around you when you sleep because, even when he’s dreaming, he wants your skin clinging to his.

You don’t know him as Dieter Bravo, Academy Award Winning Actor.

No.

To you, he’s Dee. The man you fell in love with so haphazardly, it sometimes makes you question your own sanity.

The existence of this other part of his life, with film sets and photoshoots and interviews and stylists and red carpet premieres, all these stringent show pony requirements, so paradoxical to the person you know and love… It makes you uneasy.

Is he different when he’s here?

Is Dieter Bravo, Hollywood Movie Star, the same man as Dee, Bubble Bath Connoisseur?

It’s something you’ve largely been able to ignore.

But, since you’re being honest, you can admit that the disparities between his life and yours make your skin crawl sometimes.

Like right now, when you’re standing here in the entryway of his gorgeous home, whose property value is probably greater than your lifetime’s gross income, holding the handle of your ratty old carry-on suitcase. Your piece of shit suitcase, with its broken zipper, and this big tear in the side.

Which, really, has never bothered you before. It’s a goddamn suitcase. It holds things from point a to point b, and this works just fine.

But Dieter has this ridiculous fucking suitcase with a heavy-duty metallic shell, and 360-degree wheels that glide effortlessly through airports, and a fucking phone charger. A fucking phone charger in a suitcase, seriously?

It’s just so… exactly how you fucking feel standing next to him sometimes.

And, as if to prove your point, when you release the handle of your piece of shit carry-on, it topples over sideways against his space-age phone charger on wheels.

All you can do is sigh. Stare at luggage. Try to ignore the voice that bombards your thoughts, telling you he’s obviously out of your league.

Sneering at you, saying, “Get real, this fucking guy is way too rich to be humoring you.”

Saying, “Louella Rose, once he knows you’re trash, he’ll be gone for good, I can tell you that much.”

“Want me to show you around?” Dieter asks, the low timbre of his voice a butter knife cutting through the thick fog of your thoughts. He steps closer and plants his wide palm on the small of your back.

You turn to him with a smile you know is flaccid, but nod, “Lead the way.”

He studies you for a moment, dark eyes darting around your face, no doubt sensing the apprehension you can’t shake, and proves your suspicion true when he asks, “What’s wrong?”

Your throat tightens and you drop your gaze to the colorful entryway rug beneath your feet, shaking your head as you admit, “I—I don’t know. I’m… kind of freaking out, I think,” your voice cracks, and words start to tumble from your mouth, “I just keep thinking that I don’t belong here, like I’m too fucking poor to be doing this, I mean, to be here, and-and I’m so fucking nervous that I’m gonna fuck this up somehow—”

“Hey, come on,” Dieter coos, one hand settling at your waist, the other brushing against your cheek, “Look at me, Lua.”

You do.

His eyes bore into yours, unblinking and sincere, “It’s gonna be ok. I promise.”

Your brows press together and you swallow hard, then nod.

“We’re gonna do this stupid interview, which you’re gonna fucking nail–”

You look away.

He tilts your chin towards his face again, refusing to let you hide, repeating, “Which you’re gonna fucking nail. You know why?”

You just stare at him, half-expecting him to say because you have to or I won’t love you anymore, but instead, he says, “Because you are fucking amazing, Louella. You are brilliant, and gorgeous, and genuine, and hilarious, and capable of fucking anything. Ok?”

His words, so sure and earnest, soothe your inflamed sense of worthlessness.

A burning sensation works up your throat, then spreads behind your eyes. Hot tears roll down your cheeks. You wipe them away with the back of your hand and croak, “Don’t say things like that to me, it’s too sweet and makes me cry.”

“Listen here, doll,” he cups your face and raises his eyebrows, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, “I’ll compliment you as much as I goddamn please.”

You let out a wet, nasally chuckle and link your hands behind his neck, then sniffle, “Fine. I guess. If you say so.”

“That’s what I thought,” he mumbles. His thumbs work against your damp cheeks as he brings his lips to yours, gentle and soft.

When he pulls back, he clears his throat and turns back to the vacant house, “Alright, sweet cheeks, let’s give you the official tour.”

The term of endearment makes you laugh and shake your head, “Dieter, I swear to god–”

He grabs your hand and tugs you onward, ignoring your feigned protest.

At the tail end of the tour, Dieter swings open the door to his spacious bedroom. You recognize the tall, chartreuse walls and the puffy white linens tucked around his bed.

Of all the rooms in his house, including the art studio set up down the hall, this is the one that feels the most like Dee. It’s a little messy, but in a lived-in way you expect from him. Relatively no-frills. Comfortable. Homey. It smells like him, not like lemon pine-sol.

You gravitate towards a chest of drawers that sits opposite his bed, grinning at a pile of rings, lighters, coins, and crumpled up cash. A big, rectangular mirror mounted on the wall above it catches your attention.

All kinds of paper mementos are stuffed into the mirror’s frame. Your eyes wander along the edge, stopping to study a picture of him, much younger and more angular than he appears now, with a woman whose bright, dimpled smile matches his.

“Is that your mom?” you ask, pointing to it.

“Yeah,” he walks behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, tucking your shoulder under his chin, watching you through the mirror as your eyes leapfrog to each little piece of him.

A ticket stub to a Prince concert at Madison Square Garden in July 2004.

An old polaroid of two dark-haired young boys roller skating.

“Tomás?”

“Mhmm.”

You tilt your head and frown, “Can I ask you something?”

“No,” he deadpans, blinking at you through the mirror.

“Shut up,” you snort, then ask, “Why the fuck are you named Dieter?”

He laughs at this, throwing his head back to boom at the ceiling before returning to your reflected gaze.

“I mean, I’m sorry—It’s just so…”

“White?” he smirks.

“Yes!” you laugh, covering your mouth, “Is that your real name?!”

“No,” he grins, then shrugs, “Well, legally it is. But my parents named me Manuel Diego Soto Flores. Diego is what everyone called me.”

“Stop it, oh my god. You are blowing my fucking mind right now,” you shake your head at the whiplash this information gives you, then pause, “Wait, why did you change it?”

“My agent suggested I use a stage name way back when. Dieter Bravo sounded cool,” he explains, and chuckles a little as he tells you, “I got in an argument with my folks about it when work started picking up, and legally changed it just to piss them off.”

“Wow,” you raise your eyebrows and laugh, “That is… truly petty.”

“That it is,” he sighs, his smile faltering.

“So, what am I supposed to call you? Diego? Dieter?” you smirk, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“Dee,” he answers, “I like Dee.”

“I can do that.”

You hold his gaze for a few moments, relishing the heat that swells in your chest, then resume your study of his artifacts, squinting to read the faded black ink of a few movie stubs lined up together: Eyes Wide Shut, Donnie Darko, The Departed, Fight Club, Whiplash, Titanic, Toy Story 3.

Next to them, you spot a wrinkled brown paper square, etched with unruly black ink strokes into a blueberry branch. You tilt your head at it, then glance down at the blueberry branch tattooed on your forearm.

Your eyes flick to the reflection of Dieter’s face and find him already staring at you. A question creases your forehead, and he answers with a shrug. Tingles spread across your belly. You smooth your hand against his and leave it there.

“Look, I printed the ones from the elevator,” he chuckles, pointing to a picture of the two of you stuffed into one side of the mirror’s frame, stone-faced, black grease paint and mascara co-mingling with red lipstick, smudged all over your mouths and cheeks. Below that, the shot Dieter took a second later when you both broke, faces lit up with laughter, eyes bent up into barely visible crescents.

“Oh my god,” you laugh, hand flying to your mouth, “Come on, we have way cuter pictures than those.”

“Those are my favorite, though,” he smiles, kisses your cheek, then tucks your shoulder back under his chin.

You shake your head and sigh, grinning as you tell him, “Fuck, I like you.”

“Yeah?” he snorts, “You think so?”

You nod, rubbing your thumb against his.

“I like you, too,” he murmurs.

“Thank god, or this would be really awkward,” you joke as you return your gaze to the relics framing his mirror.

A snapshot of him, a generation younger, all gaunt and baby-faced, leaning against a high top table crowded with half-empty cups, ice cube islands rising from brown mixed drinks. Two young men across the table from him, his arm draped around a young woman’s shoulders. All four of them glow with a boozy shine, wide and carefree smiles stretched across their faces.

“Who’re these people?”

“Old friends from my theater days in New York,” he murmurs, “I don’t talk to them much anymore. There’s Glenn, you might’ve met him.”

He points to a tan guy with a brown pompadour and a very punchable face, who’s wearing a baby blue polo shirt and holding up his middle finger.

You sift through your memory for someone who might have looked like that fifteen or twenty years ago, but come up blank and shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“He was at Katie’s party that one night, and, uhh… actually, I almost brought him up to your apartment the first time I met you, but he was being an asshole and wouldn’t get out of the car.”

“Not ringing any bells,” you frown, “Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve met any of your friends.”

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, then he mutters, “Well, I would certainly introduce you to them. If I had any.”

You try to think of a contradiction to this statement, racking your brain for an instance of him at least hinting at the existence of a friend.

“What about all the people you party with?”

“Haven't done much of that lately. Besides,” he cocks an eyebrow and curls his lip, “Those aren’t friends. Never were. And, uhh… I did a solid job alienating my real friends a long time ago.”

You look at him through the mirror.

His eyes are all dull and forlorn. Far away.

A sharp pain splits your sternum.

You wriggle around to face him, cupping his cheeks, brushing your thumbs against his patchy beard until he meets your eyes again. Then you tell him, “I’m your friend. Parker’s your friend. You’re not alone anymore, ok?”

His shoulders slump and eyebrows thread together, molding his features into this tender expression that makes your stomach flip and chest ache.

He doesn’t say anything, just pulls you into a hug, squeezing you tight. You slide your hands to the back of his head to comb your fingers through his soft curls.

A commotion erupts at the other end of the house. The front door opening and closing. Rustling and conversation. A feminine voice echoes down the hall, calling, “Hello?”

“That must be them,” he murmurs, and starts away, but you pull him back. You wrap your arms around his midsection and bury your face against his t-shirt.

“Wait, just… a little bit longer,” you say, closing your eyes to soak up the warmth from his body. It seeps into your bloodstream and feels like sunshine in your veins. He rests his head against your hair, taking a deep breath in, and you feel his body relax again.

The clack-clack-clack sound of heels against the hardwood floor draws closer, but the two of you just stand there, all wrapped up in the other, until someone crosses the threshold to his room, comes to a stop, and says, “Oh, you are here.”

You part and turn towards the intrusion: A neatly made-up, petite, brunette woman wearing a fitted navy blue pantsuit.

“Darlene,” Dieter greets, crossing the room to envelop her in a one-armed hug. They press a chaste kiss into the other’s cheek. He returns to your side, palm sliding against the small of your back, and introduces you both, “Darlene, Louella, Louella, Darlene.”

You meet her meticulous hazel eyes and smile wide, outstretching your hand to shake hers, “Hi, so nice to meet you.”

She reaches out and accepts the invitation. Both your gazes drop to study the contrast of your hands. Hers are dainty, soft, blemish-free; adorned with shiny, blush pink fingernails smoothed to rounded tips. Yours bear the scars and calluses earned by over a dozen years of baking, your naked, short fingernails hosting jagged edges from nervous biting.

When you step back, heat creeps up the back of your neck. She looks so… unimpressed. Annoyed, even. The barely perceptible twitch of her thin eyebrow cocking, lip curling, eyes flicking around your person like she’s identifying weak spots. Then she plasters on a polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes and asks, “Do you prefer Louella or Lua?”

“I don’t care,” you chuckle nervously, “Lou, Lua, Louella, whatever you want.”

You glance at Dieter, swallowing hard. He smooths his thumb against your spine.

“I’ll call you Louella,” Darlene decides with a quick nod, then looks from you, to Dieter, “Should we get started? We have a lot of work to do.”

On your way to the dining room, you cross paths with a short, curvy woman whose brown, tightly coiled hair bounces around her round face as she hauls two thick garment bags into a bedroom. She peaks over the luggage and calls, “Oh, hi!” when she spots you.

She spins on the heel of her beige pumps to face you, shifting the bags to one hip, “Louella, right?”

“Yeah,” you smile and wave at her.

“Kelly,” her hot pink lips stretch into a bright smile and she shakes your hand, looking you up and down before diverting her dark eyes to Dieter, “Nice catch, Bravo.”

Dieter smirks at the comment, eyeing her tenuous grip on the bags, “Need some help?”

She just scoffs and raises an eyebrow at him before spinning around and starting down the hallway. Dieter shrugs after her, then ushers you into the dining room, where a frantic looking young man is setting out three labeled mint green to-go boxes on the stained oak table, assigning seats to you, Dieter, and Darlene.

“Lua, this is Lincoln, my PA,” Dieter gestures between the two of you, “Lincoln this is Lua, my girlfriend.”

“Hi,” Lincoln tucks a strand of dark blonde hair behind his ear and leans his tall frame across the table, extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Lincoln,” you meet his ocean blue eyes as you take it in yours and shake it. Dieter settles into his assigned dining room chair, leaning back against the burnt orange suede. You take your seat next to him.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Lincoln flashes a quick smile, then glances from Dieter, back to you, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah?” you grin over at Dieter, who’s crossing his ankle over his knee, watching you with amusement, and tell Lincoln, “Good things, I hope.”

“Terrible things,” Dieter teases, letting his head dangle to one side.

“Nothing but the utmost praise,” Lincoln insists.

A nutty aroma wafts up from the box with your name on it. You recognize the briny sharpness and name it, “Oh, fuck, did you get us pad thai?”

“It’s from that place you wanted to try,” Dieter tells you.

You wiggle and clap your hands together, reaching for the box as Darlene approaches the table. Lincoln scurries into the kitchen and makes himself look busy. She sits down with a sense of urgency that makes you fold your hands in your lap and sit up straighter.

“Here’s the plan,” she pushes the takeout box away, leaning over her open notebook, “Interview with DIRT at 4:00 today. Louella, we’ll practice your answers for a bit, then Kelly will help you pick some clothes,” her eyes flick from the notebook, to you, then to Dieter, and she says, “While you’re in town, I think it’ll be good for the two of you to be seen in public together, but I have some ground rules—”

“Jesus Christ, Darlene,” Dieter groans, scrubbing his hands over his face as he leans his elbows onto the table, “What are we, teenagers?”

“Well, Dieter, play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” she blinks at him.

“What the fuck does that mean?” he scoffs.

“It means,” she snips, zeroing in on him, “With all the bullshit you’ve pulled in the past year, you’re not exactly rolling in prospects, are you?”

He doesn’t say anything in response, just clenches his jaw.

She continues, “It’s a goddamn miracle you managed to land that Mike Flannigan job—”

You turn to him and gasp, “You got it?!”

This big, giddy smile spreads across his face when he meets your eyes and nods, “Yeah.”

“But he could lose it if this doesn’t go right,” Darlene advises, pulling your attention to her. She shoots a glare from you to Dieter, “So we’re going to follow my direction, right?”

Your face falls and you clear your throat, then stammer, “Y—yeah, of course.”

Dieter shifts in his seat, pressing his mouth against his clasped hands.

“As I was saying,” Darlene continues, raising an eyebrow as she drops her gaze to the notebook, “You’re both to be on your best behavior while in public. No drugs, no parties, no more than a glass of wine, no public fornication. We’re going full Disney rules of conduct, ok?”

When Darlene blinks up at you, you nod, “No problem.”

“Alright, let’s rehearse some Q&A,” she sighs, turning her attention back to her notebook.

She runs through questions the interviewer might ask, reconstructing your answers from nervous ramblings into practiced statements. It’s like a mental boot camp the way she attacks this, and, honestly, it’s quite impressive.

When Darlene is confident you won’t respond to questions like: “How did you and Dieter meet?” with answers like: “We dropped acid in a closet with my best friend,” the drills cease. Just when you think you’re safe to open that mint green box with your name on it, Darlene stands from the table, “Alright, let’s go see what Kelly has for you.”

You have to physically restrain yourself from pouting as she starts off down the hall.

“Here, quick,” Dieter shoves his open container of pad thai in your hands. You manage to take a few bites before Darlene comes back to see where she lost you.

“Coming, sorry,” you swallow and give it back to him.

Darlene and Kelly decide you’re wearing a balloon-sleeved white silk blouse and a high-waisted, billowing, floral skirt that comes down to your ankles.

Once your makeup and hair are styled, and you're all done up and presentable, not unlike a feral mutt turned show dog, Darlene holds her hand out to you, palm facing the ceiling, and says, “You’ll have to take off your wedding ring.”

“Oh,” you frown at her, then at the simple gold band on your left hand’s ring finger. With a heavy blue sigh, you slide it off your finger, and drop it in her extended hand.

When you emerge from the bedroom, Darlene trailing behind you, Dieter is pacing the length of the living room, dressed in a short-sleeved white button-up and navy blue slacks. He spots you and stops in his tracks. A grin spreads across his face, “Oh wow, look at you.”

“Look at you,” you counter, matching his smile as you look him up and down.

He wipes his hands on his pants, then strides over to you and kisses you. His lips are eager when they meet yours. You link your hands at the nape of his neck and arch your back into him, losing yourself momentarily. When he pulls back, he presses his forehead against yours and murmurs, “You look like… a sexy kindergarten teacher. I like it.”

You laugh and shake your head, “Oh yeah, this is doing it for you?”

“Fuck yeah it is,” he rumbles, then grips your waist and kisses you again.

“Alright, it’s almost time,” Darlene prods impatiently from a few feet away, “Where’s your laptop?”

Dieter mutters something under his breath, then steps back from your embrace and tells her, “I’ll go get it.”

As he goes off down the hall, you plop down on the overstuffed couch. Its deep, rich brown leather feels buttery soft against the small sections of your exposed skin. You cross your legs, smoothing the soft fabric of your skirt over your knees, “Is it a video call?”

Darlene takes a cursory glance in the direction Dieter went, then sits down next to you, her words hushed and serious as they flee her lips, “Louella, his career is teetering on the edge of a cliff right now. One more blow could send the whole thing crashing down. Do you understand how important it is that this goes well?”

An icy rush of panic floods your veins. You meet her hazel eyes and nod.

“Good,” she says, searching your face, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Lincoln and Kelly leave for the day once everything is set up. Darlene stages you and Dieter hip-to-hip in the middle of his couch, then starts pacing behind the laptop, occupying a strip of the living room’s black- and white-striped rug between the glass top coffee table and a black brick-faced wood fireplace.

Pixelated face pops up on Dieter’s laptop screen. You can make out David Alterman’s egg-shaped bald head and thick-rimmed glasses. He says, “Hello hello, how are we doing today?”

“Pleasure to see you,” Dieter gives a nod and drapes his arm over your shoulders. You flash a smile to the computer and wave.

David continues, “I just want to start by saying thank you for meeting with me today. On the phone earlier, Darlene said that there were some things you wanted to discuss regarding your new friend.”

“Girlfriend,” Dieter corrects, glances at you, then back at the screen, “There was an article by your, uhh… publication speculating who she is. We wanted to go on record and introduce her, get it all out in the open.”

“Fantastic. Well, the floor is yours.”

Dieter clears his throat and squeezes your shoulder.

“Oh, ok—um, hi, my name is Louella,” your voice comes out too loud, and your heart starts pumping heat through your body, up your neck, across your face. You wriggle in your seat and explain, “Sorry, I’m really nervous, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

David chuckles, “That’s ok, dear. Why don’t you start by telling me how the two of you met?”

Your eyes flick to Darlene in the background, following her moving form. She gives you a nod of encouragement. You take a deep breath.

“We met at Katie’s party in February. My best friend, Parker, convinced me to go, and, yeah, I ended up meeting Dee there,” a big smile stretches across your face as you explain, “I remember meeting him, and I felt this connection to him like,” you snap your fingers, “right away. It was fucking bananas—er, sorry, regular bananas. But. It was like I had known him my whole life or something, you know? We—me, Parker, and Dee—spent the night together,” at this, you see David’s bushy brown eyebrows perk up, and your cheeks start burning, “N-not like that, like sexual or anything, we just talked and joked around. Instant friends. It was so much fun. And, you know, it’s funny, because I didn’t even know he was an actor—”

“You didn’t?” David frowns.

“No,” you chuckle, “The next morning when we were all getting breakfast there was this guy taking pictures of us eating pancakes, which I thought was fu—um, weird, but then Dee and Parker explained… Well, y’know. Paparazzi and all that.”

“Is that when you started dating?”

“No,” you shake your head, glancing down to your hands, “We were just friends for a few months before that started. My, um… my husband died about a year ago in a car accident, so I was… not in a hurry to start any kind of romantic relationship.”

Your thumb rolls along the seam of your finger that’s usually covered by your wedding band.

“And yet, here we are. What changed?”

“I fell in love with him,” you explain, flicking your gaze from Dieter, who squeezes your shoulder, then straight into the camera, “You know when you meet someone and it’s like… they vibrate on the same frequency as you or whatever? Like they were made to be in your life? It was like that. I don’t know, it was fucking crazy. Shit, sorry for swearing—”

“It’s fine,” David says, “I’ll edit it out.”

You release a relieved sigh, “Ok. Well, anyway, I wasn’t—I mean, neither of us were expecting this to happen. But it did. So I took a chance on him, on us, and… yeah. I’m so glad I did.”

“That’s great,” David smiles at the camera, then looks down at his notes, “So you said the two of you met at Katie’s party—Is that Katie Wainwright?”

“Yes,” you answer. It takes all your energy to remain neutral. To keep your body from twitching in discomfort at the mention of her.

“Are the two of you friends? Do you run in those circles?”

“Oh, no,” you snort and shake your head, “Parker is a drag performer, under the stage name Jackie Lantern, and knows quite a few theater folks in New York. It’s all him. I was just tagging along.”

“I see. And what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a baker.”

“Pastry artist,” Dieter interjects, leaning forward, “She makes some of the best goddamn pastries I’ve ever had in my life.”

You beam at this. He gives you an encouraging little wink that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, you have a bakery?”

“No,” you say with a little too much haste, then stammer, “Well, not really. It’s not a brick and mortar store or anything. I run it out of my apartment. But, I’d love to—you know, someday, open a bakery.”

“Sounds like a good investment for your boyfriend to make,” David hints.

“Oh, no, I’m not,” you clear your throat and shake your head, “I want to do it myself.”

“Independent,” David observes, then looks down to his notes, “Dieter has had a lot of big changes in his personal life this past year as well, with his divorce to Anika, and the scandals surrounding it. Do you worry that those patterns are bound to repeat themselves?”

Dieter’s body tenses beside you.

You furrow your brow and frown slightly, then glance up to Darlene, whose stare can only be described as a warning.

Downshifting your face from confusion to thoughtfulness, you answer, “I think… We both have pasts that present challenges in our relationship. It’s not exactly easy-breezy all the time, but that’s the thing with love, right? You take the person, demons and all, and choose to love them anyway?”

David jots down some notes. Your guts twist when you recognize the opportunity to do what you came here to do.

“And, you know, speaking of which, one of the things I wanted to bring up during this interview is that I—um, I have a criminal record,” you swallow hard and turn to look at Dieter.

He takes his arm from your shoulder and closes his hands into fists, thumbs pointed upward as he presses them together and draws a circle with them.

Together.

Warmth washes over you and you smile at him. He slides his palm against yours and interlaces his fingers with yours.

“Oh?”

You turn back to the laptop and sigh, “Yeah. I was arrested in 2018 on drug trafficking charges. I was convicted of a felony—and, you know, I didn’t have to serve any hard time or anything, just probation, thank fucking god, and I’ve changed a lot since then, but it’s still… still a factor,” you drop your gaze to your lap and shrug, “And, of course, the dead husband thing is a considerable amount of baggage. We live across the country from each other. There’s—there’s a lot that’s difficult about this. But I still think that what we have together is so fucking worth it.”

“It is,” Dieter confirms, giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Thank you for being so open about this, Louella. This must be hard for you to do,” David says in a monotone voice, not looking up from his note taking.

“You have no idea,” you release a big, elated sigh, “But, like mentioned Dieter earlier, we don’t want people to think we’re trying to hide any of this, because we’re not. We’re just trying to move forward together.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” David says mildly, looks down to his notes, then squints up at the computer, clicking around as he tells you, “Now, after DIRT published the article questioning your identity, we received a call. I’m going to play that for you now…”

You glance from Dieter, to Darlene. Their confused expressions match yours.

“My name is Hannah—”

Your stomach drops to the floor. You whisper, “Fuck.”

“—I hear you’re trying to figure out who this woman is with Dieter Bravo. Well, I can tell you, that’s my daughter. Her name is Louella Rose Friedman. Now I don’t know what the hell she thinks she’s doing with this man, but I do not approve. I mean, really now, her husband died less than a year ago!”

Static tingles in your ligaments and fills your lungs. Your head shakes back and forth in protest, but her shrill voice continues to project across the room, scraping against your eardrums.

Dieter releases your hand and leans forward, trying to speak over the recording, warning, “Ok, David, that’s enough—”

“And this man? Dieter Bravo? Just like him from what I can tell. And I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but—”

Everything moves far away in an instant as your mind disconnects from your body. A high-pitched ringing noise dulls the noises around you.

From far away, your mom says, “He had a problem with drugs, you know, big problem, had other women, too.”

“Stop,” Dieter grinds out over your mother’s recorded voice.

“Lost his goddamn mind, tried to kill them both—”

Darlene scrambles over to the laptop and turns it towards her, “David, this is Darlene—”

“I just don’t understand what that girl thinks she’s doing getting involved with someone like this again, especially so soon?”

“No, nope,” Dieter stands, then booms, “This ends right FUCKING now!”

The sudden snap of him slamming the laptop shut and the dead silence that follows jolts you like a cattle-prod.

You flee the living room, down the hallway, into Dieter’s bedroom, then dial her number.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Louella Rose, what in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” your mother’s heavy midwestern accent pierces your eardrum.

“Are you fucking kidding me, mom? What do I think I’m doing? What the fuck are you doing?!” your teeth grit and and hiss, “Calling a fucking tabloid, really?”

“I only wanted them to know the truth—”

“That is fucking bullshit and you know it,” you growl, crossing an arm over your belly, pacing the floor, “You wanted fucking attention. Well, you’ve got it, congratu-fucking-lations!”

“I’m just looking out for your best interest. That man is bad news, Louella.“

“How the FUCK would you know?!”

“I know he has a cocaine habit, and that he cheated on his wife, does that sound like anyone else?”

You clench your jaw and shake your head.

“I’m sorry for caring—”

“You don’t fucking care! You have never fucking cared! If you cared, you would have talked to me, not a fucking tabloid. That shit you told them—” your voice cracks, but you swallow the lump in your throat and continue, “Mom, that’s not your story to tell. It’s mine.”

An exasperated sigh crackles in your ear, then she says, “You shouldn’t get tangled up in his world, Louella—”

“What I do, who I date, is none of your fucking business. It’s not your decision. I am a grown ass woman.”

“You might be a grown woman, but you’re still my baby girl, and I don’t want you to wind up dead this time,” she clicks her tongue against her teeth, “I’d say you’ll understand someday when you have your own kids, but that’s just another thing Ethan ruined, isn’t it?”

Your entire field of vision floods with red.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“When I hang up the phone, do not contact me ever again. You are fucking dead to me. Do you understand?”

“Oh, come on, Louella, don’t be dram—”

You end the call.

Dieter hovers a few feet from his open bedroom door. His nerves tingle with anticipation. Hushed sobs call out to him and grip his heart.

How long does he wait before going in to comfort you? Would you rather have time alone?

Part of him feels terrible for eavesdropping. Well, eavesdropping might not be the right word, considering how your heated words reverberated from one end of his home to the other effortlessly. It’s not his fault the goddamn place is like a resonance chamber.

Dieter hears Darlene in the living room chewing someone out over the phone. The words “so fucking unprofessional” echo down the hall, filled with venom. She’s in full tirade mode. Out for blood.

It gives him a smug sense of satisfaction hearing her wield this rage towards someone else.

If he knows anything about Darlene, it’s that this will take a while. She won’t stop until she’s had her fill, until her belly is swollen and ripe with vindication. Then she’ll lap the sticky blood from her hands, smoke a cigarette, and say, “Here’s what’s next.”

He raps a knuckle against the doorframe and asks, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

The word is soggy and muffled. He enters the room, closing the door behind him, and finds you sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, face buried in your hands. You don’t look up at him.

He crawls onto the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his forehead against the nape of your neck. Warm notes of vanilla and macadamia nuts waft off your hair. You feel so rigid under his touch.

“Talk to me, baby,” he murmurs, tugging you closer.

“Did I fuck it all up?”

Your voice comes out in a squeak, like you squeezed the words from your throat. Wet sobs bubble up your throat and shake your shoulders.

“No,” Dieter frowns, “Do you really think that?”

You shrug and release a shattered breath.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he assures you, “Hey, listen to me. You were fucking amazing.”

“But—”

“No, no buts. You were perfect. And—and brave, so fucking brave,” he nuzzles into that perfect space between your shoulder and neck and says, “I’m so proud of you, Louella.”

“Really?” you sniffle and wipe your eyes on the sleeve of your shirt, smearing black makeup onto the luxurious white silk.

“Holy shit, yes,” he chuckles, pulling you closer, relishing the way your hunched up muscles seem to slacken, “Before the bullshit that rat fuck pulled, you were perfection. Killed it, I swear to god, doll. And—and none of that last part was your fault. David shouldn’t have sprang that on us, and your mom,” he scoffs and shakes his head, gnashing his jaw back and forth as he tries to choose his words carefully, then finally says, “I’m sorry, but that was fucking despicable. You didn’t deserve that.”

“You didn’t deserve that,” you sniffle.

“No, I definitely deserved that,” he mutters, glancing up to the mirror, meeting his own eyes only for a moment before diverting his gaze.

Your hand slides over his and you move your thumb in gentle strokes against his skin, “She’s the fucking worst, Dee.”

He hums in acknowledgment, then inquires, “Was that her on the phone?”

“Yeah,” you answer, and your voice comes out all quivering and squeaky, “I, um… I told her to never talk to me again.”

“I heard,” he confesses.

“Oh,” you breathe.

His pulse jumps and he stammers, “I—I wasn’t trying to or anything, I swear, the noise just carries—”

“I know,” you squeeze his hand, “It’s ok.”

Your crying wanes in intensity, but the air around you is still dense and stormy. Dieter kisses your shoulder and asks, “What can I do to help you right now, baby?”

You ponder this for a long moment. When your response comes, it jolts his insides. Sucks the air from his lungs.

“Fuck me.”

He’s not sure he heard you right, and shakes his head, “Wait, what?”

Then you reach back and run your fingers through his hair. Unravel against his chest. Let your head roll back on his shoulder.

