#and we found an apartment ON HER STREET below a place I literally was at yesterday

[greppelheks]

I've got serious plans to move to a different province, which genuinely feels like moving to a different country, and I'm all busy looking for apartments and jobs

[cerriddwenluna]

The Diary of Kurt E. Hummel (7/24)

This diary belongs to Kurt E. Hummel.

Please do not read this without my express permission. (Yes, that includes you, Finn.)

***

Have you always wanted to find out what Kurt writes in his diary? Now is your chance! But, ssssht! Don't tell Kurt we stole it... ;)

Read chapter 7 now, below the cut and also on AO3 and S&C!

Read from the beginning

Grind

Dear Journal

I think I have finally found the perfect Christmas present for Blaine. 

You wouldn’t think it unless you knew him really well, but Blaine is almost impossible to shop for. He has enough money to buy himself almost anything he wants, and not enough impulse control to stop him from doing just that, so it is always a challenge come December to find him the perfect gift. 

In the past I have gone the homemade route, because at least then I knew he would not have that particular bow tie, even if he’s already literally got over a hundred of them. However, with both of us starting new jobs and moving across town, I just do not have the time this year. 

Back in the old neighbourhood, we had this amazing little coffee shop right across the street. It was owned by this little old lady who made the best coffee I have ever had. She ground her own beans and kept the recipe a closely guarded secret, despite our many attempts to get it from her. 

Ever since the move though, we’ve been having to make do with our Keurig because we haven’t had the time yet to scope out the best places in the new neighbourhood. I’ve heard Blaine grumble about missing out a few times already and it's only been two weeks since we moved. 

I figure that since he likes to experiment with new recipes in the kitchen anyway, maybe he’d like to experiment with blending his own coffee as well. I found a great deal on a coffee bean grinder with a matching French press, so that along with a few different bags of beans and some theatre tickets should hopefully have me covered for this year.  

Now all that's left is to figure something out for dad. Maybe he’d like a new barbecue? The old one is surely falling apart by now… 

~ Kurt

Thanks for reading! ♡♡♡

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

[skelavender]

“I couldn’t explain it. When I saw them, I could barely pay attention to the woman we were interviewing. I just… knew I needed them.”

Mulder’s eyes snap to her, “Oh my god, Scully, did you steal these?”

read/listen to kind of perfect chapter two on ao3, or below the cut!

Nothing changes really, not yet. 

They make an appointment at the courthouse for a Wednesday afternoon, with plans to make it a late lunch break. Mulder gets the marriage license while Scully is elbow deep in an autopsy (literally) and he's bored of staring at the walls of the basement office. 

They still go on cases. Scully still shows up to the office some mornings to find a plane ticket on Mulder’s desk, and him behind it. They still say goodnight five feet apart, at the doors of adjacent motel rooms. It’s normal. Except for the fact that they’re planning an illicit wedding in the background. 

There’s a case in Pittsburgh where people feel urged to do things they only let themselves dream of. For every violent murder with a clear motive and confessed killer, there’s a happy couple walking down the street who found themselves pushed together after years of pining. 

Mulder calls it witchcraft. Scully calls it a water contaminant. It’s all very routine. 

Their investigation takes them to an antique mall outside the city, as labyrinthine as any. They wander through the precariously stacked furniture and tchotchkes, Scully running her hand over books, dishware, and photos passed down through many owners and wondering about where they’ve all been, what they’ve seen. 

Scully adores antique stores. She’s always felt a kind of love in them. The energy of so many cherished possessions in one place is the only kind of magic she’s come close to believing in. 

They’re interviewing the owner of a jewelry booth when she sees it. A tiny wood box in the glass case separating them from the witness that Scully isn’t paying nearly enough attention to. What lays in the velvet lining enraptures her, she can’t take her eyes off of it. Mulder’s touch on her lower back rouses her from her trance.

“Whaddya think, Scully?”

“Hmm?” She breaks her eyes away from the case and looks back up at him. He’s waiting for her opinion. She realizes she zoned out for most of the interview, and turns back to the woman across the glass case. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I must’ve been distracted. You have some beautiful pieces here, ma’am.”

“Ohh, shiny.” Mulder teases. Scully rolls her eyes.

“Oh, shut up Mulder.”

“Mrs. Landingham was just telling us about the vendor upstairs, who gives her the heebie geebies. He sells a bunch of dolls.”

“Well that’s not hard. Antique dolls even give me the… heebie geebies sometimes.”

Mulder laughs, and they go on with the interview. When they continue on through the antique mall, they split up, and Scully finds herself looping back around to the glass case from before. 

“How much for that?” She asks, pointing to the little box. She doesn’t even hear the price, just grabs her checkbook from her coat pocket. The woman smiles at her.

“You have someone special, dear?”

“I… it’s complicated.”

“Hmm. If you’re buying them that, it’s probably not as complicated as you think.”

Scully just hands her the check and slips the box into the inside pocket of her jacket. Mulder catches up with her a couple rows away. 

“Hey, where have you been? I thought we were looking at the third floor?”

“I was… looking for the bathroom,” She lies, “Did you find something?”

“Yeah, the booth Mrs. Landingham mentioned is, in fact, creepy as hell. I’ve never seen so many dolls in one place, Scully. And it had a vibe.”

“A vibe?”

“Yeah, a weird one.”

“Let's go check it out together.”

His hand brushes her lower back and he guides her to the stairs. 

***

They solve the case, burn the dolls. Apparently every victim of their own impulsivity had purchased one a couple days before they started acting differently. She stows the box in the glovebox of her car, and forgets about it until they’re on their way back to DC.

Mulder is, naturally, babbling. 

“Honestly, I’m surprised neither of us were affected.”

Scully tenses behind the wheel.

“Right, Scully?”

She bites her lip.

“Scully? Were you –”

“Check the glovebox.” She blurts before she can think twice about it. 

He leans forward, and pulls out the tiny box. When he glances at her, she nods, and he opens it. When he sees the contents, he lets out a little “Oh.” 

In the box, in a sea of maroon velvet, lay two nearly identical gold rings. The only difference between them is a swell and a small diamond in the center of one of the eight-pointed star engravings adorning both bands. 

She watches out of the corner of her eye as he runs a finger delicately along the engravings of the larger ring. 

“I couldn’t explain it. When I saw them, I could barely pay attention to the woman we were interviewing. I just… knew I needed them.”

Mulder’s eyes snap to her, “Oh my god, Scully, did you steal these?”

“What? No!” She looks away from the road to give him an incredulous look. “I paid for them, I just bought them impulsively. I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you first. We haven’t talked about rings, and it’s probably a bad idea to wear them to work so there isn’t much of a point–”

“No they’re… they’re kind of perfect, Scully. Thank you.” He sounds almost breathless. 

“Of course. I’m… I’m glad you like them.”

Mulder manages to shut up for a good chunk of their drive. 

***

Mulder slaps his pen on the desk in frustration. Damn expense reports. He pinches the bridge of his nose in an attempt to make his growing headache subside. 

Scully looks up at him over her glasses. Takes him in. She closes the file open in front of her and stands. “C’mon, Mulder. Let’s take a long lunch, I think we both need a break.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” They both don their jackets, Scully grabs her purse, and they whisk out of the building. 

Mulder really, really should have asked where they were going before agreeing. 

He finds himself in the boyfriend chair of a nearby Macy’s, watching Scully try on a series of dresses and suits. They aren't things he’s used to seeing her in. It’s not much more exciting to him than the expense reports, though it is less headache-inducing. So he sits and watches, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, fingers fiddling with the hair tie still wrapped around his left ring finger. 

People have asked about the hair tie, of course. Sometimes it’s on his finger, sometimes just on his wrist. He tells them that Scully’s break sometimes, and it’s best to have a backup. Like he’s just that good of a partner, and the hair tie isn’t one of his most cherished possessions.

Breaking his train of thought, Scully steps out of the stall in what she would describe as an ivory cocktail dress with an eggshell lace overlay, and what Mulder would call a white dress. 

“It’s not very you.” He says. She agrees, and steps back into the stall to try on the next one.

“What are we even doing here, Scully?”

“I need to find something for the wedding, and I don't have time to go to a traditional bridal salon.”

She steps out in a white pantsuit, shoulder pads and all. 

Mulder slaps a hand over his eyes. “What the hell, Scully! Are you crazy? I can’t see you in your wedding dress before the wedding, that’s bad luck.”

“In our sham marriage?” She laughs, “C’mon Mulder, you don’t actually believe that, do you?”

“Do I believe in a superstition? Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“That’s a good point.” She approaches him and peels his hand off his eyes anyway. “Please, Mulder. I don’t want to do this by myself, and I just can’t ask Skinner.” His eyes go directly to hers, crinkled at the corners from her humored smile, then drift downwards to take in her outfit.

“Not that one,” he says, “It looks too much like something you’d wear to work.”

She huffs a laugh and retreats to change again. When she steps out, she’s in a slip dress with silver embroidered flowers. 

“No.” He says immediately.

“No? So now you’re a stylist?”

“The rings are gold and that one has silver. I might know nothing about fashion, but I know that that’s against the rules.”

“Good eye, Mulder.” She retreats again.

“So why're you taking me wedding dress shopping, anyway? Why not your girlfriends, or your mom?”

“No one knows we're getting married. I haven’t even told my mom, she’d insist we make it into a whole event, and wouldn't keep it quiet. And even if people did know, I spend all my time on cases with you, so I'm somewhat lacking in the girlfriends department, or at least ones I’m close enough with to invite wedding shopping.” she pauses. “I always thought I'd do it with Melissa, but that’s… not an option”

“I'm so sorry, Scully. She should be here.”

“I know. “

She steps out in another dress. They agree that it’s too lacy. Back to the stall.

“I'd probably ask you to come shopping even if I was marrying someone else.” Something like distaste blooms in his chest at the thought. He ignores it.

“Really? I mean, you said it yourself, I'm not exactly fashion forward.”

“Of course. You're my best friend. I value your opinion.”

She steps out in another dress, this one simple, tight, and silky, with thin straps and a deep back. She does a little twirl. She does not giggle. 

She sees Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up as his mouth opens. If he were in a cartoon, Scully is sure there would be a bubble with AWOOGA just above his face. 

“Holy shit, Scully.” He stands and approaches her. Her face is so bright, so open. 

“Yeah?”

“You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” She goes in for a hug, which Mulder accepts. He buries his face in her hair.

“You’re my best friend too, Scully.” She just hugs him tighter. “But if this turns out to be a disaster, I’m totally blaming you for making me see the dress before the big day.”

She laughs and they separate, but only by a few inches. His hands move to her neck, his thumbs framing her face.

“So, that’s the one?”

She smiles up at him and nods. “Yeah. It is.”

The smile they share is softer than any other.

She goes to change back into her work clothes, and he offers to bring the car around. Before leaving the store, he manages to hunt down the dress on the rack and stop at the cashier to leave a check with them, telling the girl behind the counter that it was for the suit-clad redhead about to exit the dressing rooms. 

“You didn’t have to pay for the dress, Mulder.” She says as she climbs into the car, “But thank you.”

“You paid for the rings,” He reasons, “it’s only fair.”

“Still. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

The outing takes longer than their lunch hour, but no one seems to notice. 

<- previous chapter next chapter ->

[lgbtcorp]

if there's anything that national city is good at, it's working people up into a frenzy. she doesn't claim to be innocent in all that — with innovation comes difficult conversations that some aren't ready to hear — but when gossip rags and sleazy radio hosts do nothing except incite a specific, fresh kind of rage within the working heart of the city, it tears a street raw and apart.

there's a floor to ceiling window in her office that grants her the best view of a sea of people below her — a winding, billowing sea of placards and sullen-looking faces staring into each layer of the l-corp tower as though it was a viewpoint to all the injustice thrust upon them by the city itself. that's what looks back at her.

and that's what she must face.

it's been a luthor legacy, really — how easy it is to become the most hated person in the room without even entering it.

so she slips into heels that have been straining the arches of her feet for a little over twelve hours now, and faces the goddamn fucking music the way she wishes lex had before starting it all.

(perhaps that's unfair — had he never incited a riot, they'd never leer at her with such disdain. but had things never changed, and she'd be in the basement far more often than she has time for now, with only old music crooning from the docking station and the sound of glass vials clinking against one another — on second thoughts, it seems a lot more enticing than she gives it credit for.)

the elevator feels like her stomach — sinking, sitting like a goddamn stone like she's about to walk into a lion's den. the most she knows about pacifism is talking an alcoholic mother, brother, father — pick one — off a ledge, whilst fending off cutting remarks about who she is, how she looks, the bare core of her identity all at once. two bodyguards, then three, then four, surround her as though already called into action, and she settles the nerves churning in her chest to face the crowd.

(see that, sis? they're all here to see you. us. well, me, if you want to be pedantic about it. what dirty secrets have they found out now?)

face the fucking music, luthor.

"i know you're all scared — and that is something we can all feel. but this is not the place, and i am not your villain—" as well as she's able to settle the nervous lilt in the vowels of her speech, she never quite finishes her rousing words.

there's a gunshot. car backfiring. gunshot. (she can't tell which, and it flips over in her head like a damning checkmate. within seconds, she's surrounded. george is in front of her, jacket covering her from the barrage of flashes and clicking of cameras — she's bundled, almost entirely literally, with no more thought, into the back of a town car. blacked out windows — fuck, why did she elect for that —)

@lgbtcorp / [ 22 ] a city street teeming with news vehicles, camera crews, and reporters

kara isn't an anchor or a presenter or -- anybody when it comes to things like this but she what she does know is a situation developing; there's a tension in the air and it's split between the protestors and the people protesting the protest. it's supposed to be peaceful, according to the message boards she's found and the initial rally call. it's a five mile walk along the national city grid mainstreet, led by a mish-mash of alien rights activists but no stand out leader. maybe it's purposeful, as alex suspects, to avoid there being a sole target for ire, but it's led to a mixed message and an even more mixed crowd gathering. the walk hasn't even started yet but of course, of course, they chose l-corp as the site of their initial meetup.

now, most of the posts she's seen claim that it's coincidence. that l-corp very purposefully put their building at the intersection where the mainstreet really begins, overlooking the harbour, and it's a logical place to meet to begin the walk. that either way they would begin or end in the same place, so be grateful they're taking the attention away as they move onwards.

except right now, between the angry screaming from the anti-alien demos lining the barricades, and the dangerously inciteful rhetoric coming out of some of the more extreme protestors... it's feels like a powder keg. as more and more people show up to walk, the crowd is becoming a crush. the police aren't helping, the security guards at the front of l-corp insisting people step back out onto the road are also adding to the tension.

and of course, the press. sidelined to opposite street, behind a cordon barricade, kara stands with her phone as she live tweets and george, one of the bigger camera guys who insisted on coming along when he heard she was heading down here (she hadn't the heart to tell him she really would be fine), with a steady cam mounted on a handheld keeps blocking behind her. they aren't the only reporters. the press corner is clogged, end to end, with fox news and msnbc and bbc and so many different news outlets she can't even name some of them.

and all of this is chaotic in and of itself, but her senses kick into overdrive when a ripple goes through the crowd - outrage for some, awe for others, ambivalence and eye rolling and teeth sucking and, in one case, a laugh that's satirical and cruel she's going to fucking die - and kara switches her brain into overdrive. lena luthor is in the lobby of l-corp. lena luthor has descended from her floor fifty office and into the foyer, twenty feet from the glass doors which separate her from a crowd of angry protestors and angrier anti-demonstrators and she looks... guilty? confused? torn?

kara peeks over her glasses and tries to get a decent look at her face and it's all too obscured by the hundreds of skulls separating them and silently, to herself, kara thinks harder than she has ever thought: don't do it. for once, lena, stay in your fucking building and don't come out here. don't come out here.

[taestefully-in-luv]

Always You | JJK (Five)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader, slight Taehyung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slight slow burn, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack, lots of drama

Word Count: 12.1k

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (?) sad oc, mentions of sex, kind of over the clothes action, drama, heated dance session lol, slight memory of sex, hair pulling, back scratching, mention of boner, second chances (?)

Notes: Okay, first of all THAT 1st TEASER PIC!!! DID WE SEE THAT? *chefs kiss*. Anyway thanks for comments you guys leave I really love reading them!!! Remember to send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat about the story:) have a great week everyone!

Taglist: @mooniyooni @thisartemisnevermisses @giadalin @kookiebunny097 @cosmosjk @moonchild1 @just-jeon @anpanman-sonyeondan @starlight-night0 @yessii-i @apollukee @mikasaredscarf1 @kaye-rosales @bunnyjeonjk @dyriddle @seagulljk @hass-mich-los @peachy-skz0325 @wonusbitch

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

May

Gloomy: The dictionary may describe it as hopeless and despairing but really it should just be a picture of your sad, sad face.

1 month…yes, one whole month has passed since you last spoke to Jungkook. No text, no calls, no random show ups, nothing. Gloom. Gloom. Gloom. Graduation came and gone so quickly…you walked the stage with your friends minus two but honestly you can hardly remember the event. You tried your hardest to be as excited as everyone else but the feeling of gloom stayed with you.

By the end of the month you finally started accepting he isn’t coming back and right around that time you actually heard from him—Jungkook that is. He sent you a pathetic text that he’s moving out and will be by to retrieve his things. More gloom.

The next couple weeks after that are a blur, you recall the sound of movers throughout your apartment. You didn’t have the courage to speak to him…you didn’t have the courage to even leave your room if you didn’t have to. You were so wrapped up in everything you didn’t even consider that fact that you will have to find a new roommate to cover the other half of the rent.

Every day just dragged on, every day a repeat of the last. Wake up, drown in black coffee, scroll mindlessly through your phone and work your full time job. You called in sick too many days already so you have to go or you’re at risk at getting fired. The same day, every day. The same gloomy fucking day.

Jimin tried to call or text every day to make sure you were like, alive. He apologized over and over for not telling you as soon as he found out about the Taehyung situation but he felt that if Taehyung was going to tell you then it is best it comes from him and not Jimin. You can understand that. He also frequently would show up at your apartment to surprise you but you rarely let him in. You did feel bad though, he’s just trying to be there for you.

Jimin 6:04pm

Please let me in?

Jimin 6:05pm

Well…I have some take out for you babe, ill leave it on the doorstep.

Jimin 6:05pm

Call me sometime ok? Love you

Guilt would consume your body but you just couldn’t deal with human contact right now.

June

Around month 2 you finally felt okay to see people again—your close people that is—aka Jimin was finally allowed in, he made you take a hot bath while he cleaned up for you and made you a proper meal. The amount of instant ramen containers lying around the place was by far one of the grossest things he’s seen. The shit that was growing…he shudders just thinking about it.

He would come over every day after work in the evenings. He left day time babysitting to Trina.

“Girl…all this over a boy?” she would constantly say.

You also tried applying for job after job, but the postgraduation life is harder than you thought…at least for you. Jimin landed a job as a kids choreographer, Trina starts up at one of the local elementary schools as a kindergartner teacher and you? You’re still working at the bakery down the street. You applied for many entry level positions in the marketing field but failed miserably in interviews…which only further discouraged you and worsened your mood.

It was also around this time you decided to finally delete Jungkook off all social media and block his number. You refuse to hear from him at this point…not that he was reaching out or anything. You wonder what he’s up to postgraduation? No, you don’t want to know or care. You considered hanging up a picture of his face on your wall so you could throw darts at it but you decided that was maybe on the crazy side. Taehyung sends you weekly texts, asking about how your day/week is going. He updates you on his life as well, apparently he got the curator assistant position at the museum that he wanted. You still feel hurt over everything but you are happy for him. It’s funny, you feel so betrayed over that but Jungkook is the cause of your gloom.

Every day just drags on, you feel heavy everywhere you go. Even when you’re just at home in bed.

By the end of the month your friends somehow convinced you to go on a date—a horrible date at that.

He was awkward as hell, a bad kisser and would lightly…tap your ass in attempt to be sexy. It was a disaster, you don’t even remember what the two of you even talked about at dinner. You just remember his tongue being horribly shoved down your throat and his weird ass tapping habit.

July

Then month 3 finally came around. A month where the weeks went by breathing became just a bit easier. Yes, any and everything still reminded you of Jungkook but it didn’t hurt as terribly as the previous months. By the end of the month you even agreed to your first real social outing. You are hesitant, but you agreed…

“I don’t know guys…a birthday party? We like, don’t even know the girl?” you frown, nibbling on the flesh of your bottom lip.

You are sitting in the middle of your bedroom floor, clothes piling all around you as you try to decide on what to wear.

“You need to get out babe…plus it’s a friend of a friend, so it’s cool.” Jimin says holding up a rose colored crop top, motioning for you to nod yes or no to his suggestion. You cock your head to the side, deciding what pants to go with it.

“I have to say I agree with Jimin, y/n.” your new roommate Holly chips in, “Since I’ve moved in I don’t think I’ve seen you go out even once.”

“Also a party is the best place to find some easy dick.” Of course that’s what Trina has to offer.

“Yes to the crop top Jimin.” You point your head towards the shirt, “Okay don’t have to call me out like that Holly.” You glare at your roomie, “And Trina, we both know I ain’t ready for no type of dick.”

“So we’re looking for some pussy tonight?” Trina smirks, “Nice.”

You rolls your eyes, a chuckle escaping your lips, “Shut up.” you throw a pair of shorts at her face.

“But seriously y/n…Maybe Trina is on to something…” Jimin sits down next to you, crossing his legs in front of him, “Maybe this is a good chance to like—”

“If you say move on I will literally kill you.” You cut in, “There’s nothing to move on from!” you throw your hands up dramatically. “Taehyung used me, Jungkook wants nothing to do with me. And—”

“Then why aren’t you ready for any type of dick?” Holly puts in her 2 fucking cents.

“Because I don’t want to be associated with any boys! Jimin is the exception.”

“Somehow I don’t feel flattered by that…” Jimin puts a hand on your shoulder.

“When’s the last time you got off?” Trina abruptly asks. You turn your head in shock at her shamelessness.

“Trina!”

“Answer her, I’m curious too.” Jimin squints at you trying not to laugh.

“It’s…” your eyes slide to the side, “It’s been a while.”