Dieter cranes his neck to search your face. It’s all tear-drenched, your makeup smeared, eyes puffy and red. He reaches up and squee-gees the mess with his thumb, wiping the excess onto his white comforter as you quietly tell him, “I need to get out of my head. I want—I want you to fuck me. Hard. I want it to hurt. Use me. Please.”

His insides coil and twitch. Your lips part as you scrape your nail along his jawline, beckoning him closer.

He smooths his palms along your torso, drinking in the heat of your body through your silk shirt. Your mouth draws him in closer: a bright flame, and he’s just a moth.

That’s how it is with you, Lua, you have to know that by now. He’s just a bug, and you’re this all-consuming fire that could burn him alive and he’d say thank you, my love, thank you for your light.

When your lips meet, his vocal chords crackle. Your mouth, plush and pliable, so delicate, he almost feels bad for the force he uses in response.

Almost.

You have to understand how difficult it is for him to restrain himself with you. How the tether between his humanity and deprivation pulls taut when you writhe beneath his touch.

What you’re asking, to make it hurt, use me, please… it electrifies him. Calls to the part of him that bucks against the restraints. Is that what you really want? For him to unchain that beast?

His teeth catch your lip and you gasp, but you don’t stop kissing him. In fact, you ball his shirt in your fist and kiss him harder.

You fucking love it.

He palms your breast and tastes the sweet whimper on your breath when he grips your flesh. Digs his fingers in, squeezes harder. You moan down his throat. Arch your back. Roll your tongue along his, soft and wet and hungry.

“Fuck,” he growls through grit teeth. Grabs your jaw and licks the gasp from your mouth. You grind back against his cock and an intoxicating rush of heat rolls through his body, clinging to his bones, sinking into the folds of his brain, tinging his vision with this thick scarlet fog that makes his heart pound in his chest.

Dieter buries his fist in your hair and sits up on his knees, ushering you to do the same. His lips hover at the shell of your ear and he murmurs, “Is this how you want it? Want it fucking rough?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and he slides a hand to your neck, spreading the webbing between his thumb and index finger on your esophagus.

“I wanna pull up your pretty little skirt, and bend you over—wanna play with that tight little asshole—”

You let out this throaty moan that vibrates against his palm. It makes his cock jump.

“Would you like that?” he rumbles. Clamps down on your earlobe. Grinds the flab between his teeth.

“Oh my fucking god, Dieter, please,” you whine, hips rolling against him, urging him to make good on his word.

He shoves your face into the mattress and you just prop your ass up for him, pushing back as he rucks your skirt up to your waist. His hands slide up the soft, warm flesh of your thighs, feeling the weight of your ass in his palms.

You arch your back, presenting yourself to him, whimpering for attention, silk underwear all damp with want, clinging to your cunt.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he rasps, hooking a fingertip around the wet patch of fabric, dragging his knuckle through your arousal, “You fucking love this, don’t you?”

You let out a throaty, delirious laugh that quickly morphs into a moan when he rubs the knuckle against your clit, then slaps your ass with a sharp smack.

“Fuck yes,” you gasp. Your hips roll against his touch, seeking stimulation. But he doesn’t want you to have it yet. Not like that.

He pulls away, and you whine, going to get up on your hands in protest, but he closes a fist around your hair and pushes you back down, grinding out, “Don’t you fucking move.”

Another airy, depraved laugh.

Dieter grips your hair tighter, explaining in a whisper as he tugs your underwear down your legs, “You’re gonna stay right here, ass in the air like a bitch in heat, and let me do whatever the fuck I want to you. How’s that sound, love? Hmm?”

“Please,” you breathe. He hears the wet gulp of your throat. The hair between his fingers pulls taut when you nod.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, releasing your hair, tossing the underwear from around your ankles across the bed.

He slides his palms over your ass cheeks. Parts them just long enough to gather a pool of spit on his tongue and let it land on your asshole with a wet splat. Rolls his thumb through the spit, smearing it around, making you gasp, “Fuck, that’s good—”

His cock twitches. Electricity writhes around his insides. He licks his lips, then purrs, “Yeah? It feels good when I touch your asshole, hmm? You fucking like that, princess?”

“Yes—”

Dieter spreads you apart, brings himself closer, throat rumbling at the scent of your heat. At the way your swollen, needy cunt is just fucking dripping, coated in a shiny layer of your slick.

Fucking beautiful.

He drags his tongue through the arousal pooling at your entrance with a depraved groan.

You unleash a moan and try to wriggle around on his tongue, still trying to exert control, still not letting go.

He raises a hand and lowers it on your ass cheek with a smack, talking at your cunt as he holds your hips steady, “Stop trying to run this, doll, let me fucking use you like you need me to.”

The response that comes is a whimper, but your muscles stop working under his grip.

“Good, that’s it, baby,” he coos, then returns to your cunt, licking along all the soft ridges and valleys of you, savoring your nectar gathering slick on his tastebuds.

“Oh my fucking god,” you croak, but you don’t rock against his tongue. Doing just as he asked. Heat surges through him, all that pride commingling with lust and love and need.

He licks up your middle, painting you with short, broad strokes, all the way up to your tight, puckered asshole. Saliva pools as he laps away, rubbing back and forth, in a circle, flicking his tongue against you in wet little slaps.

All the while, you’re whimpering and moaning, legs trembling, sweat coating your hot skin, damp against his palms.

He brings the tip of his index finger to the center of your asshole, wriggling and applying pressure until the tight ring gives and allows him entrance. Your choked moan fills his ears and he moves slowly, carefully, letting you adjust to the sensation.

One knuckle disappears, then another, and when buried as deep as he can go, he ruts it in and out, the hot pool of spit lubricating his movements.

You start to slacken, your sharp little gasps for air drawing out longer, surrendering to pleasure, whimpering and nodding, eyes fluttering.

Dieter pauses and wiggles another thick digit against your tight hole, panting, “Fuck, you’re doing so good, baby. Fucking amazing. That’s it, baby, just relax for me—”

It slides past the barrier and he moans in unison with you, burying his fingers again and again, spitting thick, gooey wads of saliva where he fuses with you, making his movements easier, more fluid, while the hot, smooth inside of you grips around his fingers.

“Fuck me,” you beg, “Please—please fuck my ass.”

“Take your clothes off for me, baby,” he sits up straight and begins to unbutton his shirt. You roll over onto your back and start to strip down while he throws the shirt on the floor, then lays back and takes off his pants.

He reaches into drawer of his nightstand and pulls out a bottle of lube, then squirts a dollop of it into his hand and glances up at you. You're laying on your back, propped up on your elbows, lust-blown eyes glued to his cock. When he spreads the slick along his length, your pink tongue rolls across your lips, stoking the hot coals in his core.

Dieter crawls across the bed to you, murmuring, “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

Your gaze locks onto his as your jaw drops open. He moves up your body and straddles your chest, holding his throbbing, aching cock out to you, “Wanna fuck that pretty face of yours, is that ok with you?”

You nod, threading your brows together, batting your lashes, eyes all half-lidded and hungry, and purr, “Use me like a fuck doll.”

The request makes his cock pulse in his fist. You curl your tongue against a bead of pre-cum hanging off the tip of him and wiggle it around. His head falls back when the delicate touch floods his body with pleasure and he groans, “Holy fucking sh—”

The words evaporate from his throat when your lips pull taught around his girth, the wet heat of your mouth engulfing him. His lubed-up hand falls to the wayside and he snaps his gaze back to yours. You hold eye contact and move at a slow, steady rhythm, taking more and more of him with each renewed bob.

Dieter moans at the sight of you, lips all shiny and stretched out around him, eyelids fluttering. He brushes the sweat-dampened hair from your forehead, gathering what he can reach in his fist. Tightens his grip. Pushes his hips forward.

When he breaches your throat, you gag. A hot rush of spit pours from your mouth. Twitching muscles squeeze around him, protesting the intrusion. A wave of ecstasy rushes up his spine and pulls a moan from his stomach.

“Are you ok?” he rasps, meeting your watery eyes.

You pull off of him, panting, strings of saliva hanging between your reddened lips and his glistening cock, and nod, “Don’t fucking stop,” before taking him in your mouth again.

So he thrusts forward again, carefully, every muscle in his body tensing with restraint. Your palms slide up his thighs, around to his backside, where you dig the tips of your fingers into his skin, urging him forward, and he knows now that you fucking meant it: Use me like a fuck doll.

He nods with understanding, “You want more, hmm?”

The hum of approval from your throat ripples across his body and makes him groan. You bat your lashes up at him, eyes creased like you’re smiling but your mouth is all crammed full of his cock so it’s hard to be sure, but he can tell you’re just fucking loving this shit. Jesus fucking Christ, it’s almost more than he can handle.

“Want me to fuck that pretty fucking face?” he growls, closing his fist around your hair tighter, rolling his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your mouth.

You moan and it makes him moan, the vibration of your throat writhing beneath his skin.

He adjusts his angle, releasing your hair to grab both sides of your head and plunge deeper, down past the back of your mouth, letting out a sharp groan as the firm ridges slide tight around him. His hips work forward in a quick, short burst of wet thrusts that light up every nerve in his body, then he pulls from your mouth. While you gasp for breath, he grips the base of his cock with one hand while the other grabs your spit-covered chin, “Is that what you fucking want? Fuck your face just like that?”

“Fuck yes, just like that,” you choke out, voice all gritted and airy.

“You pinch me when you need to breathe, ok?” he instructs, searching your flushed, messy face, “Pinch me right now so I know.”

This big smile spreads across your swollen lips and you squeeze a chunk of his ass between your fingers, “Like this?”

“That’s it, baby, do that and I’ll let you come up for air,” he nods, “Now stick out your tongue.”

Your tongue stretches down to your chin, and he slaps his cock against it with a smack-smack-smack before sliding it back into the hot cavern of your mouth. He cradles your skull in his palms and thrusts forward, cramming himself down your throat. Your vocal chords buzz against him, and your mouth emits this sick, wet glug-glug-glug that sets him on fucking fire. You pinch him and he pulls out, both of you gasping and moaning.

“So fucking good, fuck,” he rasps, waiting a moment for your breathing to be less desperate, then asks, “Ready?”

You hum a little mhmm and open your mouth, welcoming him back to fuck your throat. He can barely fucking stand how hot you look with your face all shiny with sweat and tears and spit, how your eyelids flutter then snap open to meet his gaze, how your body wiggles around beneath him, hips bucking against nothing, thighs rubbing together.

If he didn’t have you pinned down like this, you’d be touching yourself, he just fucking knows it.

The ecstasy tingling at the base of his spine starts to spread and you pinch him just before he loses control. He pulls out, but doesn’t dare grab himself this time, for fear that any stimulation will push him over the edge.

He gets on his hands and knees and leans down to press his lips to yours. You throw your arms around his neck and arch your back into the kiss, pulling him closer, rolling your tongue against his as soft whimpers flutter from your mouth. One of his hands trails down your body, between your legs, and he groans at how fucking wet you are.

You gasp against his lips, throwing your head back as he plays with your clit, working you at a rapid rhythm that makes your face twist and flush, nodding in approval, quick little gasps and squeaks escaping your throat.

He grins when he realizes how close you are. So fucking worked up from sucking him off, already coiling up, ready to burst.

“That’s it, baby,” he husks, kisses you, then presses his sweaty forehead to yours, “That’s it, let me see you fucking cum, baby.”

“Fuck fuck fuck, Dee, don’t stop—fuck—”

Your words disappear with a sharp inhale, muscles tensing up, hips arching against his hand. He continues to move against you, fast and steady and firm, until you find your voice and release a choked sob. You collapse into yourself, body shaking violently, legs clamping shut, gasping for air.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe, and your body starts to slacken, but jumps like a live wire at his slowing touch.

Dieter slides down your crease, through your arousal, propping himself on one arm to watch how your cum clings to his fingers in thick, heavy strands as he draws his hand away.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he murmurs, licks you from his fingers, then drags them along your warm, gooey seam again, “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Your eyebrows press together and lips part with a whimper, but you don’t appear adverse to the suggestion. In fact, you bring a hand to your chest. Cup your breast. Pinch your nipple and gasp.

His body surges hot with want. He grazes his nose against your face, rumbling into your ear, “How’d you put it? Like a fuck doll?”

Your throat lets out a little whine and your lips pout out into an O as he sinks two thick fingers into your cunt. You prop yourself up and watch him slide in and out, whimpering and nodding, “Fuck that’s so good, Dee—oh my god, yes—”

The hunger roiling at his core grows. He adds another finger, stretching you wider, and you release a choked moan.

“Is this what you want, Lua? Want me to fuck you like a little slut, hmm?” he pants, shifting himself to hover above you, pumping his arm, cramming his fingers into your tight, wet heat over and over again.

“Yes yes yes yes yes,” you babble, and start moving your hips against him, “Do that thing—”

Dieter smirks, knowing exactly what thing you’re referring to, and pulls his hand up towards the ceiling, rubbing the pads of his fingers hard against your g-spot, “That?”

“Fuuuuuuck yes, baby, just like that,” you moan, “That’s so good, baby, such a good fucking boy, fuck me so good—”

He lets out a groan and wiggles his fingers faster, “Yeah? You like when I make you squirt all over the place? Wanna soak my fucking bedsheets?”

Your response is a strangled noise, but you nod your head frantically, and your limbs start to tremble. And, fuck, the sight of you all shaking and whining, skin slick with sweat, makeup running down your pretty, flushed, contorted face, it’s enough to send his insides fluttering, barreling towards oblivion once again.

Dieter has to close his eyes, swallowing hard as he tries to reign himself in, forcing himself to fill his mind with mundane thoughts about what to eat for supper, how this disaster of an interview will get resolved, whether or not he’ll wake up early to attempt making breakfast for you, all while trying to ignore the liquid hot squeeze of your pussy around his wiggling fingers.

When he feels he finally has a grip on his pleasure, he snaps his eyes open and moves between your legs. Buries his face in your cunt. Rolls his tongue on your swollen clit.

“Yes, fuck,” you breathe and anchor your hands in his hair, pulling his curls into tight fists. Your breathing starts to come in shallow gasps. The muscles of your thighs tense and twitch.

“Don’t stop, baby, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, and he works you faster, moving his tongue in a circle, tickling the inside of you, groaning as you rub yourself against him, smearing your juices all over his face. You moan when the sound hits you, so he continues, humming from the back of his throat, and it’s just the push you need.

Your hips stutter and still. A wild, ragged noise tears from your chest. You convulse around his fingers, and he pulls them out, sliding his mouth down to your opening just as a hot wave of pleasure gushes out. It splashes against his face, and he tries to catch as much as he can on his tongue, moaning at the taste of you. Grabs your waist and holds you there, lapping away at your cunt as you gasp for air, body jerking at the stimulation, but unable to move from his vice grip.

He climbs your body and kisses you, hard and messy, letting you taste yourself. You rake your fingers through his hair, whining into his mouth when his tongue slides across yours.

His cock aches with neglect. The steady inflow of pleasure burns between the layers of his skin and begs to be released.

He pulls away from your lips and pants, “Flip over for me, love. I wanna fuck your ass.”

And, you… fucking hell, Lua, you smile at this like he told you he’s buying you a brand new car. He sits up and you roll over onto your belly, then stick your ass up into the air, “Is that good?”

“Fucking perfect.”

Dieter grabs the abandoned bottle of lube, squeezes some into his palm, then requests, “Spread for me, baby.”

You reach back, pulling your ass cheeks apart. He squirts some of the lube on your puckered hole and you yelp, then giggle, “It’s so cold.”

He chuckles at this as he strokes his cock, smearing the slick lube along his length, then he asks, “Have you done this before? Anal sex?”

This isn’t the first time he’s ventured into ass play with you, but only with tongues, toys, fingers. You look back at him and shrug, “Well, yeah, but,” then you drop your gaze to his dick, “You’re, um… a lot bigger than anyone else…”

The comment makes his ego swell, and he can’t help but grin, spreading the lube across your tight hole with his middle finger. Then he applies pressure to its center until it allows him access. Your eyelids flutter and you whimper, licking your lips, pulling your cheeks apart further.

“I’ll go slow, but if it’s too much, tell me and I’ll stop, ok?”

“Ok,” you nod.

He wriggles another digit inside you. You gasp and nod, “Fuck, that feels really good.”

“Good,” he purrs, rutting into you slowly, flicking his gaze between your face and ass, watching the way your lips part and eyelids drift closed, feeling the muscles inside you start to relax.

You arch your back into the stimulation, breathy little whimpers and moans floating from your mouth like music to his fucking ears. Lust pools hot and needy at his center, making his heart thud and his cock ache.

“Are you ready?” he asks, studying your face as you open your eyes and look back at him.

“I’m ready,” you confirm, holding his gaze as he pulls his fingers out and brings the head of his cock to kiss the tight, lubricated hole.

Dieter pushes forward cautiously, pausing when your asshole surrenders to the very tip of him and you let out a sharp cry. After a moment, you nod, “Keep going.”

So he does. The tight ring squeezes the ever loving fuck out of him as he slowly, tediously, makes his way inside you. His forehead breaks out in a sweat, muscles quivering from the effort it takes to move at this pace. Your face pinches up with what could either be pleasure or pain, he’s not quite sure, but it’s accompanied by whimpers and nods, signaling your approval.

Once the head of his cock is fully engulfed, though, and you adjust to his width, acclimate to the feeling, things start to go faster. He pushes your hands away and spreads your cheeks himself, hissing, “Fuck, this looks so good, baby. Love seeing your sweet little asshole stretched out around my cock—”

“It feels so fucking good,” you breathe, propping yourself up on your elbows, “Give me more.”

The request squirms around inside him and makes his throat rumble. He drives his hips forward steadily, and it’s a fucking vacuum of suction, pulling him in, swallowing him whole. You sputter and moan in reaction, croaking out quiet little whines of “oh my fucking god” over and over again.

“Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, holy fuck, Lua,” he groans, throwing his head back, then starts to roll his hips, still moving at a languid pace, sliding his length along that ring that, even when your muscles loosen slightly, grips him so fucking tight it makes every ounce of sanity flee his brain.

“Do you like that? Like when I fuck your ass with my fat cock?” he asks through grit teeth.

You whimper and nod, “Yes yes yes yes—”

“Tell me,” he demands, snapping his hips, heart jumping at the moan you choke out.

“I like it wh—when you fuck my ass—” he snaps his hips again and you gasp, then continue, “with your big, fat cock—”

“Yeah you fucking do, don’t you?” He increases the tempo, moaning at the squeeze of you, how fucking good you feel wrapped around him, and grinds out, “Little fuck doll likes being used, hmm? Just like this?”

“Holy fuck, Dee,” you groan, raising yourself up onto your hands, pushing back against his thrusts, “I fucking love it, yes.”

The force of your body moving with his, burying him to the hilt inside you again and again, fills him with fire. Sweat drips from his forehead onto your back, heart fluttering in his heaving chest, hands tingling, limbs trembling, ecstasy pooling thick and hot at the base of his spine.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me fucking cum,” he warns, but doesn’t let up his pace.

“Cum in my ass, baby, please please please,” you moan.

The request tugs at the edges of him, and he wants you closer, wants to feel the heat of your skin against his.

“Get up here,” he grunts, leans forward and hooks an arm around your torso, pulls your back against his chest, cradling your neck in his palm. Your head falls back onto his shoulder and your mouth is hanging open slack, frantic little moans fleeing your throat as he fucks your ass deep and hard, rumbling into your ear, “Cum in your fucking ass, hmm? My little slut wants her ass filled with cum?”

You bring your hand to the back of his head and grab a fistful of hair, breathing, “Fuck yes, please, Dieter, please—”

“Anything for you, love,” he pants, then you pull his hair tighter, and you start to rock your hips against his, and your whines get all high-pitched and airy, and he babbles, “I mean that, I really do, fucking anything you want, baby—fill your ass with cum, buy you whatever the fuck you want, fucking anything, I swear to god—”

Your lips cut him off, and you’re fucking trembling now, muscles all tight and coiled, squeezing around his cock, and he kisses you back with fire, groaning against your mouth as you whimper, then your breath disappears completely, you let out a strangled moan, and your body shutters from the force of your orgasm. The static buzzing in his center grows wider, deeper, tingling up his backbone, through his limbs, until it washes over him completely.

He thrusts into you one, two, three more times, spilling his load inside you.

His labored breathing puffs hot against yours. You bring your touch to his cheek and draw a circle into his beard with your thumb. He kisses you again, gentler, lips lingering on yours, then murmurs, “I fucking love you.”

A bright, wide smile spreads across your face. You let out this breathless little giggle, kiss him, then say, “I fucking love you, too.”

Dieter pulls out and falls back onto the bed, stretching out, catching his breath. You follow suit and cuddle up to him, laying your head on his heaving chest. He curls his arm around your shoulders and rests his cheek on the crown of your sweaty head.

The silence that settles is comfortable, and he notices that the rest of the house is quiet, too. Darlene must have fled sometime while he was fucking you, no doubt disgusted by the noises that were probably not muffled at all by the barrier of his bedroom door.

His attention draws back to you when you whisper, “Am I doing the right thing? By cutting her out of my life?”

It takes a moment for him to understand what you’re asking. When it clicks, he frowns, “I don’t think that’s a question I can answer.”

You’re quiet in response, so he inquires further, “What’s your relationship like with her?”

“We, um… we butt heads,” you shrug and bring your fingertips to his sternum, start drawing little swirls against his skin, “She’s always been so… I don’t know, self-centered? Childish?” you pause here, and he can hear the gears in your busy mind turning. You lay your palm flat over his heart and say, “It’s always about her. She didn’t come see me when Ethan died, or try to console me, or anything. She fucking—”

A frustrated huff of air blows across his chest. You shake your head, then sigh, “She fucking called me all the time crying about it, and posted all this bullshit online about how sad she was, and—and she fucking hated him. It’s like she expected me to comfort her. She never asked how I was doing. It was… fuck, it was just like when Dad died.”

Dieter smooths circles into your skin with his thumb. Studies the ceiling, waiting for you to say more. Then you do.

“When I would try talking to her about how much I missed him—my dad, I mean—she would get fucking mad at me. Say shit like, ‘Well, how do you think I feel?’ or—or, ‘You’re not the only one who lost him,’ or—this one’s my favorite, the uses it all the time, ‘It’s not all about you, Louella Rose,’” you pause and scoff to yourself, shaking your head, “So I stopped trying to her about it, and then she would get mad at me for not talking about it, so then I would talk to her about it, and she would either get mad all over again or squirrel the things I told her away to use as fucking ammunition against me the next time I made her upset, and—and, I don’t know. That’s just how it is with her.”

Dieter’s mind whirs as he sifts through the million thoughts pouring through his brain, trying to find the right one to tell you. It feels like finding the hay in the needlestack, and when his mouth opens, all that comes out is, “Fuck that.”

“Yeah,” you snort, then comb your fingers through his hair and murmur, “I love your curls, they’re adorable.”

He almost takes the subject change you dangle in front of him, but something lingers at the base of his throat, begging to be known.

“Look,” he starts, shifting to meet your gaze, and sighs, “I really don’t think you’re making a mistake by cutting her out of your life, Lua. And-and not because she said those things about me, but because she treats you like shit. And, I know it’s not my place to say shit like this, but,” he shakes his head, searching your face, watching the tears pool in your eyes, “She might be your mom, but that’s not family, you know?”

Your face crumples up.

He starts to fumble out an apology, “Fuck, I’m–”

You kiss him.

When you pull back, you whisper, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he breathes, brushing his hand against your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you scoot closer, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. A few peaceful moments go by before your stomach growls so loud it makes both of you start laughing.

“Let’s get you some fucking food, huh?”

#dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo fic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #psychomanteum

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dearabby1990 · 6 months ago

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Chapter 16: Let’s get you a dress

It’s not long after Robin finds out that you’re going to prom with Eddie. Talking a mile a minute because now her new best friend is going to the same senior prom as her dreading dress shopping alone or with dingus she now has you to go out & find the perfect outfit with. She smiles at you with a mischievous grin “What Robin?? I know you’re thinking of something over there you look like you’re ready to stir up some trouble” I said giggling “Nothing… but since I know we’re both now going to the same hell of Hawkins senior prom I know have someone to go get a prom outfit with so let’s go get you a dress so you can call Eddie & let him know what color you went with” the sound of it all surprisingly gets you excited knowing that this time around you’re going with someone who actually wants to be with you & looks at you like you hung the moon & stars for him. “Okay Buckley let’s go before I change my mind” in an instant she’s snatching your car keys from the bowl and darting towards your car you run after her. “Rob wait hahaha you don’t have a license!” Laughing you both now know she’s just overly excited & wanting to get you to the car. “Let’s go girly you have dresses to try on!” You both have a ball on the way over to the shopping plaza just outside of Hawkins blasting music singing giggling you can’t remember the last time you had this much fun. You park & both find a small boutique that catches both your eyes with dresses k& tuxedos in the windows. You both enter & the bell rings alerting the two older women at the counter in the middle of the shop. “Hello good afternoon ladies looking for something for prom im guessing?” You both smile shyly both not liking talking to strangers but knowing you have to. Robin takes over speaking seeing how nervous you truly look “Uh yes mam both of us but we’re not too sure what it is we’re looking for quite yet” the women nod “that’s completely normal hun most young ladies aren’t too sure until they try it on & feel it in their bones like with a wedding dress you just know makes you feel magical” you both giggle at her explanation the other woman chiming in “okay dears we’ll prom & brides maid gowns are in the back left & if you need any help with anything at all let us know & fitting rooms are just behind the men’s dress coats” you both smile robin takes your hand to dart off in said direction “thank you ladies!” She yells at she drags you along to the back of the boutique. Two hours of skimming and trying different styles and colors you began to feel defeated when you seen something sparkle in the corner of your eye you scurry to grab it to get a better look. A maroon gown with a sweetheart neckline the top made of beautiful lace with the most incredible rhinestone work you’ve ever seen & a tulle bottom layered flowing to the floor you turn to robin to show it to her eyes brimming with tears smiling “Robs look at this!” She nods excitedly “You’re definitely trying that on right now!” She snatched your wrist taking you back to the dressing room. As soon as you put it on you start to feel a buzz of electricity through you skin in goosebumps it’s not even zipped and it looks amazing you step out to show robin. “Wow Jame that looks…. so beautiful… you look so… absolutely stunning Jamie i mean it” she looks like she’s about to cry too. “Yup this is it I’m getting it” you carefully put it back on its hanger by the time you come out you can’t find Robin you turn around to see her exit the dressing room next to you she has on an emerald green dress with sheer sleeves lace trimmed around her wrists and a silk skirt “robin you look so pretty turn around lemme see!” She smiles and twirls & giggles a beautiful bow at the back you both pay for your dresses and you turn to see the tux area wanting to do something nice yet special for Eddie you walk over to the ties seeing they have one that matches your dress but has sliver skulls on it telling you it was meant for him so Eddie you add it to your total robin smirking at you “ I saw that you gonna gift it to Munson?” You blush “maybe…”

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #eddie munson #joseph quinn x reader #robin buckley

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checkoutmybookshelf · 5 months ago

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Rereading The Fellowship of the Ring for the First Time in Fifteen Years

Holy Foreshadowing, Batman! Gandalf is SUPER psyched to get his ass under a mountain, but literally Gimli and Aragorn are like, "Nah, bro, we are worried about YOU SPECIFICALLY if we do that." And this is after Mom and Dad fought about going up Caradhras and after literally everyone is like, "We are getting super bad vibes from Moria."

But they can't go over the mountains, they can't go around the mountains, and the Gap of Rohan is too close to Isengard, so fuck it, we ball in Moria, I guess. Let's talk chapter 4, "A Journey in the Dark."

Ok, so this is a relatively long chapter (30-odd pages by my math), but wow is it mostly vibes. We start off very defeated by the anti-wizard-and-elf mountain, which makes sense because if you lose the ring bearer to exposure in the first month of travel, you're going down in history as the dingus who lost the last great conflict with Sauron. Again, Boromir is DEEPLY underappreciated as the reason our hobbits survived Caradhras.

After a few pages of back-and-forthing about where to go next, Gandalf is over here pushing Moria HARD, and literally everyone is like, "This does not pass the vibe check, wizard boy." Although Gimli is like, "I could find out what happened to Balin" and Aragorn literally says THIS:

"You followed my lead almost to disaster in the snow and have said no word of blame. I will follow your lead now..."

Because apparently Fellowship leadership operates on phlebotomist rules. If you miss the vein, you let someone else take a shot.

Ultimately, the decision is made because there are goddamn WARGS after the group, and even Boromir accedes that wolves literally on your tail are worse than hypothetical wolves up the road, so we stop arguing about it and hunker down. This gives us time to have a nice little moment with Sam and Pippin though. Poor Pippin is over here like, "I wish I had taken Elrond's advice [...], I am no good after all. [...] I don't remember ever feeling so wretched, " but Sam is coming in clutch with "Honestly same, but Gandalf isn't going to let us get eaten by wolves." Which like...yeah, I accept that, and it's way more comforting than a generic "there, there." I also appreciate that Sam admits he's scared too. It's like how hearing, "Oh god, I haven't started that either" is so comforting for stressed-out students.

What neither I nor the fellowship love though, is the wolves literally sniffing around their campfire that night. There are literally glowing eyes in the dark, howls on the wind, and a goddamn warg silhouette in the gap between stones. And an arrow through the throat of one warg buys the group some measure of peace until the moon sets. Once the moon sets though, we get a pre-dawn warg attack:

In the leaping light as the fresh wood blazed up, Frodo saw many grey shapes spring over the ring of stones. More and more followed. Through the throat of one huge leader Aragorn passed his sword with a thrust; with a great sweep Boromir hewed the head off another. Gimli stood with his stout legs apart, wielding his dwarf-axe. The bow of Legolas was singing.

The battle scenes in these books read SUPER Beowulf, but are somehow briefer. Tolkien was super not here for contemporary battle scene writing; it's very much painting with watercolors. He gives you the odd detail or two and you pretty much get to fill in the rest yourself. Which is fine, and holy cow can I see where that would inspire Robert Jordan's manner of naming sword forms rather than describing an actual duel (which is not shade, I think Jordan does that really damn well and to excellent effect). But then we get Gandalf doing wizardy things in a really...unusual way?

In the wavering firelight Gandalf seemed suddenly to grow: he rose up, a great menacing shape like the monument of some ancient king of stone set upon a hill. Stooping like a cloud, he lifted a burning branch and strode to meet the wolves. They gave back before him. High in the air he tossed the burning brand, It flared with a sudden white radiance like lightning; and his voice rolled like thunder.