Trina shakes her in disapproval, “Damn girl, really? My fingers constantly playing DJ, you know what I’m sayin?” Trina goes in for a fist bump but you just push her hand away.

“You’re gross.” You laugh out loud, and it sounds like music to everyone’s ears.

“I’m just real babey.” She flicks her hair back with a proud smile on her face.

Having these 3 around has no doubt helped you deal with the loss you feel. You feel like you are still mourning the dead. How’s Jungkook even doing? You’re too afraid to ask Jimin. Too afraid that he’s doing amazing without you. He must of realized how much better off he is without you around and that makes you feel small.

“Fine…” you mutter under your breath…Jimin snaps his head to look at you, his sly smile growing as he watches you fiddle with a short mini skirt.

“Fine what?” Trina asks with a smirk.

“Let’s find me some dick tonight.”

“Hell fucking yeah.” Jimin claps his hands together, “Tonight is about you!”

“y/n makes her debut tonight! She’s hot, she’s single and she is ready to mingle!”

You can’t help but giggle, your hands bunching up the material of the mini skirt as you look down at it, making your decision.

“Let me get ready and we can get this night started!” you rush to your feet, all the sudden feeling excited for tonight. You are going to actually do your hair and your makeup—you even shaved. You are definitely breathing easier tonight and you have to take advantage of that!

“Let’s do shots as we wait girlies,” Holly shows a bottle of rum she had hiding behind her back, shaking it in excitement.

“Naughty girl.” Jimin winks, standing to his feet, heading towards the kitchen to grab some shot glasses.

You get ready quickly, but taking your time where it counts. You give yourself a once over in the mirror and you have to say you are impressed. Your black jean mini skirt sits right below your ass, while your tits pop in this rose crop top. You wear short heels, and simple jewelry with just the right amount of makeup that makes your features stand out, and you have to say you would kiss yourself if you could—you look fucking good.

“woooooo” Jimin and Trina whistle out at the same time as they walk back in your bedroom.

“I’d fuck.” Jimin says plainly.

“Same as fuck.” Trina says bluntly as she swallows down a shot.

“Yeah you look pretty y/n!” Holly smiles, not really on the same level of honestly as your other two friends.

You burst into giggles, throwing your head back in approval. “Thanks guys…..Lets fucking do this.” You walk towards Trina and grab her shot glass, and you take the bottle from Holly, pouring yourself a shot.

“Ready to fucking mingle.” You gulp down the rum, the burn only encouraging you, the warmth stinging your entire chest and you couldn’t feel more content.

This house was one of the bigger ones, it was full of people and more people and like, more people. You managed to swallow down 3 or 4 shots back at your apartment and the alcohol is definitely working its magic on you, the world just a little nicer.

The amount of people doesn’t even bother you like it usually would, instead you find yourself barging through the front door and making your way to the dance floor with your 3 friends trialing behind you.

The heat of the living room is already intoxicating you, the amount of bodies rolling and grinding makes you feel loose and free. Before you know it Jimin is pushing a drink into your hands and you hug him gratefully as you begin chugging it back.

“Woah slow down, we have all night—actually fuck it, I like your spirit tonight!” he chuckles lightly, his hands going to your waist, rocking you to the beat of the blaring music. Trina and Holly disappear into the kitchen to grab more drinks while you and Jimin dance to whatever b…t…ah, forget it, you forgot the band’s name.

“Are you having fun?” Jimin slurs out, his eyes barely visible as he laughs at nothing.

“So much fun!” you yell out over the music then you lean down into his ear and whisper, “Thanks so much Jiminie…I know I was a little difficult…”

“A little?” he teases.

Jimin’s eyes travel behind you before they are widening. You notice, of course. You are about to turn your head to take a look at whatever he is seeing when his snaps back to you in panic, his troubled smile growing.

“Let’s go find Trina and Holly, yeah?” he tries to usher you toward the kitchen and you oblige. Too drunk and feeling too good that his odd behavior goes ignored by you.

“Kay!” you smile, hooking your arm with his. “Letsa go!” you say like you’re fucking Mario.

The two of you walk to the kitchen, finding Trina and Holly playing a game of beer pong with two random guys.

“Hello my bitches!” Trina hollers over the thumping bass, as she scores a cup of pong, her other hand on Hollys lower back.

“Wait, gotta use the bathroom, be right back!” you slur into Jimin’s ear, he just nods distractedly as he watches the game, laughter erupting his body for probably no drunken reason.

You walk back into the living room and start heading towards the other side where the bathroom is. The journey to the bathroom is fun, you accidently bump into a lot of people but they don’t seem to mind as they will just drunkenly smile at you and you would smile back in your own drunken daze. You skim the room with a dopey smile on your face, just admiring the crowd. You are shocked with yourself…you missed people and you cannot believe it. You continue to observe when your eyes land on tattooed hands. The hands are grabbing a handful of ass on the dance floor. You know these hands. Your eyes travel from his hands to his strong arms to his face…it is hiding in the nook of some girls neck and you feel like someone knocked the wind out of you. Jungkook.

He is kissing on some girl, no doubt leaving bruises behind from his attack on her neck. His hands cupping this girls ass so tightly, he guides her hips into his. You watch as she throws her head back in pleasure and you see him smirk. All his signature moves. You are left speechless. What could you even say? Why does this hurt? Why does this make you feel fucking sick? Why does it feel like you aren’t supposed to be witnessing this? Well, you know why but god, why?!

“y/n!!” It’s Jimin, jogging up behind you, “Fuck, I was trying to avoid you seeing this…” he admit softly, “I swear I didn’t think he was going to be here tonight…he didn’t seem that interested when I asked him about it…”

“It’s fine Jimin…” you mumble.

“Does it feel weird? Seeing him with this girl…?” Jimin is obviously trying to get you to admit something right now but you are not in the right head space to even give it a second thought.

“Why should it? Plus I’m used to this…she’s just some random girl for one night.” You twirl the ends of your hair between your fingers.

“Oh babe…” Jimin glances down at the ground, “This girl…she…he’s brought her to every party for the last month…” Jimin sounds as sorry as you feel.

The same girl? That’s impossible, you scoff. There’s no way Jungkook is actually seeing someone. But that doesn’t stop your stomach from twisting and turning and making you feel fucking sick.

“What do you mean?” you finally slur out, leaning your frame on Jimin.

“He brings her and they leave together too…” Jimin holds on to you, “I haven’t really asked him about her though.”

“Whatever. Fuck him, right? I won’t let this ruin my night.” You smile coyly, draping your arms around your friend. “Bathroom please.” You pout theatrically, pointing your head towards the bathroom.

“Okay let’s get you peeing in peace.” Jimin laughs, guiding you towards the door.

Once at the door, you knock a couple times to find that it is empty, “I’ll wait for you out here.” Jimin assures you.

Once inside the small room, you bunch up your skirt and pull down your panties, squatting on the toilet. You sigh in relief as you pee, but the relief you feel in your body stops when you recall the way Jungkook held and kissed this random but not so random girl.

Why should it bother you? It’s about time Jungkook got serious! But why did he have to dump you to achieve that? And why did It have to be with someone el…

You reach for the toilet paper, ripping it after a few sheets and wipe yourself as you drunkenly sing a tune. So what? You can easily replace Jungkook too!

You stand up, pulling your panties up and your skirt down and take a long good look in the mirror. Your hair is still intact, your makeup is only a little smeared—quick fix, and your tits are still poppin’. This night is just beginning, you decide. A whole new wave of confidence begins washing over you.

“Ready!” You pounce on Jimin’s back, he stumbles forward while laughing wholeheartedly.

“Should we look for Trina and Holly again? They’re probably still playing beer pong!”

“Sure.” You smile, walking hand in hand with Jimin as you make your way back to the kitchen.

Hours pass and you are now outside on the back porch piss drunk with your 3 friends and a couple new friends. Nick and his pal that you can’t remember the name of—but you remember Nick. He’s really tall and has nice muscles covering his body, his light hair is messy and looks like you would have fun pulling it.

“And that’s why I think aliens are already here bro, like they are probably here at this fucking party bro.” No name friend finishes his point. Nick holds in his chuckle as his drunk friend rambles.

“Totally bro.” Then his eyes land on you. Fuck, were you staring? Oh well, it’s best to get to the point. You two have been making eyes at each other all night and it’s time to make the next move.

“Hey Nick, wanna grab a drink with me in the kitchen?” you inquire with a sly smile.

Jimin’s eyes widen before he’s smirking “Don’t be silly, wrap that willy.”

Trina and Holly laugh at Jimin’s words while you turn fucking red with embarrassment.

“Sorry about him…” You excuse Jimin, but you continue to smile slyly.

Nick grins with all his teeth as he takes your hand and leads you back inside the house. His hand is much larger than yours and you are already imagining what his beefy fingers will do to your vagina. God, what’s his dick like???

You enter the kitchen and you and him walk towards the cooler full of beers, he lets you stand to the side as he goes to grab them.

“Nick!!!!” you hear a familiar voice and you wince. Jungkook stands next to the cooler, his hand wrapped around the girls hand, but he briefly lets go of it to dap up your fuck for the night.

“What’s up bro!” Nick returns the handshake, a wide smile on his face.

They know each other?

“I thought you said you weren’t coming tonight?” Jungkook’s hand goes back to holding on to the girl.

“I wasn’t going to but,” he nods towards you, “Glad I did.” He winks. Jungkook’s eyes follow Nicks nod and when he sees you stand there awkwardly he goes completely pale. Your eyes meet uncomfortably, Jungkook let’s go of the girls hand without a second thought.

“y/n?” he questions with a pained expression.

“You know her?” Nick asks, totally out of the loop.

You shift from one foot to the other, not really sure what to do or say. So you settle for his name. “Jungkook.” It feels foreign on your tongue. Like if you said it 3 times in a mirror a sinister ghost would come to murder you.

Jungkook opens his mouth then closes it then opens it then closes it again.

“Baaaaabe,” the girl next to him whines, “let’s get out of here already.” She says, not even acknowledging your existence.

Jungkook shamelessly eyes you up and down, his shock is very evident as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile a little, knowing you look damn good.

“Let’s go too, Nick.” You saunter to his side, grabbing a hold of his bicep.

That’s when Jungkook knocks out of daze, his brows crease as he looks between the two of you.

“Wait—you and Nick?” he asks, completely amused.

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” Jungkook looks fucking smug as he smiles, his hand going to grab the girls hand again. “See you later?” he asks you. You of all people! “Uh? Probably not?”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” Jungkook winks, turning around to leave as he leads his girl out.

Nick just continues to smile, completely oblivious, “So cool that we all know each other!” he grips on to your waist.

“Wait, how do you know Jungkook?”

“We—”

“Wait, it honestly doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here.”

“My place?” Nick breathes into your ear, he pushes your hips into his crotch so you can feel his half hard cock.

“Why are you already getting hard?” you tease, leaning up to kiss his neck.

“Honestly, I can’t stop staring at your tits. And I am imagining all the things I want to do to them.” He confesses hotly.

The uber ride to his place is short, only 10 minutes and it goes by quickly as you two have one another’s tongues down each others throats. His hands traveling all around your body, he even manages to slip his fingers past your panties to feel how wet you are.

“Fuck I can’t wait to get you inside…” his rapid breaths fan across your face as you nibble on his neck.

“Gonna fuck me?” you whisper quietly, not trying to get heard by the Uber driver, but you could also hardly care if he hears you or not, he gets 5 stars.

“Want you to ride me.” He palms his cock through his pants as he imagines you bouncing on his cock for him.

“If you deserve it like a good boy.” You replace his hand with your own, rubbing him ferociously over his jeans. You haven’t felt dick in months and the feeling is driving you absolutely wild, you haven’t felt this needy in a long time.

The Uber comes to a stop, parking in front of an apartment building. He lets the two of you know you reached your destination. You and Nick giggle as you thank him and stumble out of the car as you follow him to his apartment. He would stop every few seconds to plant kisses on your lips and grab your ass with a tight squeeze. He groans and rolls his eyes back as he explores your body.

“Wait til we’re inside,” you breathe out, your voice silky as hell.

Finally, after a short, kiss filled elevator ride later you arrive at his front door. His lips never leaving yours as he pulls out his keys, fumbling with them until he finds the right one.

He pulls away for a second to unlock the door and desperately pushes it open to let the two of you inside. Your lips are already back on his as you two trip into the entry way of the apartment, you walk him backwards, until his back is against a wall.

The apartment is dark besides the living room TV, you take a second to pull back and admire Nick’s fucked out expression, the blue glow of the TV making everything feel surreal.

You dive back in to kiss him, he prods his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around with yours making you moan into his mouth.

“Hi guys!”

Your eyes shoot open, mouth still attached to Nicks. You push your head back, disconnecting from Nick and yank your head to the left where you see a wild Jungkook sitting on the living room sofa, his mouth full of the cereal he is eating. He is wearing the most shit eating grin you have ever seen on him.

“Jungkook?! What the fuck?” You spit out, totally fucking shocked. Like, obviously.

“Hey man…” Nick breathes out heavily, trying to speak properly, “I thought you would be at Vanessa’s tonight?”

“Nah,” Jungkook smiles, “Dropped her off and came home.”

HOME?

“H-Home?” You look between the two guys, what the fuck does he mean by that. This is Nicks place, right?

“Oh you didn’t know?” Jungkook nods his head toward Nick, “Nick here is my beloved roommate.”

“What the fuck…” you mutter under your breath, trying to understand the mother fucking situation. Were you about to fuck Jungkook’s roommate? Are you still going to is the real question?

“Wait, how do you two even know each other?” Nick starts to look antsy, “Don’t tell me she’s one of the girls you’ve fucked…come on bro, leave some for the rest of us.” He chuckles somewhat bitterly.

“No!” you’re quick to say. You begin smoothing out your skirt, then your hair. “We just…”

“y/n is my bestie!” Jungkook grins, putting the cereal down and standing up. He walks forward until he is making a triangle with you and Nick.

“Was.” You spit out harshly, crossing your arms across your chest. Nick just stands there confused as hell, looking between the two of you.

“Anyway, I should get going.” You turn your body to Nick, a look of apology on your face.

“What? We can just go to my room?” he slurs, tugging on his pants uncomfortably, his boner still apparent.

“Sorry, no longer in the mood.”

You pull out your phone to order an Uber when Jungkook takes your phone from you.

“I’m not drunk, I can drive you.” He offers. You push your head back in disbelief, how does Jungkook have the AUDACITY to offer that to you?

“Why the fuck would I want that?”

“So we can…” His eyes slide over to the ever growing confused Nick, “Talk.”

You haven’t spoken to Jungkook in 3 months and today is finally the day you are able to breathe a little easier and he just has to barge back in.

“Like I said,” You snatch your phone back from him, “Why the fuck would I want that?”

Nick shifts around uncomfortably, his eyes darting from you to Jungkook.

“Well, I am gonna head to my room…uh, bye y/n…it was nice meeting you…I guess…”

You and Jungkook both turn your heads toward Nick at the same time, eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Yeah, bye.” Jungkook dismisses his roommate, his jaw clenching.

“Nice to meet you too…”

Nick walks backward until his back meets his bedroom room, he looks at the two of you one last time before turning around to disappear into his room.

“I said, let me drive you home.”

“And I said, why the fuck would I want that?”

“y/n don’t choose now to be difficult.” Jungkook takes a step closer to you, his hands running through his dark, messy hair. His eyes shut in frustration, “I just want to talk to you.”

“And I don’t want to talk to you.” You take a step back, “Plus, how would your girlfriend feel if you took me home?”

Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his mouth setting in a firm line.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Could of fooled me and like, everyone else.” You scoff.

Jungkook bites down on his bottom lip, not knowing what to say. While she’s not his girlfriend she’s also not not his girlfriend. It’s complicated.

“Can I please, just please, can I take you home?”

“No, Jungkook. The fucking audacity,” you scoff again, “You haven’t spoken to me in 3 months,” your voice fucking cracks and you feel like dying. “Don’t start now.”

“y/n…” he runs another frustrated hand down his tired face, “I didn’t mean for it to go this long…” “I don’t fucking care, Jungkook.”

You feel your chest begin to burn, and your eyes begin to gloss over but you won’t cry. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

“I want nothing to do with you.”

You stare at the phone in your hands as you begin ordering your Uber when he yanks it from your hands once again, he hides the phone in his back pocket and you snarl.

“What the hell Jeon?”

“I said I am driving you home so we can talk so that’s what we are gonna fucking do, okay?” he grabs your hand and begins walking you towards the front door. There’s something about Jungkook...you decide to listen. You watch silently as he puts on his shoes and grabs his wallet and keys.

“Okay…” you finally answer, your voice timid.

He said you guys are going to talk but the car ride has been mostly silent save the low radio playing in the background. Maybe it’s better this way, you think. You aren’t sober, that’s for sure but you also don’t think you are drunk enough to handle this properly. You decide maybe that’s also for the best.

“You sir, are a fucking asshole.” You speak up, your fingers playing with the zipper of your purse. The car smells like it always does, his fresh laundry car freshener and you get sucked into a million memories linked with this scent.

“I know.” Jungkook eyes you from the driver seat, you shiver from the running AC and so he turns it down, “There’s a blanket in the back if you want to grab it.”

“No thanks, don’t know where that’s been.”

“It’s clean, I promise.”

Your eyes go wide as you recall his last promise to you…”Just a few days. I promise.”

“Yeah, I don’t actually believe in your promises anymore.” You continue to pick at the zipper of your purse, your eyes never leaving the zig and zag of the material.

“I needed space y/n, fucking sue me.” He groans out, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“Oh I wish I could.” You snap back.

You feel your chest burn and tighten again, your eyes slightly watering. You have to force them shut to keep from any tears growing.

“I called and texted you every day.” You whisper, his grip getting tighter on the steering wheel.

“I gave you a few days Jungkook. But I never heard from you until 11 at night one night telling me you are fucking moving out.”

“I know, that was…fucked up, I admit. But I had to do what I had to do and I just wish you would let me explain that—”

“No.” you cut him off, “You don’t deserve to explain anything.”

“You mean so much to me y/n…”

“Don’t.”

Jungkook pulls over on the side of the road, turning off the ignition.

“What are you doing?” you sputter out.

He clicks his seatbelt off his body and turns to face you, “Getting comfortable.”

“Why?”

“Will you look at me?” Jungkook tilts his head towards you, “Will you please look at me?”

“No.” you stay facing forward, your hands folded in your lap.

“y/n…please.” His voice sounds strained and you almost feel bad. Almost, but not quite.

You don’t need this…you don’t need him. Ouch, you feel pain in your chest as you think that…oh, the lies you tell yourself.

“Say what you need to say Jungkook, so you can take me home.” Your face stays neutral.

Jungkook sighs out, feeling almost defeated, but not quite.

“I…I am so sorry.” He finally says.

“About what?”

“Everything y/n.” his voice cracks and somehow you feel satisfied.

“You’ll have to be more specific if you ever want my acceptance”

“I know…the first thing I am sorry for is not telling you about Taehyung. That was…that was wrong of me—”

“No shit, but go on.” Your voice stays steady as you speak.

“I was worried about other shit, I was selfish and it’s taking me a long time to forgive myself…but I’ve thought a lot about it these last few months and—and…”

“Oh? You’re worried about you forgiving yourself? Shouldn’t you be a little more concerned about I don’t know, me?”

Jungkook frowns at your words, because well, you’re right. And he’s getting to that part but you keep interrupting him. But he lets you.

“Yes. I am most worried about you, of course.” He breathes out. “You have no idea what these 3 months without you have felt like…”

“Really Jungkook? If anyone knows its fucking me. I went 3 months without you too. You left me!” you start to lose your composure as you speak, your hands gripping on to your poor purse. “When I was going through a really hard time you straight up left me.” You whisper.

“Please believe me…I had my reasons. It was truly for the best y/n.”

“For the best?” you scoff. “You’re such an asshole.”

Jungkook winces at your words, he knows you mean them and that hurts him even more.

“Can you just trust me?” Jungkook blurts out.

Huh? You shake your head, disappointed he would say something so …well, ridiculous.

“Just stop, Jungkook.” You hesitantly roll your eyes, still shaking your head.

Jungkook licks his lips over and over, trying to figure out his next words.

“I really really,” he begins to lose it, his eyes darting all around the car. “just need you to trust me.” He blinks repeatedly, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular.

You, of course, do not believe your ears. Trust him? How could you possibly trust him?

“I just really…I really had my reasons y/n. And I’m sorry, but I just need you to just trust me, that I had my reasons and that I do care about you.” His voice is shaky and you’re uncertain how to take this information.

“I’m confused…” you begin, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You want me to trust you? Even after you left me? Even after I ‘threw myself’ at you?!”

“You weren’t in the right head space y/n…you were vulnerable and…and you didn’t actually want me. You just were feeling used and rejected and needed something to make you feel wanted. To feel better. You wanted to use me for that and I couldn’t let you. But how much could I handle? You liked one of my friends, dated him…sort of, even slept with him and I had to be your shoulder to cry on when,” his breathing picks up heavily as he tries to speak, “it doesn’t matter.” He grits out.

You sit there…speechless. He wasn’t wrong, was he? You were feeling lost and rejected and used and you just wanted something or someone to feel better and who better than your best friend? But it’s also his fault you needed things to work out with Taehyung in the first place!

“Jungkook—”

“I’m not done.” He breathes out, his hot breath reaching your skin.

“I needed some space to think. But I realized I couldn’t properly think things through if I saw you every day, so yeah, I moved out. I’m sorry…” He runs a hand through his hair, a light chuckle makes it way past his lips “Then I met Vanessa.”

“I don’t want to talk about your little girlfriend.” You turn to face forward in your seat, your eyes glancing at the stop sign ahead.

“I told you, she’s not my girlfriend. But it is complicated.”

You continue to look straight ahead, your heart racing in your chest. The subject of “Vanessa” making you feel anxious.

“Complicated how?” you gulp.

“Don’t worry about it.” He laughs to himself, you turn your head to look at him.

“Are you serious, Jungkook?”

“We fuck y/n.”

“But it’s more than that right?”

“Yeah…” Jungkook bites down on his lip.

You look at him bewildered.

“Do you like her? Love her?”