This hearkens back both to "Gandalf the fireworks wizard" who we meet in the Shire, but also to the little moment in Bag End where Gandalf goes wizard on Bilbo to snap him out of his Ring moment. It also is not like...wildly dissimilar to how they teach you to scare bears off in the wild: Get big and loud and look intimidating. We were not supposed to then set a goddamn forest fire--that's a little scorched earth for Alaskan survival techniques--but it was one of those moments where the familiar was made pointedly exotic, and I actually thought it was quiet effective. You take the foundation of something real and then you add a bit of wizard to it. Then things feel sufficiently grounded, but also with just that extra bit of wizard to heighten EVERYTHING. The subtlety (and yeah, I know, forest fire and lightning isn't subtle, but the way this is written is and how it functions is) is really quite impressive. That said...Gandalf, honey. Maybe not with the ecological disasters???

At the very least, the wargs were polite enough to evaporate so they didn't have to deal with any of the bodies when the sun came up.

After that, we haul ass off to the Doors of Durin. It's not a good journey though. Right from the start, the Sirannon wasn't where it was supposed to be, the landscape is lifeless and desolate, and when we do finally find the stream, it's a freaking trickle. If the IDEA of Moria didn't pass the vibe check, then the landscape on the trip in is a parade of red flags. And again, Boromir is SUPER ON POINT with not wanting to get caught between a stone wall and a bunch of wolves. This place is all quiet unease and red flags. Even the freaking WATER is gloomy and unwholesome-looking.

And then we get a WEIRD FLEX moment for Gandalf:

"I am sorry," said Gandalf. "Poor Bill has been a useful companion, and it goes to my heart to turn him adrift now. I would have travelled lighter and brought no animal, least of all this one that Sam is fond of, if I had had my way. I feared all along that we should be obliged to take this road."

Like, I believe he's genuinely sorry to have to hurt Sam and to turn the goodest pony loose. But it's the "if I had had my way" and the last sentence where I'm just like...Gandalf. Sir. Why are you bitching to Frodo that you have to share leadership on this mission? And why are you flexing an "I told you so" on Frodo instead of, IDK, Aragorn??? Is it because Aragorn would kick your wizened wizard ass for it? Because I'd watch that.

Also, again with Gandalf being weirdly open with, aware of, and as solicitous as possible to Sam. He has zero problems kicking Pippin when he's down (as we'll see in a bit in this very goddamn chapter), but he's always been very straight yet compassionate with Sam in a way that doesn't even match how this wizard treats Frodo. Like, we are almost getting to a point where I need to go see what the Tolkien scholars have written about the Sam-Gandalf relationship, because it's getting NOTICEABLY unique and it has gotten a fair number of little moments at this point. Like...what is this relationship and why is this the dynamic? I demand to know.

I also just want to take a second to highlight something DEEPLY inequitable as they round the lake to the door:

When they came to the northernmost corner of the lake they found a narrow creek that barred their way. It was green and stagnant, thrust out like a slimy arm toward the enclosing hills. Gimli strode forward undeterred, and found that the water was shallow, no more than ankle-deep at the edge. Behind him they walked in fie, threading their way with care, for under the weedy pools were sliding and greasy stones, and footing was treacherous. Frodo shuddered with disgust at the touch of the dark unclean water on his feet.

THE HOBBITS DONT WEAR SHOES. Everyone else has boots to act as something of a barrier to this gross-ass water, but the hobbits have to tromp through it BAREFOOT. Did NOBODY think, "oh shit, this will be super unpleasant for the hobbits, maybe we should yeet or carry them?" Apparently not, and honestly now they're just gonna have gross feet as they tromp through Moria and I hate that for their poor hobbit toesies. And as a WWI soldier, TOLKIEN SHOULD KNOW THE DANGERS OF WET, MUCKETY FEET.

But then we actually get to the doors--finally--and Sam has a deeply understandable moment when Gandalf tells him they have to cut Bill loose, and Gimli and Legolas try to start world war 2.5 over Elf-Dwarf relations before Gandalf tells them to knock that shit off.

Everyone is super over everything at this point, and I cannot blame them.

But where Gandalf has zero time for Legolas and Gimli sniping at each other, he takes the time to speak over Bill and give him his best shot at getting home safely. Again, I do not get the relationship between Gandalf and Sam. I appreciate the care for the pony, but whatever the Gandalf-Sam thing is, it's more than just trolling Pippin or ensuring that Frodo makes it to the volcano or ignoring Merry's existence for the most part.

Literally, Pippin gets a "Knock on the door with your head" from Gandalf, and once the damn thing IS open, Merry just gets a casual, "Merry, of all people, was on the right track" before Gandalf pulls ANOTHER weird flex and says "Too simple for a learned lore-master in these suspicious days." Like...ok, sure, Gandalf. You were TOO SMART to get the riddle.

But we get the doors open just in time for Frodo to get nabbed by a metric frick-ton of tentacles. Sam yoinks him back and they haul ass through the door, which get slammed behind them and the tentacle monster bolts it behind them with boulders and trees. After which we get THIS little gem from Gandalf:

"I fear from the sounds that boulders have been piled up and trees uprooted and thrown across the gate. I am sorry; for the trees were beautiful, and had stood so long."

SIR. I was THERE when you burned a flaming doughnut into the land to get rid of the wargs. You are a walking ecological disaster and do not get to high ground the tentacle monster ripping up a few trees by the roots. You probably burned more LAST NIGHT. I know it's unfair to expect characters to know the genre of the book they're in, and by extension its equally unfair to expect them to know the themes of the book they're in. That said though...I WATCHED YOU START A FOREST FIRE, GANDALF. This is not the moment to suddenly discover ecocriticism.

At any rate, we have FINALLY made it inside Moria. Boromir is (rightfully) quite pissed off an apprehensive about this, but Gandalf is like, "Gimli and I will lead the way!" before they manage to get the party fucking lost and Sam is bitching about not having rope. Because oh my god there is SO MUCH atmospheric walking in this book. And most of the time the atmosphere is "vaguely evil with a healthy helping of depression." Which...yeah, that's what we get here.

So it makes sense that Gandalf is SUPER FUCKING OVER IT when Pippin yeets a rock down a well and they hear hammer blows from the deeps. And it makes even more sense when Gandalf realizes he's apparently also experiencing withdrawal symptoms because he hasn't had a smoke since before they started climbing Caradhras. So he non-apologizes to Pippin, lights up, and everything looks better in the morning...sort of. At least the wizard is less grumpy, and he has now firmly established himself as that member of the party who needs to be properly self-cared or he will make it EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEM. Seriously, what a goddamn diva.

But getting himself a wee bit of a smoke made it so he could make a decision and they headed up to where the air smelled good. So fair enough.

Then we have EVEN MORE atmospheric walking, and Sam picks up some dwarven lore via Gimli singing a song all about Moria and Khazad-dum, and I swear, the hobbit is going to be a lore-master himself by the end of this journey.

This chapter is also where we get a bit of a mithril infodump, which is pretty cool just in general. We also get Frodo having delayed sticker-shock because he's just casually waltzing around with a whole-ass shirt of mithril on. That's also a nice little reminder to all the readers that hey, remember that Frodo has this thing? I betcha it's going to be important soon.

We end the chapter on the SUPER downer note of finding Balin's tomb, and the dwarves now have their (not unexpected) answer to what happened to the party from thirty-odd years ago. Which is really sad, frankly.

That's also about where we're going to leave this chapter, because I am...exhausted by all the atmospheric walking. We will pick up next time with a relatively short chapter, and hopefully there is more to it than infodumping and atmospheric walking.

#reread #the fellowship of the ring #the lord of the rings #lotr #a journey in the dark #books and reading #books #books and novels #fantasy books

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bunnyfern · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 5

Phases Of The Moon

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 𝄞

Like clockwork, the five teens were at Rocque Records working tirelessly in the studio. The band was recording one of the new songs Gustavo wrote, which Crowe helped in finishing. For once letting someone besides himself write some lyrics and add opinions of their own.

She’s been trying for days on end to get Gustavo to use another one of her songs for the band, from leaving the journal wide open for him to see ‘by accident’ and hoping he finds it. To just straight up giving him the recent song she’s so close to completing. But of course, he never budged. He would barely skim the pages over before handing it back without another thought. Ignoring any kind of suggestions from anyone on his next song.

Big Time Rush, aside from the singing, went over the new choreography they learned from Mr. X a few days ago. Getting better with each practice, even if they still have some fumbles with the moves. Even improving on their singing skills, Big Time Rush getting better with every practice. Kelly sat next to Crowe on the left, both of them jamming along. Crowe glanced to her right at Gustavo for some kind of reassuring input, yet he didn’t seem pleased with their work. In the countless days they’ve been here, it’s been hard to get his approval or give the band a single compliment.

She’s used to the attitude and used to being frustrated in not knowing if anything was ever good enough. Except this time caring more about him showing some kind of positive feedback for the guys, rather than her.

When they finished a clean practice, Logan cheered and threw his hands back. Right square in Carlos’ face and knocking in down. None of the guys helped him up, letting him do it himself. Crowe winced and followed the producer into the dance studio with Kelly in tow.

“Gustavo, the song is great.” Kendall said his praises. “Um, of course, it’s great. I wrote it.” Gustavo was always giving himself a pat on the back, never thinking about anyone else. “With my help.” Crowe chirped, standing next to Gustavo. Practically frowning when he didn’t acknowledge her one bit and continued, “But the band isn’t great. What’s missing is the secret rock and roll ingredient.” He went down the row, passing the boys while they each took a guess, except for Kendall who cared less. Taking a glance at Crowe to see if she knew, only shrugging as a response.

“Hair mousse.” James’ hair-related guess. Of course.

“Chocolate mousse.” Carlos’ food-related guess. Sounds good.

“Spandex? Please don’t say spandex.” Logan’s odd outfit guess. Why would he? Raising an eyebrow at his misplaced worries.

But Gustavo had something completely different in mind. “The bad boy.” The wave of his hand showed the, possibly fake, enthusiasm he had. Shaking Logan he explained further, “The ill-tempered rebel with a flair for synchronized dance. One of you has to be it.” Gustavo went down the line as he wanted to make the band excited about who it was going to be. But Crowe grew suspicious of where he came up with the idea and more importantly, why.

Each boy smiling to themselves and waiting to be singled out. “I say it’s Kendall.” Gustavo grinned at the boy and Kelly backed him up, apparently knowing the plan already. Kendall was in disbelief but Crowe thought otherwise, usually he was the one pulling the others into his plan. So it did fit his personality, it's just Kendall didn't want to admit it.

He can’t pull off looking like a bad boy though. Attitude, yeah maybe. But I don’t know about the rest. Head tilted, she eyed each one down. Trying to envision them wearing a darker and edgier look, but it wasn’t going to be any better than their looks now. Logan had the nerdy type of look, so no on him. Carlos is the more fun one instead of dark and broody. And James…maybe if he wanted to he could. He had the attitude to compare but the looks, not so much.

Kendall instantly fought against it, “Gustavo, why do we need a bad boy?” Gustavo snapped a finger at Kelly, holding her phone up so everyone could hear a message and showing a printed out photo of the crazed CEO. “Gustavo, it’s Griffin. The band needs a bad boy. Bye.”

Clearly annoyed, Crowe sighed at the culprit while Gustavo made his known. “He’s driving me crazy!” He swiftly took his sunglasses off, reverting back to calm. “But he’s also right, because the bad boy is a rock and roll tradition.” He had the group follow him to where all of his previous hit bands posters resided, in a hallway they've passed by basically everyday.

She mumbled to herself, “Are they rock and roll though?”

The first one was ‘Boyquake’ on the left wall, “Notice the back turned to the rest of the band.” Singling out the one dressed in an orange jumpsuit and bandana on his head, “Bad boy.” Going across on the right was ‘Boy Blast’. “Notice the back turned, the dark clothing, and the scowl.” This time wearing a leather jacket, with sunglasses and a bandana.

She read aloud the poster as it had one of their hit songs written on it, “‘Girl U R my world’?” She laughed at the title but Gustavo scowled at her and she turned the laughing into a coughing fit. “Some- something, uh. It got- got caught, in, throat.” Crossing her arms and backing up closer to the band, between Kendall and James to easily hide.

Gustavo didn’t miss a beat, “Bad boy.” It was Kelly who recalled a failed band, “But there can only be one bad boy per group, as learned from the bad boys experiment of ‘95.” revealing a hidden poster behind the previous one, showing each of the members back turned and not seeing a single face.

What’s up with the fucking bandanas?

Gustavo showed the disappointment he had with it, “Didn’t sell a single cd.” Crowe found it hilarious but refrained from laughing so as to not get scolded again.

“But we’re best friends. We never turn our backs on each other.” Kendall stated as the other three friends agreed with him. He wasn’t going to let Gustavo, or Griffin, turn one of them into something they’re not.

Don’t jinx yourself.

Gustavo had a knowing smirk, “Then let me let you in on another rock and roll secret.” Pointing from him to the teens who looked at each other curious. “The bad boy is also the most popular member of the band,”

I guess that’s true. Reminiscing the past crushes on bad or alternative boys she’s had.

“Makes the most money,”

I don’t think that’s, right? Pursing her lips in wonder, and maybe some disbelief.

“And dates the hottest models.” Gustavo knew he won the teens over. Or at least three of them.

James, Logan, and Carlos started to shove the other, literally turning their backs and letting Gustavo know that they could be ‘bad’, but Kendall wasn’t having it. Tired of their act and how frustratingly easy it was to convince his friends. Crowe giggled to herself, “Or they could be emo instead.” but Kendall overheard, looking down at her with a frown. She quickly covered it up, “Or no. Bad idea. Yeah, bad idea. Definitely. Who would’ve thought of that.” Silently missing her heavily accessorized emo look and style from a couple years ago. All thanks to the hand-me-downs from Luka.

“Let’s go.” Kendall nodded to Crowe, dragging the other three down the hallway. She just looked at him leaving then to her bosses. Kelly freed her of anymore work and told her the time they should come by tomorrow.

Having one last thing to say before letting her leave, “Oh,” Kelly beamed in excitement while Gustavo retreated to his office. “You have your first acting gig soon! Are you excited?”

Crowe gulped, “Already?” Feigning the same excitement. “Don’t I need to like, have an audition or whatever. H-how do I already have a gig?” Pulling on her bag strap, a nervous habit that she needed to quit. “We were able to work something out and got you a part. Well, more like an extra but it covers what the A.S.A.P needs so it all works out.” Kelly opened her binder and pulled out a piece of paper. “This covers everything you need for next week.”

Taking it in her hands, it had a list of things the extras, now including Crowe, had to wear for the scene’s she would be in. There were other things too, like the times for shoots and things Crowe didn’t really care enough to know. She was too focused on the paper before registering, “Next week?” Ruining the edges of the pristine paper.

Kelly nodded, ending the conversation with an answer from her ringing phone. Going back to work as Crowe stood frozen. Nodding to herself then catching up to Kendall and the three new idiots. Back into the fresh breeze and hustle and bustle of the outside world.

Logan, Carlos, and James were walking ahead of them on the sidewalk, Crowe noticed Kendall’s defeated look. “You know?” She wanted to take her mind off the gig. He glanced down at her, “What?” She smiled up at him, this being the first time she’s initiated a conversation. “I think tomorrow’s gonna be fun.” Kendall laughed, he knew it too but he had to live with them and she didn’t. Meaning he was going to suffer their act longer and it was certainly going to be a long, rough night.

She slowed the walk down to a stop, “What are they doing?” Pointing in the direction of the three. At one of the street corners near the Palm Woods, a sunglasses stand was displayed and a worker was selling a pair to each boy. After that they kept walking, entering the lobby where there was another change of looks from the boys.

Both Carlos and James took off their shirts, Crowe covered her eyes, flustered, but Kendall reassured her they had another shirt underneath. She awkwardly laughed it off and rubbed her neck. Logan didn’t exactly do the same thing, all he did was undo the top button of his shirt, leaving Crowe to shake her head at the embarrassing display.

At least when they were in the elevator the act was put on hold. For those very few seconds Kendall had to cherish them, expecting the act to remain for days. Once the elevator beeped, the bad boys went back to the over dramaticness. She fell behind the four and just zoned out, thinking, stressing out.

Next week?! Why does it have to be so soon? Am I even ready for next week? I need more time.

Logan burst through the apartment door as the other two bad boys shouted their heys at Mrs. Knight, the only two sane ones entering last. Unfortunately, they upped their antics once inside the ‘safety’ of the crib, with Carlos jumping on the couch and mooning people outside by the pool. Crowe had to hope that none of them would complain and it led to them getting kicked out.

James thought he was being tough by crushing an empty water bottle on his head. And Logan was hitting the hockey dome like it was a drum, that almost being the tipping point for Crowe to burst out laughing from the sight. A sad display of what they thought being bad was, she could think of multiple things way worse they could do.

“Gustavo says one of us has to be the bad boy.” Kendall explained their actions to his mom. “But you’re all nice boys.” Mrs. Knight didn’t believe in the facades. Then in an instant she grabbed Kendall and Crowe’s shoulders but mostly directed her fear at her son, “Oh, I am so glad you’re here. There’s an axe maniac on the loose!” She shook the two. Crowe could see Katie further back by the sink with a sign that said ‘NO there’s NOT!’ and so did Kendall, telling his mom they would be extra careful.

“We want pizza! Now!” The three bad boys yelled at Mrs. Knight. Crowe stared at them wide eyed, with Kendall looking at them like they’re crazy. Mrs. Knight turned to stare them down and didn’t say a word before they all frantically apologized to her, stumbling over their words.

After that display, Crowe thought it was a good time to head out. She whispered to Kendall, “Good luck with them, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Before she could take a step he stopped her, “What? You’re leaving already, why?” He was hoping that she could make things a tiny bit tolerable.

“Yeah,” She dragged it out, slowly stepping towards the door. “I’m not gonna deal with them. I need to keep my sanity. Or what’s left of it.” Crowe shrugged and gave him a lopsided grin. She tried to leave again but failed, arms blocking the path. “Oh come on, I thought that maybe we could hang out. Watch tv or something.” Her eyes darted between him and the floor, “Why? We don’t need to.” Adding a forced chuckle at the end.

Now Kendall looked confused, curious on why she thought that. Thinking maybe if it was just him, and Katie, then she would want to stay, since James wouldn’t necessarily be around. But now it seemed like she didn’t want to be here at all, he wanted to ask but couldn’t as a crash came from the living room. A groaning Logan was on the floor, unsure of how it happened but deciding to ignore it.

“If you need me, I’ll be next door.” Crowe took that chance to finally slip out and into the hallway.

Unlocking and softly shutting her door, doing her routine like normal. In a completely new-new place, still finding it hard to believe she lives here. It took a few days to get comfortable with the looks of it all.

⟡

The night after the remodel when Katie left, Crowe spent it laying in bed thinking and talking to someone from back home.

When Mrs. Knight asked for her parents number, she went ahead and called someone completely different. But in her defense, this someone did take care of and gave her a job at the Snowdrop Ice Rink back in Minnesota. So it was only plausible that he would be the one to call if something ever happened to Crowe.

And after five rings he picked up, saying his usual vulgar line whenever he got an unknown number.

“Ugh, I don't miss you cussing at everything.” Crowe put her phone on speaker while putting the journals away in the cramped box.

A very loud gasp came from the other end, “Cece? You finally called! What took you so long, punk? Busy with Hollywood celebrities and huge parties?” He laughed knowing she didn’t have a social bone in her body. “Haha, maybe I should just hang up. I have important things to do. And don’t you have work, Luka?” She always gave him sarcasm, it's never a rude thing, sometimes, and he knew it.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m about to close.” Reminding her about the time difference now between them. “How’s LA treating you? Bosses, co-workers, anyone else you met. And whose phone are you calling me on?” Luka wanted to know everything and he didn’t care that he was in the middle of working at the ice rink. Crowe also knew how quickly he could close, so she went ahead and rambled.

Failing at stuffing the books back in, pulling everything out and scattering it about. Her bed soon became a colorful mess.

Talking about the first couple of days they got there, not mentioning the fact she got fired and was extremely close to returning home. Getting her first phone thanks to the company. How the producer she’s raved about is an ill-tempered man who calls them dogs. Luka seemed concerned with that expression but Crowe reassured him it wasn’t anything bad, considering he surprised her with a revamped place. Bragging about how much nicer it is than her old bedroom.

A crumpled piece of paper fell out of one of the journals, freezing time with it. Staggering her breath, Luka’s voice turned to a ringing.

My list? I thought I threw it away. Why is it..?

Forced out of her mind with his grounding laugh. Sliding the childish thoughts to the side.

Bringing up the band members, describing them in almost vivid detail. The pranks that they've already pulled and her getting dragged along into their plans, freaking out every time. Briefly glazing over the single band mate she has a slight distaste with and he immediately teased her.

“Hmm, sounds like someone I already know.” Laughing so loud it was like she was next to him. “Cállate, at least I’m tolerable.” He kept laughing and she buried her face in blankets.

Coming back up for air, “Oh, guess what? Guess what?!” Practically screaming into the phone and blowing his eardrums out. “Qué pasó?”

“I have a friend! Like, a legit friend, she even said so herself.” Luka found her gushing sweet and reassuring that Crowe wasn’t completely alone in LA. “What about..” He sighed and strained the question, “The guys? Did you ask to be friends with them?” She snorted at his attitude. “No,” she laid on her back, staring at the dull ceiling with the phone on her chest. A mental note to buy glow in the dark stars. “I’m not sure they want to be friends with someone they work with.”

He hummed, knowing how particular she is due to a certain blonde back in Minnesota. “Just ask, no harm in that. They might say yes.”

⟡⟡

Crowe woke up and did her routine, double checking if she had everything stuffed in the bag. The old wrinkled paper on the bedside table taunting her, wanting to be checked off for completion.

Shutting the front door and knocking on the next one, yawing at the day ahead of her.

Kendall, awake and annoyed already, greeted her inside. “Why don't you use that door?” Pointing to the easier, accessible one in the middle of the apartment. “I forget it's there.” Staring at it while the two sat at the dining table.

The other boys were nowhere in sight, leaving Crowe to ask if they were still asleep. Before Kendall got a chance to answer, the three emerged from their bedrooms. The sudden sight made her blink multiple times to make sure it was real, knowing the best part of this would come later.

When the five got to the studio, they could see Gustavo and Kelly sitting behind a desk placed in the middle of the hallway, in front of his office. Crowe got flashbacks from the audition to how similar it looked, but this time she wasn’t going to make a foul out of herself. It would be the three boys.

Crowe sat on one of the white chairs across from the table, leaning over with her hands on her chin. Kendall took the armrest of the same chair as they all waited to see the ‘bad boys’ in action. Kelly and Gustavo stared in astonishment, curious of what’ll prove them as bad.

First up was Carlos. Dressed in all black with a leather jacket, combat boots, baggy pants, and a shirt that had a flaming skull on it. Oddly enough, his helmet matches the look nicely.

He held a wooden board up to his head, wasting no time and splitting it in half, successfully breaking it. Impressing them for a second. But he was overconfident, falling to the ground from the impact like he broke it directly on his forehead even though he had his signature helmet on. No one moved to help him up, leaving the first contender on the carpeted floor.

Second to try was James. Wearing oversized jeans, with silver designs on the left leg. His pants being too long on him it was hard to tell what shoes he was wearing, but it was easy to tell what adorned his head. Another bandana, this time in a bejeweled silver and black color. Everything James wore there was a hint of flashiness to it.

Hopping around and singing a horrible short rap about how he was bad, ending it with showing off a shiny silver grill set. Flaunting it to the judges with a, literally, bright grin. “Really, a grill? Logan!” Gustavo was the least bit interested in him or his bit, wanting to get this over with already. It was a fun time for Crowe, having a blast from the antics. But Kendall was done with everything they were doing, annoyed at his friends for acting this way and his boss who gladly accepted it.

Crowe chuckled at James, finding it hard to look at him directly without wanting to laugh her head off from the gaudy outfit. He was less than happy he didn’t get picked, joining the two on the chair and taking the other arm rest. Kendall laughed at James as he crossed his arms like a kid pouting.

Lastly, it was Logan’s turn. In the same style as the other two. Oversized jeans, jacket, sunglasses and hat. Throwing the shades off to the side once he started. It was hard to tell if he knew what a bad boy was since he went with dancing, very badly. When Gustavo said bad boys had a thing for dancing, this was the last thing he had in mind. Flinging his legs around and snapping his fingers, back to wildly throwing his arms in the air, while repeatedly asking ‘you like that?’ and making Kelly and Gustavo stare at him with blank expressions. Ending his bit with an over dramatic pose and knocking his hat off, skillfully putting it back on.

“No.” It was an easy elimination for Gustavo, getting up and walking over towards the group, “Ok, so Kendall is the bad boy. You’re gonna need to start wearing black clothing and talking deeper, and slower.” He changed his tone to match what he wanted Kendall to do, clapping it over and walking away. Moving on and talking to Kelly about the next task.

But Kendall thought of it differently, “You mean be fake.” Gustavo stopped in his tracks and James acted like Kendall was right, as if he didn’t change his entire appearance to fit the mold. Crowe rolled her eyes at his act. “I can’t. Besides, I’m terrible at faking.” Kendall stood up, going against the idea. Setting his foot down about the stupid changes for the band, taking his position of leader.

“No, Kelly is terrible at faking.” Gustavo was pointing fingers at his co-worker. From the years they’ve worked together, they were bound to find flaws in each other. “I can always tell when she lies to me.” And he was right, Kelly tried to prove him wrong but she couldn’t form a sentence without awkwardly chuckling and looking around the room.

Logan kept his arms crossed while James was just mimicking Kendall’s movements as he explained his reasoning, “Gustavo, we just don’t want anything fake about our band.” Logan and James stood and backed him up, aside from the unconscious Carlos. Crowe remained seated since it wasn’t her place to disagree or add input, the only thing she had to do was her job.

“Your band?” Gustavo stepped towards Kendall, he wasn’t allowing anyone to call the band anything but his. “Your band?” He started to yell, “This is my band. Are you telling me that you’re gonna ignore me, and Griffin, and the record company and not be our bad boy?” He squared in on Kendall, but with the way he said it Crowe knew where he was headed. And Kendall fell for it, “Yeah, pretty much.” James was happy about his friend rejecting the position.

The producer pointed at him, “Bad boy.” Kendall, and James, stomped in frustration. In a round-about way it was what he was looking for, just not with the look he was hoping for. “He’s got you there.” Crowe shrugged her shoulders. Kendall looked back annoyed, “Really?” he huffed at the situation and lack of help.

Before Gustavo left he told Kelly to get Griffin over here since they finally had their bad boy. Kelly promptly left to do just that, leaving the band in the hallway. Crowe looked at the two, and one on the floor, bad boys. “You guys need to change. It’s a bad look.” Smirking at the joke. The two looked offended, at her comment and the pun, but went to change anyway, helping Carlos off the floor.

Kendall turned to face Crowe, throwing his arms out. “You’re supposed to help.” Confusion struck her and stood up, “Why am I supposed to? It’s Griffin’s idea, he’s a weird man. And it's not like I can change Gustavo's mind.” If there was a way she could help then they would have to find it.

But what kind of situation would this happen to any normal person?

“You’re our assistant. Back us up, not them. We can’t let Gustavo or Griffin do this.” She rubbed her neck, it was clear he needed help since he pushed the issue on her. Usually him being the one in control and directing the others, now she was involved. Again.

This time she had to take his place, “Look, as your assistant, I can try to help with not changing your look. I can think of something.” Beginning to pace, “I mean, what can Griffin do if you don’t want to be the bad boy? The others can’t do it, they suck. He would just have to deal with no changes to the band. Right?” Hands on her hips at the end of the odd speech, not up to par with Kendall’s, but it was better than nothing.

Once the three came back in regular clothing, they headed to the studio where Gustavo and Kelly were waiting for the crazed man. Crowe stood by Kelly at one end as the boys formed a line across from them. And they didn’t have to wait long as Griffin showed up not a minute later, bringing in more heavy tension to the room and people waiting.

“Why isn’t his back turned to the rest of them?” Griffin asked Gustavo, wasting no time with chit chat, disappointed in the lack of appearance of one bad boy. “Because he won’t do as I say! Which makes him the bad boy.” Gustavo pointed out, to which he was sort of correct. So in a way they did have a bad boy and Griffin got what he wanted.

“And I don’t turn my back on my friends.” Kendall stated plainly. Gustavo threw his head back and mumbled to Kelly his annoyances. Except Griffin didn’t like things not going his way, going up to the frontman. Crowe wasn’t sure what he was about to do, he’s an unpredictable man and it bothered her so much. “That’s good. I respect that. But I said I wanted bad.”

Crowe knew that kind of tone, like he had a backup plan in case this one failed. And once the rest of the band heard their CEO wanted a bad boy, they went back to playing the role. Abandoning the morals that Kendall tried to put up for the band. With James putting the fake grill back on, Logan had his sunglasses, and Carlos pulled out another board from behind his back.

Where did he get that? Knowing what was about to happen.

Carlos screamed and broke the board on his head, falling to the ground for the second time today. That caused Logan and James to take off the stupid accessories and go back to normal, or as normal as they could get. Kendall smiled as he found it funny, a sort of payback.

Everyone looked at the boy on the ground and then continued on. “A bad boy is someone parents would never let their daughters date,” Griffin turned back around to face Gustavo, walking over to Crowe and putting an arm around her. “And I would let my daughter date any one of these boys,” Indirectly making it seem like they could be related, and definitely not in the looks department.

Pointing his other hand in the direction of the band. “Which is bad.” The boys, Logan and James, looked disappointed in themselves when Griffin said that. “Do something about this, or I will. Wait. I already did.” He took his arm off Crowe and happily introduced someone to their dismay.

The slight possibility of them getting no bad boy went down the drain to zero.

“Say hello to Wayne Wayne.” In less than a second, an overhyped boy wearing a black and gold outfit came in. He pushed Gustavo out of the way and barged to the middle of the studio singing.

“What? What? Yo, yo I’m Wayne Wayne from the mean streets of Detroit, I’m bad-bad as my bling-bling.” As he continued his rap about himself, Crowe was having trouble composing herself. Holding laughter in so much that she started actually coughing.

I gotta stop doing that. Gathering herself before turning her attention back.

The boys looked at each other, already uneased at the newcomer. “Give him the contract.” Griffin motioned to his worker and did as he was told, slamming the contract into Gustavo’s stomach. Griffin placed his arm around the new bad boy, “Isn’t he bad?”

“Bad.” Kelly didn’t hold back her opinion, Crowe bit her lip to hide the forming smile. Everyone looked at Kelly and she tried to quickly cover it up but failed, “But great. I mean, really, really bad, but, like, in a good way.” Gustavo waved his hand to silently get her to stop as she was just making it worse.

“Wayne Wayne, blow it up.” Griffin gave him a fist bump and ‘blew it up’, “Later later, Griff-Griff.” Griffin and his team left, leaving the new boy to the band. Crowe was having the time of her life, this was the most fun she’s had in forever.

She went over to check up on Carlos as he was still lying on the floor, squatting down to see him. Lightly poking his face for any kind of reaction. Gustavo and Kelly were quickly going through the multiple pages of the bound contract, trying to find a reason to void it.

Wayne Wayne jumped to face the band and James tried to be friendly and introduce himself, sticking a hand out. “Yo, Wayne Wayne, I’m-” But was immediately stopped as Wayne Wayne took over and slapped his hand away. “Wasting your time-time. Look, I ain’t here to make friends, ok?” Crowe glanced up at the boys, curious of what else the new recruit had to say. Wayne Wayne stared each one down, making sure they all knew, “I’m here to take Big Time Rush to the next level.”

How is he gonna do that?

“The Wayne Wayne express is leaving the station. So you fools step on..or step off.” He backed a step up, before showing off his huge ‘W’ bling out rings to the three. “Wayne Wayne out-out.” Leaving but not before shoving Gustavo out of the way again. Proving the act to be true.

The boys were quick, “We don’t like him.” Crowe was also quick with a laugh, “You mean you don’t like-like him?” Everyone turned to her, not finding the same amusement as she did. “I’ll shut up.” She crossed her arms and stood up, staring at her boots instead of the judgmental faces.

“Yes, you do.” Gustavo yelled at them, not liking the situation any better but having to suck it up because of the crazy CEO. “You all do. He’s the bad boy,” Carlos popped back up confused, startling Crowe. Putting his dazed state on her. “And he’s staying at the Palm Woods. So be good boys and make friend-friends with Wayne Wayne.”

Carlos was lost, “Who’s Wayne Wayne?” Gustavo was done, he and Kelly left while letting the band and Crowe head back to the hotel. “Why does he get to make the jokes?” Talking to no one in particular. Kendall was the one who led the group back to the Palm Woods, not saying a word while Logan caught Carlos up to speed.

Having another day of Wayne Wayne ahead of them.

⟡⟡⟡

The next morning, the boys went straight past the lobby and headed out towards the pool with Crowe following after them. Sitting on lounge chairs and judgmentally watching Wayne Wayne across the pool, lifting the three Jennifer's up on a single chair. Showing off his strength to them and anyone else watching him. The girls cheered out Wayne Wayne’s name then laughed once he brought them back down.

Crowe cocked her head, “That’s kinda impressive.” The band looked at her, offended at her compliment to the new group member. James rolled his eyes and started to complain about him, “First he joins our band without our permission.” Carlos continued, “Now he steals our girls-” Who got interrupted by Crowe, “Who has no interest in you guys.” He went on, “But it’s still not fair.”

Wayne Wayne was just sitting with the Jennifers, talking and laughing. Crowe didn’t think he’s too bad if the Jennifers liked him, but then again she didn’t know the Jennifers well enough to trust their judgment. And it wasn’t necessarily his fault that he was put in the band, it was Griffin’s idea to have a bad boy and he just so happened to get the role.

“And that’s why we’re gonna get rid of him.” Logan said, before whispering to the boy next to him. “Kendall, get rid of him.” Pushing it onto him.

“Why me?” Kendall was confused at why he had to be the one to do it. “Because he scares us.” James answered for the group. “Not me.” Crowe said, finding him more funny, in a way, than scary.

Kendall shot up and faced the four, “We are a band. And we’re gonna do this together,” Unbeknownst to him, the boy he was bad mouthing walked right into earshot behind Kendall. “Because we are not afraid of some loudmouth, backwards-hatted, droopy pants wearing-” before he got any further, the boys tried to discreetly get him to stop. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

And he was, making a furious face at the slightly taller boy. When Kendall turned to face him, he backed up as Wayne Wayne was closer than he thought.

“You want trouble-trouble, Ken-dork?” He got up close and personal, “Bring it, bring it.” But Kendall wasn’t backing down and the boys got up to literally back him up, with Carlos bringing Crowe with them. “Yeah, we’ve decided that there’s only room for four members in Big Time Rush.”

Crowe stood next to Kendall, nudging and shaking her head at him to not make things worse. If he wanted their assistant to help then he shouldn’t push his luck.

“Great-great.” The bad boy pulled his phone out and dialed, “Yo, Griff-Griff. The guys agree with me, five in the band is too many.” Once Crowe heard who he called, she was worried what their CEO would say, probably agreeing and making things even worse to the point where they can’t fix it. Wayne Wayne turned the phone so everyone could hear, “Sounds fresh, Wayne Wayne. I’ll stop by the studio to see which one goes. Griff-Griff out.”

James shrieked at the response, it was pretty easy to tell the guys were freaking out too. “You see…my contract states that I’m guaranteed to front a band, and I picked this band.” Now Crowe was slightly freaked out, knowing how real everything was turning out to be. But it was apparent that the boys could care less about it, or just simply not know how much weight it held, “Ooh, a contract. We’re so scared.”

She mentally facepalmed, figuring out how dumb they can be sometimes. Especially Logan since he was supposed to be the smart one out of the group.

“My contract also states that I get a posse.” Wayne Wayne snapped his fingers and three guys in gold and white outfits came out and stared the band down. “Scared now?” He taunted them.

The band backed up and agreed, mumbling about how those guys were bigger than them. Crowe stood in her spot, from fear or carelessness, she didn’t know. And if they tried to do anything, she knew how to defend herself, thanks to Luka and his annoying over protectiveness.

Wayne Wayne looked her up and down, “And who are you? You their friend-friends?” He motioned to the cowering group of boys behind her. “I’m their assistant.” Correcting him and almost instantly regretting it, the band looked hurt by it. Except for James who just seemed offended.

Logan, Carlos, and Kendall looked at each other, seemingly wondering the same thing but not asking. Kendall wanted to put the pieces together, he thought they were friends but she denied it. Not directly, but to them that’s what it seemed like.

“So that means you're my assistant too.” He stated it matter of factly instead of asking. Crowe shrugged, “Uhh, I guess so?” Unsure if it was true or not herself.. “Then get me a coconut, I’m thirsty.” Wayne Wayne smirked at the girl. She raised her eyebrow, looking him up and down. He leaned closer to the girl and whispered so no one besides her could hear, “Please?” Leaning back and putting the facade back on. Crowe shrugged, “Yeah, alright.” The boys were shocked from the betrayal as she went to get the drink for the unwanted guest.

She waited in line for 5 minutes before getting the coconut, grabbing a straw and placing it in. The bad boy moved over to another lounge chair, but it was easy to spot him in the ridiculous get up and posse surrounding him. Especially the one fanning him with a ridiculously giant leaf.

Crowe walked up to him and handed the drink over. He took it and sipped, “Thanks.” It was a small surprise that he thanked her, thinking that he isn’t as awful as he made it out to be. Having her mind think of him differently than a few minutes ago. “No problem. Uhh, let me know if you need anything else.” Giving him a weak wave and leaving to find the boys.

And it was easy to find them with the make-shift tree hats sticking out of the bushes. When she got close enough she could hear Logan say ‘mean’, what context that was in she didn’t care too much about.

“What are you guys doing?” Kendall pulled on her sleeve so she was squatting next to them and gave her a questioning look. Darting his eyes back and forth between her and the boy sitting across from where they’re spying.

He didn’t say anything but she figured out what he meant, “What? Oh. I don’t know. He said please.” Mumbling to him as he rolled his eyes. Kendall went back to their previous conversation they had before the girl arrived, “Nobody’s breaking us up. We’re a team.” James snarked, whisper-yelling out loud but mostly focusing on the girl, “Not everybody thinks so.” She rolled her eyes at him, it was like he was picking fights with her but she wasn’t going to entertain him. Staying quiet about her own remarks.

The three, literally, in the middle of it looked at each other. Kendall pushed on, ignoring the two. “We’re not afraid of Wayne Wayne or anybody else.” It was like the world wanted to put it to the test as Camille popped up wearing a neon pink and black wrestling outfit.

“Hey, guys.” Camille cheerly said. Screams came from the four boys as Crowe perked up. If she was really a dog then her tail would be wagging from the sight of seeing her friend. “Hey, Camille.” Her friend returned her smile then calmed the boys down, “Oh relax, I didn’t get the part. Maybe throwing the casting director in a flying headlock was a bad idea.”

“You gotta show me that.” Crowe was shocked at the strength her friend had. “Camille, we’re in an urgent save-our-band mission right now.” Kendall pointed across the pool to where the problem was sitting. Camille turned to see what it was, turning back just as quickly, “Hey, when did Wally Dooley move to the Palm Woods?” The name confused the five, asking for clarification. She said the name again, “Yeah, he must be up for a bad boy role. We worked together on ‘The Magic Middle School’. He played Towel boy.”

The five screamed “What?!” prompting the now unmasked girl to head into the lobby and show them.

Camille typed into the computer and found exactly what she was looking for. She clicked the video, a clip from the show as it showed the ‘bad’ boy dressed in a white shirt tucked into red shorts. Three basketball players entered the locker room where Towel boy was, teasing him and using their magic to lift two hoses up and spray him with water, soaking him. Towel boy turned the joke around, saying he was the one who needed a towel rather than the players.

Not bad. Nodding at the clip and look of Towel boy.

“So Wayne Wayne didn’t grow up on the mean streets of Detroit.” Logan sounded happy at the revelation. Camille explained even more, “He grew up in a mansion in Dallas,” Crowe’s eyes widened at that, wondering why he was wasting his time here rather than the huge house he lived in. “His dad invented toast on a rope.”

Kendall had enough of the act, “And he’s gonna kick one of us out of the band?” He backed up to face the five again and they all faced him, the girls standing next to each other. “Well, we’re gonna kick him out of the band, cause we don’t need no fakey-fakey, poser-poser,” And once again the person he was bad mouthing snuck up on him, the boys warning him to quit it. “He’s behind me again, isn’t he?”

Camille revealed herself to the boy and waved, “Hey, Wally.” He took his sunglasses off and nicely said hi back, going back to beating the boys down. “Oh, and news flash: this town is full of phonies, and nobody cares!” Bringing the contract back out to remind them. “Hey, what do you guys think of the name Wayne Wayne Rush?” Showing the giant rings again to emphasize his decision.

Ew. Disgust clear on Crowe’s face.

Carlos was surprisingly the one to fight back, “Dude, once Gustavo finds out that you’re a phony-phony,” James butted in, “You are out-out.” The threat didn’t scare him one bit, laughing in their faces, “You guys, Gustavo is a joke, ok? Griffin has the power, and he’ll get rid of whoever I say. And I say…” Wayne Wayne put his sunglasses back on and closed in on Kendall again. “It’s you.”

And sadly, he was right, Griffin had the power that Gustavo flaunted in front of the band. Showing who was really in control.

Kendall gulped and glanced at his friends next to him, scared of what else he had to say. “And there’s nothing you can do about it, because you can’t stop the Wayne Wayne train.” Crowe fully lost the persona he was putting up as he backed away, him and his posse acting like a train leaving the station and making the sounds along with it. “Ok, stop this, it’s not cool.” The four stopped, with Wayne Wayne giving Kendall the sign that he was watching him.

After he disappeared around the corner, the band bolted near the entrance. The two girls looked at their retreating figures then to each other, Crowe sighed, “It’s been, an entertaining few days.” Camille laughed, “You gotta tell me about it later.”

Crowe’s tail wagged again, “And you gotta show me that move, I wanna do it.” The other girl nodded and Crowe knew she had to follow after the boys, but she also wanted to share the news of her role.

“I’ll,” It’s better not to, “Text you later? And see when we can hang out?” Starting to back away but still faced her friend to see her response. “Yep, see ya!” Camille waved and smiled, heading towards the elevator to presumably change her clothes. I don’t want to rub it in her face.

Crowe caught up to the boys as they waited for her, impatient, “What?” she questioned. “What took you so long?” Logan asked as the five began walking, two in front and two in the back. “I was saying bye like a good friend,” Biting back the smile. “Now where are we going?” Being in the middle of the four, Kendall spun around, “Tell Kelly we need to see Gustavo in his office.” She didn’t ask anymore questions and pulled her phone out, sending Kelly a message.

“She said ok.” Crowe let the four know and switched the phone for her journal, an idea striking her thanks to the changing facade of the ‘bad’ boy. Biting her pen cap and chewing on it while she wrote, flipping to the previous page with her current song she was working on.

‘Any kind of guy you want..if you decide to change your mind’. Hmm, maybe something like, ‘changing my point of view, every day, something new’. Yeah, this is definitely a love song. She grabbed a sticky note and stuck it to the page, ‘send Camille text later’ adding below it, ‘love song’.

After she put her things back, they arrived at Rocque Records and headed straight to Gustavo’s office.

“What?” Gustavo was already annoyed at the teens, his default mood. Logan waved his arms around worried, “Wayne Wayne is a total fraud.” James included the mentioned boy’s threat, “He wants to kick Kendall out of the band.” As Kendall threw his hands up in defeat.

“Really? I would’ve bet on Logan.” The producer gave his opinion, which Crowe thought was wrong. And apparently the other boys agreed with that sentiment, but Logan laughed and shut it down, “Well, you would have lost!”

“Wait, whoa.” Kelly was on the same page as the teens, “We can’t let Wayne Wayne kick Kendall out of the band. Gustavo, what are you gonna do?” Wanting him to come up with something to save the band. “Nothing.” He gave them a static look, then left the room.

Crowe was shocked at this outcome, she thought he might have come up with something but he didn’t. All of them rushed after him complaining but Kendall was the one who got him to talk. “Gustavo, you can’t let this poser tell you what to do with your band.”

Gustavo turned and looked disappointed, in himself the most. “It’s not my band, ok? It’s Griffin’s. Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t had a hit in a while.” She felt for her easily angered but surprisingly, very few times, kind producer.

Gustavo gave her and the boys a shot, but how long would it take Griffin to notice how far they can go. Never giving them a chance to get their footing right.

“This band is my ticket back to the top, and until I get back there…what he says goes.” Kendall was quick to compromise in teaming up but he denied. James ignored him and kept listing off what they needed, “We’ll need cool code names. I’ll be the falcon.”

Ugh, falcons. Of course you would pick that. Crossing her arms from the unfolding event.

“I’ll be the snowman.” Logan added his code name. “And you’ll need a tree hat.” Carlos pulled one out of thin air and confused Crowe again on how he keeps getting these things. Carlos rushed over and put it on Gustavo.

Except he ripped it off and threw it to the ground, shouting his disagreements at the five. “Gustavo, we can come up with a plan.” Kendall was insistent on this idea and even Kelly agreed to it.

Gustavo was heated, staring at the five teens dead in the eyes. “I don’t want you hockey heads pulling any of your schemes or shenanigans that are gonna get me in trouble with Griffin and the record company.”

“Now, here are your lyric sheets for the song you’re gonna sing for Griffin in one hour.” Gustavo took the sheets and a marker from Kelly, going down the line to give it to the boys.

“James.”

He was giving up, none of them could believe it.

“Logan.”

They all thought that he might’ve had a plan in mind, but maybe he didn’t.

“Kendall.”

This is it, they’re done for.

“Carlos.”

But why was she included in this?

“Crowe.”

Gustavo handed her one too. Looking down she realized that he spelt her name completely wrong. Taking a peek at Carlos' paper next to her and noticed it was the same, then a look further down revealed the reason why it was like that.

“Study them. Learn them. Got it?” Gustavo didn’t directly tell them, probably because he knew that Kelly could potentially mess things up if she was included.

The five remained somber, “Got it.”

⟡⟡⟡⟡

They only had an hour before Kendall would permanently be kicked out, so they had to think of something quick. The teens stayed in the building but went to the floor below them.

“So, what are you guys gonna do?” Crowe asked them as she didn’t have a clue and knew they could come up with something. Only being included since Gustavo wanted her to help. Wondering if this counted as part of her job description. They were huddled in another dimly lit room that contained even more music equipment and replacements for it. Making sure no one could eavesdrop on them. She didn’t know who would want to but left it alone, wanting this to be easy.

Kendall never gave a straight answer, “Griffin wants a bad boy, right?” Logan and Carlos nodded along while James pouted, “And it can’t be one of us. And definitely not Logan.” At this point they made it seem like Logan wasn’t even regular boy band material and he was over it.

“Sooo, that means..?” The girl looked at Kendall, hoping he would spell it out.

He nodded, “Yep, I need a new look.” Snapping his fingers at the group. “Crowe, you help me with the outfit. Sorry, James.” She smirked while James huffed, “Oh come on, why does she get to help?” Throwing his hands in dismay.

Crowe bit back, “Cause I don’t have bad fashion choices.” Referring to his bandana idea and earlier bad look. “Seriously?” James said, looking towards Kendall then back to her, “At least I don’t look sad or devoid of any happy colors.” Knocking her sense of style down.

She stumbled in her words, “That’s exactly what he needs to look like.”

James didn’t like her one upping him, deciding the next best thing, “Fine, let bird brain do it this time.” Getting under her skin. Which worked in his favor. “Bird brain?!” Flaring up and balling her fists.

The three boys knew it wasn’t a good idea to say anything to get caught in the crossfire.

Logan and Carlos didn’t think much about it, Kendall on the other hand was constantly thinking about it. Maybe this was the reason why she didn’t consider them friends, because his friend would always pick a fight with her. And he wanted to find out his reason too.

Crowe clicked her tongue, “I’ll do a better job than you, hairball.” James shrieked, in defense of his hair. “I am not a hairball-”

“Quit it!” Kendall hushed the two, “We don’t have time for this.” Ending the argument with that as neither of them said anything else.

Crowe faced Kendall, “I know just the look. We just need to find it.”

Trying to remember where the clothes were located the very few times she went to the department. Her eyes lit up, “And makeup!” she lightly bounced on her heels, already coming up with different outfits. But Kendall was hesitant, “I don’t think we need makeup.” The other boys laughed at the idea of their friend having to wear makeup and Crowe doubled down. “Yeah, yeah, alright whatever. What else do we need?”

From there, while she looked for the right room, the four boys started to sort out everything Kendall needed to do. Crowe wasn’t paying attention since she didn’t have to worry about that, instead leading the band down corridors. The girl could hear one of the boys mimic crashing and breaking sounds, something she was excited about seeing.

Further down the hall she noticed a red staircase, leading them down. A sign saying exactly what she wanted, turning the knob on the door. And finding it locked. “Fuck.” Groaning.

Crowe turned back, “We need keys.” How could she forget something so simple, knocking herself down for not thinking it through and letting them down. “Oh, we can look for some.” Logan took the chance and grabbed James along with him, gracing Crowe with the absence of the annoying boy.

Once they left, Carlos wanted to help as well, “Or I can break it down.” He backed up a few steps and crouched into position, putting his helmet on and waiting for the two to move out of the way. And they did, letting him have a go at it.

He rammed as hard as he could, but unfortunately ended up the same way when he tried to break a board like before. Luck not on his side and falling on his back unconscious, the two looked down at him and back at each other. Small laughs came from them. Crowe didn’t know how long it would take the other two, so it was time to try her method.

Digging around in her bag, she tried to fish out a small black pouch. Kendall just stood next to her with his back on the wall, thinking of something to get her talking.

It was the first thing he thought of, something he could ease into his questions. “Thanks for helping us with this, you didn’t have to.” Taking extra attention in knowing how she responded.

“It’s not like I had anything else to do. Plus, my job is to make sure none of you guys are kicked out of the band. I guess, for now. Or at least still have one.” Crowe grabbed two picks from the pouch, crouched down and inserted it into the lock.

If that happens I might go crazy. And who knows when I’m next, I really don’t want that. I don’t need to get fired.

She sheepishly added, “And you asked for my help.” Kendall picked up on the tone. “Yeah, that’s true. Even if it is Griffin’s fault we have to do this. I’m just glad you haven’t bailed on us yet, Katie always reminds us how we’re ‘too much’.” Kendall remembered all the times his little sister would complain about them being too rowdy that she would get headaches. So who knows how annoying they’ve been for her. They’re still getting to know her and finding out how much she can deal with it. And she’s trying to find that point too, only used to one person annoying her.

Crowe focused on notching the right parts. “Yeah, some of you aren’t too bad,” He knew who she was referring to. “It’s fun working with you guys, I haven’t done anything this fun or exciting in a while.” A soft click was heard, she turned the knob and pushed it open.

Kendall looked to the side to see what she was up to, noticing the door was now unlocked and they could go in. “How the hell?” He asked the girl who was standing up properly and putting the pouch back in her bag. “How did you do that?” He was stunned, but Crowe moved inside the room and patted the walls to find the light switch.

“Help me find the light.” Crowe didn’t bother to elaborate but Kendall really wanted her to. “Sure, but..how?” He copied her but on the other side, finding it then promptly flipped it on. She shrugged, “I forgot my keys most of the time back in Minnesota, I had to pick the lock to get back inside.” Focusing on the rows of clothes in front of them.

Yeah, that sounds reasonable. And definitely not because I didn’t have keys to the house until I made a copy. Or anything else.

Amazed by the countless varieties of clothes, even if this was the third or fourth time in here, she could barely comprehend how much was packed inside. “Now, let's find you the right bad boy outfit.” Getting excited at the different variations of ideas she had in mind.

Dark and ‘scary’ is definitely the look I wanna go for. Maybe a hint of emo, who doesn’t like that?

They went up and down the racks, pulling out mostly dark colored shirts, different types of jackets, and jeans with various designs. It was a few minutes later that they heard voices outside, worriedly looking at each other. Neither of them were able to reach the switch in time to turn it off. Kendall was inches away before pulling back and hiding in hopes of not getting caught.

“Kendall? Crowe?” Logan’s head popped inside, scanning the room to see any sign of life. Crowe separated the clothes down the middle and felt relief at the sight of the boy. Kendall did the same, going to the door to check on them.

She went back to sorting through the shirts while the boys talked amongst themselves, trying to overhear their conversation. They weren’t saying anything exciting, mostly about the trip they took to get the keys and why Carlos was on the floor. Kendall did mention how she was able to pick the lock, which caused the two to look in her direction.

Crowe tried to focus on anything but the suspicious, or maybe curious, eyes on her, except she couldn’t handle it and glanced over. Logan went back to going over the plan with Kendall, it was James who held eye contact. A chill ran down her spine, avoiding all contact and shuffling away completely from the boy’s staring.

James focused back on his friend's conversation that was circling back to the girl and both of them wondering what else she knew how to do. He was less than interested to join so he went back out in the hallway and woke up Carlos on the floor. Sitting in one of the seats near the wall and talking.

Kendall noticed his friend's attitude towards Crowe and told Logan about his concerns, “I don’t think she likes us.” Logan was caught off guard, unsure of where this came from. “Why do you say that? We’re friends, aren’t we?” And Kendall thought the same thing, then he clicked the pieces together.

“That’s the thing,” Kendall whispered so it was only them, catching Carlos up later. “I don’t think, that she thinks that we’re friends. But I can’t figure out why.” He racked his brain for an answer but the girl was giving him dead ends. Logan was skeptical, “She hangs out with us so I think she likes us just a bit.”

“But she doesn’t hang out with us,” Logan raised an eyebrow and looked at Kendall then back to wherever Crowe was hiding, silently telling him that he was wrong. “Outside of work.” Kendall huffed, his friend was supposed to be the smart one and figure this out. He just needed a little bit more help this time. “Yeah, she does.”

Kendall’s face fell flat, “Oh really, when?” He gave the shorter boy a chance, “Uhhh, oh! When she helped us with the crib. Crowe was with us the whole time.” Logan crossed his arms triumphantly but Kendall rolled his eyes. “Cause we dragged her with us. If we didn’t then she probably would’ve been with Kelly or Gustavo the whole time.”

Logan still wasn’t convinced by his baseless theories, “But she could’ve left and she didn’t, so that’s something.” Kendall sighed and listed off the one that bothered him the most, “What about when we invited her over for dinner, and she said no every time. All like, twenty times probably.” Logan knew he was exaggerating.

“Didn’t she eat with Katie one time?” Logan recalled the night she went next door, mostly because of Mrs. Knight sending food over. “In her apartment. And that’s all. We’re the ones who drag her with us because she doesn’t like us enough to actually hang out with us!” Kendall was close to yelling his frustration out to the public but Logan calmed him down as much as he could. “Why are you so worked up about being her friend anyways?” Logan had trouble finding the cause of this, unsure when it even started. It bothered him to see his friend this worked up when he’s usually the levelheaded one.

Kendall sighed and collected his thoughts, a previous talk with his little sister bugged him.

When she came back from dinner, Katie told him about her ‘findings’. Family pictures, or lack of, aside from two. One of possibly her mom holding her as a baby, and the second with her grandparents, as they seemed too old to be her parents, and her celebrating a birthday. And when they redid the crib, she was helping Crowe unpack and didn’t find any more family pictures. Kendall wasn’t one to judge about that, but when she told him that Crowe freaked out over a box Katie almost opened.

It was kind of obvious she was hiding something. He just wanted to figure out what, his own bad habit of trying to fix things.

Logan’s concerns grew when he was quiet, afraid of it being an over ridiculous reason. Like him wanting everyone to like him, like how James is. It was known between all four for James to not like someone just because they didn’t like him back, it was hard to understand that logic. But he also knew it was bothering his friend, which bothered him in return.

Except that Kendall wasn’t able to say anything when Crowe walked over to the two carrying a pile of clothes. “Ok, I found some stuff but you have to try them on.” Handing off the pile to the taller boy and glancing at Logan. “And we don’t have a lot of time left so we gotta hurry.” A quick check of the time revealed that half an hour had passed and they were cutting it close to finish on time.

Logan pushed Kendall back into the room as Crowe talked, “There are three different options that you can choose, so pick whichever one you feel is the best.” Logan added his own thoughts, “Which means pick the one you hate the most.” Laughing in wait for his friend's new identity. “Ha ha, I already don’t like this.” The girl added more insult to injury, “Don’t forget, I gotta put some makeup on after you’re done.” She smirked knowing she was making it worse but what can she do, they needed to complete the look.

Before Kendall could protest, Crowe closed the door on him and sat on the floor to go through her bag. Logan went to the other side of her, away from the door and sat down. “What all do you keep in there?” Thanks to Kendall, he too grew curious about knowing if she thought they were friends. Wanting to think about this more logically than just random guessing. And little did either of them know, she was debating on asking them to be friends. It’s just been hard for her to find the right words to ask.

She shuffled things around and took some items out to show him, “Lots of things. Like my journal, bandaids, pens, sticky notes, tissues. Oh, and lots of other random shit like scissors, candy, change. Sewing stuff, my lock picking kit, and some trash.”

“Don’t tell Katie you know how to do that. But, why do you have all of that?” Logan took a pair of scissors out of her hand, they were smaller than normal, gold and had markings but he couldn’t make out what it was. “I’m always prepared for the worst, or anything really. It comes in handy a lot more than you might think.” She had to learn things by herself and being prepared was one of those things, unfortunately. From times of fixing her old clothes or her wounds, to using the scissors and lock picks for past bad intentions.

She remembered all the times in her, what Crowe called it, ‘rebel’ phase of getting five finger discounts. They weren’t some of her best moments but it was one of the only things that got her adrenaline pumping. It took awhile before she stopped, thankful it never got to the point of getting caught.

“And what is this supposed to be?” He handed it back to her and took a peek into the bag. “It’s a crane. See?” She took it and held it to show the beak where the blades were, snipping air then slipped it back into a zipped pocket. “You really like birds huh?” Logan grinned, finding out at least one thing she liked. Even if it did seem obvious.

Crowe softly smiled, “Yeah, I mean, I call myself Crowe. It just made sense.” It was hard not to like birds, her mom was fascinated by them so she is too.

Shuffling things around for the eye pencil and nail polish, noticing a folded paper sticking up. Shoving it deep inside to disappear. Finding what she needed and ignoring it, like usual.

Logan saw her open up a bit and was glad that he was proving Kendall wrong, even by the tiniest bit. Maybe from here it’ll help the others to get her to open up to them. Even if one of them could care less, the other three wanted to.

A door creaked and out came a newly dark attitude boy emerged, causing all of them to stand and take in the new look. “I really don’t like this.” Nothing on Kendall’s face showed amusement but it certainly showed for the rest. His friends laughed, “This is gonna be awesome!” Carlos jumped in excitement but James had to remind him to not break character later and ruin anything.

Crowe tilted her head to get a better look at Kendall, “Not bad, I picked some pretty good clothes.” Squinting her eyes at James who rolled his eyes and gave Logan his attention.

“We need to take the keys back.” With that he left with Logan trailing after him. Paying no mind, Crowe went into the room to find a chair of some sort. “What are you doing now?” Carlos poked his head inside as she brought a stool over and placed it near one of the vanities, waving for Kendall. “Come here, I need to do your makeup and nails.”

That scared Kendall, backing up and holding his hands up in defense. “No way. I think this is good enough.” Placing himself behind Carlos to separate them. “We need to finish the look, you just look plain like that if I don’t add at least one of these.” Shaking them to emphasize the point but he compromised.

“How about just the pencil thing? No nail polish.” If he had to choose, then the one easier to wipe off was his best choice. Crowe shrugged her shoulders to get this over with, the time cutting down even shorter now. “Fine, now get closer.” Once Kendall stood in front of her, a buzz from her bag stalled her.

Chills ran through her. “Fun, Kelly needs you guys in the studio in 10 minutes.” Typing out a quick response and shoving the phone into her jacket pocket.

It was perfect timing as James and Logan arrived and heard it, the tension grew but no one decided to acknowledge it. “That’s fine.” Kendall snapped everyone into place, Logan nodded. “We’ll head there now and Kendall, I guess you show up a few minutes late?”

“Yeah, that’ll show them that you’re a bad boy.” Carlos was way too optimistic in Crowe’s eyes but was thankful for the brightness he had. “Ok, then I’ll sneak in before you arrive,” pointing to Kendall. “So Griffin doesn’t catch on.” Crowe nodded to the boys, staying calm for once and letting the boys handle the distraction for as long until she got there.

They shut the door to close the remaining two in and get to work. The small step stool helped Crowe in gaining some height to reach Kendall’s eye level. Taking the clear cap off the pencil and hovering, afraid of getting closer. “You’re not going to poke my eye out, are you?” Kendall chuckled and made sure he was standing comfortably so he wouldn’t move around to where it might happen. She swallowed a lump and exhaled, “I’ll try not to.” Crowe’s words didn’t make him feel better, so she tried to fix it. “I mean, I don’t poke my eyes that often so you should be good.” Her eyes darted anywhere besides where she needed them to be.

I hope so.

Kendall noticed her hesitation in moving. “You can get closer, you know.” Leaning in as she warned him, “Just, keep your eyes open and look to the ceiling, please.” The second part wasn’t necessary but it would help her in the long run for unwanted accidents. Steading her hand, smoothly drawing the pencil along his lower waterline and going over enough times for it to really stand out.

“One done, now the other.” Sighing and fixing herself over and waiting for his go ahead. Kendall blinked a couple times, getting used to the feeling of makeup near his eye. “Ok, I’m good.” He smiled and widened his eyes, looking up away from the pencil.