You grip your purse in your lap, waiting for his answer. How would you feel if he answers yes? Are you brave enough to endure that answer? And if he says no? should you be happy? Should you feel relieved?

“No.” he closes his eyes, he folds his hands in front of him. “It’s complicated.”

You sign in relief—oh. Relief is the emotion you are feeling. Why? Why should it matter?

“Why are you telling me all of this?” you whisper.

“I want to be friends again, y/n.” he says softly, his eyes searching yours.

This is madness, how the hell could you save this friendship? Your face scrunches up and the first couple of tears slide down your cheeks, you shake your head as they continue to fall.

“You don’t know how this makes me feel…” you cry out. “I don’t even know how it makes me feel.”

You miss him, so fucking much and he’s right here offering himself to you. But you ‘re so hurt.

“y/n…I know I hurt you. But you gotta believe me when I say it is the hardest thing I have had to do…you understand that right? I had to do it…you understand right?” he begs.

“You were so quick to abandon me, Jungkook.” You drop your head into your hands, the tears uncontrollable now.

“I…” Jungkook begins to panic, his own eyes glossing over. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Please y/n…I can make it up to you.”

“Things would never be the same, you get that right?” you bawl into your lap, your words coming out broken.

“Please baby, I just need you in my life again…” Jungkook admits, his own words choppy. He reaches his hand to touch you, to his surprise you don’t flinch. His hand cups the back of your head and he begins to massage it softly.

“I have missed you so much and nothing I mean nothing can replace you.” He hesitates to continue, “trust me…I have tried.”

You sob into your hands harder, the weight of his words crushing you.

“I’m sorry Jungkook but I…I don’t believe you.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as he absorbs your words, his mouth falls open in shock. Don’t believe him?

“What—what do you mean? What are you saying?” his panic filled voice makes your stomach churn.

“I reject your offer. Now please take me home.” You lift your head and stare straight ahead. “I’m serious.”

Jungkook face twists into a bewildered expression, he doesn’t believe his ears. You…reject him?

“Wait—”

“I said take me home now.” This time you snap your face in his direction, the cold look in your eyes piercing his very soul.

“Okay.”

Hopeless: the dictionary describes it as without hope ; despairing. But in reality, it’s just a picture of Jungkook’s poor, poor face.

Jungkook parks in his designated spot in the lot of his apartment complex, he reverses in because why the hell not. So extra. His drive home was silent… not even the radio on a low volume keeping him company, just complete silence. He turns the car off but doesn’t make a move to get out, he just continues to sit here in his car and sigh out dramatically every 5 seconds.

He’s so confused and lost on what to do. He bangs his head against the steering wheel a few times just for the hell of it, he just…he didn’t think you would reject him. But honestly? Can he blame you? All he’s done lately is be selfish and mess up over and over again. But he wishes you could just trust him but he also wishes he could just tell you the truth. Maybe then you could understand his position and you wouldn’t be mad at him anymore. But he has to wait.

Jungkook’s head is still banging against the steering wheel when more thoughts of you bombard his mind. His breathing picks up and he starts to sniffle, he doesn’t want to cry but you just…you don’t want anything to do with him. He balls his hands into fists and hit the steering wheel over and over causing the horn to go off a few times but he doesn’t care he’s so upset, he just….

When Jungkook saw you tonight for the first time in 3 months he swears his heart actually stopped. He swears it raced so quickly that it just stopped. He let go of Vanessa’s hand so quickly because he wanted to rush to you and hug you close, he wanted to just feel you. Not having touched your skin for the last 3 months…he doesn’t want to imagine even another day.

A few tears slip past his closed lids, he chuckles darkly as he recalls you and Nick. He thought, wow, the universe is cruel and also hilarious. His fucking roommate? He shakes his head, laughing again but his lips remain downward. He feels so fucking helpless right now. But he deserves this, he deserves to feel this pain. He did this to himself and he’s fully aware of that.

Jungkook thinks of your face, he thinks of your smile, he thinks of your eyes and he cries harder, his tears landing on the steering wheel and sliding down landing on to his lap. Yes, he feels like all hope is lost but he knows he cannot give up. He will win you over again one day. He lifts his head and wipes his tear streaked cheeks with the back of his hand and breathes out steadily.

“y/n…” he whispers to himself. Your name leaves his mouth in frustration. He won’t give up. He can’t.

~~~~

“And they were roommates?!” Jimin shouts, a banana half sticking out of his mouth, Trina gasps and whispers “Oh my god they were roommates.”

“Yeah, it was a total shit show.” You bang your head against your breakfast table. Holly rubs your back as she sits next to you.

“Then what happened?” she pries further.

“Yeah what the hell happened y/n!” Jimin yells out.

“He asked to be friends again…and I totally rejected him. Maybe I was too harsh? He was so sad guys…it makes me think…I might agree to kind of being…friends?”

Jimin shuts his eyes as a frown decorates his face, he places a hand on his hip and he inhales a sharp breath, “Listen…you’re both my friends and of course I want you to be good again…but he hurt you …bad.”

“I know Jiminie, but his reasons…” you bite your lip, “Never mind.”

“Well, I don’t like it.” Trina butts in. “He fucking left you, remember?”

“Yes Trina, I fucking remember—”

“Then fucking act like it!”

“Trina relax,” Holly intervenes. “They have a long history, right? It’s hard to just forget about everything…”

Jimin stands from his chair, hands on both hips. “Fine, if we are doing this…then you better actually try. Don’t half ass shit, if you’re going to be friends then don’t be an asshole to him, don’t make snarky remarks…I know your ass.”

Jimin has a good point, you haven’t actually thought about how you will act.

“I’ll be a good girl.” You raise your right arm to salute him.

“Fucking smart ass.” He rolls his eyes.

“Are we serious right now?” Trina shakes her head, “You moped around for 3 fucking months y/n. You cried every time you even thought of Jungkook…which was a fucking lot.” She points out, “Listen, you stayed strong when you talked to him in the car. Don’t break just because you feel bad for the dude because he’s fucking pitiful. He doesn’t deserve your pity girl. He’s an asshole!”

“Trina, be nice.” Holly says sternly, reaching forward to grab on to Trina’s hand. Trina visibly relaxes and nods her head towards Holly and smiles softly.

You and Jimin share a look. Are they….?

“You…” You slam your eyes shut, Trina’s words ringing loudly in your ears. You know she’s right. “I’ll think about it some more. For now, I gotta get ready for work.”

~~~~

“Doesn’t Hazel look so pretty here?” Adam shoves his phone in your face as he gushes about his girlfriend.

“Yes dude, she’s so pretty.” You deadpan. “Now can you please put the brownies in the oven? We’re low.”

“Wait wait…here’s one of us together at the park.” He nudges his phone in your hands, you roll your eyes but you take it.

The two of them are sitting on a park bench, she’s leaning into his frame and they both have wide smiles on their faces. They seem so in love. And you know they are because fucking Adam reminds you every 20 seconds.

“Their love makes me sick.” Jade walks over, her hands patting down on her work apron, her tone is bland but she still tries to smile. “Like, we get it.”

“Who loves who more?” you begin with a toothy grin, “Adam to Hazel or Lenny to the sugar cookies?” you laugh while pointing at said Lenny stuffing his face with the reject cookies. Jade and Adam chuckle while they stare at him.

“Hey guys, really?” Lenny says with his mouth full. “You know I feel bad when we throw them away.” He pouts, crumbs decorating his lips.

“Lenny I catch you eating fresh ones all the time!” Adam points out.

“Sometimes they’re a little ugly…” Lenny reasons, “So I…”

“You don’t have to explain my guy, you just really love your cookies.” You hand Adam back his phone as you head towards the walk in freezer to take out the brownies yourself. You load up a tray and stick those suckers in the oven.

“You’re useless Adam.” Jade sticks a piece of gum in her mouth and chews obnoxiously “U-s-e-l-e-s-s. Useless.”

“You’re always so mean to me Jade what did I ever do to you?”

All 4 of you shoot your heads up when you hear the bell go off on the door of the bakery, its loud chime signaling the arrival of a customer.

“Oh.” Jade says while popping a bubble. “It’s your usual customer y/n.”

You tilt your head towards the front of the store to get a look at who she is talking about, and yup its him. Your most consistent customer who orders the same damn thing every single day. 2 oatmeal raisin cookies and that’s it.

“Can someone else just take care of him today?” you whine, “I’m not in the mood to argue.”

“You know he’s just going to ask for you…” Lenny says stuffing his face with another cookie.

“God damn it.” You huff out, you grab two gloves from the box on the counter and begin walking towards the front of the store.

You reach the front counter and take in your enemy—you mean, your customer.

“And what do I owe the pleasure Mister Oatmeal Raisin?” you raise a brow towards the man. He’s only a few inches taller than you, his hair is a sandy color today and you hate to admit it looks good on him.

“You know you could just call me by name.” the man sways side to side with a smirk on his face.

“I like Mister Oatmeal Raisin.”

He has been coming to this store for the last couple of months and you two…don’t necessarily get along swimmingly. He complains a lot and is a total smart ass. And you? Well, you’re not much better.

“Well, I’ll have my usual.” He smiles, “And you know the drill, please make sure there is a normal amount of raisins and not a million, I don’t want 8 raisins a bite. But one every now and then.”

You roll your eyes extremely dramatically, pressing the buttons on the screen for his order.

“Sir yes sir.” You salute towards him, “How could I not know the drill?”

“That’s the spirit.”

You spin on your heels and head towards the back to heat up his two cookies. You carefully select one cookie with barely any raisins and one cookie with a million, just like he didn’t want. You cackle to yourself as you place them in the baggy, feeling beyond satisfied.

“How haven’t you gotten fired?” Adam crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you, “And how hasn’t he complained about you? You do this every time I don’t get it.”

“He likes her.” Jade says plainly while scrolling through her phone.

“As fucking if!” you scoff, “He wants nothing but to annoy me!” But you can’t help but smile.

“He literally only asks for you every time you’re in.” Lenny reasons, “but you shouldn’t like him back…he likes the worst cookie on the menu. Sugar is where it’s at.”

You laugh at your coworker while walking back up towards the front of the store, reaching the counter.

“Your cookies!” you hand him the baggy with an evil smirk, “I hope you enjoy them.” You wink.

The man opens the baggy and inspects each cookie and with his own evil smirk he winks back at you, “Are we serious right now?” his sly smile doesn’t leave his face as he begins to complain, “You are such a brat.”

“$4 Mister Oatmeal Raisin.”

He hands you the cash, you put it away quickly and with a wide smile you gesture towards the door for him to leave.

“Min Yoongi.” He shakes the bag of cookies in front of him, “Not Mister Oatmeal Raisin.” He turns around and starts walking towards the door but before he exits he tilts his head to look at you one last time, “See you tomorrow…y/n.”

You feel a harsh blush creep up on your cheeks, or your whole face actually. Maybe your whole body. You feel taken aback he knows your name but then you remember you have a god damn name tag.

“Uh…yeah.”

“See you tomorrow…y/n.” all 3 of your coworkers mock in a deep voice.

“Shut up guys!” you whine into your hands, “Can we please just get back to work!”

~~~~~

A few weeks later

The drive to Jimin’s is a quick 7 minutes but you did take a little detour. You decided to stop at the pizzeria that’s on the way and grab a hot pizza for the two of you.

“Hehe.” You look over to the steamy food sitting in the passenger seat.

Jimin has been such a great friend to you all this time and you feel like you’ve never really thanked him…so, tonight you two are going to have a fun night in—he just doesn’t know it yet.

Who doesn’t love being surprised with food?

You pull up to Jimin’s apartment complex and after driving in circles you finally find a parking spot. You grab your purse, your backpack, and the pizza and make your way up to his apartment.

You knock on his front door a few times but get no answer. Maybe he’s not home? No, you definitely hear music coming from the other side…so, you decide to call him.

“Hello?”

“Jimin~ let me in!” you sing into the phone.

“You’re—you’re here?”

“Let me in already!” and with that you hang up and wait patiently outside the door.

A few moments pass before the door is opening up, when Jimin really registers that it’s you he’s kind of closing the door until only his face is shown through the crack.

“Ummm…yes?”

You quirk a brow at the boy, “What do you mean ‘yes?’ let me in!” you begin walking forward when a panicked Jimin opens the door wider to let himself outside and shut the door behind him.

“y/n…why are you here? Did we have plans tonight?” he looks down at the pizza in your hands.

“Not exactly…” you admit, “But I figured we could have a night in.”

Jimin frowns. Fucking frowns!

“Or not?” you say awkwardly.

You hear some sort of banging on the other side of the door and then it clicks.

“Oh? You have someone over?” you smirk.

“Uhhh…no. Nothing like that.” Jimin’s eyes slide to the side as he tries to think of what to say next.

“Babe—”

“Jimin!”

The door is being swung wide open and your eyes travel from some horrendous toes socks to some tight jeans to a striped t shirt to yes, Jungkook’s surprised face.

“Oh.” You both say at the same time.

You and Jungkook stare at one another for a few moments, neither of your eyes leaving the other when Jimin clears his throat.

“Sorry y/n. Jungkook is already over…” he gives you an apologetic smile.

“Is it just you two?” you ask quietly.

“Huh? Uh, yeah.”

You glance down at the pizza and think to yourself. You and Jungkook may not be friends but you can be civil? Yeah, totally! You can definitely be civil! You already bought this fucking pizza so you and Jimin are going to eat it! And you guess, Jungkook too.

“Okay, let me in.” you start shoving your way past Jimin, you watch as his and Jungkook’s eyes go wide.

“Maybe you didn’t hear him, but I am already hanging out with him?” Jungkook sputters out. He awkwardly moves to the side anyway to let you through.

“I can be civil with you Jungkook. Plus, I don’t want this pizza to go to waste. So let’s eat.” You walk through, nudging the pizza box into Jungkook’s hands, he takes it while looking at Jimin with shocked eyes.

Jimin just shrugs and follows you inside.

“Yeah, let’s eat.” He says nonchalantly.

Jungkook is left at the door with the pizza in his hands as he is left completely dumbfounded. He is malfunctioning.

“Jungkook?” you call out over your shoulder, “Hurry up, I’m hungry!”

“Yeah, Jungkook hurry up!” Jimin smirks, he isn’t totally sure what’s going on but he kind of likes it.

“So what were you guys doing before I got here?” you shove an entire slice of pizza down your throat, the sauce getting left behind on your lips.

“I was teaching Jungkook some of my dance moves…we made a bet that he couldn’t learn the entire routine in 3 times…and—”

“Let me guess, he fucking learned it.” You laugh.

Jimin groans, his head thrown back as he begins nodding his head ‘yes.’

“So annoying! What can’t he do!” Jimin throws the pizza crust in the box and Jungkook immediately picks it up and eats it.

“Pshh, I could name a few things.” You point out bitterly. “But we won’t get into that.”

“Yeah, please don’t.” Jimin pleads.

“I’m curious…what is it you think I cant do?” Jungkook quirks a brow at you and your eyes darken in his direction.

“You really want me to?” you take a napkin and wipe your lips, “It’s nothing nice.” You admit.

“Oh then yes, please don’t.” Jungkook is quick to say.

“Yes, please don’t.” Jimin begs again.

The 3 of you are sitting on the living room floor, maybe only 30 minutes or so has passed by and it’s not too awkward. But it’s not necessarily comfortable either. Jimin looks between you and Jungkook constantly, waiting for someone to crack but neither of you really speak to each other. Both of you really only communicating with Jimin.

“So Jimin, are you going to show me another routine?”

“Why? So you can prove you’re the master of everything again? No thanks.”

“Jimin, maybe you can show me a few steps?”

Jimin smiles awkwardly while Jungkook is quick to burst out laughing. You snap your head towards Jungkook and raise your brows at him.

“Why is Jungkook laughing, Jimin?”

“Umm…” Jimin smiles softly, “You aren’t the most…”

Jungkook laughs harder as he watches Jimin trying to explain.

“Aren’t the most…?” You tilt your head towards the boy.

“C’mon y/n don’t make me say it…” Jimin drags out his words in a whine, he plays with his fingers, looking around the room awkwardly.

“Just say it Jimin.” Jungkook chuckles out.

“If you’re trying to say I’m a bad dancer, we all know that’s not true!” you defend once you catch on, you pout at the boys.

“Well…”

“You have both told me I am a good dancer!”

“Well, you know how to move. But steps…following a routine…that’s different. You aren’t very coordinated.” Jimin finally admits, a sheepish grin on his face.

“He means you can roll your hips but your feet are clumsy as fuck.” Jungkook says, still laughing at the situation.

“Shut up.” You glare at Jungkook.

“No, he’s right.” Jimin begins laughing as well, he looks at you and smiles. Well, if Jimin is saying it…maybe it might be true. It’s not like you didn’t kind of know. But still!

“Fine, whatever. Don’t teach me then.”

Suddenly, Jimin’s phone is going off and he rushes to the kitchen to answer it. You and Jungkook eat your pizza in silence, awkwardly catching one another’s gaze.

“So—”

“Don’t talk to me.” You cut in. Jimin isn’t here so it’s not like you have to be totally social with Jungkook.

“Oh.” Jungkook dramatically slumps his shoulders and pouts. You watch him as he throws a silent fit like the baby he is. “Okay.”

Jimin walks back into the living room looking annoyed, he stands between you two and throws a hand on his hip.

“I have to go down to the front office, there was a mix up in packages…I shouldn’t take too long…” he bites down on his plump bottom lip, “Please be civil while I’m gone. Jungkook…” he looks at the boy then at you, “y/n…” he warns.

“Sir yes sir!” you salute towards your friend with a straight face.

Jimin only narrows his eyes as he looks between you two.

“I’m serious…” he says.

Then he is putting on some shoes and heading out the front door, the soft click making you shudder. You’re alone with Jungkook.

A few minutes pass and you both awkwardly just sit there, sometimes catching the other looking. You finally huff out and accidentally giggle.

“What’s funny?” Jungkook’s curiosity getting the best of him.

“It’s just…I feel like we’re Jimin’s divorced parents and we’re trying to be civil for our child.”

Jungkook stares at you with scrunched brows, then looks away while a chuckle escapes his lips.

“Yeah. You’re right.”

You only nod your head in response. You two go back to the awkward silence.

You aren’t used to this…this awkward and odd silence that lingers between you two. It feels so fucking suffocating you almost wish you were on total talking terms so you didn’t have to endure this shit show.

“You know I could…no, forget it.” Jungkook bites his nails as he speaks, “I…”

“What?” you don’t mean to snap at him, but somehow even talking with an attitude feels better than not talking at all.

“I was going to say…I could teach you some steps…then you could surprise Jimin. He’s been working on a salsa piece…I can teach you some? Then maybe he will stop talking shit on your dancing.” Jungkook laughs awkwardly.

“Wait—he talks shit?!” somehow this doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“Only a little.” Jungkook shows you how little with his pointer finger and thumb. “But uh, want me to show you?”

“I don’t even want to talk to you, you think I want to dance with you?” you raise a brow in amusement. You forget this boy has all the audacity.

“Dancing doesn’t have to have any talking.” Jungkook states with a sly smile.

“So you’re just going to show me the steps?”

“Precisely.”

You don’t know why, but this sounds better than actually speaking and/or just sitting in miserable silence. And maybe, just maybe you have a desire to be close to him.

“You think I could learn in time before Jimin gets back?”

“With me as your teacher? Definitely.” He fucking smirks at you and you can’t help but feel that feeling in your stomach. Not necessarily a bad feeling but a fucking feeling.

Jungkook stands to his feet and extends his hand out to you for you to take.

“Here, stand up.”

Your eyes travel from his hands to his eyes and you blink lazily at him…wait, you’re really doing this? He stares down at you and he smiles softly and it creates a warmth in your chest that you’re trying so hard to ignore. You can’t.

Even so, you hesitantly begin to reach up to grab on to his hand, once your skin touches his you feel it. The burning. You should be used to it but right now, the fire is raging and the heat is almost too much. But you let him close his hand over yours as he helps you up.

You’re now standing in front of one another, in complete silence again. But this time it’s not awkward—no, it’s a different type of tension. Your hand lingers in his, neither of you brave enough to let go of the other. Jungkook looks down at you and you up at him, and you feel a million things. But the number one thing you feel is pain. You slowly pull your hand back and break eye contact with him, your head dropping low.

“Show me already.” You whisper.

“Shh, no talking.” Jungkook quietly demands. “Only speak with your body.” He puts some music on the speakers and smirks at you.

Jungkook steps closer to you and you stay grounded in your spot, you can feel the heat of his body begin to radiate and warm you. One of his hands find yours, he weaves his fingers through your own and puts one hand on your hip, he looks down at you to warn you this is how he will guide you.

“Just follow me.”

“You said no talking Mr.Jeon.” you say almost under your breath as you stare into his eyes. Jungkook rolls his head back with a smirk on his face, he looks at you and nods.

He puts his left foot forward and steps with his right foot in the same place at center, then puts his left foot back again. You try to copy his moves but even with such simple steps you step on his feet. He looks up at you disapprovingly. You only smile at him.

You two continue to try these steps until you finally manage to understand them even just a little bit. Jungkook brings your body closer to his as you two move your hips to the music while following the simple steps. His chest flush against your own, his heart beating so loudly you can feel it. Your heart isn’t any better. You start to finally get the hang of it, the music slowly taking you to another place. Jungkook moves his hips to the beat so flawlessly and honestly? You’re doing pretty fucking good if you do say so yourself.

Jungkook’s grip on your hip tightens as he grinds himself closer to you, you feel lightheaded as you two dance to the song. Your breathing getting just a little heavier and you feel lost and pathetic but you’re too immersed in the dance to care. Jungkook finds his head falling into the crook of your neck, his hot breaths fanning against your sensitive skin and you find your hand skimming up his back until you have a handful of his hair. You lightly tug on his locks and Jungkook quietly groans. You don’t know if you’re even doing the right steps anymore, your feet moving all around the place, but somehow it’s working. You’re still following his lead and you’re sure the dance looks somewhat okay. All you care about is how both of your hips move to the beat of the music and into each other. You two are so in sync its driving you nuts.

Jungkook lifts his head and watches as you close your eyes and he closes his own eyes, his head falling forward, your foreheads close to touching. You feel so dizzy, so light and airy, so fucking great like you’re floating. You can’t help but feel the heat creep up your entire body, you feel sweat start to build as you two move. You tighten your hands around Jungkook’s neck and pull him down impossibly close, until his forehead is touching yours. Your harsh breaths mingling with his. You get dragged into the memory of when he had you pinned to his dorms mattress, you recall how his lips left kisses all along your throat, his hot breath reminding you of the past. You think of how he rolled his hips into you effortlessly then as well, you think of how you scraped your nails down his back as he thrusted into you. God, you need to think of something else but Jungkook is filling your mind.

Jungkook’s breathing picks up again, as does yours. Your memories making this dance that much more sensual. You remember the way Jungkook nibbled on your ear as he let filthy words spill from his mouth when he fucked you. God, you should not be thinking this but his body feels so good. God, you should think of anything…literally anything else. You remember how he held you close much like how he is right now. You two continue dancing to the song that is soon coming to an end. You know exactly how it feels to have Jungkook inside you, moving and stilling. You know exactly what it feels like to come all around his cock. God, you need to stop. You need to slow your breathing. God, you…you…you...he continues to guide you along to the music when you feel something hard poke against you. Oh. Oh. OH. Hard. He’s hard.

Immediately, you pull back and take several clumsy steps backward. You blink at him with wide eyes when you realize that maybe he was recalling the same memories as you. Your wide eyes concerning Jungkook.

“Okay, that’s enough lessons for today.” Your harsh breaths don’t go unnoticed by Jungkook, his own breathing quite unsteady.

“Right.” Jungkook mumbles.

You two stand around for a few moments, just taking in the experience you just shared.

You still feel…how do you feel? You just shared a hot dance with your best friend? Wait—ex best friend? You don’t know. The memory of his body moving with yours, his skin touching your skin, his breaths on your neck, his hair balled up in your hands. God, it felt so good.

But so wrong.

“Umm…thanks.” You finally say.

Jungkook perks up at the gratitude, even if it’s somewhat forced. His frown turns into a small smile and you can’t help but smile back.

“I miss you y/n.” Jungkook instantly regrets it by the look on your face. Your expression turning hard. “Sorry I—”

“No, I miss you too.” You answer honestly. “But this doesn’t change anything.”

“But why not? Do you really not want me in your life for like, ever?”

Jungkook’s questions settle deep within you. The depth they hold…it’s too much. You wonder? Is this anti-Jungkook thing permanent? Or are you just trying to teach him a lesson?

Jungkook rubs his temples as he thinks, he sighs out instead of talking more.

“Not forever.” You finally say. Jungkook looks at you, a sliver of hope flashes across his face.

“But when?” he asks softly.

Yeah y/n. When? You know you both can’t go back to how things use to be but maybe starting over? God, you don’t know what to do! You know someone like Trina will be disappointed you became friends with Jungkook again so quickly, but you know someone like Jimin would be happy his two friends are back to being on okay terms. Why are you trying to please everybody? What do you want?

“Will you ever give up?” you say a little more lightly.

“No…” he says under his breath, his eyes focusing on the TV. “Not until you agree to be my friend again.”

You look at Jungkook with disbelief written all over your face, this boy has the fucking audacity once again. You’re amused though.

“Excuse me?” you say, cleaning your ear out with your point finger. “I didn’t catch that.”

Jungkook looks into your eyes, his eyes are large and doe like and it brings you back to every moment ever that he has given you this look.

“You’re stuck with me until you love me again.” He says more firmly.

“Who said,” you look at him with soft eyes, “That I ever stopped loving you?”

Jungkook smiles, he fucking smiles. His adorable bunny smile that makes your heart race.

“You still love me?”

“Only a little.” You jut your lip out, “I mostly hate you.”

Jungkook only frowns for a second before he is smiling again, “That’s fair.”

The two of you stand in comfortable silence for a few minutes, you sway back and forth wondering what you want to say to him—you miss him, of course but…

“Let’s take it slow.” You finally break the silence. You miss him more than anything and it might be worth it to have him in your life again, “You aren’t going to be a priority in my life anymore.” You crack you knuckles, the sound filling up the room.

“I know,” Jungkook feels his heart twist at your words but at least it’s something. “We can go however slow you want y/n.”

“You are on—”

“Thin fucking ice, buddy. I know.”

You exhale a shaky breath, thinking about how to go about this, “We can text every now and then, I’m not sure I want to hang out with you quite yet.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe a group hang out first…”

“I’d like that.”

Jungkook reaches over to grab your hand but you pull back, “That’s a no from me for the affection.”

Hurt flashes across Jungkook’s features but he softens up as he nods his head. “Noted.”

You wonder if you’re making the right decision. This wasn’t easy, you know? This actually felt quite hard. But somehow you feel like some weight has been lifted off your shoulders, like things maybe just maybe will be okay.

“I won’t push myself on you, I promise.” Jungkook sits back down on the floor, crossing his legs.

“Just be yourself, Jungkook.”

“If I wanted to be myself I would be hugging you right now but that’s apparently off limits.” He jokes.

“One hug.” You open your arms timidly. You feel one hug can’t be too bad?

Jungkook widens his eyes in pleasant surprise. He stands to his feet again and opens his own arms.

“C’mere.”

You watch in disbelief as he grins with his arms wide open, expecting you to go to him! And you do. You fucking do.

His arms wrap around you, he pushes you into his chest and you feel so fucking good. So warm, so cozy. His scent making you feel dizzy again, his warmth causing you to heat up. You lean back and look at his content face, he honestly looks so fucking content. Like, this hug is everything to him. And maybe it is, but you don’t know that.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” you both snap your heads toward the front door to see Jimin standing there with a package in his hands.

“I can come back later?” he smirks at you two.

“No no no no!” you drop your arms from hugging Jungkook and take a few steps back, “We were just—”

“We made up, Jimin.” Jungkook says calmly with the softest smile you’ve ever seen on him.

“We’re taking it slow!” you rush to say.

“Oh?” Jimin winks, he walks forward until he’s in the living room joining you two. “Does this mean you will be joining us this Thursday at Jungkook and Nick’s place?”

“Huh?”

Jungkook shifts on his feet, “Yeah, uh, me and Nick are having a small get together on Thursday…you can bring whoever you want…but you’re definitely invited.”

“Before I answer that…Jimin how did you not know about Nick and him being Jungkook’s roommate?”

“Listen! Jungkook is always HERE! I never go over there! The few times I was there Nick was never home okay?!” Jimin whines obnoxiously.

“Okay, whatever. And Jungkook, I said—”

“You said group hang outs.” Jungkook pouts.

Oh. You did say that. But this soon? And is she going to be there?

You chew on your lips before answering, “Okay. But I’m bringing Trina and Holly.”

“Oh bro, Trina is not your biggest fan.” Jimin cuts in.

“Yeah, I know how she is I already anticipated that.” Jungkook shrugs, he looks at you with a small smile.

Okay, starting over? Taking it slow? Can you and Jungkook do this? You look between the boys and smile,

“Okay. See you boys on Thursday.”

[dakarimainink]

Rooftop Drinks

WARNING: Fluff, slight angst, smoochy smooch

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Reader (You)

Wordcount: 1,7K

Note: Not betad, all mistakes are my own.

This is part 2 to the story Night Swim

Masterlist

It was the perfect summer day. The sun was setting behind the tall city buildings, setting the sky on fire and casting long shadows.

With a bottle of your favourite drink in hand, you admired the view from atop your apartment building. Your friend Michael had managed to unlock the door leading up to the roof, allowing you to have a small summer party with your closest friends. The soft hymns from the portable speaker set a relaxing mood. The scent of flowers and warmth made you smile.

“Hey, sorry we’re late.”

Your ears perked up at the familiar voice. You looked over your shoulder and saw Pedro walking through the rooftop door. Your heart fluttered and ached at the same time; it had been six years since you last saw him.

You admitted to yourself he looked just as good as last time, if not better, with a sharper jaw, slightly messy hair and trimmed beard. You had deliberately stayed away from movies you knew he had appeared in, mostly to stop yourself from longing for him, as the ache was too much.

Behind him came an unknown woman. You furrowed your brows at the sight of the young and beautiful woman with long silky-brown hair, pouty lips and shiny blue eyes. She almost clung to Pedro as they stepped onto the roof but threw herself around Sofia with a big bright smile.

“Sofia, it has been forever.” The young lady chimed.

You turned away to gaze back at the view over the city. You felt your heart ache. You didn’t even want to think about it, but you convinced yourself you were happy for him. After all, it had been six years since you last saw each other, even spoken with each other.

“Elle, let me introduce you to the group.” Sofia said. “Over there is Michael, Samantha, Anna and Jonathan, and over there is Y/N.”

You turned around at the sound of your name and quickly nodded at her, mostly out of courtesy. Your eyes were immediately caught by a pair of dark brown orbs staring right at you. You couldn’t hold back the smile stretching out your lips when he had caught your attention.

“Drinks are over there in the cooler.” Sofia added and guided both Elle and Pedro over.

You didn’t know if you should approach them or just stay put. You had missed him. A lot. A lingering pain within you for the past few years. You remember the first time your friends had asked you to join them to the cinema to see Pedro at the big screen, but you had declined, terrified it would be too much for you.

You decided to be the bigger person, you couldn’t continue to ache for a man that clearly wasn’t interested in being more than friends, except now he might not even be interested in that.

You shuffled your way over to your group of friends and sat down next to Anna. She clinked her bottle with yours and you took a sip.

“So tell us, Pedro, how’s New York been treating you?” Samantha asked eagerly.

He rubbed the back of his neck with a breathy chuckle. “Well, with a mix of hard work and luck I seem to have managed to make a somewhat name for myself.”

“I know! You were absolutely amazing in Game of Thrones.” Anna chimed in.

“Yeah dude, Oberyn Fuckin’ Martell.” Michael high fives Pedro with a proud smirk.

“Thanks guys. It’s been quite an adventure.” He admitted and smiled. “I have been missing you though.” His eyes wandered across all of them and stopped at you.

You felt your heart jump at his staring eyes and awkwardly gulped down your drink. A slight blush rose to your cheeks. Why did this man still have such an effect on you?

Sofia placed a deck of UNO cards and two board games on the table. “Let’s play some rounds.” She smiled.

After two hours of drinking, playing games and reminisce over past adventures, you had noticed Elle was clinging more and more onto Pedro. For each touch, giggle and smile, you felt a punch to your guts. You had considered to just leave the party, make up a lie you weren’t feeling well, but a part of you believed it would help you get over him, to see him happy with another woman.

You stood up from your chair and sauntered over to the cooler to grab another drink. Instead of walking back to the table, you walked over to the edge of the rooftop and sat down on the parapet.

“You’re not joining for next round, Y/N?” Anna called from the table.

You turned your head to look at them. “No, I’m out this round.” You reply and turn back your head again. Your eyes slid across the lit streetlights and the small black figures roaming the streets below.

“Hey.” The soft voice tickled your ears and you turned your head to look at Pedro. “This seat taken?” He gestured to the available space on the parapet next to you.

You smiled warmly. “No.”

He sat down next to you with a beer in hand. His eyes stayed on you before he turned to look at the city. “You’ve barely spoken all night, is everything okay?”

You keep your gaze at the tall buildings. “Everything is fine.” You fiddle with the bottle in your hands. “Elle seems like a really nice girl.” You mumbled.

He glanced over at the table before turning back to you. “Yeah, she is.” He replied. “How have you been? We literally haven’t spoken in six years.”

You looked up at him. “I’ve been good.” You lied, feeling that lingering ache in your heart. “And you?”

“I’ve been good, perhaps a bit miserable without you guys, but good. I am sorry I never texted you back, a lot happened and it all drowned away with the acting and then I got a new phone and number and lost all the contacts on my old phone.”

You looked back on the street below. “Don’t apologise, I understand.”

“But I need to apologise, Y/N. I’ve felt terrible the past years, especially the day we were going to meet up for coffee. I tried to call you but didn’t get through for some reason and I never had time to drop by the coffee shop due to me having to leave.”

“Pedro.” You breathed out and looked up at him again. “You don’t need to excuse what happened. I am glad you found success in New York; I am very happy for you.”

The silence lingered between the both of you. Neither sure on how to proceed. It was obvious to Pedro you felt some kind of resentment towards him. He took a sip from his beer and gazed out on the city again.

“Remember the night before I left?” He asked with a smile.

The corners of your lips quirked up at the memory. “Of course I do.”

“Remember I wanted to tell you something?”

“Yeah, I assume you wanted to tell me about New York.”

He turned his head towards you and his dark brown eyes scanned the side of your face. You turned to meet him.

“No.” He breathed out.

“No?”

He chuckled nervously. “I wanted to tell you; that I wanted to kiss you.”

Your jaw lowered at his words. Your heart sped up and you felt your consciousness almost blacked out.

“And I still do.” He admitted and swallowed thickly.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea considering your girlfriend is right over there.”

He furrowed his brows. “Who? Elle?” He sounded surprised. “She’s not my girlfriend, we work together and she is an old friend of Sofia.”

“Oh.” You felt like an idiot. You wanted to bury yourself in a deep black hole, never to return. “I am sorry, I thought…”

Pedro laughed deeply, his laughter vibrating through his chest. “It’s okay, I know she’s very clingy, it’s her way of coping with anxiety. She leans towards people she trusts.” He explained.

You lowered your gaze, feeling like a true idiot.

“But as I said, Y/N…” He placed a warm finger under your chin and lifted it up to meet his eyes. “I still want to kiss you.” While holding your gaze, he slowly leaned forward and stopped a mere inch from your lips. His breath hot breath brushed against your lips.