It didn’t take long to complete the look, stepping off the stool and taking a final look at her work. Satisfied was the best way to put it, the black combat boots along with the dark jacket made it seem like this was made just for him.

Everything was in place but there was something that bugged Crowe still, like he was missing something. Kendall saw his reflection in the mirror, doing a double take at his new appearance. “I don’t want to look like this forever. So this better work.” He saw the girl in the reflection, lost in her own thoughts. Crossing her arms, she drummed her fingers while darting her eyes over him, trying to find the missing piece. It dawned on her what it was, “Jewelry.” It's a staple of any bad boy look to include any kind of jewelry they had, but for the time being they had to settle.

Pushing her left jacket sleeve up, she slid a small studded bracelet off and handed it over. Kendall took it and questioned her, “Do you always wear this?” He led the two out the room and into the hallway. Crowe made sure to turn the lights off and locked the door to not leave a trace that anyone entered. Heading to the floor above them to start the show. “I used to, with all the bad boy talk I wanted to wear that one again.”

He fiddled with the bracelet, “Oh, then don’t forget to remind me to give it back.” Crowe waved it off, “You can keep it, that’s my least favorite one and I broke it dozens of times. It’s on its last leg.” Fond memories washed over her skin, it was years ago that she dressed differently then she does now. Albeit it’s a bit toned down now but her roots were still there and easy to see. “So you’re telling me that you used to be a ‘bad girl’.” He air quoted the reverse of what he was, interested in how the girl acted before meeting all those nights ago.

“Ehh, kinda but not really,” washy over how much she should reveal, “More like sad emo, than bad girl. Even if, I did do some, bad things.” Crowe was pushing her luck, not wanting to trudge up the past.

They climbed up the stairs and down the hall as Kendall continued their small talk. “What kind of bad things did you do? Did you and your friends ever get caught? Is that how you got that scar?” He was being generous, thinking she had more than one friend back in the cold state and pointing to her arm.

Bringing her sleeve back down. “Just like, the usual bad stuff. Breaking things, sneaking out, stuff like that.” An old ‘friend’ of hers came to mind, “We did that for like, months.” Her tongue naturally lied.

Shrugging and remembering how she got the injury. “And I got the scar from falling on my ass.” Kendall was shocked from the first part, “Really? I would’ve never thought, you don’t seem like the type.”

What does that mean? Having trouble figuring out if that was rude or not. Making a mental note to ask Luka or Camille later.

Before they got any closer to the studio, Crowe stopped. “I’ll go in first and see what’s going on. Hopefully they won't ask where I’ve been.” Peeking around the corner showed no signs of life, the only thing that did was inside the studio where they could hear faint noise. “Wait like, a minute before you show up. Then you can do whatever you guys planned.” She waited until Kendall nodded and quietly snuck around, making herself smaller and shuffling to the side of Kelly as Griffin was talking, catching the end of it.

Something about Logan again and him retaliating in anger. Crowe signaled to the boys that Kendall was ready, now they just had to wait for the right moment. “Let’s hear my new bad boy band.” Griffin smirked to himself, happy with the outcome of his idea. Kelly didn’t ask Crowe about her whereabouts luckily, giving her relief of not having to come up with an excuse.

There was a small back and forth with the boys teasing Logan and Gustavo was stalling the best he could until Kendall arrived. They didn’t have to for long as the boy sauntered into the room and did the lamest pose Crowe could think of, dramatically crossing his arms over his body so it looked ‘cooler’ than usual. The same thing Logan did when he tried to take the role.

It caused everyone to stare at him in, what Crowe thought, bewilderment. She made sure she looked somewhat shocked as well, not wanting to reveal anything. It was good acting practice too.

Kelly was the only one who seemed afraid of what was about to happen. Kendall and Wayne Wayne met each other in the middle, facing off one another. “Ooh, it’s a bad boy off.” Excitement came from Carlos as the other three teens joined him in wanting to see it. Both Kelly and Gustavo shook their heads, not wanting either of them to do something stupid. But Griffin grew curious, “A bad boy off? That sounds interesting. Doesn’t that sound interesting?” Crowe had to agree with him on this one, she wanted to know what the breaking point was.

“You know, one thing I know about bad boys is..” Kendall grabbed a mic stand from the side of the room and crossed over to where all of Gustavo’s records lined the wall. “They like breaking stuff.” Taking the stand and smashing it against an encased gold record, shattering the glass and causing it to fall. That caused Gustavo and Kelly to scream and for everyone else to lean over to see the damage, Griffin found it amusing, “He’s right. Bad boys do like breaking stuff.”

Gustavo ran into the room, yelling at what he did with everyone flooding in after him. Crowe stood next to him with her mouth agape, but Gustavo’s was for a different reason, “You smashed one of my platinum records?!”

This time Wayne Wayne took the lead, copying Kendall’s moves but doing more damage with all the records he could reach. And after each record he broke in the row, a vicious scream came out of Gustavo.

Throwing the mic stand to the ground in victory. Kelly jumped on Gustavo’s back to stop him from possibly killing both boys, Crowe stepped back to not interfere. “Ooh, round one of the bad boy off goes to Wayne Wayne. Someone ring a bell.” And one of his assistants did just that, bringing out a bell and a small mallet to ding it.

“That is so cool.” The gold shined off the bell, Crowe wishing to ring it herself. Griffin pushed for the next round, having her, her bosses and Wayne Wayne’s posse crowd into the recording studio, where Wayne Wayne entered first with Kendall nowhere in sight. Crowe stood next to Griffin’s assistant and kept glancing at him, trying to gain the courage to ask. She wasn’t paying attention to Wayne Wayne or whatever he was doing, going on her tiptoes and whispering. “Uhh, do you think I can, or, am I allowed to ring the bell? If not then that’s totally fine. I completely understand that. You don’t have to. I don’t want you to get fired.” Rambling off.

Cowardly chickening out and regretting asking almost immediately. But he nudged her shoulder and held the tiny golden mallet to her, smiling and nodding that she had permission to. Crowe gladly took it and gripped it with both hands, bouncing on her heels. James peeked over Carlos to see what she was doing, caulking it up to something boring and ignoring it.

Just then Kendall rammed Wayne Wayne out of the way onto the ground and started to sing, or rap, his bad boy song.

“Your rhymes are weak, mine fit like a glove, Gustavo’s got a face only a mother could love.” Gustavo certainly didn’t like that, shooting up to get him but Kelly held onto him and pushed him down back into his seat. Griffin was still beaming, “Round two goes to Kendall.” His assistant looked to Crowe, signaling for her to ring the bell. She happily did, hitting it twice and shivering from the sound.

“I can’t wait for round three.” Griffin clapped his hands together, turning around and heading out to the hallway. Crowe gave the mallet back, thanking him and following the group out.

Kendall left and went straight to Gustavo’s office, having everyone wait on him. They huddled together while Kendall locked himself in the office, hearing crashing and breaking just seconds after. Crowe stood next to Kelly, wincing at the sounds and wondering how far Gustavo allowed him to go.

And it was hard for her to know if Gustavo was acting or not, pushing through the crowd and sounding worried. “That does not sound good.” Griffin glanced at Gustavo then back to the locked office as Gustavo screamed, going to his door and trying to pry it open. “He locked it.” Kelly looked annoyed herself, he sarcastically nodded and fumbled for his keys as the sound quieted down.

When Gustavo was able to unlock the door, a puff of smoke flowed out along with electricity crackling. He flinched, going into the mess to see the damage. Crowe tilted her head in wonder. How did he do that?

It really looked like a storm had passed through his office, the group amazed as well. Bad boy Kendall came out with a sledgehammer, throwing it behind him before fully exiting the room. Then he posed again, leaving Crowe to wonder why he thought that looked cool at all.

The boys were smiling at him, being proud of their friend. “He destroyed my office,” Gustavo bolted out the room, “My music awards, and he used my drawer as a bathroom.” That made Crowe’s face turn to disgust quickly, hoping they weren’t serious. But if anything, it might’ve been true and she never wanted to find out. “Bad boys go where they want.” Kendall popped his jacket for emphasis, making the boys smile brighter and Crowe shake her head.

“That’s a new one.” Griffin looked at Logan when he said that, turning back to Kendall. “Original. And very, very bad.” Griffin and everyone else knew who won but Wayne Wayne wouldn’t allow it, pushing through the crowd and getting next to Kendall to look inside the office, screaming ‘no’ over and over. He kept looking back and forth in a panicked disbelief, “I’m the bad boy. Me!” Carlos stepped up, “Dude, he went in his desk.”

“So gross.” Crowe thought aloud and Kelly overheard her, nodding in agreement. Wayne Wayne pointed at Carlos furiously, “I’ll show you,” he turned to Kendall and then to everyone, “And I’ll show you, and I’ll show all of you. I’ll-I’ll-” He kept turning, trying to come up with something worse than Kendall. Except it wasn’t his best idea, deciding to square in on Griffin and kick him below the belt.

Causing Crowe to cover her mouth, from both shock and amusement. The boys gasped as Griffin fell forward, “Kumbaya.”

Wayne Wayne took that as a victory but Griffin thought otherwise. Bringing a finger up and having his assistants grab Wayne Wayne, and his posse wasn’t going to get caught in the middle of this so they ran off. Griffin popped back up just as quick like it was nothing, fixing his suit. “You’re right, Wayne Wayne. Big Time Rush should only have four members.”

“You can’t fire me.” Wayne Wayne yelled back, “You know why? Cause I have..” he pulled the contract out. “You have to put me in the band.” It was clear that he was desperate, the boys and Crowe could easily see that. And she hoped Griffin could gain some sanity and do something right, “I have to put you in a band, just not this one. They already have a bad boy.”

Once they heard that, Kendall pointed to himself and showed off. Griffin’s assistants dragged Wayne Wayne to the back as Kendall broke his persona, “But I don’t want to wear these clothes all the time, and I won’t turn my back on my friends.” The boys and Crowe were glad to hear that, she was impressed that he stood up for himself and the band.

“Fine,” Griffin stepped closer and dragged Crowe next to him, “And you can still date my daughter.” She had to blink a few times, confusion on her face as he continued. “But I want you nowhere near my desk. Griff-Griff out.” He fist bumped Kendall then left, Wayne Wayne dragging on the floor behind Griffin and still yelling out.

The four boys and Kelly waved him bye as Crowe just stared at the sight. Each day with them being more chaotic than the last, and she was fine with that.

They disappeared around the corner as Gustavo yelled, “You!” The six turned to face him as he took his sunglasses off, “Nice work.”

She was surprised he complimented them but was appreciative nonetheless. The boys and Gustavo celebrated, doing an odd hand shake of some sort, but Crowe didn’t join. That was until Carlos took one of her hands and shook it so she was included, giving her hand back when they were done. Kelly was more than baffled, “Wha? But he- he smashed, and you..” She was struggling to form a sentence from the events of today, going into his office to see if anything was staged. Looking at Gustavo for an explanation. “I teamed up with the hockey heads, cause they do have good plans.” They all shrugged, Crowe subconsciously being in sync with them for once.

“I was here the whole time. When did you plan this?” Kelly asked the group. The band pulled out each of their sheets from earlier, as did Crowe. The five put it together as Kelly read it, “‘Let’s get rid of Wayne Wayne’? Hey, I could’ve helped.” She put her hands on her hips in defense. “I’m part of this team, too, you know?” Directing it mostly at Gustavo as he explained again, “Yes, you are. But you’re still a horrible faker liar actress.” The five had to agree with him, which made Kelly try to show off her skills with fake crying. It only added to her being horrible at acting as she over exaggerated then immediately stopped a second later, “Yeah, you’re right.”

With that, the boys threw the sheets in the air and celebrated again. “Alright, dogs. We’re done for the day.” Gustavo gave them the go ahead to leave, but Kelly also informed them on needing to arrive on time tomorrow to start recording. The five nodded and began to leave Rocque Records, cheering about their plan working and no one having to leave the band.

Once they were outside, Kendall slowed his walking to match Crowe’s. “Oh here, your bracelet.” He almost took it off but she held up her hands, “You don’t need to. Like I said, that’s not my favorite one.” The three in front heard, “Favorite what?” Carlos hopped back next to Kendall.

Kendall held his arm up to show off the old bracelet. Logan questioned her too, “That’s yours?” Crowe hummed and nodded. And Kendall wanted to add the fact he learned earlier, throwing an arm around her. “She used to be a bad girl. That’s how she knew what look to go for.” They were just as surprised, thinking and asking the exact same things Kendall did.

Which didn’t surprise her in the slightest but all the questions made her embarrassed, her past making her embarrassed to be more specific. It was her own fault in talking about herself, feeling the heat rise to her face and all through her body. Deciding to bite her tongue and speed walk ahead of the askers all the way to the hotel.

The five got to their apartment and this time Crowe followed them inside. “Hey mom, I’m a bad boy.” Kendall said happier than the usual bad boy. Each of them said their hi’s to Mrs. Knight, who held a frying pan, being careful not to step on the unconscious maintenance guy that was lying face down on the floor.

All of them took a seat on the couch with Kendall plugging in the receiver to the tv and taking a seat himself. “Let’s check out Wayne Wayne’s new band.”

Crowe stood behind the couch and covered her mouth from shock, smiling at the former bad boy Wayne Wayne’s new look. He was in an orange shirt and orange pants, along with three others behind him in different colors. On a children’s program and singing about how yummy eating bananas are. They found it hilarious, James and Kendall fist bumped, “He is really bad.”

Katie and Mrs. Knight walked over next to Crowe as the program got interrupted by breaking news. A news anchor announced a warning for anyone on the freeway, as a police chase is in progress. Showing a close up shot of a girl in a car and trying to wave the camera’s away from her sight.

“That’s Molly!” Katie yelled, making the teens confused. Continuing on about her being 20 and a con actress who disguises herself as an 11 year old, trying to land jobs in Hollywood.

The maintenance man from before, joined them with a fresh brewed cup of coffee and a whisk. “I told you she was weird.” Katie told her mom with the maintenance man agreeing. “Mom?” Kendall lifted his hand to point at the tv, “Is that your rental car?” Mrs. Knight sighed, “Yep.” With that, Mrs. Knight left for the other room to grab her phone and called the rental service for a replacement vehicle.

“Why do you look like that?” Katie leaned on the couch to ask her brother. Kendall caught her up on the events they did, bringing up Crowe’s help with the outfit and makeup. Crowe rubbed her hands in avoidance and said her bye’s for the day to everyone, stepping closer to the connecting door. Katie followed her and asked if she could come over, Crowe was about to accept before Mrs. Knight, still on the phone, said no since she still had homework to finish.

Katie, just like Kendall, compromised and said she’ll do it at Crowe’s place. Mrs. Knight thought for a second and looked to Crowe for her approval too. Nodding her head as they both agreed, making her promise the work will be done when she comes back. Katie promised, taking her bag and going into Crowe’s place first and taking a spot on the couch.

“How much work do you have?” Crowe cooled down, taking her bag and jacket off. “Just two sheets of math,” Katie brought her supplies out and began working. “It’s easy so it won’t take long.” She took over the coffee table and Crowe used the kitchen counter for her own work. Taking two things out.

Skimming the pages of her journal and sheet of paper, thinking of which problem to figure out first. Both included finishing what she started, the song and the list. Choosing the second one since she had to ask Camille for help on the first, sending a short text.

Moving onto the list while waiting for a response. Crowe silently groaned and kept tapping the pen on the paper, marking a jumble of dots. Picking at the mess of stickers at the bottom of the page, sticking and sturdy as ever. And impossible to figure out what the last thing had said. Even flipping it to the back wasn’t helpful since it was heavy, almost cardstock like paper. Her memory wasn’t any better, forgetting all about it.

She didn't realize how long she was zoning out until Katie piped up, finished with her work.

“You want a snack or drink?” Crowe opened the fridge and reached for some water, grabbing a second one for Katie. They laid on the couch and flipped the tv on, talking over it instead of watching. “So you knew that Molly person?”

Katie threw her head back, exasperated. “Yeah, cause mom wanted me to make a friend. Since the guys ‘don’t count’.” Crowe looked at her puzzled. “And I kept telling her she was crazy, but she didn't believe me until now!” Throwing her hands up as Crowe questioned Mrs. Knights motive. “Why don't they count? And does it matter?” Fiddling with the bottle cap as Katie shrugged.

“She wanted me to have a ‘girl type’ friend. I don't know why though, I'm fine by myself.” It was an odd comfort to Crowe, seeing a part of herself in someone else. But that also caused worry in her, afraid she could end up like her. But there was already something different about Katie than Crowe was at her age.

“I get it,” Scared of admitting it, “When I was around your age I didn't have an-a lot,” switching the words, but Katie caught it. “Of friends.” Crowe swallowed the fear and pushed forward, not giving herself a second to think, “But, we can be friends. If you want to.”

Static was ringing in her ears, fizzing down when Katie smiled. “Yeah, I thought we were already friends.”

Crowe froze. Blinking like it’ll change her hearing, smiling like an idiot from her vanishing worries.

⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡

It was hours later in the middle of the night. Cicadas singing, buzzing cars passing by, moonlight sneaking in through the window.

And a restless Crowe was awake on the couch. Staring out at the pool, in her normal state of over thinking. The paper laid on the table, finally getting the attention it deserved after all these years of neglect.

Maybe a part of her was glad that Luka kept it instead of throwing it away. A fond memory of when they first met, at the ice rink after her first time horribly skating. Gaining long term injuries that still adorns her skin. And some on her heart.

‘Cece’s list to making it BIG’ Red hearts and pink stars decorating the sides. She didn’t pick yellow because, in her younger self's words, ‘it doesn’t look good’. And yet, for whatever reason, the blob of stickers all the way at the bottom, wasn’t considered the same thing.

At least the first thing can be checked off.

‘Go to LA’

#big time rush #fanfic #btr #btrtv #james diamond #carlos garcia #kendall knight #logan mitchell #katie knight #calliope crowe #a field of blooming tulips fic

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aemondslefteyeball · 1 year ago

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Sic Transit Gloria Mundi (8)

Masterlist

[Modern!Aemond x Fem!Reader]

[Warnings: Death, gore, aftermath of animal attacks]

[Summary: Let's gather 'round the campfire and sing our campfire song. Our C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G song!]

Word Count: 4.6K

Chapter 8

Small cursive lettering filled the pages of the journal, and intermittent doodles marked the page, words overflowing around all of it. A discordant look at your inner thoughts, Aemond mused.

Dear Dad,

I met my fiance today and he is the absolute fucking worst. You would have kicked his ass. I wasn’t expecting him to sweep me off my feet but the first fucking thing he did was shove a prenup in my face. Nice to meet you too, asshole.

He couldn’t have been that callous, could he? He had to have given you some form of acknowledgment. Was his first impression that bad? Aemond frowned as he skimmed over the pages, looking for mentions of his name until landing on the next passage.

Dear Dad,

Today has been the worst birthday I’ve ever had. Aemond started my day off by barging into my room at five in the goddamn morning to interrogate me about Sunspear. He apparently saw my post and demanded to know why I was spending “his” money taking vacations. He literally just stood there bitching until I walked into the bathroom. I don’t think it ever occurred to him that I have my own fucking money and my own means of travel. After that the Kazoo preacher was back on the subway screaming about 'the children', and if all that wasn’t enough fucking Jaydee didn’t put the boiling chip into the test tube and it blew up on my goddamn arm. I wanted to take Vaeryx for a quick flight but the wheels were too chewed up after my last landing. Your jacket doesn’t smell like you anymore. I really wish you were here.

Aemond swallowed suddenly. He didn’t even remember doing these things, but the pen marks dug into the page afterward. Another wave of guilt hit him at the realization that he didn’t know when your birthday even was. The journal hadn’t been dated, and he never asked.

Dad,

I got accepted for a summer workshop at Storm’s End Tech!!! If that isn’t exciting enough we’re studying bacteria at the thermal vents off the coast of Cape Wrath!!! Professor Webber really pulled through for me, she was saying that this will really help me when I apply for grad school. Do you remember the house we lived in when you were stationed at Qaehrys? The one with the big window that led onto the roof? I really miss laying there and looking at the constellations with you. I took your telescope out tonight and searched the moon until I found Vaegon’s Crater. Dr. Lee said that’s the most likely spot they’d put a base and it’s apparently less than a decade away. When it goes up I’m going to be there, and I’m bringing your telescope.

Wait, what? Aemond knew that you were a student, but he always assumed you were pursuing business or something. Guilt crashed over him at the realization he had never taken the time to ask you what you were studying. He had never taken the time to ask you anything about yourself, really. He never really had much interest in microbiology, but maybe you were like Helaena and her entomology. Beyond that, never in a million years would he have guessed that you were planning to become an astronaut. You? Did they even send microbiologists to space? Aemond sighed as he put the journal down. He told himself that he was doing this to get to know you better. To support you. But he felt like he knew even less than before and at the cost of your privacy.

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The trilling of insects was the only source of noise, save for the torch. A melancholy silence was cast over the circle surrounding the pyre. Aly held the torch, dried blood and tear tracks staining her face. Silent sobs started to erupt from her as the kindling beneath Sabitha’s feet sparked. She next lowered the torch towards her girlfriend’s knees, following it with her shoulders. Aly wiped globs of snot off her face with one hand, using the other to cast the torch into the burning base of the pyre. Tears fell as you squeezed Nettles’ shoulder. She turned her gaze towards you, her massive brown eyes brimmed with tears. Your gazes shifted back to Sabitha, and the sight of teeth peeking through her torn cheek. “Mother above,” Myri exclaimed, her gaze fixed on Sabitha’s twitching hand. “She’s alive.” Panicked looks shot out across the group. “She’s alive! She’s-”

Aly ran towards the pyre, repeated “No’s” being exclaimed as she wrenched Sab off the pyre by her belt loops. Sabitha fell with a heavy grunt, and Aly immediately set out to put out the flames that had cropped up on Sabitha’s jeans. The redhead just lay there, intermittent grunts and gurgles emerging. You lowered yourself to the ground as quickly as you were able, lifting her head so that Myri could rest a blanket under it. “I got you,” Aly whispered, grasping her girlfriend’s hand.

“Really?” Sabitha groaned, “Fire?” The gurgle couldn’t suppress the sarcasm in her tone. She let out the smallest chuckle she could manage. The rest of you were still too keyed up from adrenaline to do anything but pant and stare.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just one more, Aemond told himself. He stared at the journal ahead of him and pulled it back onto his lap. One more, and that was it. He would put the journal back and he would leave it this time. His fingers brushed over the indents in the page, smudges bleeding out to the right.

Dad!!

I think I met somebody recently.

Happy doodles filled the margins of the journal, little flowers crammed into each individual corner.

She’s in my lab. She’s Westerosi, but I think you would really like her. R’hllor, what do I even say? She’s so fucking smart, Dad. She’s kind of shy but it’s actually really adorable. She’s just… a ray of sunshine. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say something mean about anybody else. Just really, really uplifting. Gods, it feels so good getting on the train knowing I’ll see her dorking out over S. aureus with that adorable ass grin on her face. I don’t know if her being so different from Aemond is what makes me like her, but it’s such a breath of fresh air.

Aemond stopped reading the entry after the last mention of his name. While his stomach turned at your Hallmark-worthy descriptions of Emerson, he was grateful it provided a natural stopping point for him. He felt a small pang of pity. Here you had written a dissertation about how much you liked her, only to have it repaid with a whole two months of devotion. No more. Aemond put the journal back into the nightstand and shut the door behind him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your teeth grit as your foot hits the ground. Rhaena shot you a comforting smile, and you responded with a brief one before putting one foot in front of the other. Sabitha grunted from behind you, leaning against Aly. The two of you paused for a moment so the pair could catch up to you. “When we get back we’re gonna need clean water and thread to stitch them up.” Aly nodded while you shifted your weight onto your left leg.

“Leave me.” Blood was soaking through the bandage Rhaena had wrapped around Sabitha’s face, her voice coming out muffled. Between that, and the eerie sound of her sucking air in through the hole in her face it was a wonder anybody could understand her.

“Sab, stop it.”

“It’s-” Sabitha’s head lolled into Aly’s cheek, her auburn hair stiff with dried blood. “Not… Safe.”

“Don’t say that! We’re almost there!” Aly looked like she was about to start crying again, her powder blue jacket darkened with brown stains.

“Let them go,” Sabitha said, one hand coming up to weakly clutch at the vertebra around her neck. “Let them go.” She turned her gaze towards the rest of you then, grunting quietly before Aly acquiesced.

“Go back to the cabin as fast as you can.” She turned towards you, Nettles, Rhaena, and Myrielle. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but you had kept a decent pace so far. Thankfully it seemed like the wolf didn’t fuck up your muscles. There was still a mottled wreck beneath the cloth bandages, but it was superficial. It would heal. You would be fine.

“Aly?” Nettles whispered, worry furrowing her brow.

“Go.” Aly ordered.

The four of you got back to the cabin after what felt like an entire day, pain slicing through you with each step you took. For your part, all you could really do was be grateful that you could walk. This godsforsaken place put a lot of things into perspective. The four of you finally stumbled onto the porch, as panicked gazes took in the massive bloodied bandage on your thigh. “By the seven.” Sara got up off the porch as you moved to sit. “What happened?” Looking around the group, the blonde’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Where are Aly and Sabitha?”

“She… she told us to leave them.” Rhaena panted out. Floris took her hand and Baela scrambled to your side, tears brimming in her eyes.

“We were attacked by wolves.” But with how big they were, they might just be direwolves. Who knows, maybe a snark would cuntpunt you next. Anything was possible in this shit-ass forest. Fuck this country. Barba rushed out of the cabin, her icy eyes widening in panic. A hand clapped over her mouth as she looked at you, her jaw trembling for a moment. Gathering herself, she grabbed Rhaena by the arms. “Show us where to go.”

You grunted as the hot needle punched through your skin. Exposed to the open air was a horrifying sight. The flesh of your right thigh was mottled with black bruises, puncture marks on multiple spots. The cherry on top of it was the massive chunk of skin that had been wrenched from your leg when you kicked the wolf off you. Clenching your jaw, you hummed through your grit teeth. Seasick Sarah, had a golden nose. Hobnail boots, wrapped around her toes. The needle pierced through each layer of gored skin, fiery pain erupting as it happened. The parts of the wound that could be sewn up were. The chunk of skin that had been torn off could not be sewn shut. So as of right now, you were biting down on Floris’s belt, preparing for Nettles to press the heated knife onto your wound. You looked away, staring off into the darkness outside the window. The first burn lasted for a few seconds, and you bit into the belt hard enough that your jaw ached. After that, the next session started. You started to feel hazy about what seemed to be halfway through, and when she was done you were drifting in and out of consciousness. Sara sat at your side, stroking your hand. You pulled the blanket up more tightly over yourself, shivers wracking you. “You hanging in there?” She questioned, her tone soft. “Need another blanket?” You nodded abruptly.

“I thought it’d be warmer.” You murmured as her face drifted in and out of your field of vision. Her silvery hair flickered in the light, darkened roots showing at the crown of her head. When she placed the blanket over you, you curled into it. Turning away from her, you sank into the warmth of the cot and the blackness of sleep.

Muffled screams roused you, and you turned to the source of the noise. Disorientation clouded your mind until you caught sight of Sabitha lying on the table. The same hooked needle that went into your thigh was currently being plunged into her face. Baela’s expression wavered as she held Sabitha down. Please pass out. Sabitha continued to writhe in pain, thrashing against Baela. Please just let her pass out. Muffled shouts echoed through the cabin, and you found yourself covering your ears. Barba stared at Sabitha, a conflicted expression on her face as she grasped the weirwood pendant around her neck.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aegon sat across the table from Aemond, one arm on the back of the booth and the other dipping a fry into ketchup. He ate that, chewing for a moment while grabbing the massive, greasy burger and dunking that into the pile of ketchup afterward. Aemond held back the urge to physically cringe. His brother’s disgusting eating habits had always irritated him, and Aegon weaponized that. “So.” Half-chewed burger rolled around in Aegon’s mouth, and Aemond clenched his fist under the table for five counts before releasing it. “Moat Cailin?” He grinned, taking another slobbering bite of the dripping burger.

Aemond rolled his eyes. He cut into his chicken vesuvius carefully, picking up a piece of chicken and potato before properly chewing it, placing his silverware down, and staring Aegon in the eye while doing so. When he finished chewing he finally spoke. “I’m going out on one of the search rafts.” He said flatly, cutting another piece of chicken. “Maybe you should come.” A pointed stare was shot Aegon’s way, and he shrank back at the retort. It was no secret that he moved on from Sara a while back, but something shifted in Aegon’s gaze. His brother fidgeted in his seat. Aemond narrowed his eye as he ate, what was he hiding?

“What do you think they’re doing right now?” Aegon asked suddenly, taking another bite of his burger.

Aemond sighed. What would you be doing right now? He hoped you were dipping your feet in the Greywater, laughing with your friends. “I don’t know, trying to culture swamp bacteria,” Aemond said with a shrug, spearing a potato. “Whatever microbiologists do.” He finished.

“What?” Aegon said, his head quirked to the side like a puppy.

“Microbiologist. Somebody who studies ba-”

Aemond was cut off by barking laughter from Aegon. His brother set the burger down with a gross slap. Aegon leaned back in the booth, one arm cocked over the top of it. “She’s not a microbiologist.” He let out another guffaw.

Fury rose in Aemond as he clenched his fist. “She’s not an astronaut yet ei-” Another round of laughter cut Aemond off as he slammed his fist down onto the table, a couple across the restaurant shooting them a nervous look.

The action did nothing to faze Aegon, who continued laughing as he popped another fry into his mouth. “You’re guilting me about not going to Moat Cailin and you don’t even know your wife is an astrobiologist. Oh fuck, I knew it.” He lifted the burger back up to his mouth and took a messy bite, smacking it around. “I knew your marriage was bullshit.” He cackled, shaking his head before swallowing.

Aemond paled, looking around suddenly, grateful that nobody seemed to be paying attention to anything other than their own meals. His eye narrowed as he took in Aegon’s smug face, his fist aching as he clenched it. “You don’t know anything.” He hissed.

“Aemond.” His brother sat up for a moment, setting his burger down. “I’m a fuck up, but I know people.” His usual candor came back to him again a moment later, taking a loud slurp of his milkshake. Aemond stared off to the side, angrily following the insipid breathing exercises Dr. Greenwood had given him. “Is that what this is about? You feel guilty because you were a dick to her?”

“I just want her to be happy once she gets back home.” He stated flatly, hoping his idiot brother would finally drop the question.