You leaned forward and lightly claimed his lips. It was soft and gentle, the feeling of longing resonating between you both. His fingers brushed along your jawline to the back of your neck and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss.

Your heart fluttered and a warmth enveloped your body as he parted your lips and begun a slow and erotic dance with your tongue. You lifted your hands and carefully intertwined your fingers in his dark locks.

He placed his other hand on top of your thigh and pulled you closer until your knees bumped. He ended the kiss and sighed out while admiring eyes scanned your features.

“I’ve missed you.” He whispered and tucked a loose hair strand behind your ear.

“I’ve missed you too.”

You smiled at each other. He grabbed your hands and stroked his thumbs across your knuckles. “Y/N, I want this to be something more and I want it to work.” He confessed and held your eyes. “I have wanted this for a long time.”

“Me too.” You admitted and your smile widened. “Let’s give it a try.”

His eyes lit up at your words before leaning forward and capturing your lips once more. One hand slid up to the back of your neck while the other were placed on your hip. He continued the dance between your tongues.

“About time.”

You pulled back and turned to find Jonathan looking at the both of you. Your cheeks burned red.

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to finally get together.” He winked, took a sip from his beer bottle and wandered off to the others.

You looked at Pedro again and chuckled. Jonathan was right, it was about time you finally made it.

(Wanna be added to my tag list for Pedro Pascal and his characters? Let me know.)

(taglist: @lazyunknownwerewolf @rrtxcmt @linnie0119)

[peralta-guaranteed]

“against the window? are you insane?”

“Jake.” Amy’s voice is scolding, as it very often is, but there’s a hint of something more to it, a low buzz of enjoyment.

It might have to do with Jake’s hands currently pulling her sensible work blouse out of her sensible work slacks to travel across the skin hiding underneath it, or his lips making their way across her bent neck, biting down ever so often.

“We’re literally in front of a window-” She tries to be serious again, but his hands have found the button and zip of her sensible work slacks, and it’s kind of hard to keep focussed when his teeth find that spot under her ear.

“It’s a two-way mirror, not a window.” He states, matter-of-fact, as she whines with his hand sliding down into the front of her pants, slipping between her underwear and starting to stroke.

“It’s still- the interrog-ah!” She grabs his wrist to hold him still, but it’s far too late by now, and she can feel his smirk against her jaw as he pushes her hips back against his, lets her feel the fact that she’s not the only one getting improperly excited. “Jake- we’re at work-”

“No one’s in there. The door’s locked.”

“Terry is bringing a perp over in a few minutes-”

“Guess we’ll have to be quick. Or quiet.”

She wants to protest more, but only lets out a gasp when she feels cold air hit her bum, Jake’s free hand having made quick work of her slacks and his own zip. He’s hot and hard against her skin a moment later, rubbing between her thighs and clearly still waiting for her signal, even as his arms pull her back against him. She lets out a soft sigh, angling her hips only a little as he continues to nibble across her shoulder, and that’s more than enough of a sign for him to slide into her with a much louder sigh.

They barely notice the door in the room in front of them opening and closing, don’t really care for the disgruntled perp slamming down into his chair as Terry sits across from him, too lost in their own world of quiet grunts and fast thrusts, Amy linking her arms behind her to hold onto Jake as he pushes her closer and closer to the mirror, and she can’t help it, can’t keep her mouth from falling open with those little noises he usually loves so much-

“You’re too loud.” He whispers into her ear this time, though, well aware that despite the two-way mirror and general secrecy of the observation room, it is in no way soundproof. She whines as her head drops back against his shoulder, biting her lip.

“I ca-can’t-...Jake-”

His hand slips up, covers her lips before she can moan aloud again, presses against them carefully, and only when he feels her nod does he push harder, muffling her noises as he takes up the pace again. Her breath is hot against his fingers, her hands scrambling for purchase on whatever part of his shirt she can grab, and he’s never been this turned on before, this close to finishing before her even as his other hand keeps rubbing against her with every thrust-

-*-

The room he wakes up in is far more serene and quiet, the only noise apart from the street below their apartment being the quiet clink of a coffee cup that Amy places down on his side table before climbing back into bed, smirking as she lets a finger trail over the tent in the duvet covering him.

“Having fun without me, are we?”

“Well, you were there.”

“Aww.” She leans down for a soft good morning kiss, but doesn’t resist much when he wraps her up in a much tighter hug for a much longer kiss.

“We should totally have sex in the observation room.” He mumbles against her lips as they let go, and her raised eyebrow is more than judgemental.

“In your dreams, bud.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Oh, I see.” She rolls her eyes with that soft little smile he loves to wring out of her. “Well, that’s where that fantasy is staying, then.”

“Are you saying you don’t have a list of places at work we could sneak off to?!”

“I do not.”

“But you love lists!”

“Not ones that make me break practically every rule in the handbook-”

“You weren’t that against it when you dragged me off into the locker room to-”

“Remember how that story ended? With the whole dead captain and being found out and everything?”

Jake only huffs in response, and Amy grins as she runs a nail across his pouting lips, pulling it back quickly when he tries to bite it.

“Sorry, babe, but whatever idea your dream conscious has provided you with, the precinct is still off-limits.” She pecks a kiss against his pout instead. “But my apartment isn’t, so...”

Her hand drifts off down towards the duvet again, and he finally grins back.

“Not saying no to that lovely offer, but you gotta admit it’s not the same kind of thrill in bed than being pushed against a two-way-mirror.”

Amy actually seems to consider that for a moment, and he can see the ideas running through her head before she pins him down with a look that is very promising.

“There’s a one-way mirror in the bathroom, at least.”

And he’s never against joining his brilliant girlfriend in the bathroom, but he’s sure he’s also never pulled her in there as fast as he does now.

[noladyme]

You and Me makes Three - Part 1

Lyla moved to San Fransisco for work, and for a fresh start. The standoffish guy across the hall of her sublet peaks her interest in more ways than one; and when he finally opens up, she jumps at the chance to get to know him; and whatever it is his dark secret is.

Eddie Brock x OC Lyla

TW: smut and fluff

1.

I’d found the sublet on craigslist; which I came to regret, when meeting the current tenant. Ziggy – as the guy called himself – turned out to be a long haired ultra-deuche; who’d spent most of our first meeting looking down my top, and talking about his upcoming tour of Illinois, with his band; Dirty Riders. I’d had my share of adventures with guys in bands; but in Ziggy’s case, I could literally smell the perfume from the chick he’d probably banged the night before.

After spending 20 minutes trying to distract me from the task at hand; I finally got him back on track, and we’d come to an agreement on the rent for the 3 months I’d be using his place. It was steep, but after having landed the job at a private school – and having been asked to start the week after – I needed a home; if only temporarily, while I looked for something else.

With most of my stuff in storage; all I had with me the day I was supposed to move in, was a couple of suitcases; and three boxes of essentials – like my books, pens and notes. And of course, my computer – my lifeline.

The neighborhood wasn’t the greatest; so, when I realized the door phone wasn’t working, and the Zigster wasn’t answering his cell, I was lightly panicking. I was standing alone on a street in a new city; with my most valued belongings, and no way to get out of there; as the cab that had brought me, took off as soon as the driver got my last box out of the trunk.

I kept calling Ziggy, and pounding the button for the apartment; but nothing came of it. I sat down on the doorstep, and was just about ready to cry; when a guy in his 30’s, wearing a casual leather jacket, walked up to the door with a key. “Excuse me”, he muttered, pulling out his keys. I looked up at him. It was hard making out his eye-color – blues, greens and browns meshed together to make a color all of its own. I found myself caught up in trying to distinguish the different shades in them; when I realized that he was about to unlock the door, and walk in.

“Hey”, I said. “Do you live here?”. He sent me a friendly but reserved smile; making me also notice his full lips; and the way his front teeth were just a little bit crooked – just enough to make him look interesting. “Yeah”, he said. “I do… Can I help you?”. I let out a relieved smile. “I live here too”, I said. “Or, I’m supposed to… I’m subletting from Ziggy”. He raised his brows. “You’re a friend of Ziggys?”. “Not exactly”, I scoffed. “He’s leaving town for a few months, and is letting me use his place… but the door-phone isn’t working, and he isn’t picking up his cell”.

The man seemed to be having an internal dialogue, before coming to a conclusion. “Yeah. Ok… come on in”. “Thank you!”, I smiled; almost crying in relief. I picked up my suitcases, as he unlocked the door, and carried them inside; after which I got the first two boxes – the man holding the door for me. I thought I heard him mutter “Fine!” under his breath, before he stepped outside, grabbing the last box for me. “Oh crap! Careful, that’s heavy”, I managed to say; before he groaned from the weight of the many books, I’d stored in it. “Shit, no kidding”, he grunted.

He put the box down just inside the door. “Do you need help up the stairs?”, he asked; obviously hoping for me to say no. I smiled and shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. But thanks!”, I said. I stuck out my hand to shake his, and told him my name. “I’m Eddie”, he answered. “I guess we’re neighbors. I live across the hall from Ziggy”. “Thanks for the help, Eddie”, I grinned. “I’m Lyla… by the way”. “Nice to meet you”, he muttered. He walked up the stairs, sending me an inquisitive look over his shoulder.

Five trips up and down the stairs later; I finally had all my things outside Ziggys door. I tried calling him again; and heard a phone ring behind the door. You’ve got to be kidding me! I banged the door. “Ziggy! I’m here”, I yelled. “Open up, you dick”, I added, below my breath. I looked behind me, at what was apparently Eddies door; and saw something move behind the peephole.

I banged the door again. “Ziggy?”. Someone coughed and moved around some stuff behind the door; and Ziggy finally opened; looking at me with a seriously hungover expression. “Fuck. What’s today?”, he rasped. “Wednesday”, I said exasperatedly. His eyes widened. “Shit, beautiful. I’m so sorry!”, he said smilingly. “Come one in!”. “My name is Lyla”, I reminded him, and stepped in behind him. “Lyla-licious”, Ziggy sniggered; making me want to barf violently.

The studio apartment was, if possible, worse than I had imagined. A heavy smell of incense, weed and stale beer hung over the room; and a collection of bongs shaped like female torsos sat on a shelf. Ziggy had decorated the wall over his bed with posters of his own band.

Ziggy scrambled to get his things together. Apparently, he’d not packed up his things for the upcoming tour of steakhouses, coffeeshops and dive-bars throughout Illinois. “Let me just get this…”, he smirked at me; before rubbing himself as close as possible to me to get to a pack of xxl-condoms on a shelf in the kitchen area. “You know, if you need it, you’re welcome to hang around after I get back”. “I’m gonna be pretty focused on getting something permanent set up”, I smiled; swallowing bile. “Absolutely, yeah. That’s so cool”, he said; leaning against the counter I was standing by. “Just let me know, ok?”. He put his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it. “Sure…”, I said, and stepped back; going to check out the rest of the space.

It was one room – combined livingspace/bedroom/kitchen. A small bathroom with – thank God! – a bathtub; which was going to need some serious cleaning before I’d even put a foot in it. But it was mine… at least for the next three months. It’s not a lot, I thought to myself. But I can work with this.

Ziggy seemed to have his stuff packed up; and was standing in the doorway to the small bathroom; blocking my exit. He had a guitarcase casually hanging from one shoulder. “So… I’m ready to go”, he smirked. I nodded and half smiled. “Keys?”, I said. “Right. Here…”. He handed me a set of keys “If I get any mail…”. “I’ll let you know; once a week, like we agreed”. “Yeah”, he smirked and nodded; looking me over like I was edible. “So, I’ll call you?”. I swallowed bile again. “Yup”, I said, and reached out my hand to shake his. He took it; and held on to it; letting his thumb stroke my fingers. I will tear off your arm if you don’t let go, I thought to myself.

“Take care, Lyla”, he said; and winked at me; before finally moving away from the doorframe; and grabbing his bags to leave. “Shit, I forgot. The guy across the hall… he’s kind a of weird. Be careful, ok?”. “Sure…”, I muttered, and walked after him to the door, closing it behind him. I let out an audible sigh of relief, and put on the door chain.

---

I opened the windows, and got to cleaning. An old ashtray shaped like an avocado, turned out to be an actual shell of an avocado; and for the third time that day, I almost vomited. Riffling through some old dusty cd’s of Ziggys, I found a Fleetwood Mac album. “Yes!”, I cried out. At least you have that going for you, Ziggy, I thought – until I realized he’d never unwrapped the cellophane around the cover. I unwrapped it myself, put on the album; and skipped to my favorite song; singing along to the lyrics. “… well, I’ve been afraid of changing, ‘cuz I built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older…”.

Someone knocked on the door. For a second, I was afraid Ziggy had changed his mind about touring, and had come back. I opened the door slightly, leaving the chain on. Outside stood Eddie. “Hi”, I said cautiously. He seemed warmer. “Hey. I think you dropped this in the hallway”. He was holding one of my notebooks. I unlatched the chain, and opened the door fully, taking the book from him. “Weird”, I said. “I could swear I’d packed it in the bottom of one of the boxes”. Eddie smiled nervously. “Well… maybe it jumped out”, he said. “Maybe”, I chuckled. “Thanks”.

He lingered. “The music…”, he said. “I’m sorry. Is it too loud?”, I asked. He shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine”, he said. “Just different than what usually comes out of this apartment”. I laughed. “Yeah… The Zigster seems to have a very specific taste”. “Yeah?”, Eddie smiled. “You should see his collection”, I said. He nodded and smiled crookedly. “Maybe… sometime”.

I noticed the door to his apartment was open. It seemed like the mirror opposite of mine. Just less disgusting. I met Eddies eyes. I still couldn’t figure out the color of them – all I could conclude was that they were… kind. I would have lost myself in them, if he hadn’t turned to walk back into his own place. “Uhm, Eddie?”, I said. He looked at me again. “Could you point me in the direction of a good… grocery store?”. Idiot… He scratched his head. “Yeah, I mean… I do most my shopping at Mrs. Chens, down the street”, he said. “Just don’t tell her you know me. She’ll try to sell you meditation tapes and scented candles”. I laughed. “A scented candle wouldn’t hurt this place”, I said. “Ziggy left behind some pretty gnarly smells”. He laughed. “He’s a… special guy”. Our eyes met again for a moment. Eddie seemed to want to say something else, but then his eyes moved, as if he was listening to something. “I gotta go”, he said; and went into his apartment, closing the door. He's strange, I thought. But something inside me wanted to figure him out.

---

The next few days went by without much happening. I finally finished cleaning my new living-space – except for the mattress. I couldn’t get myself to sleep on it, after I’d taken of the old bedding left behind by Ziggy; and finding quite a few stains I didn’t even want to touch with rubber-gloves – so I’d slept on the couch so far.

Once, I’d run in to Eddie by the mail slots; exchanging a friendly helloand a smile. He seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the door, carrying a messenger-bag and a motorcycle helmet. I noticed him opening his own slot. It had E. Brock, written with bold letters on it. Watching him walk away down the hall to the door; I couldn’t help but bite my lip and smile. He moved like he was late for something; but at the same time didn’t want anyone to tell him when he was supposed to get there. Like some kind of internal struggle, I just wanted to unwrap and explore.

Saturday morning, I woke up early for once, craving coffee and carbs. I had neither of those things in the kitchen; so, I got dressed in my favorite jeans and a light, loose t-shirt, to head out and track something down. As I was still new to San Francisco, I wasn’t sure about how the weather would be in October. I brought my short leather jacket. Just in case. I put a notebook and a pen in my shoulder-bag, and was off.

Outside the building I grabbed a free paper to have something to read. I took a streetcar towards the Mission District; enjoying the sunshine and smells from food carts we passed. Hunger was about to take me over; and I opened my paper, to distract myself. The headlines were mostly fluff stories and ads; except for a couple on the murder of a local politician, and animal attacks by the harbor. Some drug dealers had been found with their heads bitten clean off. I winced at the thought; before turning the page, and a new header caught my eye.

Home robberies in Downtown Oakland – Gangs or criminals on city payroll? - Story by Eddie Brock.

I was surprised for a second. He didn’t strike me as a journalist in the traditional sense.

The story was mostly an opinion piece, but was based heavily on facts he’d dug up from interviews with victims, and homeless youth in the area of the robberies. Eddie was questioning the arrests made on young gang members for the crimes; and in stead suggesting that city-leadership was paying crime syndicates to commit the robberies, to be able to gentrify the area. If he was right; this was a big story; so, I was finding it strange to see the story in a free newspaper.

I arrived near Mission Dolores Park; having read about a nice, upmarket coffee shop there; with donuts that the blogger had written were to absolutely die for. They turned out to be less so. After standing in line for 30 minutes; I was handed a stale cup of organically sourced, fairtrade coffee; and a donut that was hard enough to break a window. Stepping outside the shop; I decided to give it a chance; and bit in to it – instantly almost choking on the floury consistency of the pastry.

“They’re not very good, are they…”. I turned to face Eddie; standing with an amused smile on his face. “Nope”, I answered, and spat out the donut-bite into a napkin. “Sorry…”, I said embarrassedly. “No worries”, he chuckled. “If I’d known you were coming here, I’d have told you. They’re vegan…”. I raised my brows at him. “Shit, sorry! Are you vegan?”, he asked. “No”, I shook my head and chuckled. “But I’ve for sure had better vegan food than this”. He sighed and seemed to ponder something. “Come on”, he said, and gestured for me to follow him.

We walked down a narrow street; passing smaller shops and street vendors – some of which seemed to know Eddie, and sent him friendly nods. “You’re popular around here”, I said; walking next to him. He chuckled in response. “I dunno. I prefer buying from smaller shops. Personal touch, you know?”. “I get it”, I said. “Locally sourced, and eco-friendly; right?”. He shrugged. “Something like that”.

He stopped by a small storefront; displaying pride-flags and caricatures of politicians in the window. I knew already that I would like this place. The man behind the counters face lit up. “Yo, Ed! Back so soon, man?”, he grinned. “I know you got that parasite thing, but seriously…”. Eddie looked uncomfortable for a second. “Yeah, Don… this is my new neighbor”. He introduced me, avoiding my eyes. “She went to La Boulange”. Don inhaled sharply through his teeth. “Yikes… New in town?”, he asked. I chuckled and nodded. “Coffee black?”, Eddie asked me. I nodded. “Give us two blacks and a couple of glazed yeast”. “I’ll add some sprinkles for the lady”, Don winked friendlily. Eddie groaned. “Just… don’t make them the green ones”, he said. “I was high for 12 hours straight last time”. I laughed out loud.

We left the store; Eddie politely having paid for our coffees and donuts. Through the window I saw Don point at me, and give Eddie the thumbs up and a wink. “He’s a character”, I smiled. “He sure is”, Eddie answered. His voice was deliciously raspy, and watching him speak I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trouble his lips could get in to with mine. I had to shake myself out of the thought. “Thanks for this”, I said. “You haven’t tasted it yet”, he said.

I bit in to my pastry. It was carb-heaven in my mouth. “Oh. Oh my God!”, I said, mouth full. “I know, right?”, Eddie smiled. I raised my brows and nodded fiercely. “It’s why I go out of my way to come here every morning”. “Don’t journalists work all over?”, I asked, covering my mouth with my hand, as I was still chewing. He scrunched his brows at me in question. I pulled out the newspaper from my bag. “Oh, yeah”, he said. “I do freelance stuff mostly; but I have a position at a newspaper downtown. Used to write for The Globe”. “New York?”, I asked. “So, why move to San Francisco?”. He shrugged. “I lost the position for… being what I am. An honest reporter”.

I half smiled. “So, a new life”. “Yeah, and a girl”, he admitted. “My fiancée”. My heart dropped; and I did my best not to show it on my face. “Oh! You’re engaged? That’s great!”. “Not really”, chuckled. “I messed that up too… by being what I am”. “An honest reporter…”, I muttered. “And at times a little too cutthroat about it”. He sighed. “It’s good though. She’s good. I’m good. We’re good”.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why am I telling you all this stuff?”, he said and laughed. “Are you sure you’renot a reporter?”. “Nah. I’m just an elementary schoolteacher”, I said. “I do write, though. But not articles”. “What?”, he said earnestly. I shook my head. “Another time. I’m sure you have somewhere to be”. He looked at his watch. “Shit, yeah!”, he said. “Sorry, I gotta run”. “It’s fine. Thanks again”.

He nodded and smiled. “You take care, teach’”, he said. “See you around”. He walked away; scratching his head, and looking back at me a couple of times. I took my time enjoying my donut and coffee; and walked in the opposite direction. Eddie – Be still my beating heart.

---

I spent the rest of the morning trying to map out the best way to and from work. As I was starting the next Monday morning, the nerves were getting to me. They’re just 5-yearolds, I kept telling myself. 5-yearolds attending a private school funded by their very rich parents; and some pretty serious sponsors from Silicon Valley. And me without my degree from MIT…

I stopped at Mrs. Chens for some light groceries. Although I’d loved Don’s donuts – and his coffee had been heavenly – I was to anxious to see myself making my way all the way to the Mission District the next day; and I always needed caffeine and access to some kind of breakfast in the morning. The lady behind the counter – Chen, I assumed – seemed nice, though a bit standoffish; and quickly checked out my coffee, bacon, eggs, cheese; and other essentials. “You’re new here”, she said. “How did you know?”, I asked. “I usually only get regulars”, she answered, and narrowed her eyes at me. “I moved in down the street. My neighbor recommended your shop”, I smiled. “Who?”, she demanded. “Eddie…”, I answered timidly. Her face instantly became warmer. “He’s a good boy”, she said. “Tell him to pic up my cousins latest cd. It’ll do him good. As well as his parasite”. That parasite thing again. Weird. I thanked her, grabbed my stuff; and left the store.

I made my way back to the apartment; cranked up the Fleetwood, and danced it out for a while. I’d always done that; when I needed to get something out of my system. It was better than drinking myself into oblivion – and I was out of whiskey.

I was completely oblivious to anything around me, when I heard someone clear their throat. I turned around, arms in the air; and almost died from embarrassment. The door was open; and in the opening stood Eddie.

“Sorry, it was open”, he said; trying to stifle a smile. “Ziggy had a crazy ex kick it down once. It’s always needed an extra push and pull to close properly, since then”. I nodded, blushing. He held up a carton of eggs. “Chen said you forgot this”, he said. “Thanks…”, I said, taking the pack from him. I grimaced. “So… this is embarrassing”. He laughed. “What? The eggs, or the dancing?”, he chuckled. “Ha, ha. Laugh it out”, I said, stifling a smile. “I was enjoying the view”, he said; and glint to his eyes – before grimacing himself. “Sorry… that was… probably crossing a line”. “It’s fine… you’re fine…”, I said; realizing what I’d just said. “Good, I mean. Shit… I do this to clear my head, sometimes. Dance. It relaxes me”.

He laughed. “I just got back from… a thing”, he said. “I need to clear my head a bit as well. Was gonna take a ride up to Coit Tower”. I smiled; my blushing beginning to fade. “That sounds nice”, I smiled. He exhaled. “Yeah… do you wanna come?”. My jaw dropped. “Uh… yeah. Sure. I’d like that”, I said. What the hell, Eddie? Are you asking me out? “Great”, he smiled. “I was gonna take my bike; are you good with that?”. “I don’t have a bike”, I said. He chuckled. “Not that kind of bike”. Right. The motorcycle helmet. “And now I feel like an idiot”, I muttered. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve met the biggest idiots in media, politics and sports; and you look nothing like them”, he said. “You do look like someone who needs to get out of this place for a while”. I smiled; grabbed my jacket; and followed him out the door – making sure it was properly shut behind me.

Eddie grabbed two helmets from his apartment; giving me another chance peak into his place. It smelled nice. Like tater tots and musky cologne. I didn’t know why, but suddenly it was my favorite smell. “Let’s go”, Eddie said; handing me one of the helmets; and we made our way down the stairs.

Outside the building stood a motorcycle. It was clearly well cared for. Eddie got on it, and put on his helmet; gesturing for me to get on behind him. “You should hold on”, he said. I searched for something to grab; and he took my wrists; pulling my arms around his waist. Wow. Ok. Firm. “You good?”, he asked. “Yeah”, I squeaked. He chuckled behind his helmet. “Sit tight, teach’”. He started the bike, and revved the engine; before taking off. “Oh my God”, I yelped; feeling his body shake in laughter in front of me.

I was convinced he took the steepest roads; scaring the shit out of me for the first few miles – before I finally got comfortable behind him. I relaxed my body; and let myself enjoy the view of the city in the dusk – and how close I was to Eddies warm body. I felt his calm breathing; and matched it – soon feeling completely relaxed. We hit a bump, making the bike jump a bit; and I laughed in glee; hearing him laugh along with me.

The drive was over way to soon for my liking. We’d made our way up Telegraph hill; and I got off the bike, taking of my helmet. “You liked that, huh?”, Eddie grinned at me. “Yeah, it was fun!”, I smiled. He looked at me; almost in wonder. “Was that your first time on a bike?”. “I tried it once, for like five minutes; when I was a kid, but kind of. Yeah”, I admitted. “I couldn’t tell”, he smirked sarcastically. I frowned in mock annoyance. “Shut up”, I said. “You’ve never had a better passenger”. He laughed. “Yeah… come on”.