“So when are you moving out?” Aegon needled. “Seriously, what makes you think she’d want anything to do with you when she gets back? You don’t even know what she's getting her Master's in.” When Aemond tensed to get up he paused. “Wait. I shouldn’t have said that.” He admitted. “Hey.” Aegon made eye contact with him, an uncharacteristically serious look flashing over his face briefly. “I have a secret too.” Aemond stared back at him, nodding at him to continue. “Me and Floris have been fucking for the past year or so.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I have an announcement.” Said announcement fell on deaf ears, with most people turning over. Barba grabbed a metal ladle, clanking it on the wooden table. “Hello!” She banged it repeatedly, and you groaned as you sat up. “Hi! Excuse me!” Rubbing your eyes, you looked around the cabin. “Thank you,” Barba said quietly. “In light of the expedition having ended how it did, I’m going to take the dead guy’s plane and fly south. I’m going to find us help and I’m going to get us out of here.” She nodded as if hyping herself up.

Fuck. “You’re gonna fly that thing?” Barba nodded at you, and you shook your head. When you talked back in your clearing you didn’t think the expedition would end this way. This shit was still crazy. No. There is no fucking way. “You don’t know if that plane is operable.”

“I’ve been looking over it for weeks, and the gas tank is full.” She threw her hands up suddenly. “I’m a pilot, I grew up watching my Grandpa fly. I have two-hundred flight hours. I know that I can do this.” Your heart sank, throat clenched tight as you stared at her pleadingly. “You can’t deny that Sabitha doesn’t need serious medical attention.”

“She’s not the only one.” Sara piped up, her gaze flickering over to her best friend emotionlessly. “Floris, tell them.”

“I- I really don’t.” You shot a glare at Sara, in disbelief that she really just derailed this so she could force Floris into telling everybody.

“Tell them.”

“What is it?” Luke asked, his doe eyes confused.

“Yeah, what is it?”

You gave Floris the most supportive look you could muster, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m pregnant.”

Rhaena immediately stood up, bounding over to Floris. “How far along are you?”

“Wait, did you get knocked up out here?” Myrielle asked, an eyebrow quirked in Jace’s direction. Baela’s eyes bored holes into the back of Myri’s skull.

“No, I…”

“It doesn’t matter when it happened,” Sara said, a sanctimonious look on her face. “Okay? It just matters that we get them both help.”

Rhaena tried to grab at Floris’s stomach, and she swatted her hands away. “Rhaena, not right now.” She snapped.

“Alright, can everybody just.” Ser Criston ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Barba, you can’t do this.” He commanded. “No. It’s not even close to safe.”

“There is no ‘safe’ anymore, Ser Cole.” Barba retorted. Her face was hard, different. “It’s going to be winter soon. If I don’t do this, we’re…” She paused for a moment, shaking her head. “We’re all gonna fucking starve.” You fidgeted with your hands, holding back tears that pricked at your eyes. It didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing.

“Alright, well, I’m still the oldest here, so, no.” He flatly responded, gesticulating with his one free hand as he leaned on his crutch. “I’m not gonna let you do it.”

Barba’s face hardened even further. You barely recognized this person, icy eyes narrowed to a point. She took a step forward. And another. “What are you gonna do to stop me, Ser?” Her face twisted into a sneer as she gave him a once-over. Tension filled the cabin as the two of them stared off.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aemond thought that he should feel more nervous. He sent you on a plane that crashed, it seemed only right that he should be subjected to the same fate. But he didn’t and he wasn't. Shockingly enough he felt freer than he had in months. He told Dr. Greenwood everything. Everything that Aegon told him, everything he himself had done, everything he could think of in the session came directly out of his mouth. He thought that another person knowing his sins would destroy him, but Dr. Greenwood hadn’t judged him. All she did was give him a plan to avoid the urge to do those things again. The only thing that weighed on him were Helaena’s words. ‘What if you’re looking too far south?’ When he told Dr. Greenwood about it, she had simply stated that everybody was bound to have their own theories and that he should trust the experts. Logically he knew she was right, but he still couldn’t shake the lingering worry that Helaena was. What if they were wasting their time down here and you were up near Winterfell? The plane ride was uneventful, and Aemond spent the entire time catching up with some work. He technically had until Tuesday off, but today was only Thursday and he wanted less to catch up on. The ride to his hotel was… interesting given that it was essentially a private hut floating on the water. The boat sailed through choppy gray water, and insects flew at Aemond from every direction. When he finally got to his hut, he was relieved to find that his secretary hadn’t booked a hovel. Setting his things down, he moved to enter the shower. When he got out he set about his usual routine. He opened his laptop to get some more work done before shutting it and turning the TV on before eventually settling on a documentary series about Valyria.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You set about helping the best as you could with your leg still in the condition it was. Mauling or not, work still needed to be done if Barba was going to fly the plane out of there. You tore up another plant as you watched Sara and Floris talk. There was obvious tension there, but Sara played coy and watched while Floris yanked roots out. Eventually, Floris walked off in a huff, and you set your gaze back downward. You would find her later tonight.

When a runway was cleared and all vines were taken off you all stood in front of the plane as Barba arrived. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to suppress the feeling of dread that grabbed hold of you. She had her backpack on, tugging on the straps as she smiled nervously at Jace. Jace in response pulled her in for a hug. They stayed for a minute before she embraced Nettles, and then Sara. “Be safe, okay?” Barba nodded at Sara’s request. She smiled as she pulled Floris in for a hug, and a few more crowded around her in a group hug. All you could do was watch, a sense of foreboding stirring off in the distance.

When she reached you, you pulled her in as tight as humanly possible. You tried to burn everything about her into your memory, down to the scraggly feeling of her black hair against your face. Squeezing her for a moment more, you pulled your lips over your teeth. “Stay.” You whispered pleadingly. It didn’t feel right, and Barba was the one who had encouraged you to follow your gut.

“Remember your vision,” Barba murmured in response, “Fire and light, it’s a blessing from the Gods.” When she pulled away an austerity had passed over her. You recoiled, increasingly uneasy as you pulled your arms back over your chest. Barba stepped back and opened the door to the Cessna, climbing in and unzipping her backpack.

As soon as she sat down, Criston wrenched the door back open. “By the Gods, Barba. Please, don’t do this.” You hadn’t seen this side of Ser Cole before. Desperate. The last ditch effort of a man who knew his days of authority was behind him.

Barba shot him a nervous smile, swallowing before she spoke. “Thanks for worrying about me, Ser, but…” The sternness flashed back over her face like a mask, her icy gaze flattening. “This is my purpose.” She reached a hand out to pat him on the shoulder before she pulled it back and shut the door with a heavy clang. Barba ran her fingers over the weirwood pendant, her gaze emotionless as she placed her stuffed bear into the copilot's seat. Her gaze passed over to you quickly, before she locked eyes with you and smiled. Discomfort arose in you, as you watched something stir in the very back of her eyes. She held your gaze long enough to make you squirm before the propeller started to spin. Wheels squeaked through the dirt as cheers rang out, you stepped forward and prayed to whatever Gods there were above that your vision was a blessing. The plane was flying as it should, and Barba successfully lifted off. A relieved smile broke out across your face, but you knew she wasn’t out of the woods yet, quite literally. The landing was the hardest part of a flight, and you didn’t entirely trust the brakes on it. The Cessna soared clear over the lake, and you ran forward with eyes pointed to the sky.

“Oh my Gods, she’s doing it!!!” Laughter sounded, Sara clapping as you all ran to the lakefront. She shifted the plane to face due south, and you let out a sigh of relief. It had been a blessing from the Gods. Tears brimmed your eyes as you silently thanked them for seeing her through this. The plane grew smaller as she flew further away, shrinking in the mountains off into the distance. You began to cheer with the others, turning to grab Baela’s hand in excitement.

“Is that smoke?” Sara asked suddenly. Your gaze snapped skyward, and your heart dropped into your stomach. The fuel line. Angry fumes shot out of the bottom of the plane, and it started to shake. A bright flash of flame balled out as the explosion shook the treetops. A halo of light shone, a second sun in the bright sky. Sara screamed and clapped her hands over her mouth. Your body moved automatically, tears streaming down your face as you sank into the water of the lake. Rhaena tried to pull you up, saying something about your leg. Your body went limp as the sobs wracked your body. That fucking vision. And you had been stupid enough to trust it. A banshee’s wail rang out, but it didn’t register as being yours. You stared off into the distance, where sunrays broke through dustclouds and smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck, this chapter was really really hard to write. I had no idea I would become so attached to Barba when I started writing this wtf. R.I.P Barba.

Taglist: @chainsawsangel @neenieweenie

#aemond x reader #hotd x reader #aemond x you #hotd imagine #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond imagine #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #hotd aemond targaryen

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ruershrimo · 1 year ago

Text

like it’s the old love. | part 1.3 | "from flashbacks to department store plushes"

masterlist | prev | next

features albedo and the lnhs student groupchat again (aye!!)

warnings: there's a tiny bit of swearing, I guess? + the usual warnings too (fem! reader and some ships like ganqing and xingyun) but other than that I don't think there's anything else here

notes: don't really have much to say this time, but hey, thank you for reading if you intend to read this chapter/have been reading this series! please feel free to laugh at me if anything here is unrealistic or cringey lmao. also, are they called plushies or plushes? please help if you know

summary: albedo, the man that you are. the groupchat finds out. hey! it’s christmas! and it’s all the better since it’s with him.

Truth be told, there was a time when you were less self-denigrating; less keen to criticise yourself and eventually give up. Years before you had realised all that you knew now, you’d spend your days learning what you wanted, from singing, to dancing, to writing— all with no regard of what this would tell of your future.

Then you grew older, and grew more aware of the praise that was attached to everyone else you knew: all of them except you. Throughout your 11 or so years of school you were known solely as your brother’s sister; at home your parents would continuously fawn over and praise him. Even after he’d upped and left for a busy life at university, he was still your parents’ greatest joy and your school’s greatest pride: while you were stuck continuing a fool’s errand, constantly bending over backwards— just so you could have a chance at being successful, at being loved, just so you could make them happy— only to be overshadowed by and unnoticed in the face of stirling students like Keqing or Xingqiu. (What was the difference between you and them? Every day you worked and worked, only to be treated like you were invisible. There was no one you could talk to, no one to confide in Liyue: only your parents who’d told you to suck it up, that it was a normal part of life, or your friends who’d get bored of you.)

Ah, self-pity. You’d normally chide yourself for this, or bite your lip for how pathetic you were. Years of being told that you were lucky and good and so much better than you thought, really dear, so there’s no point in comparing— has led to you staring wide-eyed at the ceiling while Albedo has drifted off to sleep right next to you.

In the tenebrosity of the night, he looked beautiful, face illuminated by the moon as you pondered over just how unlucky you were. “People who take pity for themselves don’t succeed,” your father scolded you once. Over the years that memory remained fresh in your mind. All it had been was a disappointing test score, yet you couldn’t forgive yourself for it: your friends wouldn’t have made the same mistakes, and you were sure as hell that your brother wouldn’t have done so either. “If you really think that crying in a corner will help you any, then perhaps my daughter isn’t as smart as I thought,” he’d said, thoroughly annoyed with what he’d shut out as your incessant whining, and getting back into his work. That was all it was with your parents, work and your older brother Zhongli. And maybe a few words of comfort for you, if they could spare the time. But mostly work and Zhongli.

You were never bad at anything, nor were you even mediocre or just average— in the way that your mother had put it, you “were a smart, good little girl. The people around you were just better, that was all!” So if you were surrounded by people inferior to you, you thought, would you have been the one fawned over and praised?

No. Because there was always someone better, even if you weren’t at home or in school. You could never be the best.

Then you spent more time with Albedo. Albedo whose talents were derived from terms you’d hitherto never heard before, Albedo who avoided topics like alchemy or the future as much as he could manage. Albedo who knew that you worked hard, that you weren’t some rogue, out-of-line soul who needed to be put back in her place. It made you feel worse, sometimes, as you wondered whether he was doing this on accident or out of pure pity, when he needed to realise that you didn’t want to abstain from such topics in the first place, didn’t want his pity to comfort you as it cut you into shreds.

—

Winters and winter breaks are for silent contemplation, and a bit of fun when that gets too boring for you. It’s considering the future and your choices from here on out despite your loathing for such a notion.

School was always tiring, from having to socialise as your heart only ached more and more with every person you met, to having to finish loads of assignments and past-year papers in preparation for your exams. Leaving it felt like a burden had been lifted off your back, only for you to wait until any sort of weight would land in lieu of it. This winter, since you’d graduated, you told yourself you’d do the exact opposite instead of fretting over school or your future or— literally anything. That this would be the start of you concluding your gap year with an undeniable bang, while spending your time alone or with the one friend you could never get tired of. While being free.

So why are you texting your old friends again?

You ball the fabric of your blanket into a fist again, your other hand holding the phone as you curl into yourself.

There’s the series of the softest knocks ever on the door. “Are you still awake? May I come in?” a voice asks.

“Sure,” you call out.

“So you are awake,” Albedo says, turning the lights on and closing the door behind him.

“Yeah.”

“Were you on your phone? It was pitch-dark in here, [name], you’ve to take care of your eyes.”

“Uh-huh. But I’m okay— if it ever gets too bad I’ll just get glasses or go for a lasik surgery. So it doesn’t matter to me,” you smile, holding up a thumbs-up.

He sighs, voice worn by fatigue (even if it was only 10:30, but Albedo was the type to sleep early whenever he wasn’t occupied with any kind of school work anyway). “It matters to me. Remember when you said you’d discuss the terms today?”

“Oh…” you trail off, recalling what you’d said the night before just to keep yourself calm. With how well you’d known each other, you wouldn’t need them, no? If you or he would have gone against what the other wanted, the other would stop with no further questions asked or any other requests made. “Actually, we don’t need to have terms in the first place. We can just… wing it, I think.”

“Alright, then.” He sits beside you on the bed as you uncurl yourself from your position. “But tell me when you want them. Were you talking to someone just now?”

“Yeah, actually— remember the groupchat I told you about from school a few years back?”

He jokes, “The one where you had feelings for everybody in it?”

“Hey!” you swat lightly at his arm, chuckling, “And for the record, it was only Keqing. All of the ones on the rest lasted for less than a week. Anyway, I was texting them.”

In the past, even if you were to daydream of love and relationships with any new distraction you could find to keep you entertained, you’d usually leave your feelings in the dust so as to not be disappointed— the only person you’d done so for knowing what was in store for you was Keqing. You knew it would hurt. Yet you still did it, still fell deeper and deeper, as if your feelings for her were a drug you’d constantly resorted to no matter how much worse they made you feel. But it’s getting lighter now, those feelings from before. It’s getting easier to just look back at them and laugh instead of keeping your lips sealed tight as if loving was a sin. It’s getting easier with Albedo.

“Can I talk to you about something?” you had asked him once, two years before you had graduated; a month after you had spoken to Keqing. You lay on his bed, all sprawled out like unfurled yarn, as he examined his textbook once more.

“Of course,” Albedo said, peeking up from the cave of his books. “Are you alright?”

“Hm?”

You wondered what he was thinking— maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t see your face so you may have been crying, or whatnot.

As if he were hauling himself out, he got up from his seat and walked over to you, slightly worn, before sitting himself back down right next to you. You sat up. “What is it?” he questioned, placing his hand on yours: a promise of comfort, that he would be there and to you that would be enough. “Tell me everything.”

Then like a waterfall you everything gushed out of you: the painful pining you’d pushed yourself through for Keqing, and everything in between, from Childe to that one time when Ganyu smiled at you in the hallway and you were almost frozen in your tracks before you returned back to normal the day after, from the time when Keqing assured you that you would be alright, that she was “your friend who loved you”, to how much that made you ache inside, how much it had you wanting to clench at your chest and squeeze your heart.

“It’s so ridiculous, I’m so ridiculous—” you rambled, “I shouldn’t be crying. Why am I crying? Why did it make me feel so… so sad, so hurt— for such a long time? It’s like I’m being affected by everything these days.”

He only continued to rub at your back with his arm and hand as you cried and cried into his shoulder, clutching to his clothes.

“What’s wrong with me, seriously…? It’s like everyone else is fine, but here I am, scared of everything. I don’t even know what I want to do when I’m older. What if I’m just supposed to be lonely for my whole life? What if I don’t have anything or anyone?” A part of you desired him to say that he’d always be with you. Perhaps he couldn’t tell, or perhaps he was deliberately refraining from it so as to not hurt you if he would not be telling you the complete truth. And a part of you thought that with how things had gone with everybody else, if either were true then at least he wouldn’t be the first. “How do I resign myself to that, Albedo?”

“It’s alright,” he said, and for all his eloquence when it came to lending his academic advice to others or his abilities to teach you whatever you needed to learn, he merely repeated, “You’ll be alright.” And that was all. Afterwards, he asked if you’d been watching or been wanting to watch any new movies or TV shows or if you’d been reading or re-reading any books lately. By the time the clock struck 12:00 that night you’d forgotten of the tears you had shed as you binged through an eclectic range of films, from Bande à Part— just for that one running scene in the Louvre that you’d heard about— to When Harry Met Sally, and you’d practically passed out once the two of you had finished reading the last few chapters of Percy Jackson and The Olympians: The Last Olympian together (and that was when you learned that he stopped reading the series five years before even getting through The Titans’ Curse!).

And for a while everything was alright. At school you eschewed anything new that you wouldn’t be good at immediately— because even if that was normal, normal wasn’t enough. As long as your brother existed, as long as students like Keqing existed, normal was not enough. To have praise was to be a prodigy, and to begin was to be a failure. You repudiated anything you’d been doing before just because it was never enough. And perhaps that part of your head pushing your drive to always quit if you were not the best at something— that part that stated you would rather have your walls lined up with medals than participation certificates so you would rather not have anything at all if it meant trying and then failing— perhaps that part of your head wasn’t good. But how could you think with a brain that was good if you’d been trying so hard to be so as a student, yet each time you’d failed miserably at it?

So it was peaceful, calm. Perhaps it seemed like cowardice. But to you, if you could be a shadow on the stage rather than an unfit actress, things would be fine. If you could disconnect yourself from everything, nothing— from crushes to exam scores to school competitions— you’d be fine. It’s not like anybody would scold you, anyway. They didn’t even care enough to praise you in the past. So for two years you ran away from everything, from writing to singing to painting to drawing to—

—

“[name]? Love?”

…the nickname still makes you flustered, but hey, baby steps.

“Huh?”

“You must have spaced out,” Albedo says, not an ounce of concern missing from his voice. “You really should go to sleep.”

“It’s only 10:30,” you pout.

“It’s 10:35.”

“That’s still early.”

“Not today, it isn’t,” he argues lightly, bringing his legs up to the bed while his hands eagerly reach for the blanket, “May I?”

You remember hearing yourself reply with a drowsy and drawn “okay”, or at least a quick affirmative, but you’re not entirely sure of it due to the fact that you drifted

off to sleep the next second.

—

In the blue of the early morning, you wake up to him sleeping right behind you, the bolster setting the two of you apart. It’s a tad bit hard for the two of you to squeeze together on the bed you have— what with all the pillows he must have placed under your head or nestled in between your arms while you were asleep— but while sleeping the two of you made it work, it seems. He’s completely unexposed, left sleeping without a blanket in the cold frigid winter air. The heater didn’t even help any: he seemed to be shivering. It takes each bit of your strength to get up from the cosy warmth of your blankets but you do so anyway to drape the blankets over his torso before swaddling yourself back into your makeshift cocoon of blankets and your sweater, your other hand balling parts of the bedsheet fabric for support.

As the serene dark blue of the morning illuminates his face, your gaze stays fixated on him, at the curve of his face and the slope of his jawline and the curve of his nose, his eyelids drooping drowsily. Whoever he chooses in life (if he were to choose one at all) would be extremely fortunate, being able to set their eyes on him before starting the day.

You hope he’ll be happy with whoever that is.

“Good morning,” he drawls, “The sun isn’t fully out yet. It’s still so early.”

“That’s what happens when you ask me to sleep at 10:30. If I sleep early, I wake up early, too. But I thought that you’d be up pretty early, too— you always are,” you remark, your index finger tapping on his nose.

“I stayed up for a while before you slept— I wanted to ask if I could sleep here, but didn’t want to wake you up…”

“So you fell asleep here by accident?” you chuckle.

There’s a soft sound he makes at that, burrowing his head in the blankets, eyes still shut and full of rest. For a while you debate with yourself over whether you should stroke his hair or brush your palm over his face, as if you were exploring it and reading it silently like a pair of eyes on the word’s of a novel. Ultimately, you think you didn’t really have a choice— a part of you was already urging the rest of your body to synchronise each part into knowing his. Maybe it was the fact that this was the one time you’d told yourself not to hold back— that was part of the reason this whole “arrangement” came up anyway: you saying “screw it” and choosing to just go forward, like sprinting across train tracks as all the trains speed and near towards you. If he woke up, or if anything happened to your arrangement, you’d burn that bridge when you got to it.

So as if under a spell you comb your fingers through his hair and brush the back of your hand against his cheeks, against the soft, frozen skin on them as cautiously and gently as you can, careful not to wake him while he heads back into slumber.

“I love you,” you mumble. You can’t even hear your own voice as you say it.

—

The rest of the week goes smoothly, if not for Alice raising a brow when you leave the room for breakfast that morning with Albedo in tow behind you. That Sunday, the three of them— Albedo, Klee and Alice— start prepping for Christmas. As you’d thought the last year and the year before, if not for Albedo, the house would have all but burned down to rubble during Christmastime, because seriously, god help him, Alice has already tried to replace the star on the already-old-and-about-to-destruct Christmas tree with a wax candle this year, and this time she’d done it earlier than the last.

Which brings you to one of the nearest department stores as you and Albedo scramble through a list of Christmas essentials from Alice. A part of you feels like you’re either an errand girl, or that she’s trying to set the two of you up. It would have been really funny if you’d told her right then and there, having already tested the waters enough (in your opinion, at least). It’s crawling with people inside, some of them no doubt coming there only for the warmth greeting them as if the cold gets shaken off their bodies like dirt getting wiped off a “Welcome” mat. You were just happy to be able to free your frigid hands from your pockets without having to blow on them constantly even if you were bundled cosily in a mix of both his and your jackets in his car before the two of you had gotten off the car in the parking lot.

“Alright,” you start, eyes on your phone while Albedo pushes the shopping cart along.

“Cocoa powder… wait, don’t we already have cocoa powder?”

“We could always use extra.”

“Okay then, anyway… Christmas tree…”

He steers the cart in the direction of the holiday items’ section as you remain glued to your phone. To guide you along he wraps his arms around your back, almost, both of his hands adjacent to yours on the cart’s handle as his breath fans against your ear. Your cheeks feel hot and you’re not sure if it’s because of him or you (well, even if it were you, it would still be his fault for doing so, and he in all his smugness will pretend not to notice either way). Still, it should be normal, what with the two of you being comfortable with blowing on each others’ fingers or being in each others’ embrace for god knows how long.

“Would that work?” he asks, pointing at one of them.

You peek up. “I think so, yeah! Alright, next we have cocoa powder… don’t we already have enough?”

“Perhaps she supposed we could do with extra?”

“Then should we get marshmallows, too? I knew someone who liked to melt her marshmallows in hot drinks last time.”

Again he nearly laces his arms around your waist before his hands land next to yours.

“Okay, then we have… what? …why?” you whisper, squinting your eyes in disbelief.

“The red and white envelopes or the laminating machine?”

“Both.”

“Earlier in the year she said that she wanted to do something special for Christmas, so she concluded that it was absolutely necessary for us to do things like secret santa or that we randomly exchange letters with each other,” he clarifies. “We can get either one, though.”

Classic Alice. You don’t usually spend that much time in department stores— your all-too-busy parents often tried to be done with things as quick as they could so that they could head back into the swamp of their work, and hence your parents would always prioritise efficiency and expediency when it came to practically everything. And though your brother wasn’t always the same, he was always quite busy. The last time you’d gone out with all of your immediate family— just Zhongli and your parents— to a mall was more than three years prior. So since you’re with her best friend, who also happens to have become your boyfriend for a while, and since you feel as if the cold will bite at your skin like a python consuming its prey, you tell him, “No, we can go for both. If you’re fine with it.”

“Of course. When would I not be fine if it was you?”

The line sounds oddly romantic, but also like something Albedo would have said before, too. Maybe you just never noticed how romantic the subtext behind his words were— well, that doesn’t change anything. Generally, what people perceive to be romantic or unromantic varies across the board. Right?

So the two of you stroll the distances to each of their sections, amassing thousands of steps in the process. His hands remain beside both of yours.

“Anything you want to get next?” he asks, “We’re in a department store, after all. And it looks like there’s lots to buy, really.”

“Not really,” you reply as the two of you begin to walk out, the automatic doors sliding open in front of you. Unlike the rest of the place, the space near the exit isn’t really occupied save for people coming in or going out. The policeman there nods at you and you bow back. Until there’s a woman with the most beautiful face you'd ever seen, holding a plush in her arms as her 4 year old seemed to be jumping with an itch to wreak havoc over almost everything and anything she could get on her birthday. And by god if it isn’t the cutest thing you’d ever seen (the plush, you mean): the largeness of the carrots’ eyes, how animated it looks with disproportionate legs (its legs took about an eighth of the size of the rest of its body), and it’s coloured in the softest orange you could possibly think of. “Do you want a plush, Albedo?” Albedo doesn’t sleep with plushes— something you’re well aware of.

“Do you want one?”

“I mean, I’ll get one only if you want one too.”

“So I’ll get one.”

You know he’s only saying this so that you can have one, and you know that in the first place one of the reasons why you’d asked him was because you wanted one, but even still you feel like you should argue that if he doesn’t want the carrot plush you can always make do with your blankets and pillows.

You suppose that doing things like that has become a habit, since you’d been doing so for the whole of the past year with your parents. Just placing yourself in a cycle of wanting and denying, of making yourself insignificant. An invisible figure by choice.

He lets go of one of his hands’ grip over the cart handle, taking your hand in his, before running along. Slightly shocked but still pleasantly surprised, you follow his lead, and for once you seem to be the more logical one among the two of you.

“Why are we running?” you question in between giggles.

“We’re the only ones near the exit, so we might as well do so.”

“This feels— haha—”

“Like Bande à Part, right?”

You make a sound like a gasp, “You remembered the movie?”

Well, of course he would, because he’s Albedo, and Albedo is good at a lot of things. Being able to remember things for you is one of them, and even though he’s done something like this millions of times it feels like now it’s getting particularly attractive. Huh. Since when did everything he did become like that? You know it’s mostly because you’ve realised you love him now, like, love-love him , but… wow. Albedo, the man that you are. Damn, the two of you really did do lots of things that couple did even before the two of you started doing all of this.

“Of course.”

—

“We’re back!” you cheer as Albedo enters the house, hauling one side of the Christmas tree box as you carry the other. “We got everything!”

“Wow, someone’s happy!” Alice smiles, “What happened?”

“Albedo got me a carrot plush,” you grin, the two of you setting the box near the sofa in perfect sync, and then heading out to the car trunk to get everything else. “It’s the cutest thing ever.”

Alice coos when you take it from the passenger seat and show it to her, your hands wrapped around it like you’re holding up a baby.

“And we bought something for Klee, as well,” Albedo states, voice having dropped in volume. “A new backpack that she can use whenever she wants to, whether in or out of school.”

“But shh,” you whisper, grabbing his arm and squeezing it, “We can’t let her know what it is yet.”

“So I take it that you two had a good date?” Alice teases.

“I-I, uh…” you stammer. But you look at Albedo, and there’s some pink dusting his face too (it’s adorable. You didn’t picture him the type to blush like this, but if this can happen with you, he’d react the same with anyone else, too, right? Or are you just in denial?). Then you smile, “Yeah. I suppose so,” and you repeat it because you like how it sounds as you speak it, “Yeah, we did; we had a really good one out there.”

—

“Can I post something about you online, please?” you ask him, sitting on the sofa, your hands working his hair into a low ponytail.

“On Twitter?”

“Yeah. Do you have an account? I could tag you.”

“No, but it’s fine. Feel free to post whatever if it’s of me, since I’m not there anyway.”

You don’t know how someone your age knows about current issues on the internet as much as he does, but maybe he doesn’t. You never really thought to ask, and you can’t blame him either if he eludes it.

“I have a picture of you sleeping, but I digress. I just wanted to post a picture of the carrot.”

“You can post both of them.”

“You sure? I know that it’s not like I’d do anything anyway, but there’ll be other people who can still see them. What if they use it as blackmail? I mean, I don’t know how a picture of you could be used as anything to harm you, but with technology these days…”

“I’ll be alright, don’t worry,” he assures you, “Post away.”

“Wait, wait,” you pause, “They’re going to find out.”

“I’m fine with that.”

“I mean, I did tell them once that I would explain…”

“Explain what?”

You inhale, “Okay, long story. I basically panicked for a while after you called me ‘love’ for the first time and I said something on my account when I thought that I’d been posting on my private account and someone found out and shared it with the whole groupchat and I just said that I’d tell them eventually— but hey, I mean whether to tell them or not was still up to debate since I wanted to ask you first—”

“Calm down,” he interrupts, “That must have been a lot to say.”

“I didn’t even know either. Wow,” you take a deep breath to regain your composure, “I mean, I do want to let them know that it may be you, since some of them even deducted it, but most of them must think that I hit it off with some random stranger miles away from home in Mondstadt. And it would be nice if at least a few people knew: imagine being someone like me and being able to brag that I’m dating the Albedo, who’s smart and handsome and— hey, why’d you blush? You usually don’t whenever I say good things about you,” you comment, scratching the back of your neck.

At this the pink only contrasts even more to his snow-hued skin. “I’m not quite sure. Perhaps it’s due to the fact that you’re not complimenting me at your own expense,” he confesses, “And you’re one to talk. Scratching one’s neck is often a sign of being flustered.”

“Oh.” Immediately you force your hand down. Then you should try to praise him a little more, then. And maybe you should try not to do it by raising him up and putting yourself down. Maybe. You grin wryly. You’re getting better at handling situations like these. “So I’ll post you, then— but promise me that you’ll help me explain if it becomes too much. I’m sure that they all know about you through me anyway.”

“I promise.”

“I cropped your face out for good measure, by the way.”

“You don’t need to… ah, never mind. Thank you, love.”

“What should I say, though?” you ask mid-silence as he scrolls through dissertations and research articles.

“Huh?”

“They asked about how we became a thing, but how do I explain it to them…?”

“Well, you don’t have to change much. You can just make it sound vague. Maybe you can just say that we talked about it and decided on it together.”

Well, that technically was what you’d done, anyway.

“Alright, thanks,” you grin, moving closer to hug him. He grins as well— despite how expressionless he normally is, this time he’s as warm as the fireplace before the two of you— and reciprocates it.

You snort, placing your phone down in the process and promptly letting Chongyun deny his crush on Xingqiu only for Xingqiu to tease him relentlessly. It’s about time they got together, anyway.

“What happened?” Albedo asks.

“I’m the best wingperson ever, and, I’m officially in my Lover era.”

He chuckles, “Tell me all about all of it, then. Whose wingperson were you today?”

You laugh. And it’s nice, this is nice. With every moment you think you’re falling a little more. So you keep talking his ear off, because you’ll always do so with a smile on your face no matter what, and he keeps listening to you because he’ll always do so.

taglist: @sn1perz , @n3r0-1417, @kika-a, @chalksdreams

(please send in an ask if you’d like to be in the taglist <3)

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #albedo x reader #albedo smau #genshin smau #genshin impact #albedo #ruer writes #litol 💿.#fem!reader #fem reader #off-topic but I used to have that carrot at home

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possum-quesadilla · 4 months ago

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Here is the official chronological playlist for LoopJuice! I can’t link the ones I made because they have my name attached to them, so I suppose typing it out is the next best thing! It goes chapter by chapter and even goes through to the end of Time’s Arrow, so uh. Spoilers I guess for the vibes beyond the current chapter! (And for the possible Part 3)

Time is a Flat Circle:

Chapter One; “Go through the emotions again and again” (The Heroine by Unwoman)

- Rain by Jack Stauber // Hansel by Sodikken // Friends In Low Places by Worthikids // Soft Fuzzy Man by Lemon Demon // Eighth Wonder by Lemon Demon // Charlie’s Inferno by That Handsome Devil // Nothing Man by Sodikken // Mirror Man by Jack Stauber // Is Anyone There by Jack Stauber // Buttercup by Jack Stauber // taixu by lasah/sasakure.UK

Chapter Two; “In heaven, everything is fine” (In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song) by David Lynch)

- In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song) by David Lynch // A Human’s Touch by TWRP and McKenna Rae // Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnham // Burn Him Down! By Kitsch Club // The Sword of Damocles from Rocky Horror Show

Chapter Three; “I’ve tasted dying and it tasted good!” (Dinner Is Not Over by Jack Stauber)

- Mama’s Boy by Dominic Fike // The Wolf Song by Amanda Palmer // Loved by FEiN // Class of 2013 by Mitski // You’re at the Party by Lemon Demon // Hard Sell by The Crane Wives // Home by Cavetown // Sweet Hibiscus Tea by Penelope Scott // Any Day Now by Bo Burnham // Dinner Is Not Over by Jack Stauber

Chapter Four; “Falling doesn’t feel so bad when I know you’re falling this way too” (Deviltown (V2) by Cavetown)

- Oh Klahoma by Jack Stauber // The Moss by Cosmo Sheldrake // Devil Town (V2) by Cavetown

Chapter Five; “Try to hold the breeze within your fingertips, it’s hopeless” (So Long by Tokyo Elvis)

- So Long by Tokyo Elvis // A Mask of My Own Face by Lemon Demon

Chapter Six; “And this time I actually feel them” (The Heroine by Unwoman)

- I Guess by Mitski // Pale Machine by bo en // My Time by bo en // There’s Something Happening by Jack Stauber // Fighter by Jack Stauber // Choice by Jack Stauber // I Deserve to Bleed by Sushi Soucy // Poor George by James Supercave

Chapter Seven; “And I don’t want your pity, I just want somebody near me” (Nobody by Mitski)

- Curses by The Crane Wives // Nobody by Mitski // Shapes by Alec Holowka // Icarus by Bastille // A Sadness Runs Through Him by The Hoosiers

Chapter Eight; “I know you have a little life in you yet, I know you have a lot of strength left” (This Woman’s Work by Kate Bush)

- I’m Your Man by Mitski // Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart by Mitski // Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths // Last Words of a Shooting Star by Mitski // Pearl Diver by Mitski // Coyotes (alternate vocals) by Modest Mouse // Goodbye by Bo Burnham // Never Love an Anchor by The Crane Wives //I Am Damaged from Heathers // This Woman’s Work by Kate Bush // Skeleton Song by Kate Nash // What If Tomorrow Comes from Black Friday

Time’s Arrow:

Chapter One; “There’s some kind of burning inside me, It’s kept me from falling apart” (Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart by Mitski)

- Leopard by Jack Stauber // Dog Nightmare by Jack Stauber // Good Kid from The Lightning Thief musical // Abbey by Mitski // Cop Car by Mitski // The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives // Francis Forever by Mitski // you smell of dead flowers by vslush, cover by Cliesel // Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives

Chapter Two; “Digging like you can bury something that cannot die, We could wash the dirt off our hands now”

- Mt. Washington by Local Natives // I Bet on Losing Dogs by Mitski // Dead Weight by Jack Stauber // Bug Like an Angel by Mitski

Chapter Three:

- Darren by Jack Stauber // Everything Stays from Adventure Time // Lemon Boy by Cavetown // Ghosting by Mother Mother // Parrot by Stepdad // Snail by Cavetown

BEYOND CURRENT POINT:

- Moonsickness by Penelope Scott // Today Today by Jack Stauber

- I’d Rather Sleep by Kero Kero Bonito // Ain’t It Fun by Paramore // Furniture by Owen Pallett // My Alcoholic Friends by The Dresden Dolls // Hey, Little Songbird from Hadestown // butch 4 butch by Rio Romeo // Harness Your Hopes (Sped Up) by Pavement // Me and My Husband by Mitski // Yr the Best! By carpetgarden // maggot belly by awfultune // Racehorse: Get Married! By Jordaan Mason // No Children by The Mountain Goats // Gross by Penelope Scott // Loving Man by The Little Stevies // Feel Better by Penelope Scott // Good Luck, Babe! By Chappell Roan // All 2 U from Helluva Boss // Woke Up from Adventure Time

- She by Dodie // Just Some Guy from Dead End: Paranormal Park // Green by Cavetown // Jealous by Eyedress // Stray Italian Greyhound by Vienna Teng // Sweet Tooth by Cavetown // Sunflower by Post Malone // Hidden In the Sand by Tally Hall // Washing Machine Heart by Mitski // When He Sees Me from Waitress // I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) from Hercules // She Wants Me (To Be Loved) by The Happy Fits // Strawberry Blond by Mitski // Linger by The Cranberries // I’d Like To Walk Around In Your Mind by Vashti Bunyan // Dear Arkansas Daughter by Lady Lamb // From Eden by Hozier // The Good In Me by Jon Bellion // Like Real People Do by Hozier // In The Middle by dodie // Ultimately by khai dreams // Samson by Regina Spektor // Monster from Adventure Time // Love Like You from Steven Universe

- Two Time by Jack Stauber // Estranger by Jack Stauber // That Distant Shore from Steven Universe // Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine // Love Love Love by The Mountain Goats // Dog Days Are Over by Florence + The Machine // Bugbear by Chloe Moriondo // Lost by Amanda Palmer // Die Anywhere Else from Night in the Woods // Putting The Dog To Sleep by The Antlers // Zombie by The Cranberries // A Deer Mistaking Candles for Headlights by Crywank // Fading Kitten Syndrome by Roar // Neighborhood #2 (Laika) by Arcade Fire // Cheeseburger Family by Jack Stauber // Lonely from Bee and Puppycat // What Did You Do by Jack Stauber // Our Word from 36 Questions // Just Take My Wallet by Jack Stauber // Lima Bean Man by Jack Stauber // Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush // Love Will by Jack Stauber // That’s Not How The Story Goes from A Series of Unfortunate Events // The End by Jack Stauber

#beetlejuice fanfic #loopjuice #time is a flat circle #time’s arrow #LoopJuice extras

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sakurachan7734 · 8 months ago

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Two queens and a little princess

Chapter 4: sing my nightmares away

Dreamer: alright my dear

Blair: what is the song mommy?

Dreamer: it’s a song pass down for my family for generations

Blair: are you sure it’s gonna work?

Dreamer: yes i’ve played the song to several kids your age before you were born

Blair: ok

Dreamer starts singing a song called “ rises the moon”( song by Liana Flores) and tucks Blair into bed the song ends and Blair is sound asleep

Dreamer:* pats Blair on the head* good night sweetheart* leaves Blair‘s room and goes into hers and marcelines room*

Marceline: do you think that worked?

Dreamer: yes I know it will I have done it to you several times

Marceline: I know but you have said it sometimes doesn’t work

Dreamer: yes I have said that, but it depends on how bad the nightmare is if it is Blair’s case where her nightmare is her not be on the find us and hearing us say that we never loved her it’s gonna work

Marceline: that’s Blair’s nightmare?

Dreamer: yea she thinks that we will leave her and never come back

Marceline: that does sound bad let me guess that kid at her school made her think that?

Dreamer: probably but hopefully this works

Dreamer: yea

The next day

Dreamer: good morning Blair did you sleep well?

Blair: yes I didn’t have any nightmares!

Dreamer: that’s good! and you get to go to grandma Hope and grandpa Luci today after school!

Blair: yay!!

Marceline: go get ready and we will eat breakfast

Blair: ok mama

Blair goes into her room to get ready

Marceline: she’s just like you when she is excited

Dreamer: I noticed that to it’s adorable

Blair:* runs out her room* I’m ready mommy’s!

Marceline: aww you look adorable

Jane(the maid): breakfast is ready

Dreamer: thank you Jane

After breakfast Blair leaves for school

At school

Jade: you got a new dress?

Blair: no it’s the same dress I just got it dyed a different color

Jade: because of what happened yesterday?

Blair:….yea…

Jade: aww are you going to cry to your mommy’s?!

Blair: no

Jade: no you are it sounds like you’re gonna cry

Blair: no I’m not!

Jade: go on cry like a baby and cry to your to mommy’s!

Blair:* trying not to cry* stop please

Jade: no! Crybaby

Blair:* starts crying* stop it!!

Jade runs away

Teacher: what happened Blair?

Blair:* crying* Jade made fun of me

Teacher: oh god not again

Blair:* crying* she won’t leave me alone

Teacher: I know but she is the principal’s daughter so we can’t do anything but get to class

After school Blair gets picked up by Hope

Blair: hi grandma!

Hope: hi Blair how was school?

Blair: it was good and I want to bake a pie for mommy’s!

Hope: ok we can do that what pie do you want to make?

Blair: blueberry pie! Mommy’s said that’s there favorite!

Hope: ok that’s a hard one to make but we can do it I will help you with like the sharp stuff and the oven

Blair: ok grandma

Blair and Hope make it to the castle and go to the kitchen

Hope: ok let’s start with the dough

Blair: what do we need?

Hope explains the ingredients that they need for a pie

Blair: ok let’s get started!

End of chapter

#oc story #devil oc #ghost oc

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aeoki · 1 year ago

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Sandstorm - Pointless Death Game: Chapter 3

Location: Hotel Resort Characters: Yuuta, Adonis, Kouga & Rei

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< That night. ES idol hotel poolside. >

Kouga: Hey, how long do we hafta keep this up!?

It’s already been a week – a week into the “SS” Qualifying Round, ya know? How long do we hafta be here doin’ nothin’!?

I’m startin’ to get pretty annoyed… This is nothin’ like the “SS” we imagined! Whoever’s responsible, get your ass out here!

Adonis: Stop howling like a dog that hasn’t gone on a walk for a day, Oogami.

Kouga: Whaa–

Wait, what? Why’d you gotta phrase it so harshly like that, Adonis? I guess I might’ve been shoutin’ ‘cause I was frustrated and takin’ my anger out.

Adonis: No, I’m sorry. I was copying Sakuma-senpai and trying to say something he might have said. But it’s hard to joke with someone without hurting them.

Yuuta: Ahaha. You figured Oogami-senpai might be feeling stressed because he can’t chat with Sakuma-senpai, so you copied him for Oogami-senpai’s sake, right? You’re so kind, Otogari-senpai~♪

Adonis: Still, if I hurt someone that way, you cannot call that kindness.

Kouga: Uhh… I-I guess I wasn’t really angry, ya know, Adonis?

Adonis: I don’t get angry often and even if I did, it’s hard for me to show it.

I’m aware it is one of my flaws. People fear the unknown. I too wish I could express my emotions as easily as Oogami does.

Kouga: Huh? You’re praisin’ me?

Adonis: I’ve always respected you and held you in admiration, Oogami.

Kouga: ………… *Nudges Yuuta’s side*

Yuuta: Ow! I know you’re over the moon right now, but I don’t think expressing that by being violent to others is the answer!

Process your own feelings in your own body

Kouga: Oh, shut up… Anyway, I’m just doin’ the same things in the same place, so I’m gettin’ depressed. Let me take my anger out on somethin’, alright?

Yuuta: No way~ You’re acting just like a domestic abuser boyfriend! Could you let out your stress by singing and dancing instead of using violence or going on a rampage?

Kouga: Like I’ve been sayin’, it’s ‘cause I can’t do that stuff right that it’s annoyin’ me!

Adonis: I’m worried about Hakaze-senpai and Hinata… Things are going well for them and they seem to have gotten used to life in the desert.

But compared to us, the conditions they’re under are far worse. The desert isn’t a place where humans can live.

I want to set them free immediately… But all we can do right now is upload videos and send the “Desert Coins” we earn over to them.

Kouga: Yeah. We’re uploading them under “2wink’s” name and we’re leaving the “Desert Coin” exchange to you.

But you’re handlin’ it properly, right, Yuuta?

Yuuta: Trust me. Unlike my brother, I do the things I need to do properly, you know~?

Kouga: Yeah. You’ve always been a real good kid, huh.

Yuuta: …………

Rei: “Adonis-kun.”

Adonis: ………?

Rei: “Try not to react in order to avoid the other’s attention and listen to what I have to say.”

“You can leave your responses to the minimum. Be careful your behaviour isn’t out of the ordinary.”

Adonis: “Understood.”

Rei: “Nonetheless, the reason why I’m communicating with you via sign language is because it’s getting stranger the more I observe from the sidelines…”

“We need to come up with a strategy so they don’t start thinking it’s strange there’s been some weird movement.”

Adonis: “All right.”

Oogami, Yuuta, I have a suggestion.

Kouga: Huuh?

Yuuta: What is it, Otogari-senpai?

Adonis: Hm. Uploading the same sort of videos won’t gain us any more views, so I’d like to try something new for our next video.

Kouga: Oh, it’s rare for ya to be suggestin’ stuff like this.

Adonis: Is it? Maybe it’s because Hakaze-senpai isn’t here and Sakuma-senpai is silent.

All I can do is speak their share too, so that’s probably why that sort of behaviour is more apparent.

Kouga: Well, you’re always way too quiet! You should be more assertive – you’re an idol, right?

Adonis: Right, I’m aware that is one of my flaws as an idol.

That’s why in order to overcome that, I’d like to try a new kind of performance.

Kouga: Hmm? I don’t really get it but I guess it’s fine?

You’re always taggin’ along to whatever I wanna do, so let’s do what you wanna do for a change.

Yuuta: …Is it okay for me to take part in this new performance idea of yours?

Adonis: ? Of course.

Kouga: Yeah. We’re in the same boat now – if I see ya slackin’, I’m gonna send ya flyin’.

Yuuta: …I see. Well, you two are always like that, huh.

Rei: …………

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂ Next Chapter →

#sandstorm

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bagsybaggins · 2 years ago

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Chapter 1: From Then to Now

Atropos's earliest memory, that she could recall, was of her family. She had been 6 or 7 at the time, and she had a younger brother. They had been celebrating something, a birthday was the best she could guess; It could only be her brother's birthday.

She sat on the table beside him; the lights turned out as their parents walked out of the kitchen with a cake. The candles lit, illuminating their smiling faces, as they sang Happy Birthday. Gideon gasped loudly as they approached. Atropos could remember smiling and giggling while singing along.

But, the details of her family became hazy after that point. She knows that there was an accident after that, and her parents always moved around constantly, exploring and working. But she was never told what had happened, only that they had gone somewhere that ended up collapsing, with them inside. Her grandfather told her that her father was a curse breaker, while her mother was an archaeologist and a muggle. Atropos remembered the last day she saw Gideon, which was the first time he showed signs of having magic. While she never showed signs at all.

He was only 6 at the time, two years after their parents had passed. Because of his crying, and throwing a tantrum, he caused all the glass in the house to break with a sudden burst of magic. After that, her grandparents from her father's side came and took him away, leaving her there because she was a squib; Or as her grandmother put it, 'A no good muggle, just like her mother.'

It got easier, missing him. Days would pass, before she had to pause and think about him, his belongings, and pictures packed away. Her grandad would tell her she would see him again, that he would write to her soon. But he never did. It wasn't too long before she eventually stopped thinking about him.

And it wasn't until that fateful day, searching through the attic for the box of photographs that her grandfather had sent her up to get, did she cause her own magic to stir.

Holding up the lantern in my right hand as I slowly climbed up the creaky ladder into the attic, only pausing when I peek my head through the opening, facing the cobwebs.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do it, Bug?" I heard grandad call out from below me, and I exhaled before shaking my head.

"No, Dr. Manning said you needed to be careful. I'll be fine, grandad, I just need a moment." And with a deep breath, I pull myself into the attic.

"Alright Bug, just yell out if you need me!" He shouted as I glanced around the attic, the dim light of the moon streaming through the shuttered window, providing little silhouettes that stretched across the floor.

Dust swarmed the air as I stepped around a stack of boxes, my foot almost getting caught on an old quilt. Lifting the lantern higher, I read the writing on the side of the boxes, searching for the box labeled memories. I could faintly hear grandad shuffling below the floorboards, how it grew fainter as he walked towards the kitchen. My eyes turned back to the rest of the attic, knowing that grandad wouldn't mind me looking at the collection of items beneath all the dust.

The lantern creaked as I sat it down on the table, blowing on the trunk next to it. Dust invaded my nose and throat as it flew up into the air, and I regretted my decision as I started coughing harshly. Waving my hands around to clear the dust, I look down at the trunk and grin at the words.

'Penelope's adventures, and William's ' was written on the trunk in my parents' handwriting.

Pulling at the clips of the trunk, I slowly lifted the heavy lid, and sneezed as the dusty contents were revealed. I pushed it open fully as I rubbed my nose with my right hand, gazing down at what lay dormant in the trunk, after all this time.

Moving pictures, newspapers with more moving pictures in them, and a dark coat laid on top, with a few pictures and letters pinned to the lid of the trunk.

I stared in awe as I picked up a photo of my parents' wedding photo, watching as they smiled widely at the altar as the preacher spoke silently behind them. Looking back at the box I pulled out the newspaper, reading the small clipping of my Dad, being awarded for being able to break a curse that was deemed unbreakable. It's been so long since I even thought about magic, let alone seen it.

My fingers brushed against the coat that was folded up on the right side of the trunk, and after placing the picture and news clipping on the table, I pulled out the coat. It was soft, like cotton, but somehow it felt smooth like silk. As I unfolded it, something had fallen out of the coat and into the trunk, making a clatter, as it had a slight bounce as it hit the bottom. Looking away from the jacket, I frown as I stare into the trunk, searching for the item. And then I saw it, hidden in the shadow of the trunk's depths.

A wand, my dad's wand.

I don't know what compelled me to pick it up. Whether I had secretly hoped to somehow be able to perform some type of magic, or if it was real.

But when I did, I felt warmth invading my hand as I held it. I could swear to any god or goddess that anyone believed in, I felt the wand react to me. Like it was alive. I could feel a strange breeze sweeping up onto my face, sending my hair falling behind my shoulders, and the tip of the wand began to glow and spark.

But the room grew brighter and brighter, and warmer as well! Looking away from the wand, I felt like my heart stopped, as I saw the flame of the lantern growing larger and larger in the glass. It scared me, the strange reactions of inanimate objects that seemed to awaken alongside something inside me.

Isn't this what I wanted? To belong somewhere? To have a connection to my parents?

I did, but then everything would change. I would change.

The wand clattered to the ground on top of the coat that I still haven't looked at. But I couldn't breathe, because I knew the truth.

I had magic. I could do Magic!

And the next thing I know, I'm yelling out to my grandad, scrambling towards the ladder with the coat in my hand, with the wand bundled up inside the coat.

For the past three days, my magic has been making almost a constant appearance, and it was a constant problem. It was small, but unnecessary, bursts of magic that got me both annoyed, and frustrated. I couldn't control it at all. From nearly blowing up the kettle, to accidentally making almost the entirety of our living room float, I felt as if I was a stranger in my own body. Like the magic wasn't mine.

Then, on the fourth day of my magic making an appearance, we received a knock at the door. When I opened it, an elderly gentleman looked down at me in surprise, before smiling gently. He had dark, grey hair and was wearing a blue overcoat, and a light purple scarf.

"I can assume that you're the one performing unsanctioned magic, am I correct?" He asked, causing me to wince and nod my head.

"Yes, sir."

He laughs and claps his hands, "No need to fret, you aren't in any trouble. My name is Eleazar Fig, I'm a professor at Hogwarts. Might I come in?"

Hogwarts. That was the school of wizardry. Where students both learn magic, and how to wield it. I quickly nod my head and open the door further, while stepping to the side for him to enter. He nods his head at me, and walks through to the entryway to the left, to the living room where grandad was sitting. Grandad looked at Professor Fig with surprise and caution, no doubt hearing what he had said at the door.

"I'm Michael Caelum, grandfather of Atropos." My grandfather lifts his hand out towards Professor Fig.

The Professor smiles and shakes his hand, "Eleazar Fig, a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."

Grandad nods his head, "The pleasure is mine. However, I was wondering how you learned about my granddaughter's unsanctioned magic."

Professor Fig stepped back to address both of us as I sat down beside my grandad.

"The Ministry of Magic had actually brought it to me, they are the ones that monitor all magic in both the muggle world, and in our own. They informed me that you hadn't shown signs of magic until a few days ago, and that concerned them. For a multitude of reasons, but their concern is about Atropos possibly being an Obscurus." He explained, sending me a look of concern.

"What's an Obscurus?" I ask with my brows furrowed.

Professor Fig glanced behind him, moving back and sitting in the chair across from us. "An Obscurus is difficult to explain in simple terms. Sometimes, when a child discovers that they have magic, they suppress it either out of fear of it, or at times are forced to. Suppressing your magic is a dangerous and terrible thing to do, because of what becomes of the magic the longer you suppress it. You see, magic in itself is of its own mind. Take, for instance, a wand." He reaches into his coat and brings out his wand, "It may seem like just a simple way to direct and control your magic, but it is so much more. A wand becomes a part of its user, connecting with them to understand their thoughts and wills. And the wand adapts to it, and it grows a stronger connection, becoming one with the wizard."

I nod my head in understanding, "I could feel my father's wand reacting to me when I held it the first time. That's how this all started. A few days ago, I found his wand in my mother's trunk. That's how my magic started to show up."

Professor Fig's brow raised in surprise, "And that's how your magic appeared, you say? This is very curious indeed."

"What happens to those who suppress their magic? Is she in any danger?"

"No, I believe we may be dealing with something entirely different with Atropos. You see, an Obscurus pushes their magic down, acknowledging that they have magic but storing it away. Atropos's magic hadn't been suppressed, but rather hadn't developed. It is rather curious as to why it hadn't made an appearance earlier. Normally, she would have shown signs around 7 to 10 years old, and she would have been enrolled in Hogwarts or one of the other Wizarding schools, but to show no sign of magic at all. It's practically unheard of."

I frown in confusion as I share a look with my grandad, before looking back to Professor Fig. "And if I was Obscurus? What would happen then?"

A sorrowful look became present on his face as I finished my question, and he sighed. "Well, Obscurus is considered to be a dark parasitic manifestation of the suppressed magic that comes out during times of high emotions such as anger and hatred; It's practically impossible to control and is considered its own entity, despite having to have a host to house it. An Obscurial, the host of the Obscurus, is often a child. The power of an Obscurus is stronger than the magic of the wizard kind, and there aren't any records of any surviving long enough to become an adult. They often pass a few years after the Obscurus is formed."

"That's terrible. Can't something be done to save them?" I ask, leaning forward in my seat.

He shook his head with a frown. "Unfortunately we haven't found a way to help them, they're rare to come by, or aren't reported to the ministry all the time."

Grandad looked at me in concern, "But Atropos isn't one is she? She'll be fine?"

"No no, I'm almost certain that she isn't. But it is always best to be sure, so Atropos, if you wouldn't mind getting your father's wand; We can do a small test to make sure you're not an Obscurial." Professor Fig turned to me with a smile.

I glance at my Grandad for a moment, I stand for my seat and move towards the fireplace, opening the rectangular box that sat on the mantle in the center. The wand was the only thing in the box, besides the picture of my parents' wedding. I pulled out the wand and stepped back, turning to Professor Fig.

"Alright, now we should probably move outside, just to be safe. Is there a place where-"

Grandad nods his head, standing from his seat. "In the backyard, nothing but woods back there."

"That's perfect, now shall we?"

The Hufflepuff common room felt like Grandad's, it was warm and cozy and smelt like freshly baked cookies. I knew where I was supposed to be. Walking into the room, trying to ignore the stares that I received, I was in awe at how much magic could achieve. The portraits talked to the students as they walked in, some calling out by name. It was amazing.

"Not used to seeing moving portraits?" A voice called out from behind me.

I turned as they moved next to me, her hair cut just above her shoulder. Her brown eyes had an almost teasing look to them, yet they seemed kind.

Shaking my head, "I've seen moving pictures, but they didn't talk back."

"I'm Poppy Sweeting." She introduces herself, sticking her hand out to me.

"Atropos Caelum, a pleasure to meet you." I shake her hand with a smile.

She smiles widely and nods her head. "You as well. Are you ready for your first day tomorrow?"

Laughing, I shake my head. "I'm not sure that I am, I'm worried that I won't be able to catch up."

Poppy shakes her head, nudging my shoulder. "I think you'll be alright, but if you need any help you can come to me if you'd like." Grinning, she adds, "Although I might be of no help if you're having problems with potions class."

I feel lighter as we laugh, less nervous to be here. "I'll keep that in mind, but who knows? Maybe I'll be the one helping you in potions class."

"I might need it." She laughs, "Are there any classes that you're looking forward to?"

I nod my head, "I had looked over the schedule, and I'm looking forward to The Care of Magical Creatures. Living in the muggle world, I know practically nothing about magical creatures. So I'm excited to learn."

A wide grin spread across her face. "You and I are going to get along just fine."

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knybits · 9 months ago

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A Murder of One

Chapter:

Summary:

The Pillars vs. Upper One ft. Akiko

Previous Chapter | Origin | Next Chapter

“Hey Akiko, how powerful are your eyes?”

Akiko looks left to her new friend and mother figure, Miyuki. The two are lounging on the engawa, the day a bit hotter than most. The small twinkling of the wind chime sings in the air, and Chiyo is holding Ayame to Akiko’s right.

The two had come to visit, with Chiyo bringing Ayame in for a third check up this month (“She’s like… Drooling more than usual???”) and Miyuki tagging along just because (“I don’t want to be left out. What if you guys forget I exist?!”)

With no patients in her ward (for once in a blue moon) Akiko has decided to entertain the girls with something from over seas.

“It’s called a popsicle. Dad taught me how to make some and shipped over a special cooling machine,” Akiko explained as she handed out the icy treats.

So now the girls lounge in silence, listening to the wind chime and the birds tweet and Ayame’s baby babble.

Until Miyuki’s question.

“I dunno. How cold’s your ice?” Akiko shoots back. Miyuki rolls her eyes, “No but like. You see stuff-”

“So do you-”

“Quit it.”

Akiko quits it. Chiyo laughs. Ayame startles.

The two girls look between them at the younger one, her eyes closed as she gives it some thought.

“Well my nichirin tools are clear, and I can still see them. I have to clean the sharps myself now though, or the girls will cut themselves on accident. I dunno though, is that what you meant?”

Miyuki shrugs, “I guess. Genya mentioned something about how you took his measurements without a measuring tape or thermometer and stuff. And that you knew how many demons he ate, which, by the way, don’t tell Sanemi.”

Akiko rolls her eyes, “I don’t have a death wish. Also, doctor-patient confidentiality, blah blah blah.”

“Akiko, you tell me what’s wrong with Giyuu all the time.”

“Not out of kindness. I’m hoping you drop him when you realize how messed up he is. I don’t know what you see in him Chiyo,” Akiko says and Chiyo nudges her shoulder. Akiko holds her hands up in defeat, muttering a half assed apology that all three girls know is in no way genuine.

They’re silent again for a moment, but Miyuki suddenly jumps up, her eyes sparkling like a snowflake under the sun.

“Y’know what’d be really cool?! If you could see the future!!”

Chiyo and Akiko stare up at her listlessly, both wondering how that would even work.

“I don’t think that’s what my eyes are for.”

“Ok but you say that a person dies when you see one crow-”

“Because they do-”

“So isn’t that the same thing?”

“She kinda has a point,” Chiyo comments, shrugging her shoulders at the concrete evidence. Akiko shakes her head in disagreement.

“But wouldn’t it be so cool though?!” Miyuki keeps going, a smile on her face as she finishes off her popsicle.

Akiko scoffs, “What would I even use it for? Seeing which demon slayer is about to come through my door and with what injuries- wait… that actually sounds really nice…”

“See?!!!”

“It’d be great for fighting,” Chiyo comments, flexing her arm in thought as Ayame holds on like a monkey. “Then I could predict a demon’s blood art or their next moves.”

“That wouldn’t help me though. I can’t fight,” Akiko says. Chiyo and Miyuki nod their heads, knowing how sad Akiko’s physical abilities are. Her talents lie elsewhere.

“Oh! What if you like… I dunno, tell us how to fight or something? Like if you’re on the sidelines and giving us guidance.”

“Chiyo, that has to do with fighting still. Besides, I don’t think I should be on the field with an active fight.”

Miyuki grins, placing a hand on Akiko’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, we got your back! We’ll make sure a demon doesn’t touch you!”

Again, Akiko scoffs, “You guys barely listen to me though. Sanemi wouldn’t listen to me for sure. Muichirou would probably look around like ‘Who said that?’ and Iguro would rather get hurt just to glare at me for giving him an order than listen to said order.”

Miyuki and Chiyo share a look before then both ruffle Akiko’s short and slightly curly locks.

“Trust us.”

“We’ll listen to you.”

“MOVE!!!”

All four Pillars immediately jump back, just as Genya fires a shot with his newly formed demon gun. Muichirou’s sword is still embedded through the chest of Upper Moon One, but he’s abandoned it upon hearing Akiko’s scream.

The bullets burst and pierce through various parts of Upper One’s body, and roots immediately begin to grow up and out. It keeps him in place, and the Pillars all see their opening.

“DEFEND!!” Akiko commands them again, and they do so immediately.

They almost didn’t hear her over One’s monstrous roar, but Himejima’s chain whip around everyone so as to protect them, and Miyuki shoves Muichirou behind her since he has nothing to protect himself with. Akiko yanks Genya behind the wall they were hiding behind, and he throws his body over her and onto the floor to protect them from the various blades that shoot overhead.