The sun was going down; and we were too late for tickets to get up the tower; but Eddie seemed unfazed. “There’s a good view over here”, he said; putting his hand on my lower back, to lead me over to a railing. “You gonna push me over this thing?”, I joked. “Nah, would be a poor move for a first date”, he said. I looked at him. “This is a date?”, I smiled. He seemed to have an internal dialogue. “I… don’t know”, he said. “Do you want it to be?” I bit my lip. “Let’s see how good this view is; and I’ll let you know”.

The view was stunning. I could see both the lights of the city as well as the Golden Gate bridge. My jaw dropped at the sight. “Wow…”. Eddie looked at me. “Yeah, it’s pretty special”, he said.

I stepped towards the binoculars; searing my pockets for change. “I don’t have a quarter!”, I heard Eddie whisper. “It’s fine”, I smiled at him. “I can see pretty clear anyway”. He looked me, caught off guard. “Yeah. Sorry…”. I leant against the railing. “I could fall in love with this city”, I proclaimed. Eddie smiled warmly at me, walking up next to me – close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from his body.

We looked at the views for a while, talking about this and that. I told Eddie about my hometown, and how I’d loved it as well. “So, why did you decide to come here”. “It’s a long story”, I muttered. “Come on, I’ve already seen you dance!”, he chuckled. “You don’t like my dancing?”, I gasped in jest. He smiled. “You really put the oogie in the boogie”, he said. “You’re the most graceful elephant in a porcelain shop, I’ve ever seen”. “So now I’m an elephant?”, I raised a brow at him. He grimaced. “I walked right in to that”, he muttered. “Sorry…”. I smiled at him in forgiveness. “Seriously though. Why’d you make the move?”

I couldn’t help myself. I had to mess with him. “It’s embarrassing”, I said. He smiled encouragingly. “Ever since I was a kid… I’ve always wanted to act. Be in the big movies”. His lips parted, and he looked really uncomfortable. I continued. “So… I decided to give it a shot. Come here; and be near Hollywood, you know?”. I smiled earnestly. “I think I’ve finally got a shot; now that the studios are just down the street”. Eddie looked genuinely sorry for me. “Lyla… I don’t…”, he began. “Eddie…”, I smiled. “I’m kidding”. He exhaled in relief. “Thank God. I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you… You know?”. “I know”, I smirked. “’Cuz we’re a way off from Hollywood here”. I nodded. “About 400 miles. I realize that”. He began laughing, and shook his head. “Is this payback for the elephant thing?”, he said. I shrugged. “Maybe”, I smiled.

He bumped my shoulder with his own. “You’re bad news, darlin’!”, he laughed. “You’re not, though”, I answered. “Tell me; why did your article on those home robberies end up in a free newspaper, instead of some big ass media outlet?”. He sighed. “Not everyone wants to run the hard stories”, he said. “As long as it gets out there…”. I nodded. “I get it”, I said. “Besides, in a free paper the story will get a broader audience, right?”. He shrugged. “I hope so”, he said. “I think it’s an important story”. “Me too”, I agreed.

I told Eddie about my new job. “Private school?”, he grimaced. I laughed. “Yeah, I know”, I said. “Not very socially conscious of me. But the pay is good. And I needed a change”. “What made you move here? The truth this time”, he smiled. “It’s got to be more than the job. You don’t strike me as someone who does things just for money”. I chewed my lip. “I wasn’t in a very good place in my job, or my life”, I admitted.

He looked at me with warm eyes – the color even more indistinguishable in the dusk. I bit my lip; wanting desperately for something to happen. “How’s your head? A bit clearer?”, he said quietly. “Not really…”, I admitted. He let out a quiet laugh, and wrinkled his forehead. “Yeah, me neither”, he muttered. “Can I kiss you? I just feel like I should, you know...?”. I interrupted him by taking his hand. “Yes…”. He nodded and sighed in relief. “Ok. Then… I’m going to do that. Now”. I chuckled; and laced my fingers with his. He stepped closer; putting a lock of my hair behind my ear; before placing his hand on my cheek; letting his thumb stroke my cheekbone. “I like your eyes…”, he said. “Stop talking, Eddie”, I smiled. “Ok”, he said; and finally let his full lips meet mine.

It was soft. Gentle. I parted my lips; letting the tip of my tongue meet his. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me close; and I slid my hands around his neck – letting my fingertips play with the hair there. He pulled his head back a bit; letting our foreheads meet. “You’re… something else”, he smiled. “Something good, I hope”, I answered. “Yeah”, he breathed. “Can I… just… one more time?”, he muttered; before pressing his lips to mine again. I chuckled against his kiss; and returned his enthusiasm. This time there was a bit more heat to our connection. He held on to me; making me stand flush against him. I felt a rush of blood to my core; and my breath hitched.

Someone cleared their throat. Our lips parted, and we saw that we we’re being watched by an elderly couple. “You kids should take that somewhere else”, one of the men said. I flushed red, and Eddie took my hand. “Yeah. Let’s… go”, he smiled.

---

Once back at our building, Eddie gave me a hand to get off his bike. We walked up the stairs together, and paused in front of our doors.

“Thanks for this”, I said. “I needed a distraction”. “I’m a distraction now?”, Eddie asked with a smirk. “A good one”, I chuckled. He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. “Thanks for the… kissing part. I liked that”, he said. “I did too”, I said, before chewing my bottom lip for a moment. “We could do it again… If you want to”. Eddie looked relieved. “I really do”, he smiled, and took a step closer to me. I met him halfway, and leaned in to him, as he cupped my cheek, and our lips met. He took my bottom lip between his own; softly tugging it – and the repeated the process with the top one. My tongue brushed against his lips, and he met it with his own; letting them reacquaint themselves with each other.

Eddie put his arm around me, and I shivered in pleasure, as our hips met; and I felt his body’s very obvious reaction to our kiss. He let out a soft groan; a sound that sent electricity straight to my core. Grabbing on tighter to me, he almost had my knees give in. In spite of his normally withdrawn and almost aloof demeanor – which he’d relaxed somewhat, curing our evening together – he now seemed like he couldn’t get me close enough; almost hungry in his kiss. I was right there with him; ready to throw all inhibitions out the window, and let him take me in that hallway. I literally had to dig my nails in to my palm, to tear myself from the heated moment.

I put my hands on Eddie’s shoulders, and pushed him away as gently as I could. “I’m sorry… Did I hurt you?”, he asked, in a surprisingly concerned voice. “No, Eddie; I’m…”, I tried. “I don’t always know my own strength. I’ll be more careful…”. Eddie seemed unable to stop talking. I put my fingertips to his soft lips – for a short second considering slipping one into his mouth; just to feel him suck on it – and took a step back. “Eddie, you didn’t do anything wrong. Really!”, I smiled. “But, I have this rule… I don’t have sex on the first date”. Eddie’s eyes widened, and he took a step back himself. “No… Of course! I don’t want you to think, I see you as some kind of… I mean, if you were, there would be nothing wrong with that… People can enjoy sex, that’s completely normal… But I would never expect you to just…” I couldn’t help but smile at his flustered babbling, but in the end, I decided to put him out of his misery. I leaned in, and gave him a short kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight”, I said. “Yeah… goodnight, Lyla”, Eddie said. He watched me as I unlocked my door, and I gave him a final smile, before stepping inside, and closing it behind me.

I leaned against the wall, and sighed frustratedly. It felt like everything below my bellybutton was literally screaming at my brain, saying; open the door, and stop thinking so much, you stupid blob of fat and water! I want to play!. I peeked out of the peephole, and saw Eddie beginning to fish out his keys. He looked like he was having a frustrated conversation with himself. He turned and looked at my door, and I quickly pulled back from the peephole. “You’re being an idiot”, I whispered to myself.

Before I knew it had happened, I had opened my door. “Eddie…”. He dropped his keys in chock, and scrambled to pick them up. His jacket and shirt rode up slightly, letting me get a peek at his tattooed torso; only making my resolve stronger. “Yeah! Hey… Hi”, he said, and got up to stand again. “You know, when I said I’d let you know whether it was a date or not…”. “Yeah?”, Eddie muttered. I chewed my lip, and took a deep breath before continuing. “I decided it wasn’t a date… So, technically, I wouldn’t be breaking my rule”. Eddie looked confused for a moment, before his eyes lit up. “Oh… Oh! You mean…”. He seemed unable to finish the sentence; and I felt my cheeks beginning to burn. “I mean, unless you changed your mind”, I muttered. “No!”, Eddie said, taking a step towards me. “I’d like that”.

I let out a pleased sigh, and was even more relieved when Eddie decided to take the lead, and step over to me; instantly capturing my lips in a warm kiss. I put my arms around his neck, and let myself float away in the pleasurable sensations his soft, full lips sent through my body. I’d known this man for less than a week – I could hardly say that I knew him at all – but everything in that moment was perfect; as if we were made to do this. Eddie pressed me against the doorway to my apartment, and let out a guttural groan when I ran my nails through his short hair. He pressed his tongue into my mouth, and once again I relished in his taste.

I looked out the corner of my eye at the main living area of my sublet, and frowned. I pulled back slightly, to be able to speak. Eddie moved his kisses down to my neck, and I gasped audibly. “Eddie… Oh, god. That’s… No, stop!”, I rasped. He pulled back instantly, and met my eyes. “What?”, he asked. “The bed in there is kind of gnarly… Can we do this at your place?”, I said. “Yeah, of course”, he smiled, and tore himself from me, to run over and open his own door. I closed the door to my own place – giving it that extra yank it needed – and stepped up behind Eddie. He looked at me over his shoulder. “Sorry about the mess", he muttered apologetically, and opened his door.

Eddie’s apartment was cluttered, but not dirty. I could have sworn I saw a few unwashed dishes by the sink, but when I blinked, they were gone; as if a shadow had whisked them away. He had post-it notes hanging with ideas for stories, and a couple that read things like If you eat it, replace it and Pigeons are not food. “Do you have a roommate?”, I asked. Eddie chuckled nervously to himself. “Nah, I… forget things”, he said, and tore down a note reading No roadkill in the tub!.

I decided against asking, and simply made my way over to the couch, letting my finger run along the back of it. “Do you want some coffee? Or a beer?”, Eddie asked, and moved towards the fridge. I bit my lip, and shook my head. “Maybe… after?”, I said, trying for seductive; and failing miserably, when I tripped over a stack of papers on the floor. Before I knew what happened, Eddie was next to me; catching me before I hit the floor. “Wow… you’re fast!”, I said. “I… did track in high school”, he said. “You were all the way over…”, I began.

Eddie pressed his lips to mine, to shut me up, and soon I was forgetting all about the ten feet he’d traversed in less than a second. As quickly as I could, I shed my jacket, and Eddie’s lips once again travelled down my neck. I pushed his jacket off his shoulders, and couldn’t help put squeeze his biceps; finding them as firm as I’d imagined. As Eddie latched on to my pulse-point, I let out soft moan; and was rewarded with his hands moving down to my butt. Giving them a tight squeeze, he suddenly lifted me up, and made me put my legs around his waist. “Let’s move over here”, he muttered, and walked us over to the bed in the corner; gently setting me down on it.

We both began tugging at each other’s tops at the same time, but after chuckling at each other; we silently decided to take care of our own clothing. After I’d shed my tank-top, I kicked off my sneakers while Eddie took off his boots. We kept eye-contact as much as possible, and I saw nothing but appreciation in his gaze, as he saw me get more and more undressed. I was enjoying the sight of his bare torso as well; wanting nothing more than to bury my face in the soft hairs of his barreled chest. I pulled off my jeans – leaving me in socks, bra and panties – and moved back on the bed. Eddie raised a brow at me, and shook his head; and once he had gotten rid of his own pants, he grabbed my ankle, and pulled me closer. I yelped in glee as my groin met his, and he pushed me to lie back. I managed to reach down, and hook my finger into the waistband of his boxer briefs; but Eddie grabbed my wrist. “We got all night…”, he said. “But…”, I said. “Relax”.

He smirked mischievously, and kneeled down at the foot of the bed, and ran his palms up my thighs; leaving goosebumps in their wake. As he left a soft kiss on the inside of my left thigh, while his fingertips stroked circles on my right one. My breath hitched, as his warm breath travelled up to my warmth. I was ready to scream by the time his soft lips left an openmouthed kiss on my covered folds. “Please…!”, I whined. Eddie chuckled, and I felt his tongue lick a broad stripe against the lace covering my throbbing, most sensitive parts. Once again, I tried to take charge, by grabbing his head; but he grabbed my wrists, and forced them down my sides. “I really don’t want to have to hold you down”, he chided. “I kind of need my hands for what I’m about to do…”. I let out a frustrated groan, and relaxed my arms as much as I could. “Good girl…”, Eddie hummed, and let go of my hands. I threw my arms back, and grabbed for one of the pillows above my head, and dug my fingers in to it, to keep from getting in the way of Eddie’s work on my privates again.

With agonizingly slow movements, Eddie hooked his fingers into my panties, and pulled them down my feet. He held them up with one finger, and gave me another smirk, before flicking them away. They landed over his open laptop, and we both laughed for a moment; before Eddie once again lowered his face. The last thing I saw before throwing my head back in pleasure, was Eddie’s pleased eyes widening at his upcoming feast. His perfect mouth closed around my folds and clit, and he gave me a deep suckle, before flicking his tongue over my clit. “I know…”, he muttered. “Come again?”, I croaked. “I’m just enjoying my meal”, Eddie replied, blushing adorably. “Ok… Uhm… well, contin… Oh my god!”. Eddie had entered me with two fingers, and began moving them in a come-hither motion, while sucking hard at my nub. Letting out a growl against my wetness, Eddie soon had me seeing stars. As his fingers worked on my most sensitive spot inside, his tongue moved in a zigzag pattern between my folds; going up and down, and never forgetting to give my clit a languid stroke when he reached it. I put the pillow over my face, and cried out in pleasure, as Eddie worked me towards a mind shattering orgasm. Everything went white, and I’m pretty sure I floated above the mattress for a few seconds; as if something was lifting me in the air.

I was panting into the pillow and shaking all over, as I came down. “Don’t do that!”, Eddie grunted. “What?”, I muttered through the pillow. Eddie climbed up my body, and pulled it away from my face, looking flustered. “Just… don’t cover your face. I want to see you”, he said. “Ok…”, I said.

We smiled at each other, and kissed again. I could taste myself on his tongue, and enjoyed it more than was proper. Eddie laid down between my legs, and pressed against me; making me leave a wet spot on his boxers, from my still glistening folds. “Let me just get these off”, he smiled, and pulled down his underwear; and letting his erection spring free. I smiled in appreciation, and took a hold of my new friend; gently beginning to stroke it. “That’s… that’s nice”, Eddie said, straining to keep his composure. “A bit harder, please”. I tightened my hold, and received a deep moan in reply. “Condom?”, I asked. “Shit, yeah”, Eddie said, and reluctantly pulled himself out of my grasp. As he got off the bed, and ran over to search one of the drawers in his dresser, I snapped open my bra, and took it off. When he turned around to face me, with a foil packet in his hand, his jaw dropped at the sight of my mounds. “That is… Those are very nice”, he croaked. I chuckled, and pulled off my socks; wanting to be completely naked. “Oh, right!”, Eddie said, and tugged his own socks off, one at a time; losing his balance, and falling on to the bed next to me.

I nabbed the foil packet from his hand, and opened it carefully, pulling out the condom. Straddling Eddies legs, I closed my fingers around the tip of the rubber, and held it to the head of his penis. I rolled it down a little, before lowering my head, and closing my mouth around it; rolling it the rest of the way with my lips. Eddie let out a gasping groan, and looked down at me with wide eyes. Once the condom was all the way down his hardness, I released him from my mouth, and sat up; smiling sweetly. “Where did you learn that?”, he asked. “While you were doing track in high school, I was under the bleachers; doing other kinds of workout”, I shrugged. “It’s an interesting talent”, he chuckled. “I have many more”, I said, raising a brow at him. “I’m sure you do”, Eddie smiled, and grabbed the back of my head; pulling me in for a hungry kiss.

I was flipped onto my back, and Eddie placed himself at my entrance. “Yeah?”, he said, searching my eyes for the go-ahead. “Please”, I said, unable to hide the pleading tone in my voice. Eddie gave me one more deep kiss, and as he did, he pushed himself inside me; bottoming out in my warmth. We both moaned deeply as we were conjoined, and Eddie began moving slowly in and out of me. “You’re so warm… and tight!”, he gasped into my ear. “You fit perfectly”, I panted, and moved my hips to meet his every thrust. “I do, don’t I…”, Eddie chuckled. “Holy… wow”. I locked my leg around his hips, and Eddie grabbed my other leg; hooking his arm under my knee. With ever thrust, the head of his penis brushed against my g-spot; but even just the friction against my nub, and the feeling of his velvety hardness brushing against my walls, were enough to make me whimper in pleasure.

After a while of moving together slowly, I felt my walls beginning to quake; and Eddie’s face lit up. He began thrusting faster and harder, and soon I was crying out in ecstasy again. Every atom in my being felt like it was exploding, and I came around him. “Yes!”, I cried out, and Eddie laughed, seemingly overjoyed that he could make me feel this way. “Fuck, you look beautiful when you come”, he grinned. My hair was a tussled, and I was pretty sure my makeup was a mess, but I took his words as truth in that moment; convinced from the expression on his face, that there was no way he could be lying. “Thank you… for that”, I gasped. “And for the orgasm. That was pretty awesome too”. We laughed together for a moment, before Eddie leaned down, and kissed me. “Are you good to continue?”, he asked. “Don’t you dare stop!”, I exclaimed. “Ok… Turn around, then”.

He pulled out of me – leaving me feeling empty and wanting more – and grabbed my hip, to make me turn over. I got on all fours, and once again felt Eddie probing my entrance. He pushed into me with a pleased sigh, and began moving again. He shifted between fast and slow; as if every time he picked up speed, he willed himself to slow down again. “It’s ok. I can take it”, I said. “Alright”, Eddie panted, and let out a groan, as he slammed in to me. I feel forwards on the bed, landing on my chest; and felt my backside lift with every one of Eddie’s thrusts in to me. “… just go to sleep!”, I heard Eddie behind me. “I’m not…”, I said. “What?”. “I’m not asleep. How could I be?” “Oh… No, yeah; of course!”.

He snaked a hand underneath me, and expertly began stroking circles against my clit. I was soon, once again, feeling the familiar rush of an impending orgasm. “I’m gonna…”, I rasped. “Again?”, Eddie panted; still thrusting in to me, and having found the perfect rhythm for the both of us. “Uh huh…”, I whimpered, and turned my face into the mattress; crying out in pleasure. My walls contracted around Eddie’s hardness, and moments later, he let out a rasping groan; and came.

I was trying to regain my breath, and still feeling my muscles clenching throughout my body; as Eddie pulled out of me. He placed a soft kiss to the back of my neck, and got off the bed, to rid himself of the condom. I pulled at the sheet, wrapping it around me, as he returned to the bed and slipped his boxers back on. He looked satisfied, but also a bit frustrated, and I quietly excused myself to the bathroom, to clean up.

Through the door, I heard him shuffling around the small apartment, and seemingly talking to himself. “… stay out of it… was a me thing… I don’t need that”. I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable at the situation; and must have been stood for quite a while in the small bathroom, because suddenly there was a knock on the door. “Are you ok in there?”, Eddie called out. “Yeah!”, I replied, quickly finishing my cleanup, and washing my hands. I stepped out into the living area again, and gave him a half smile. “Uhm… are youok though?”. Eddie leaned in, and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek, before stepping over to the fridge. “Of course… I’m awesome”, he said, and got out two beers. “That was great!”. I examined his face, and couldn’t help but frown. “Ok… You just seem a little out of it”, I said, and accepted the drink. “Are you regretting…”. “No!”, Eddie exclaimed, his eyes wide and earnest. “Not at all… I just get in my head sometimes”. “Ok…”, I muttered.

Eddie sighed deeply, and took my hand. “Come on”, he said, and pulled me over to sit on the couch. “That… what we just did; that was really great. You were great”. “So were you”, I smiled, biting my lip. “Yeah?”, Eddie said; a slight pink hue to his cheeks. “Thanks…”. As I took a welcome sip of my beer, he merged his fingers with my free hand. “I’d like to do it again… If you’re good with that”. “I’d like that”, I said. We sat for a moment in silence. “Do you wanna stay the night?”. “I should get going”. We’d spoken at the same time. “Oh… Well, if you wanna go…”, Eddie said. “I just thought – seeing as you said the bed at your place wasn’t that great – maybe you’d want to sleep somewhere else”. “The couch isn’t much better”, I chuckled. “Are you sure though? I don’t want you to think you have to…”. “I’d like you to stay”, Eddie said. I felt my cheeks burn. “Ok… I’ll stay”, I said.

Eddie lit up in a grin, and leaned in to give me a warm kiss. “I’m happy you moved in across the hall”, he said. “Me too”, I smiled. “Me three…! Too!”, Eddie said, his voice having shifted from deep, and back to his raspy tone within seconds. He cleared his throat. “Sorry… My throat is a bit dry”, he said, and took a deep swig of his beer. I frowned in confusion, but decided to let it go. We had just spent a good while exercising, and my own throat was a little dry as well; and I took another sip of my beer.

We sat for a long moment in silence, sipping at our bottles, and smiling warmly at each other; before Eddie frowned deeply. “I have to tell you something”, he said. “And… You might change your mind about staying”. I felt a shudder go through my body, suddenly worried where this was going. “What is it?”, I croaked. Eddie took a deep breath, and blew it out. He took my beer from me, and put it down on the coffee table, next to his own. Taking both my hands, he looked deeply in to my eyes. “Here goes… Uhm… Wow, this is hard”, he said. “Just tell me”, I said, trying for calm and encouraging. “Ok… I snore… And not in the cute way”, Eddie said. “I give the streetcars a run for their money, when it comes to noise”. I instantly began laughing in relief. “That’s it? You should hear me!”. Eddie raised his brows at me. “I’ll bet you 20 bucks and a donut from Don’s, I can outdo you”, he said. “You’re a journalist. Don’t you have a Dictaphone?”, I asked. Eddie sprang over to his messenger bag, and pulled out a small recorder. “Let’s do this!”, he exclaimed.

I got to my feet, and followed him over to the bed. Unwrapping myself from the sheet, Eddie gave me a sly smile, and pulled me in for a deep kiss – running his hands up and down my sides – before he let me crawl onto the bed. Once I laid down, he crawled in next to me, and put the sheet over the both of us. He clicked the record button on the Dictaphone, and put it by the bed: before pulling me in to his arms. I cuddled up against him, and let his warmth lull me; feeling suddenly very tired. “Goodnight, Ed”, I whispered. We gave each other a soft kiss. “Goodnight, Lyla”, he replied.

I was already halfway asleep, when something tucked us in; pulling the covers over us. “Eddie?”, I yawned. “Yeah?”, he asked hesitantly. “Was that you?”. “Yes!”. “Ok. Goodnight”. I was out.

---

[midgardianweasley]

hello! welcome to fanfic writing for hp and mcu! I was wondering if I could make a request for Freddie! Maybe something fluffy where he’s becomes familiar with the muggle world bc of work and takes his pureblood gf to London for the first time and just gushes over how cute she is experiencing all the muggle stuff for the first time? Thank you!

hello my lovely! I had so much fun with this request. I hope you like it!<3

Seeing the sights

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: Fred takes a week holiday from work, he’s been doing some travel over the last few months to muggle London and decides to take Y/N, who’s never experienced the muggle world, to see some of the popular sights.

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1864 words

Message/ask if you want to be on the taglist <33

“Hey sweetheart! I’m home!” Fred announced to the quiet home, hanging up his coat and putting his wand down on the unit beside the front door. He briefly thought that maybe his girlfriend was out somewhere, however, that thought was quickly discarded when he heard footsteps running towards him and before he knew it, a body collided with his chest. After recovering from his stumble from the collision, he looked down to see a mop of Y/H/C hair just below his chin. He went to speak, before hearing a slight mumble.

“Sorry Darling, what was that?” He chuckled, holding her arms as she gently pulled away, looking up at him, she smiles before responding

“I missed you”

“I missed you too sweetheart, but, I come with good news!”

“Ooooh, I like good news! Tell me, tell me, tell me!” She claps her hands, excited for what Fred was about to reveal.

“Georgie and I have closed the shop for the next few days, he and Angelina are gonna be heading off to Scotland on holiday, so, I was thinking that you and I could take a trip to muggle London!” He spoke, excitement in his voice clear as day. He’d been going to muggle London on business with his brother a few times over the last couple of months and he’d seen some places he wanted to share with his girlfriend, a pureblood like himself, as she’s never experienced anything muggle related before that wasn’t taught in a classroom. He wanted to show her firsthand to let her have an insight on some of the things he’d seen.

“The place you’ve been telling me about?”

“Yeah! The place that has the awesome cake I was telling you about!”

“There’s gonna be cake?”

“There will be cake”

And those were the last words spoken before she ran off in a hurry again, reaching the cupboard in the hall of their shared home, to pull a suitcase down and beginning packing. Fred smiled, happy to see that the excitement he was feeling, was mutual.  

~Timeskip~

The couple had just arrived and settled themselves into their hotel in the heart of London when Y/N bounced over to the windows in their bedroom and opened the door of their balcony, giving them a full view of the city.