Akiko hears a strangled scream, and her eyes quickly dart around Genya’s body to see Miyuki, crouched on the floor with her right foot missing. Sanemi grabs her by the haori and Muichirou jumps over Miyuki, rushing forward to grab ahold of his katana to give the two a second of time.

Miyuki is flung back, Genya catching her in his arms and setting her beside Akiko, who rips one of her arm sleeves off to act as a bandage. Genya runs into battle, blasting off another round from his gun, and Akiko has done all she can for Miyuki’s missing foot.

“Told you we’d listen,” Miyuki smiles painfully. Akiko nods her head, her throat choked up and tears blurring her vision.

“You can’t die,” Akiko squeaks, actually squeaks. She hates herself for worrying Miyuki at a time like this, but Akiko doesn’t know what would have happened if everyone didn’t move when she told them to. They looked like they were about to jump right in too, and Upper One still looked like he had another trick up his sleeve, and Akiko didn’t want anyone to find out what it was first hand.

“Course I won’t. I’m the damn Ice Pillar,” Miyuki ruffles Akiko’s hair, and the two hear a loud clang. They look up to see Himejima’s weapon has come down on Upper One from the bottom and top of his neck, and Miyuki makes eye contact with Sanemi.

She rushes off in an instant, and the two Pillars slam their katanas down together, delivering the final blow that rips Upper One’s head off. His neck gushes out blood with the force of a waterfall, but Akiko knows that he isn’t done. His blood coagulates at one, and the bleeding stops.

“Keep going!” she cries out, “He’s not dead!”

So the five press him. Genya with his gun, Muichirou digging his blade further up his chest, Sanemi and Miyuki working as a flawless pair with attacks similar to an ice storm, and Himejima’s own weapon flying around with enough force to break pillars and walls.

Akiko watches as he tries to regenerate his head, looking like a deformed arachnid with tusks. His body is pelted with relentless attacks, each more delivered with more desperation than the next, but then his body stops. It stops regenerating, and it begins to crumble.

Everyone stops in their tracks, weapons raised in caution, chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths. But he really does stop.

Akiko starts to cry, and her cry of relief is what startles everyone back to reality.

They’re alive.

They’re all alive.

Miyuki tackles Akiko first, then Muichirou falls into the two, then Genya pulls Sanemi with him, and Himejia offers the group a small smile.

Akiko can hear the crows caw their victory.

“UPPER MOON ONE IS DEFEATED! THERE ARE NO CASUALTIES! ALL FOUR PILLARS ARE ALIVE!!!”

Her heart soars, and she can physically feel the spirit of the demon slayers lift. Miyuki is bawling her eyes out into Akiko’s ruined shirt, and Akiko wails too. Genya wipes his own tears away and Sanemi runs his hand through his brother’s hair, truly smiling for the first time. Akiko has a feeling that the brothers will be ok.

“We must hurry,” Himejima’s voice grounds the group, and they sober up quickly. Goto has made his way back into the room, and he helps Akiko patch up the Pillars.

Akiko is halfway through stitching Himejima’s face when her sight comes across a nightmare.

“Tell them to stop.”

“Huh?”

“TELL THE DEMON SLAYERS TO STOP!” Akiko looks up at a crow in the corner. “THEY MUST RETREAT!! MUZAN IS ALIVE!”

Miruna soars out of the room immediately, and Akiko can see that he’s come across the first group of demon slayers. He caws his orders and they freeze in terror, but Miruna doesn’t stick around to make sure they listen.

He continues to soar, through rooms and corridors, warning team three and five to retreat.

But team one and two aren’t so lucky. About half of each team had begun to retreat on Akiko and Kiriya’s orders, but they weren’t fast enough to escape Muzan.

Akiko watches with horror and he slices bodies left and right, flying off walls and floors and devouring every demon slayer in sight. The few people that retreated without a second thought are no match for Muzan, and he catches them in an instant.

Akiko can feel the bile climb up her throat, the blood drain from her face. She can see Tamayo’s head in his clutches, his claw digging into her head, a thumb through her eye. She’s crying, the last of her face crumbling away. Then, in an instant, Muzan crushes her head.

Blood spurts everywhere, and Akiko finally hurls.

Muzan has revived.

And he’s bringing everyone to him.

“We have to go,” Akiko mumbles, wiping the bile from her mouth. Kiriya just gave the green light for all Pillars to regroup and kill Muzan. And she intends to follow this order.

She finds the strength in her legs to stand, though wobbly, and Himejima picks the girl up. He carries her in one arm, his weapon clutched tightly in the other, and Akiko starts to lead them through the maze. Miyuki has an arm over Sanemi’s shoulder as he helps her run, Miyuki still trying to get used to only having one foot. They’re all silent, listening closely to Akiko’s orders of left, right, up, down.

“Work with me here, Yushiro,” she mumbles, but she knows that he’s too far driven by rage to focus on anything but destroying the monster in front of him. They’ll have to take the long way, unfortunately, and Akiko worries that there is no time.

She watches as Giyuu and Tanjirou run in to fight. Muzan’s razor sharp arms flying around, delivering deep cuts to the two. She watches as Yushiro continues to manipulate the Fortress demon’s mind, and she sees past the illusion where Kanroji and Iguro have died.

They pick up more demon slayers along the way, team three and five grateful to be alive.

And even though Akiko knows that Kanao, Zenitsu and Inosuke are alive, it doesn’t stop her from crying out in relief at the sight of them.

“Akikooooo!!!” Zenitsu cries out, reaching out to her. She bats his hand away, and grabs ahold of Kanao’s instead. The girl tears up at the sight of Akiko, and they two share a look of understanding, being the only two tsuguko of the now deceased Butterfly Pillar.

Akiko blinks her tears away quickly as the building begins to shake, and she can see that Yushiro is beginning to drive the Fortress up.

“Listen closely everyone,” Akiko says, drawing more of Yushiro’s demon papers from pockets of her hakama.

“I have a plan.”

its almost over... can you feel it?

#kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer #bittle's murder of one #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #tanjiro #tanjirou

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cherryshelf · 1 year ago

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YIPPEE I GOT TAGGED!!

welcome to the official cherryshelf get to know you game (aka I got tagged in a post by the lovely @tragicshadeofgrey)

Last song: The moon will sing by the crane wives!!

Favorite color: you will never guess it. (Its pink)

Currently watching: I just finished Nana,, but I am (re)watching grians third life for the 577716298th time! And,,,, mourning Lizzie's,,,,last life,,,,, again,,,,

Last movie: Pan's Labrynth

Last reading: beginning chapter of I have no mouth, and I must scream

Sweet / spicy / savory: SWEET ON TOPPP💯💯💯 savory second and spicy last because I'm a baby, I can take moderate spice but I die if something is above moderate spice

Last thing googled: Horse... plinko...

Current obsession: NANA AND SECRET LIFE!!! and shadowrot,, still,,

@kelceilingfan UR NEXT. and @tragicshadeofgrey because you tagged me :DD

hello folks and welcome to

people youd like to get to know better ( the game™ )

aka i got tagged by the lovely @summerfrwrks so here we are

last song : splash free - style five

favorite color : born to be purple forced to be green ( i love both equally )

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last movie : barbie ( yes , i cried , 10/10 )

last reading : heroes of olympus ( the first book in the series , borrowing from @ondine77 !! )

sweet / spicy / savory : sweet > savory > spicy but i love all !!! ( spicy in moderate amounts LOL )

last thing i googled : " dodocos bombastic adventure " so i was having trouble on stage 6 SO WHAT

current obsession : pjsk tiering !!! so tiring but so fun actually ( i will do anything for kamishiro rui )

and my tags : @southssuns @ondine77 @prince-deville @donatechbo !!!

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talesofealdancynedom · 1 year ago

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Aurum in Fairy Robes eating noodle; Yes, this illustration was supposed to be switched with the 3rd chapter.

Tale 43: The Small Apothecary (chapter 5 - The Moon 5/5 ) part 8. Stories of Dreams

The next day, Qilin sleep; unable to adjust to the time-zone change. He reluctantly got up, to start his work. Firstly, he asked various people what elixirs they might need. Qilin knew the local doctor required remedies to naga venom, flu symptoms, and bone repair; And others wanted light viles and water clensing; Things the traditional village lacked. So, next it was time to gather. Even if no recipe called for it, Qilin looked for specialties. Some mid-day golden dew, from the ruffled Dok Cahmpa was right there; beaming light the light of dawn. Good for pain, and only found in Doi Veng. These were the yellow flowers he dreamed of. But for the final request, he was comissioned sugar plum jam for sleep.

Qilin walked to the ever blossoming orchard; Various cherry, plum, and orange fruit fey, were planted neatly together; A fluffy arching crown of plush purple and pink. They sweetly whispered above a pool of lucky carp. But the enchanted fish no gave scales of fortune; they rejected every coin. Even the frosted plums forbid Qilin from having a single pome. With a despondent sigh, and empty basket, Qilin realized he needed a witch. For his recipes, the fey had to consent to being picked. Their gifts have different properties if taken without asking. Qilin preferred asking. He considered it violent, to steal pieces of fey.

Having lost, Qilin’s left the orchard in search of Aurum. It was his lucky day; He saw golden silks glow from the corner of his eye. Aurum was riding his familiar off the butte top. Qilin gasped, and ran after him. He had completely forgotten Aurum was showing him the water temple today.

The walk was silent between Qilin and Aurum. Qilin’s thoughts were busied by finally being able to perform traditions from his people. Also, the consuming frustration at current barriers to his craft. Meanwhile, Aurum shuddered at the thought of his neglectful mother being there; He was equally irational in the moment. Ironically, Aurum’s mother came to Doi Veng for the same reason as Qilin. However, money had corrupted her, and she succumb to depression while destroying Doi Veng. She was the very reason they fey acted so cold. For this reason, she now tended the temple and retired from magic.

At the temple, the walls crumbled as nature grew through them. But inside, there was a hall with carved jade walls. There was a set of bells, large gong, and trough of chalk, before a powdery wood floor. Light shone through the gaps of the pillars, and holes above the red beams. Pixies were sleeping about the ledges, that wafted of rose and sandalwood. Their honey would be perfect for making hex incense. Qilin was overwhelmed as he looked above, and walked closer to the chalk.

“How does this work?” Qilin inquired. He bumped into Aurm who was kneeling. Qilin decided to join him. The sound of a steam silently echoed, and Qilin felt himself merge with the moment. His previous thoughts now smothered. His face bright. Then, Aurum’s deep breaths ceased. He had never met someone of the Eastlands, who didn’t know how to give gratitude.

“Well?” Qilin smiled.

“Um, you grab the chalk in your palms, then slam your hands while bowing, and gently interlace your fingers behind your neck. Then reflect on what satisfies your being in that moment,” Aurum said, his head tilted. “Then meditate on the phrase ‘I am greatful for...” He demonstrated. The thud of the bow, and puff of chalk, nearly made Qilin second guess the ritual. He performed it perfectly, powdering white into his black hair. Soon, a singing bowl rang through the room. They sat up as one, in a state of serenity.

“What are you grateful for, Lin?” Aurum grinned. His own father would always ask the same. You can tell a lot about a person from what they appriciate.

“Having the opportunity to live here with my family. You?” Qilin smirked. Aurum stalled, and looked into the brushed bell brass before him.

“To see the colour yellow.” He said calmly. He gently got up, and left to the courtyard. Qilin tip-toes in suit. They sat in the shade of the clensing gingko, growing into the a wall. Crossed legs, well poised, silent, and resting.

The novelty of meditation, wore off quickly for Qilin. His mind wondered back to the rejection of the plums. He fidgeted with the urge to ask Aurum for aid, while unsure if disturbing meditation was allowed. He had meditated little in his life, aside from breathing exercises in school programs. Despite reading the teachings within the poetry of water. Qilin opened his eyes, and turned to Aurum. Tears were streaming down Aurum’s face, as his steady breath trembled. It came from the chest, no matter how hard he tried to use his stomach.

“Why are you crying?” Qilin whispered.

“It does not matter why I am sad. I get sad sometimes, then it goes away. I concentrate only on emptiness.” Aurum sighed, melting into his posture.

“Then how do you process emptiness? How do you let go?”

“Maybe I cry, because I am sad that I have let go. Purhaps right now, it is time to greave.” Aurum said, opening his eyes. His mother was adjacent, and smiling slightly. She wore orchid, with shimmering lotus trim.

“I’m bad at letting go.” Qilin shrugged. “Like, I can’t let go of those stupid sugar plums. This place was supposed to be....perfect.” He petered out. Aurum nodded, having already assumed as much. Aurum’s mother readjusted.

“I’m going now. Those are great thoughts to practice sitting with, Lin. Thoughts that when overcome, make you one with nothingness. Letting go, requires wisdom of what we cannot control. The world will not end because the fey are hesitant, and we feel strongly.” Aurum said, walking away. He seldom took his own medicine, despite his effort. To Qilin, those words made him go red from frustration.

Aurum didn’t fully embrace a single thing he touted most days. He had only been practising for a few years. It can take a lifetime to act on such beliefs. Aurum may need two lifetimes; He had a lot of issues: Feeling incompetent for being coddled, traumatized for being imprisoned, and hard feelings towards his parents for their mistakes. He knew being in the moment would prevent looking back, and alternatively the now is not always pleasant. Like Qilin, Aurum also struggled to sustain his meditation. Aurum radiated a dark presence as he rode back to the village. Like he would block out the sun for anything that dared to near him. That stupid boy was summoning Aurum’s pain with all those questions. Testing his ability to remain present. The flaw of the ways of water, is that human hearts are responsive, thus creating desire and hate. People seek opposites, and fulfillment. They are not like fey. The flow of all things, is inconsistent with humanity’s stubbornness.

Aurum spent three hours coaxing the trees to give up a few plums to help Qilin.

“I don’t believe he is a greedy wizard. He is not from my family. I think he is like our village’s people. He wants simplicity, and your charity, to aid us all. What If I ask you for plums? As your mage who adores you, am I worthy? Am I able to receive your gifts to help the forest?”

“We will trust you for now, mage. But if this boy misuses our gifts, we will gladly have the more mobile fey scare him off.” The orchard threatened. It was so unlike them. Fey catastrophizing? Often, the childlike neutral nature of fey, made them the best teachers of embracing each moment’s wonder and joy. But like people, they know fear and desire. Nothing is immune. Aurum was only able to procure half the ingredients Qilin needed.

“Can you give him more? I want to sleep.” A familiar voice called into the trees. Kugu was feeding rice cakes to the lucky carp, while listlessly humming a lullaby to endear them. She wore her same printed pastel clothes. The trees dropped more flowers and fruit. Aurum’s gaze lingered on Kugu’s forlorn face. He snapped out of it when she thanked them.

Aurum walked over to crouch next to Kugu; The garden was empty in the afternoon. All they heard was birds and fey whipers.

“Thanks.” Aurum smiled.

“I just want a regular sleep cycle.”

“No, I mean for going outside so we can smile with you. You even helped Qilin,” Aurum said, looking at his reflection in the pool. “Honestly I’m sick of only seeing you stare at the wall, each time I sneak in to rid the goblins from your yard.”

“I don’t need pity.” Kugu scoffed.

“Maybe you need tea? I’ve heard good things about tea. I’d love to make some for you some time.” Aurum tensed. Kugu laughed a little. The carp gave them scales.

“Maybe after you give that apothecary his ingredients, and my father overcomes his worry. He should go to the temple too,” Kugu growled. “I like to think it’s working for me. I hope magic can cure me. I should’ve never studied in the city.”

“Should is a toxic word. Like always and never. Best advice my nanny ever gave me.” Aurum said, examining the orange scales. He got up to leave, and waved goodbye. Kugu tried to smile back. Even lost in his glow, she couldn’t do it quite yet.

Qilin nearly feinted at the basket of goods; He could start brewing this very night. There was an encouraging note from his mother. Qilin read it while setting up. The plum jam needed to be brewed under a full moon, all night; Qilin would need to multitask to stay awake. As the sun set, he got to work cutting and grinding. Sugar plum, frosted orange peel, and starlit sugar cane. He had brewing flasks, vials of every material, and all the tools and stoves he needed; Including a pot to make smoked fish rice, as he missed dinner.

After a night’s work, the jam had turned white. To test, he put a spoonful on a plate; It froze the entire table. The plums hadn’t fully consented to sharing their gifts. The elixir could be used in small does to cool food or make ice, so it wasn’t a full loss. But Qilin was deeply disappointed. Not only did he fail brewing for the first time in a year, but the fey didn’t like him. As dawn came, Qilin staggered back to the temple, and feel asleep while meditating until midday; When he could make the golden dew. He was given a singing bowl for the very task. If had a fierly lusture from the dragon forged bell brass. However, Qilin’s confidence was shattered. He lost his posture. Having awoken, his breathing was uneven, but still deep. Like a gasping fish.

“Why are you crying?” Kugu asked. Silence.

“Well, I cry for failing to get a degree, and believing for a moment such things mattered when places like this exist.” She continued. Qilin looked up to see her undone hair and calm face. She wore a silver satin sabok skirt, that glimmered like the moon. She looked nice today. Their eyes met. Qilin’s tears soaked his dirty emerald wrapped pants and sash; He wore only the pants of his dirty wizarding robes.

“You don’t have to share.” Kugu shrugged.

“I cry, because today my mind reminds me I can fail.” Qilin admitted.

“The plums hate everyone. You’re not special,” Kugu snorted. “Well, they like me I guess; Enough to give the other half of your ingredients when I requested your potion.”

“Thanks. Now tell me your secrets. The fey here are resistant to friendship.” Qilin grined.

“I would have ascended to the next spiritual plane, if I knew the ways of fey.” Kugu rolled her eyes.

“Well, me and Aurum know the ways of fey, and I assure you we’re both currently incompatent.”

“He offered to let me watch him burn himself on a stove; To make tea to warm me. Something about it having special properties.”

“Probably something my mom said.”

“I think I said yes, even though I have trouble bonding with people. But with that workaholic, whose smile and misguided mind; He makes me weak. It feels like he’s always there for me. But I can’t get myself to-”

“bonding and getting attention? Just crawl into his window uninvited! I got a week’s detention for that, and I wasn’t even the one naked. The guy didn’t return my textbook, and I had a test the next day. You’ll never forget a moment like that. That’s the secret to bonding with someone.” Quilin suggested. Kugu finally managed a smile.

Hot Water

The following week, Qilin decided to earn the trust of fey the old-fashioned way: bribery and proximity. He failed fey studies, but was a believer in power of confidence. Qilin was now desperate to gather ingredients; Preferably without Aurum or Kugu. He watered and tended the wondrous flora daily. Trying to tell himself it’s ok if they don’t give him anything. It’s just a low rank potions, he’d repeat like a new mantra. When he dare feel the frustration boil, he decided to seek other useful ingrediant.

Thus, Qilin stood at the graceful falls on the red lacquer bridge, being misted gently by the cleansing water. He wanted one of Goober’s golden scales, to make glistening dye; dragon-yellow was good at thermoregulating houses. Useful in tropical climates, like here in the Eastlands. Summer, was indeed upon the baking butte; Making Qilin’s cloths stick to his every inch. Goober requested a watch. Qilin didn’t have one. Like Aurum, Qilin shook an open palm over the rail, and into the pool below. The bottom was littered with clocks. After wading to the shore, Qilin sat there causing at the universe between breaths.

Meanwhile, Aurum had melted into his sleeping mat. Finally, he was able to let his trains of thought come and go freely. One with existence. He felt the come and go of joy, in this accomplishment. Calming gratitude for the sun and Kugu’s courage, and Qilin’s spirit. His breath deep and relaxed. He was lost to the world, for what might have been ninety-minutes. Even the crash on his balcony, and tumble through his open shutters, didn’t stir Aurum. Must be the birds. He thought in passing. Kugu was angered Qilin’s advice didn’t work.

Kugu had crawled out of bed for nothing. Like those around her, Kugu’s ability to be one with acceptance, was being tested. She sat an inch from Aurum’s face for fifteen-minutes before stillness left her. She ran back out the window; Not before seeing the entire kitchen littered with burnt pots, and random perfectly clean tea cups. Kugu wondered if he washed things with soap, cleansing water, or just alchemized dishes as he needed them. Once again, a train of thought brought someone out of the moment, and over a rail. Kugu fell into a mundane gingko, and then landed her tailbone on the walkway. She covered her face in embarrassment, and pain, as she passed people who weren’t watching.

A week later, Qilin gave the cooling jam to the local cook. His brother was baking in the back, and mocked Qilin’s chalk powdered hair. The temple had quickly become Qilin’s favourite spot between brewing.

“Are you sure you don’t need it? It will keep food from spoiling in the heat,” Qilin insisted. “One drop in the centre of a room each day, should keep any place a cool.”

“Brilliant! But... Why can’t a mage do this? Wouldn’t a winter spell, or whatnot, be permanent? How can I be sure a wizard used ethically sourced ingredients? I don’t have money to pay you either.” The cook questioned.

“Words of thanks, or food, will be payment enough,”Qilin smiled. “Potions are made to be used. I would never waste goods made from the gifts given by our local fey. Besides, Aurum can be busy, now that Whitestead is not in Doi Veng. Sir, I assure my elixirs are fit for our current needs.”

“I supose.” The man smiled. Qilin smiled back, as he handed over the potion. The man gave him his day’s worth of calories in dumpling soup, and peanut tofu. Qilin decided to go home to sleep it off, since he was unable to brew anything that day. He had given in to his failure, and tended the fey only out of admiration. Which led to several baskets of ingredients, by Qilin’s side. He was admittedly content. Maybe he had gotten his Happily Ever After enchantment. Things seemed to bother Qilin less with time. Maybe Doi Veng was rubbing off on him, as he wished. Each moment became succulent. Even his mother and siblings seemed to be calm and rested.

After waking up from meditation, Aurum decided to eat some leftover stuffed buns, and ride his familiar to the greater Doi Veng area, outside the gate. He had nearly forgotten there was a large town nearby. Everyone in Doi Veng forgot about it eventually. Which is good, because the town felt sad. Aurum attended magic school here, and got a witchery masters. When Aurum arrived, and gave a beaming aura as he walked. It contrasted with from the roughed up neighbourhood. He decided to buy incense for the temple, and as gifts. Aurum received some nasty looks. The people even walked around him, or switched sidewalks; People feared mages. Aurum could feel their impulsive reactions, through the traditional smiling greetings. He briefly remembered those things used to bother him, then moved on. Aurum decided to go back with taro rolls, offer the incense, and return home.

In his abode, Aurum examined the tea he bought. He had no clue if Kugu liked tea.

How does one know if something is made with love, or rant serenity? He held up the box, and looked at it vacantly. Aurum felt the unsteady breath panic. But he had a resolve of independence. A desire to become a calm grown individual. His nanny was gone, and taught him many things.

How hard could it be to make tea? I know magic after all! Surely making tea is easier then cooking or bartering with dragons. Aurum thought, tensely exhaling.

Instead of sitting with that, he ate the rest of the taro rolls like hotdogs, while watching Qilin appease the foliage. They were now trying to give him too many gifts, of which he would refuse.

“You wanted their gifts so bad… Why are you turning them away?” Aurum asked.

“Because I don’t want thing I won’t use. Their to kind to reap...” Qilin shrugged. There was a pause as he commanded winter water, from his wand; Sprinkling the garden with glittering dew. Water spells always have an explainable lustre to them. Like living glass.

“Actually, I’m also scared I’ll mess up, Qilin confessed.

“It’s pretty hard to truely mess up.”

“ But I botched the jam, and now I have to wait another lunar cycle to have a full moon. The cooling potion was the best I’ve ever made, if that were what I was making.” Qilin grumbled.

“That’s a lot of looking forward and back. I hate when I do that too.” Aurum said. “For example, I don’t know how to make tea, and I offered it to Kugu. To help her. Because I like her. The thought of failure is intrusive... Wait! You brew stuff, Lin; Any hints?”

“Great. We’re on the same page. The human attachment to time and social pressure. Well, since one of us has to succeed: First you grab a pot. Then you fill the pot two-thirds with water. Then you heat the water until it bubbles, and-” Qilin started. “Are you taking notes?”

“Yes. Keep going.” Aurum smiled innocently. He had summoned his mage journal and ink. Qilin looked into middle distance as if a wind of lukewarm essence flooded into him. Or perhaps a sneeze; It can be hard to tell sometimes. Qilin’s vision greyed, and hearing blurred, as he provided instructions. What sort of person doesn’t know how to make tea? Is that a judgment... Wait, should this man even be near fire?

“Thanks! I knew an Apothecary could help! Are you ok, Lin?” Aurum said, bending a little to look into Qilin’s eyes.

“Spaced out I think.”

“Yeah, that’ll happen when you become aware of your stupidity. Happens often.”

“Stupid? Actually, I think I was thinking too hard; You don’t possess the skill of tea brewing. Do you struggle to wash your clothes? I keep meeting people who can’t wash clothes...” Qilin huffed. Aurum gave nervous laugh.

“Yeah. Um, anyway, I meant you looked consumed by regret. Are you embarrassed that you forgot the full moon is actually tomorrow night? We do encourage forgetting time here. Don’t feel too ashamed.”

“WAIT. WHAT.” Qilin yelled.

By Evening, Kugu sat quietly on the mat by Aurum’s tea table. Jewel coloured walls, and dusty wood floors. His possessions were few, and the minimum quality needed to function. Every object traditional second-hand antique. The glaze on the ceramics had crackles, and the wall scrolls faded. Wood furniture losing lacquer, and cushions nearly flat. It gave the room personality. Kugu was intentionally not watching Aurum, who was behind her in the kitchen. He had burnt himself twice. But at last, he sat across from her.

“I’m sorry, it’s um, steeping.” He said. “How was your day?”

“Fell from a tree, again. Now I am here. Again.”

“Oh no, are you ok?”

“I am here.”

“I am not here. My mind is presently in that kitchen, watching the tea brew, worried you’ll hate it.”

“We offer tea because it’s neutral. I neither love nor hate tea. I actually have very few opinions. Which is why I have no friends, and ended up here.”

“Then you’re in the right place! I lack the full concept of most things, but I try my best to be ambivalent and absorb each second of being. Like being uncomfortble from tea.”

“Do I talk like that now, too? Without any emphatic words?”

“No. I normally don’t. I just hope that if speak like that, it will sink in. It’s super hard. I feel it might be working. Sometimes.”

“huh, never thought of it like that. Also, tea only takes three minutes to steep. You should check on it.” Kugu laughed. Aurum jumped up and dashed to the kitchen. There was more swearing, shattering, a little sobbing, some silence, and then Aurum returned with a white pot and two simple cups. He set the table perfectly. Kugu went to pour before Aurum could offer. She filled his cup, then hers. She put down the smooth warm pot, and went for her beverage. Then she noticed the tea was clear. She drank it to be sure. After a swallow, Kugu made eye contact with Aurum. He had also dranken it, and tensed with nerves.

“This is hot water.” Kugu said. She tried not to snicker. She took another sip, maintaining eye contact.

“Um. Nah. It’s tea! Brewed with love.” Aurum said calmly. His face was calm, and holding back nervous laughter. He finished the cup. The soft tap of his cup on the table sounded, before he gently poured himself more.

“It is warm, and maybe burnt. A little calming. Things we make for others, are of lesser quality; But still valued.” Aurum continued. Kugu put her hand over Aurum’s cup, before he could pick it up. She had started giggling. It’s contagious nature causing Aurum to join her.

“Alright, fine. I dropped the previous pot and improvised.” He admitted. Kugu took her cup and also refilled it. It was like a child’s tea-party. They drank simultaneously.

“Thank you for the tea.” Kugu bowed. Aurum put his cup down.

“It’s hot water.” He looked down biting his lip. Holding back both laughter and embarrasment.

“Yup. Just boiling water. That’s uh… Yup.” Kugu requited. “You tried though.”

“Hm.” Aurum wilted. “But did it work? The new lady said tea made with love brings inner peace.”He continued. Kugu reluctantly nodded. She thought herself above being swooned by such tomfoolery.

The following evening, Qilin held his basket of requested plums. His lab was fully prepared. Thus, it was time to brew. He didn’t need the sleeping elixirs himself anymore, but knew it was useful enough to make regardless. He remembered Kugu showing interest. While Qilin worked by the stove and couldon, and the sun set, and sweat dripped. His mother silently entered while her son was lost in his craft. Smiling, she sat by the table.

“Mind if I watch? Your brothers said they find people using magic unsettling, and refused to visit. I brought your sister though.” She gleamed.

“You want to stay up all night, watching me brew random things, cook rice, and make mystical jam?” Qilin checked. His mother nodded, and little sister smiled.

“I want to see why you love it. I always wondered where potions came from. You turn all these pieces of fey, into substances that help us. Like making tea, that cna make anything happen.” His mother said. Qilin lit the stove with moon fire. She flinched, but held her ground. Qilin smiled to comfort her. He enjoyed her company, but didn’t need to say it. His inner child was happy to have his mother to himself, after so long. She was his greatest blessing.

“Is Doi Veng what you dreamed? Is being a wizard what you imagined, Lin?” His mother asked. They shared rice while they watched the pot simmer. It had a crisp and sweet scent, akin to pure vanilla.

“Well, no. It was really exciting, I guess. But somehow, I thought wizardry would be cooler than cooking by another name.” Qilin sighed. “Doi Veng is as magical and whimsical as I thought, but it doesn’t feel that way. It’s simply another place now. I think I got my Happily Ever After, and everything lost its flavour. In a good way. It melted into perfectly still water.”

“I like it here. I came because you inspired me, Lin. You’re full of good ideas. Once I came here, I became content with the flavour of my life. It had been so long since I felt that. Like the rain no longer stops me from going about a day. It’s so colourful, and the things speak. I find the clothing comfortable, and have time to paint more scrolls. Now that all my babies are grown, I have time to spend with them.” Qilin’s mother explained. He gave a small chuckle and stirred the pot; Scrapping the thickened jam on the side back in.

“I have no clue what made me choose any of this, nor why I’m ok with it. I almost hate that it worked out so nicely. You gave me doubt. Maybe something inside, decided I wanted to do something random, right that minute; I kept saying yes, and I ended up here.” Qilin said, checking his watch. He looked out the window, as a soft light illumined the village. Qilin pulled his mother in, and they looked into the pot.

“This is the best part; And what separates a cauldron from a crock-pot.” He jitterred. As light beamed against the cracks of the roof, the jam went from purple to opalescent blue. Qilin jumped up in laughter, hopped in circles, and hugged his mom. Success!

Qilin’s mother and sister watched keenly, as he used a small spatula to pour the elixir into violet labelled vials, with floral caps. They shimmered like his smile. Around him, the glassware glittered brilliant colours, in every inch of the shop; Glistening jewels, that made one see more the longer they looked. A memory being made.

“This must be the best part.” His mother said.

“Actually, it is one of many good parts.”

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