“Wow, it’s beautiful!” Y/N spoke, wrapping her hands around the new pair of arms that had found themselves around her waist. Fred gently kissed below her ear, enjoying the slight breeze outside, glad they had worn their jumpers as it was starting to become fall season.

“So I was thinking” He began, still giving her quick pecks, moving between her neck and her jawline. “We could either chill out for today and see the sights tomorrow, or, we could spend the rest of today out and about and just choose what to do tomorrow depending on how you feel today goes.”

She thought it over for a few minutes, trying to decide whether she wanted to save the tourist stuff for later in the trip or start exploring today, when looking out at the busy city, it was suddenly really obvious what she wanted to do.

“I wanna go and see what that thing is!” She jumped, struggling to contain how eager she was.

“The big circle thing over there?” He spoke, following where she was pointing.

“Yeah!”

“Ahh, that’s called the London Eye” Leading her inside and helping her put her coat back on

“Wait, what? But there’s no eyes? Can that thing see?!” She exclaimed. He laughed before explaining that it wasn’t a literal eye, before leading her out of the door and smiling at how clueless she was, almost forgetting that it was exactly how he and George were when they first visited. Thankfully this time, Fred remembered the key card to their room, learning from an unfortunate mistake he and his twin brother made that resulted in the pair sitting outside in the hall for forty minutes, waiting for someone to let them back in. Y/N watched Fred put the key into their door, confused as to what he was doing as she pulled out her wand. Upon turning and seeing her eyes flutter between her wand and the rectangular thing in his hand, he started to explain again.

“This is a little card we put in this machine attached to the door handle, it locks and opens the door for us whenever we swipe it in this little slot here.” He explains while demonstrating, taking great joy in her face morphing as she tries to understand.

“We can’t just use ‘Alohamora’?”

“No Love, it’s all done the muggle way here, remember?”

Not entirely sure of herself, Y/N puts her wand back into her coat pocket and watches as Fred does the same with the muggle key card.

After a walk in Hyde park and hearing Big Ben ring out, scaring Y/N almost half to death ultimately causing Fred to practically fall over from laughing so much, the pair found themselves in Trafalgar Square, a soon to be favourite of Y/N’s.

“Can you guess why we’re here?”

“Uhm, to look at the fountain?”

“Well, yes, that, but, look up and to your left”

Y/N did as Fred had told her and gasped in excitement, for what felt like the thousandth time, when spotting the big cake logo above the doorway. Putting the pieces together, she knew that this was the place where Fred had kept bringing back Y/F/C from his trips. Fred took his hands from his back, to reveal two boxes of her favourite cake that she had been craving since it was first mentioned. Y/N wasted no time in taking the box from his hand, thanking him and opening it up, not stopping to wonder how the hell he’d managed to go and get it when she could’ve sworn she was with him the whole time. Her attention was brought back to Fred when he held a plastic, wrapped fork in front of her face, saving her from getting any crumbs or icing on her outfit. She took it from his hands gently and the two of them started to eat their cakes, occasionally taking some from the other person with large smiles painted across their face.

~Timeskip~

The sun had almost set now, the city now starting to light up with rows of street lights, headlights from the cars of people returning home from work to their loved ones, further accompanied by the lights from overlooking apartments. Y/N stood in the middle of the streets that had started to calm, but not by much, and spun slowly on the spot, taking in the beauty of the night atmosphere. What she had failed to notice, was that all throughout the day, Fred had been giving her the same look. He was completely in awe of her fascination and how she thought everything was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. He knew that the muggle world would be a new environment for her, causing him to feel slightly anxious when first raising the idea, but seeing her be so absorbed by everything, made him feel like his heart had grown double the size. Stopping on the spot, Y/N saw her boyfriend look like he was in a trance, making her shy under his gaze when realising he was staring at her.

“You okay Freddie?” She spoke, watching him blink a few times before stepping forward and hugging him, feeling slightly colder now that it was darkening. He noticed her shiver slightly, unwrapping his scarf from his neck and gently wrapping around hers, before holding her face in his hands, a soft smile on their faces.

“Never better, my love.” They pulled away from their hug, taking each other's hand, and walked towards the main event of the day, well, night time now. Waiting in line to hop on the ride, the two of them swung their arms back forth. ‘The eye looks so much bigger from down here’, Y/N thought, craning her neck to look at the top of the wheel, Fred not having to strain too much due to his height, but is still taken aback everytime he sees how tall it is, he chuckles to himself thinking that this must be how Y/N feels when looking up at him, not daring to voice his thought, knowing it would result in a slap to the chest, a light-hearted one, but it was better safe than sorry.

The line moved quickly until it was eventually the couple’s turn to walk into the pod-like thing, managing to have it all to themselves, the line not being as busy as it was during the day. When it started to move again, Y/N stumbled, holding onto Fred as she lost her balance slightly, not prepared for it to move so suddenly, causing the both of them to laugh at her clumsiness. Everytime they feel that they can’t possibly be happier than what they are or smile anymore than what they have, they’re proven wrong.

When they got to the top, an audible gasp fell from Y/N’s lips, if she thought that the views were pretty from the ground, seeing them from the top of this wheel was a whole other level. She walked closer to the glass, looking at all of the lights and tiny figures walking the streets. Sure, she’d gone flying on her Firebolt before and playing quidditch had given her a high view of a crowd before, but when flying, you can never really appreciate the views, especially not if you have a bludger flying towards you, something Fred had always made sure wouldn’t happen, knowing how painful it can be to be hit with one of those things. But with everything so still from where she was, there was no crowd screaming, no breeze whipping her hair in 50 directions, there was just serenity.

“Do you like it?” Fred broke the silence, eyes still focused on the girl beside him, watching her eyes go back and forth. He thought she hadn’t heard him she was so entranced, before she whispered a short “It’s incredible.” Another minute went by until she was pulling her eyes away and meeting with his, having to look up slightly. “I love it Fred. I love it all, today has been absolutely insane. Thank you so much.” She spoke softly, wrapping her arms around his torso and hugging him tight, but careful not to squeeze him. He returned the hug, arms wrapping around her shoulders and chin placed upon her head. A soft “you’re welcome darling” escaping him, careful to not break the peaceful silence they had.

And while Y/N was peacefully looking at the view, still wrapped up in Fred's scarf and his arms, her head felt empty with how peaceful the moment was, Fred felt the same, however, his head didn’t feel empty as he had one thought running through his head.

‘I’m going to marry this girl’

And thankfully, he had the ring in his back pocket ready to act on it.

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @dracofknmalfoy @gaycatlord-stuff

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Beneath the Surface: A Retelling of “The Frog Prince”

If I’d had any choice, I never would have taken the underground train. I had accompanied Roger to a political summit in the city of Roshen, but spouses leave after the opening speeches, and since I couldn’t leave Roger without the hovercar, I had to use public transportation. The train--built by the natives decades before humanity absorbed Arateph into the Interplanetary Coalition--was a horrible excuse for technology. It rattled me to my destination, jolted me into an underground station, and left me so shaken that I could feel my bones clattering as I climbed up the stairs to the street.

The crowd surged around me as I emerged onto the sidewalk. There were far too many tephans. You know what Arateph’s natives look like—almost like humans, but it’s an unsettling almost. Their eyes just slightly too high on their heads, their ears just slightly too far back, and hands (ugh) split into only three fingers and a thumb. Like a person shaped by a sculptor with a hazy memory of how humans look. I can take them in small doses, but in groups? My skin was crawling. I powered through the crowd as quickly as possible and tried not to let any of them touch me.

I sped several blocks away from the train station before I realized I was nowhere near my hotel. The buildings in this neighborhood were old, made of crumbling stone bricks that had been stacked by physical labor rather than printed by machine. Half the windows were made of colored glass, and half of those were broken. Garbage rustled in the gutters, holes marred the concrete sidewalks, and all the signs were written in an unfamiliar alphabet. I was, somehow, lost in a tephan neighborhood. And not a nice one.  

I turned in circles, trying to figure out which way I’d come. Tephans watched me from storefronts and doorsteps and alleyways, and I kept walking to prevent them from figuring out just how lost I was. I was Priscilla Overton, wife of a Coalition finance minister, pillar of this planet’s elite—and human. Some groups violently opposed human rule, and tephan attacks against humans were on the rise. Who knew what these savages would do if they knew how helpless I was?

I rushed through narrow, dark streets until I reached a wider thoroughfare--a residential area with slightly less grimy apartment buildings. Still not a nice neighborhood, but not a place where I suspected otherworldly rats would tear the flesh from my bones or criminals would murder me for my technology.

I pulled my datapad out of my purse to look for directions. Dead.

I unfolded my wristcomm and tried to call for help. No signal.

I put my fist to my mouth to stifle a frustrated scream. Why did these things happen to me?

I stormed further down the street, cursing Roger for ever bringing us to this planet. We’d been happy on Earth. Comfortable. Respected. With no chance of wandering into streets where aliens stared at you with their off-kilter eyes. The rewards we got for helping to civilize this backward planet weren’t nearly enough to make up for this torture.

I turned a corner and found myself in front of a long, low yellow-brick building with dozens of small windows. The window boxes had flowers in them—fist-sized bundles of tiny red and gold petals. Not something you’d find on Earth, but...nice. Nice enough to pull me down from my fury and make me think I could give my wristcomm another try.

I powered down the wristcomm and stood next to a pink metal lamp post (Arateph has strange color trends) while I waited for it to restart. A metal grate was below my feet. These primitives still used storm drains! I shouldn’t have been surprised, since the road clearly wasn’t made of Draincrete, but it was still jarring. Living on Arateph was a strange combination of living on another world and living in the backward past.

My wristcomm buzzed, still powering up. I was ready to explode with anxiety. There were tephans straggling by—not many of them, but too many and too poorly dressed for my taste. To calm myself, I played with my wedding ring—a gold band with a spray of amethysts and pearls. The ring had been in Roger’s family for centuries. Some days, it felt like my last tie to a familiar world.

I kept my life on Arateph as Earth-like as possible, but it could never be the same as living on Earth. Alien things always lingered at the edges. Trees that turned purple in autumn instead of familiar orange. Toothy red-and-purple-feathered birds that rooted through the trash and woke me with their awful screeching. And around every corner, people who looked like grotesque parodies of my own kind. An entire world conspiring to make me constantly aware of how far I was from home.

My sisters were going about their own lives on Earth, and the few times we could afford appointments at synced comms stations, we found little to talk about--we literally came from different worlds. If Roger and I ever had children--doubtful but possible at our age--our families would only know them as data-images.

This was why I hated being alone on this wretched planet. Gave me far too much time to think about these things.

My wristcomm chimed—finally awake. I unfolded the screen and attempted to bring up my list of contact codes. I found Roger’s; he’d be in the middle of a meeting, but I couldn’t help that. I pressed the code and waited.

A discordant note sounded. No signal. I threw down my hand in frustration. My ring flew down with it. The golden band slipped off my finger, tumbled toward the ground, bounced off the edges of the grate, and fell into the drain.

I gasped in horror and fell to my knees. It couldn’t be, not now.

The ring sparkled in the sunlight, caught on a lip where the structure of the drain met the tube of the deeper pipe. I put my purse on the ground and slid my arm through the grate, but my arm got stuck just above the elbow. The ring was still a foot beyond my reach.

I burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. After the day I’d had—lost among tephans, fighting faulty technology, no hope of help from people who looked like me—this was the last straw. This planet had taken me from my home, my family, my friends, everything familiar, and now it was taking my one reminder of it all. Anybody would have cried.

Long before I felt any relief, a harsh voice broke through my sobs. “Are you finished yet?”

I looked up, furious at whoever was rude enough to interrupt my misery.

A tephan girl sat in the stairwell of the long yellow-brick building next to the gutter. I yelped and reeled back, tears still flowing. Have you ever seen a tephan child? They’re ten times worse than the adults; all their slightly-wrong features stretched even further out of shape, their eyes big and bulging in their heads. This girl was gangly. Her skinny limbs dangled out of baggy green clothes, and a wild brown bush of curls frizzed around her face and over her eyes. By human standards, I’d have judged her to be about twelve years old (though I have no idea if these creatures age like humans). By any race’s standards, she looked positively feral.

I couldn’t believe the creature had spoken to me. “Did you say something?” I asked.

She held up a thick book, bound human-style but with blocky tephan letters on the cover. “Can you cry somewhere else? I’m trying to read.”

She spoke Anglese with only a lightly slurring tephan accent. Somehow, this child spoke the Coalition’s language better than most of the tephan diplomats at Roger’s interminable meetings.

In my shock, I blurted, “How do you know Anglese?”

The creature rolled her eyes. “I go to school. With humans and everything.”

Roger hadn’t been in favor of the integration policy, but it apparently had some benefits. Or would have, had I any interest in talking to the child. Before I could decide if I wanted to reply, I glimpsed the ring again and burst into another involuntary round of tears.

The girl closed her book with a sigh. “What are you crying about anyway?”

I couldn’t tell her that I was crying because of her terrible, technologically backward planet and all its inhabitants, but I had to talk to someone and it was so good to hear human words, even from an alien’s throat. I pointed to the drain. “My ring,” I gasped. “It fell...”

She picked up her book, scrambled down the stairs, and peered in the drain. She huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re making that much noise over that?”

I drew back my shoulders and snapped, “It’s an irreplaceable heirloom! Centuries of human history! You can’t get those stones anywhere but Earth!”

“Then you should have been more careful with it.”

That made me want to scream, but before I could gather enough breath, the child gathered the book to her chest and turned away. “Can you at least try to keep it down?”

As the girl sat on the building’s stone stairs, the wind tore a scrap of paper out of her book and sent it fluttering. She reached up and snatched it out of the air. My gaze fell on the girl’s arms—long, lanky things that were thinner than human arms. With four-fingered hands that could easily slip between the bars of the grate.

“Wait!” I shouted. “Little tephan girl! What’s your name?”

The girl cast me a dark, distrustful expression, but she finally intoned, “Tanza.”

Not bad, as far as tephan names went. I could pronounce this one. “Tanza,” I said, “Do you think you could reach it?”

The girl shifted her hand behind her back, her face becoming a hard mask. “What do you mean?”

I pointed to her, rambling in my excitement. “Your arms are thinner than mine. Just as long. You could probably reach...”

Her brow furrowed.  “You want me to dig in a sewer?”

“Not a sewer,” I said. “A storm drain.”

“Still dirty.” She looked at the storm drain with narrowed eyes.“If I get it for you, will you go away?”

I wanted nothing more. “Immediately.”

"What'll you pay me for it?"

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. "What? Who said I'd pay you?"

The child pointed one long finger at the storm drain. “If I get dirty digging in there, it’ll be my tenth laundry demerit and I don’t get supper. I’m not doing it for nothing!”

The building behind her held one of the few signs I’d seen with Anglese translations beneath the tephan words: Alogath Charity Home for Unwanted Children. I could see why this child was unwanted.

“I don’t carry cash,” I told her.

“Do you have a credit stick?”

I put a protective arm over my purse. “It’ll be deactivated the moment you touch it.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need the whole stick. Just buy me something with it.”

A truck—a noisy, clanking tephan thing that actually rolled on the ground—roared past us. The glimmer on the ring shifted closer to the drain pipe. If I didn’t act fast…

“What do you want?” I asked her.

“A lot of things.” Her eyes went blank as she stared at imaginings only she could see. Finally, she declared, “A meal at the High Palace.”

She really said that! As if it were a reasonable request! I don’t know how this urchin even knew about human restaurants, much less the finest of fine dining establishments.

“That’s ridiculous!”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I lose a meal, you buy me a replacement. That’s fair.”

“Do you know how much a High Palace meal costs?”

“A lot less than it’ll cost you to replace that ring.”

I growled in frustration. The child had me backed into a corner and she knew it. I shuddered at the thought of taking this…thing into the sparkling society of a High Palace dining room.

I pointed a fierce finger at the child. “Only if you give me the ring immediately. Understand? There’s not a place on the planet a creature like you could sell it without suspicion.”

“I don’t want your ring. I’ll live up to my end of the bargain. And you’ll live up to yours, or that ring’s staying where it is.”

Of course I couldn’t really take her to the High Palace, but one more street-rattling truck could take the ring forever out of anyone’s reach. I’d have agreed if she’d asked for a hovercar.

“Fine!” I shouted. “I’ll buy you the meal. Just save my ring!”

The child placed her book on a clean patch of sidewalk and returned to the edge of the street. I snatched up my purse and stepped aside while the girl laid face down in the gutter. She slid her arm through the grate, all the way up to the shoulder. I held my breath for an eternal moment and didn’t release it until the girl emerged with a ring of gold and amethyst in her hands.

The ring sparkled merrily at me, grimy but whole. I snatched it from Tanza's hands and tucked it into an inner pocket of my gray blazer. I wouldn’t wear it again without resizing it—and not until I was in a neighborhood where I didn’t have to worry about it being stolen from my finger.

The child picked up her book and looked at me expectantly. Demandingly.

I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was a complete stranger. I’d made the promise under duress. Not a court in the universe would hold me to it. What right did a tephan child have to make such ridiculous demands of a woman of my stature?

“Thank you,” I said. “You did a very good thing.” Then I sped down the street.

The creature was right at my heels. “The High Palace is the other way.”

I didn’t know if she was telling the truth. It didn’t matter. I walked faster.

She yanked at my arm. “You promised me a meal!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get you into the High Palace.”

“A human lady dressed like you? You could get me in if you wanted to.”

I yanked my arm away from her. “What a pity I don’t want to.”

She gave a feral yowl. I started sprinting—or as near as I could manage in the heels I was wearing. The girl kept pace with me. I was a foot taller than her; why couldn’t I outrun her? Could I lose her in her own streets when I was lost myself?

Just when I thought I’d never be able to escape, I rounded a corner and saw the green-and-silver uniform of a Coalition policeman. My heart soared as I raced toward him. Help, protection, guidance, all only a few steps away. Something wonderfully human in this alien world.

“Officer!” I shouted to his retreating back. “Please, I need help!”

The officer stopped and raised a hand. A four-fingered hand. When he turned around, his face had the skewed proportions of a tephan face.

I nearly screamed. I’d stumbled into a nightmare.

The officer said, with the crisp diction of a tephan overcompensating for an accent, “Have you a problem, morik—madam?”

I’d heard that a few tephans had been admitted into the police forces, but I’d never thought I’d meet one. This tephan was young. Wiry and blond. Almost insignificant-looking if it weren’t for the uniform and the stolen sense of authority. Would he help a human?

Tephan or not, he had an obligation to assist the public. “Officer,” I gasped. “I need directions to the nearest train station. I’m trying to get home and this child is harassing me.”

The girl stormed up to him and shrieked, “She’s a liar!”

She shouted a stream of gibberish, and it wasn’t until the officer responded with similar sounds that I realized they were speaking the tephan language. Flowing, musical vowels were interrupted by harsh consonants, like rocks in a river. The sounds sent chills down my spine that only grew fiercer as the officer’s expression grew darker.

When the girl finished, the officer looked at me, not like an innocent victim needing help, but like a criminal who needed hauling to one of their barbaric tephan jails. “You have wronged this girl.”

I lifted my chin. “She’s lying! I’ve done nothing to her!”

“She claims she rescued your ring in exchange for a meal at the High Palace, and you are attempting to break your word.”

“I owe her nothing!”

“Did you promise her a meal?”

I threw out my hands in frustration. “It’s not like we had a contract or anything!”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your promise means nothing without a legal document?”

“She had no right to hold me to a promise. I was desperate!”

He put a brotherly hand on the girl’s shoulder. “And she was kind enough to help you.”

I scoffed. “For a heavy price.”

The child shouted, “It’s one meal!”

The officer examined my face carefully. “You are Priscilla Overton, are you not? The wife of the finance minister?”

My jaw dropped. I’m prominent enough in human circles, but I’d never dared to consider that my face was known among tephans. It terrified me, but I knew it could be my ticket out of this. “I am, and when my husband finds out about how I’ve been treated—”

“Your husband is not a popular man. Not among tephans.”

I had never cared about Roger's reputation among the tephans. These primitives didn’t know what was best for their planet. But that wasn’t something I could say when I was alone in a strange neighborhood with two of them.

The officer continued, “It will not help his reputation if his wife is known as a promise-breaker.”

I couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”

He leaned toward me and said in low tones, “I am helping you.” He gestured to the street around us. “Do you think I’m the only one who heard the girl’s story?”

I shuddered to see a handful of tephans staring at us from among the crumbling buildings.

The officer said, “The Coalition doesn’t care much for tephan opinion, but if there is enough outcry against one man, even a human representative can be released from his job.”

At first, the thought lifted my spirits. Sent home! To Earth! It was what I’d wanted from the moment we’d stepped foot on this planet. But sent home in disgrace? Roger would have no future in government after such a public failure. It would mean everything we suffered here would be for nothing.

I asked the officer, “You really think they’d protest? Just because I didn’t bow to a child’s ridiculous demands?”

“If a person can’t keep a promise made to a child, how can anything they say be trusted?” His tephan gaze raked over me, like he was dissecting my inner thoughts. “Your people may have different ideas, but tephans still value virtue.”

How dare he—this puffed-up primitive in a human position of power—accuse humanity of being inferior?

My opinion didn’t matter. These creatures thought it a matter of morality that I feed this ragged brat finer cuisine than their planet had ever produced, and nothing I could say would change their minds. Now it seems ridiculous to think that those tephans could ruin us, but in that moment, alone in those unfamiliar streets, seeing how these two strange aliens teamed up against me, I could believe their kind capable of anything.

I looked down at the child. Her big eyes. Her frizzy curls. Her long limbs clutching the book to her chest. The grimy, bog-green clothes that fell short of the wrists and ankles. The smug smirk of a spoiled child who knew she was about to get her way. I had never loathed anyone more in my life.

“Do you have a name?” I asked her. “I’ll need a full name for the restaurant register.”

“I told you,” she said, as though she’d expected me to remember. “It’s Tanza.”

“What’s the rest of your name?” Most tephans I’d met had at least three or four names and were obnoxiously eager to explain them.

The girl's face darkened like I’d offended her. “Just Tanza.”

The officer looked at her with new pity, and even I understood why. You know how important names are to tephans. One name was a badge of dishonor--forever marking her as a child who’d never been claimed by any family, who’d never been given anything beyond the minimum necessary label. Tanza would have felt the shame of that, and I wasn’t quite so surprised that she’d turned into such an irritating little brat.

But I had no room for pity. “Do you have anything better to wear?”

She tugged at the cuffs, trying to stretch them over her arms. “Just more green. And all in the wash. Laundry demerits."

The officer said, "It'll do." He knelt in front of the girl, then looked at me and held out a hand. "I'll bet a fine lady like you carries all kinds of cleaning tools."

I sighed and handed him the nanocleanser from my purse. I showed him the power button, then he waved the metal wand over the stains on Tanza’s clothes. After a few seconds, the stains evaporated and the dirt from the gutter fell away as dry sand.

“Good as new,” the officer said, while Tanza gaped at her freshly-cleaned clothes. These primitives were astounded by the simplest things.

The child brushed through her wild curls with her fingers, swept them back over her shoulders, then stood with her hands at her side and feet apart, as if presenting herself for inspection.

I sighed. “I guess it’s as good as we’ll get. Let’s get this over with.”

Tanza tucked her book beneath her arm and her eyes sparkled with victory.

I looked balefully at the tome. “The book’s coming with?”

“Well, I can’t leave it here.”

I considered insisting that she take it back to the home, but I wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Bring the book.”

I was seriously planning on entering the dining room of the High Palace with an alien who thought the proper attire included a set of green work clothes and a giant book. I had gone insane.

The officer stepped aside and gestured for both of us to walk past him. “I’ll escort you there.”

And there went my last hope of escape.

#

The officer escorted us through winding streets, side alleys and dried up canals until we finally crossed a bridge into a civilized portion of the city with human-designed buildings. One sprawling building of white stone-print bore a black sign with elegant script that proclaimed it The High Palace.

As we approached the building, Tanza suddenly skittered across my path. I almost tripped over her feet.

I glared at her as she fell into step on my right side. “What are you doing?”

She glanced warily to the street corner. “Kids from school.”

I glanced back and saw a pre-teen human boy with short black hair and immaculate clothing. He leaned against the corner of a building while he spoke with a handful of human friends. Well-groomed, friendly, human—why couldn’t that child have rescued my ring? I’d have been glad to take him as a guest to the High Palace.

As I engaged in fruitless wishes, the human children disappeared, and I arrived with my tephan escorts at the entrance doors of the High Palace. Wide glass windows showed a sparkling three-dimensional display of Old Paris in springtime. Tanza studied the images of bakeries and floral shops and fluttering Earth songbirds, as if attempting to dissect the technology. The few people passing by looked askance at the tephan pair with me.

Tanza asked, “Are we going in?”

I looked back at the officer. He just smiled at me and waved us toward the door.

I took a deep breath, put a hand behind the girl’s shoulders and pushed her inside.

The interior was a vision of white and cream: pale artwork on the walls, a glass fountain trickling crystal-clear water, rugs in intricate shades of vanilla, beige and ivory upon white marble floors.

The street sounds disappeared when the door closed behind us. No foot traffic, no rumbling vehicles, no screeching of alien animals. Just the hush of quiet voices, the gentle strings of a European symphony and the trickle of the fountain. It was like we'd stepped into a different world. My world. Except for the alien next to me.

The host standing guard at the dining room entrance stared at Tanza, then looked at me with the horrified compassion of someone trying to tell you there’s a wasp on your shoulder. “Madam, are you aware…?”

The only way to get through this with any dignity was to brazen my way through it. “I’d like a table, please. Two seats. For Priscilla Overton and guest.”

I thought his eyes would pop out of his head. “Your guest? You mean she—?”

“Is my guest. Is that a problem?”

He stared as if incredulous that I didn’t know the problem. I didn’t even blink.

Finally, he put a stylus to his datapad. “Does this guest have a name?”

The girl stood as straight and dignified as I did. “Tanza.”

He poised his stylus over the datapad. “Anythin—”

“Just Tanza.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he set his stylus aside. “Two seats for Priscilla Overton and…Tanza.”

The host led us into a blindingly beautiful dining room. A full wall of windows overlooked a river that glittered in the afternoon sun. The other walls were meshed with holonet that made the room look like a small nook in a formal European garden, with the tables and chairs surrounded by roses, tulips, lilies, and a thousand other flowers whose names I’d forgotten in my years away from Earth. Real potted plants scattered among the tables added to the reality of the image and the string quartet played some of the finest music from Earth's history. The room was a bastion of civilization in this barbaric world. A taste of home. It was more filling than any food could be.

The host led us to windowside tables with an excellent view of the river. My heart lifted. Prime seating—a sign of my place on this planet, which not even a tephan could take away. And it was flanked by two potted gardenia plants that would screen my guest from the handful of other diners.

I took the right-hand seat and motioned for Tanza to take the chair that sat closest to the shrub. Its branches brushed her as she sat down.

The host left us as a waiter handed us our menus. As Tanza sat down, she reached toward the branch above her head, plucked a single white gardenia blossom, shoved it in her mouth, and began to chew.

I froze in terror, then glanced at the waiter. Had he noticed?

If he had, he’d been well trained. He didn’t even stumble in his recitation of the day’s lunch specials.

“Would you like a few minutes to make a selection?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving him away before my guest could decide to take another nibble of the greenery.

He bowed and vanished toward the kitchen.

When he was gone, Tanza spit the flower into a gold-embroidered napkin and wiped her tongue on the far corner. While her mouth contorted in the most disturbing shape, those tephan eyes glared at me. “That’s not a spiceblossom bush.”

“No,” I said, my tone stretched with scorn. “It’s a gardenia. And the blossoms aren’t for eating.”

She wiped her tongue on another corner of the napkin. “Why do they put flowers by the table if you’re not supposed to eat them?”

“For decoration,” I hissed. “And if you can’t behave in a civilized manner, we’ll leave this restaurant, promise or no promise.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t know all the fancy human rules of eating.”

Her sarcasm made my blood boil—until I saw her blush. She was prickly, yes, but unless I was very much mistaken, she was embarrassed. Now she was lost in an alien world, and I’d experienced that sensation too recently not to feel a little sorry for her.

But only a little. She had demanded this, after all, at great expense to me. Let her suffer the consequences.

“Rule one,” I said. “Don’t put anything in your mouth unless I tell you to.” I tugged her napkin out of her four-fingered hands before she could run it across her tongue again. “That includes napkins.”

With the napkin gone, Tanza's tongue was on full display in front of her chin as she kept the taste as far out of her mouth as possible. I don’t know if you know this, but tephan tongues can stretch further and thinner than human tongues, and this child made hers come almost to a point. I couldn’t look at that for the entire meal, but I couldn’t have the child destroying all the table linens either.

I waved over a waiter carrying a carafe of water, and I pointed him to our empty glasses. He leaned over our table and filled my glass almost to the brim. Then he turned and saw my guest—her pale skin, green clothes, those big eyes and that long, thin tephan tongue. He yelped, recoiled, dropped the carafe, and knocked over my glass. Water flooded the table and spilled onto my lap.

The child yelped, shouted something in her alien language and scrambled to pull her book out of the path of the water. An old man at the next table dropped his fork and stared at her. Fortunately, the few other diners in the room were too far away to see.

I hushed the child and found myself in the strange position of apologizing to the waiter while I was the one standing drenched. I didn’t know what reznat meant, but I was sure it wasn’t a nice thing for a tephan to say to her waiter.

“Could we...” I asked as I ran the nanocleanser over my clothes, “have another table?”

“C...certainly, madam,” he said, looking at Tanza as if waiting for her to pounce. I half-expected it myself, from the fierce way she curled around that book.

Once my clothes were dry, the waiter brought us to an empty table nearer the center of the room. No window view. No shielding plants. But it was further from the kitchen—where I was certain all the servers would be gossiping about us as soon as this klutz left us.

Once we were settled with new water glasses and dry menus, the server scurried away as if the girl were a poison frog. Tanza muttered alien words while she brushed water from the edges of her book, and gulped water until she got the taste of the flower out of her mouth. Then she glared at me and reverted back to Anglese. “He almost wrecked my book.”

After watching her lug that book around for an hour, my curiosity—and frustration—were mounting. “What’s that book about, anyway? And why are you willing to curse out waiters over it?”

“It’s a biography of Queen Marastel.” She set the book deliberately on the table, and looked around the room as if daring waiters to spill more water on it. “And it’s mine. I finally have a book of my own, and I don’t want it wrecked by an idiot with a water pitcher.”

The book was thick. What I’d seen of the print was small. It was not a children’s history book. I hadn’t expected this grimy alien child to be the biography type. Was there a developmental disorder that gave children irrational attachments to academic texts?

“Who is Queen Marastel?” I asked.

Tanza showed me the book’s cover. It had a picture of a young tephan woman—in her mid-twenties, to my human eyes—with a pale, narrow face, and deep eyes. The woman's dark hair was covered with an elaborate system of veils, and she wore a dress covered in so many white jewels and so much gray and white beadwork that I almost couldn’t see the ivory fabric underneath.

“Her,” Tanza said. “The last queen of Arateph.”

“Arateph had queens?” I asked in surprise. They hadn’t had queens when humanity had found them. It must have been part of their history.

I’d never thought of this planet as having a history. If I’d considered it at all, I suppose I’d assumed that they’d been muddling along the way we’d found them for the last few centuries, waiting for us to show up and drag them into modern civilization.

Tanza said, “The planet was ruled by a monarchy until about forty years before the Coalition showed up.”

“The whole planet?”

Tanza sat straighter and her diction became crisper—she looked like a little lecturer at one of those cultural symposiums that Roger and I always had to make appearances at. “After Kepha joined the other eleven kingdoms, the entire planet was united under the monarchy for three hundred and fifty-eight years.”

Not just a monarchy, but a planet-spanning monarchy. Such a thing hadn’t happened in all of human civilization, and these people had accomplished it when they were still on their home planet, believing themselves alone in the universe. I hadn’t thought such an archaic form of government could rule an entire continent without overextending itself, yet it had ruled their world for centuries. For the first time, I found myself wanting to learn something from the tephan people. How had such a government come about? How had they managed it?

Why did the woman on the cover look so sad?

I didn’t ask any of these questions because just then, a waiter appeared—not the water-spilling one, thank goodness. (I didn’t trust my guest to look at that one without throwing something at him.) This one was older, with crisp lines in his clothes and face. He looked like he could have won a staring contest with a statue—perfect unshakable professionalism.

“Are you ready to order, Madam Overton?” He didn’t even look at my guest.

Tanza’s eyes brightened as she picked up the menu, flipping through the pages to examine the options.

I asked her, “What you want to eat?”

“I don’t know.  I’ve never had human food.”

My jaw fell. “You wanted to come here and you didn’t even know what you wanted to eat?”

She gave me a withering stare, as though I was the stupid one. “I wanted to try it.” She closed the menu. “Besides, you said I can only eat what you tell me to eat. So what am I allowed to eat, Priscilla?”

I picked up the menu and realized with horror that I didn’t know the answer. What could tephans eat? Were there foods that were delicacies to us and poison to them?

I asked the waiter, “Do you have any suggestions?” I doubted these people served many tephans, but food was their area of expertise, and we were on Arateph.

The waiter looked at Tanza for the first time. “I’ve heard that people of her...race...are rather fond of the amphibian.” He pointed to an entry on my appetizer list. “The frog legs are popular. And a specialty of the chef.”

I hadn’t eaten frog in years. But if I could choke it down for Roger’s political dinners, I could manage it to satisfy a petulant tephan child. “We’ll have that.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else?”

I didn’t want to give Tanza any more chances to upset the wait staff. “No. Just get us our food as soon as possible.”

As the waiter walked away with our menus, an afternoon crowd filled the dining room; within a few minutes, we went from being nearly alone to being surrounded by other diners. I could tell by the sideways glances that most of them noticed my tephan guest. And I could tell that Tanza noticed them. She sat silently at first, growing more and more tense as we all tried to ignore each other, but when a bald man at the next table stared at her for several long moments, she finally snapped.

“Can you stop it?” she barked at him. “You’re giving me the shivers.” The man, red-faced, studied his menu as if his life depended on it.

Tanza turned back to the table, muttering, “You humans look so creepy when you stare.”

I was too stunned to scold her. I’d never considered that the distaste for the other race’s looks went both ways. If she’d lived her life in a mostly-tephan neighborhood, a human face would look just as slightly wrong to her as a tephan face did to me. It sounds strange, but the idea that she found us ugly made me like her more. It certainly made her more relatable.

But I couldn’t have her making a spectacle. “Please, don’t bother the other diners.”

She seemed ready to protest, but I spoke before she could argue. “That woman in your book. You said she was the last queen of Arateph. What happened?”

Her eyes lit up, rude diners forgotten, as she flipped open the book. “Revolution. The People’s House took over and had her and the king executed.”

I shivered. “So violent. And so young to die.”

Tanza gave me a confused look, then glanced at the cover and understood. “Oh, that’s from her first years as queen. She was almost seventy when she died.”

I pictured the woman on the cover with hair turned gray, but the same dark, sad eyes, facing an angry mob as they led her to the scaffold or the firing squad or however these people killed their leaders. It was brutal, but humanity had often been equally brutal, so I couldn’t dismiss it as their backward alien culture.

Tanza flipped through the pages. “They say she was weak and self-absorbed, but this book gives her more depth.” She looked at a page near the cover. “Verai’s a good scholar. Uses lots of primary sources. Very readable.”

Now that her interest was unleashed, Tanza talked on and on, taking me through an alien history, the tale of a queen beset by tragedy upon tragedy as she helped her husband rule a crumbling planet and struggled to produce an heir. All the scholars at those Coalition events were nowhere near as enthralling as this alien child sharing her favorite book.

As fascinating as the story was, I was even more entranced by the pictures—dozens were embedded through the text. Tanza condescended to turn the book around so I could see. It was grandeur like I’d never seen, buildings in alien colors and shapes and patterns, but bringing to mind the grandest palaces in human history, from Versailles to the Forbidden City to the red spires of the North Martian Emperor's summer home. The people in the pictures wore elaborate, brightly-colored clothes, and feasted upon vast tables full of unfamiliar food—including blossoms from the potted trees next to the tables. No primitive civilization could have created such a culture. No wonder this alien urchin was enthralled, and no wonder she’d seized the chance to attend the closest modern equivalent to such feasts that she knew of.

The return of the stone-faced waiter snapped me back to reality. He planted himself next to the table, passing blank-faced judgement by how thoroughly he didn’t look at the book or the way we bent over it. Face burning, I sat back in my chair and felt ashamed to be caught hanging upon an alien’s story like a dim-witted child.

Tanza swept the book under the table and sat primly as the waiters placed the food in front of us. First a gold charger, then the crystal plates bearing the food—ten frog legs, crisply fried in butter and lemon, dotted with parsley and surrounded by a handful of greens.

Half a dozen nearby heads surreptitiously craned in our direction.

The waiters set a similar platter in front of me, and after I’d arranged my napkin on my lap, I thanked the waiter, picked up the silverware, and began to cut the meat.

Tanza watched me carefully as the waiters left. She picked up her silverware, examined it closely—did tephans even have silverware?—and tried to imitate me, but when she touched the food, the prim little professor became the feral street child again. She still used the silverware, but that was her only concession to decency as she gobbled her foot, downing the frog legs almost whole. The butter sauce ringed her mouth and splattered on her clothing. She made the most inhuman snorting noises as she swallowed.

Now everyone was staring—the red-faced man at the next table, his three dining companions, the ten people sitting at the other nearby tables, the waiters who'd halted on their way to the kitchen. People murmured to their companions. Diners flagged down waiters and asked discreetly if there was something that could be done.

My face burned in embarrassment, but I couldn’t stop the girl. With all these eyes watching me—watching me, Priscilla Overton, entertaining an animal at the finest restaurant in Roshen—I couldn’t even speak. I wanted to sink into the carpet. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to run from the restaurant, flee from this planet, and return to comfortable, civilized Earth. But mortification left me paralyzed. I just sat and did nothing as Tanza devoured her food and licked every last drop of sauce from the plate.

Finally, she dropped her plate back on the charger and leaned back with satisfaction. Her big tephan eyes were bright. “That was amazing.” She licked all eight of her fingers, so lost in the euphoria of her food that she was unaware of the horrified crowd surrounding us. She looked at my plate with confusion. “You’ve barely touched yours.”

I let my fork drop to the tablecloth. “I’m not very hungry.”

Her eyes brightened. “Can I have it?”

“No.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You can’t waste food. At least try to eat it.”

After that display, I’d never be able to stomach another frog leg. “It doesn’t appeal to me.”

“Then I’ll eat it.” Before I could react, she leaned across the table, speared a frog leg with her fork, and was chewing it before she settled back in her chair.

I wanted to scream. I could have tried to correct her, but I had no idea where to begin, and by now, it was far too late.

The stone-faced waiter leaned over my shoulder. He was pale and his eyes were wide—apparently there were some things that could rattle him. “Madam, if you cannot eat your food here, we can send it home with you.”

He was offering me a doggy bag. The finest restaurant in the city, which usually recoiled in horror from such vulgar practices, was so desperate for me to leave that the staff were sending me home with leftovers. I was, in effect, being kicked out.

I didn’t even care. “Yes, thank you.”

In seconds, another waiter appeared, carrying a green box that had probably held some kind of produce in the kitchen, repurposed into this restaurant’s first take-home container. I sat in silence as they poured the frog legs into the container, then I handed them my credit stick, and when I examined the payment screen of their datapad, I added on a gratuity that cost twice as much as the food did. Perhaps with a tip like that, they’d let me show my face here again. At the moment, I doubted I’d ever want to.

I gathered my purse and stood. That creature gathered her ridiculous book and followed me, smiling, out of the dining room.  

When we reached the lobby, I thrust the box into the child's hands. “Take it. I don’t want it.”

The girl's eyebrows rose. “You don’t? Are you sure? It’s really good.”

“I think it appeals more to tephan tastes.”

She thanked me as though I’d given her all the jewels that the queen on her book was wearing, then tucked the box under one arm and the book under the other.

I put a hand behind her shoulders and pushed her out the door. When we emerged onto the sunlit sidewalk, all my frustration exploded.

“There!” I snapped, giving her one last push beyond the awning of the restaurant. “You’ve had your meal. Take your food and go!”

She stumbled forward, then stared at me in bewilderment. “What set you off?”

My laugh was tinged with hysteria. “What set me off? Maybe I’m just a little peeved at being disgraced in front of some of the richest people in the city by a tephan who gobbles her food like an animal.”

She stood with her mouth open, struck speechless. Those big green eyes showed surprisingly human-looking hurt. “Was it that bad? I know I’m not fancy, but...”

“You can’t tell me you didn’t notice all those people staring.”

The creature turned red. She stammered, “I thought it was because I’m tephan. You told me not to bother them.”

I couldn’t bear to have that creature looking up at me with those big, sad eyes. I didn’t want to feel sorry for her. “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Maybe in a few years they’ll let me dine there again.” I pushed her steadily but firmly away from the restaurant. “I have more than paid you in full. Thank you for saving my ring. Goodbye.”

Still looking baffled, the girl trudged away from the restaurant. I walked in the other direction.

My anger started fading the moment the child was out of my line of sight. Each step away from the restaurant felt like a step back into a normal world. There were humans around me. I could read the signs. I even knew how to find my way to the train station. I’d be back at the hotel within the hour and I could pretend that this whole horrible afternoon had been a bad dream.

Light footsteps skittered behind me. A green-clad tephan child with a book and a box appeared to my left.

I yelped and reeled back. “What are you—?”

Tanza fell into step beside me. “I’m really very sorry for embarrassing you. I need to make it up to you. Let me show you the way to the train station—”

My previous anger felt like a candle flame compared to the volcano that those words set off within me. “Leave me alone!” I towered over her in my fury. “I gave you your meal! I fulfilled the promise! Now leave!” I stormed away, but at the first sound of footsteps behind me, I whirled around. “I swear, if you take another step toward me, I will see you arrested!”

The child’s face hardened into the petulant mask that I recognized from my first sight of her from the gutter. “Sorry for helping.”

“Helping,” I mocked. “Your help comes at too high a price.” I gave a short, cynical laugh. “I see through your plan. You think you can trail after me demanding handouts all day. Well, I have had enough.” I secured my purse over my shoulder like I was holstering a weapon. “Get out of here!”

Face white and lips tight with anger, Tanza bowed her head and turned away. I strode away in triumph.

An old man looked at me sideways, shaking his head. I made it to the end of the block before the guilt hit me. The old man had reason to disapprove. Tanza had made an offer of help, and I’d responded by screaming at her in a public street. Perhaps she had felt remorse. As embarrassing as it had been to be seen with a girl who ate like an animal, how much worse would it feel to be the one who’d done it? I thought of those pictures in that book of hers. Would I have fared any better at a tephan feast?

I turned around. “Tanza, wait—“

“Hey, Tanza!”

The voice, coming from the other end of the block, was louder, harsher, and younger than mine. A crowd of boys stampeded down the sidewalk—all humans, about twelve years old, and led by a boy with slick black hair and gray and white clothes in the latest crisply-cut fashions. The children Tanza had noticed when we’d first arrived at the restaurant.

Tanza—standing near where I’d left her—tried to move away from them, but hesitated when she saw me standing at the other end of the block. In seconds, the boys had her surrounded.

The ringleader prodded her shoulder. “Escaped from your cage, Tanza? What are you doing among civilized people?”

His yellow-haired friend poked at the box of frog legs. “Looks like she’s looting houses.”

Tanza yanked the box away. “I’m not a thief!”

The ringleader tugged at the book under her other arm. “That’s a big book. Still playing at being smart, small-brain?”

Tanza pulled it back. “Don’t touch that!”

One boy pried up her arm while two others slid the book away from her. “Ooh, it’s a small-brain book!” the ringleader said in mock delight. He flipped through the pages with dirt-stained fingers. “It’s even written in their pretend letters.”

Tanza snarled, “Give that back!”

He slammed it shut and pulled it toward his chest. “Why? Scared it’s too complicated for me?”

“It’s mine!”

He looked at it thoughtfully. “Is it, though? I don’t think a charity case like you can afford a big book like this.”

“It’s mine!” she repeated, nearly shrieking now. “Teacher gave it to me!”

“Bet she stole it,” said a voice from the crowd. “She’s just a grubby little nameless charity house thief.”

Tanza, driven past the breaking point as the ringleader held the book just beyond her reach, shrieked in outrage and pounced. She tore at the book while the boys yanked it away from her. The individuals disappeared into a storm of arms and legs and paper. Five against one. I watched in terror for a few moments before thinking to call for help. I had my wristcomm. I could hit the emergency button….

It was over before I could lift my wrist. Tanza was sprawled across the sidewalk, surrounded by the shredded, dirty pages of her book. Her box had been torn open. Fleshy frog legs were scattered on the ground as though the animals had been thrown against the wall.

The boys, barely scuffed, loomed over her, mocking. They lifted the empty binding of the book like a trophy, cheering over it and slapping each other on the back. Then, satisfied with their destruction, they ran off the way they came, leaving their victim on the ground.

Numbly, I shuffled toward her, feeling lost in a different sort of nightmare--one where I was one of the monsters. Those boys had been waiting for her. If she’d had an ulterior motive for coming after me to apologize, she had been hoping for protection, not handouts. And I’d thrown her to the wolves.

Tanza pushed herself onto her knees and pulled the pages toward her, like a mother hen gathering up chicks. She looked more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her, eyes wide and glistening, her face slack with horror. Her emotionless mask was gone. She pressed an armload of shredded pages to her chest, curled into a fetal position, and cried.

Curled up like that, face and hands hidden, she didn’t look like a tephan. Not like the rude negotiator at the gutter. Not like the little professor or even the animal at the table. She was just a friendless little girl, surrounded by the wreckage of her most prized possession.

I thought of the last time I’d seen her lying in the street, arm threaded through a storm drain while she reached for my ring. The ring was in my pocket, safe and whole. How had I thanked her for her service? Tried to duck out of the promise, treated her like a savage, screamed at her in the streets, and left her at the mercy of bullies.

The ring I loved so much was one of dozens that I’d brought from Earth, and my day had been destroyed at the thought of losing it. This book was the only one she owned, and it was gone forever. I couldn���t imagine her distress.

How had I thought her the savage?  

My stomach twisted with loathing, and for the first time all day, it was directed toward myself. I could fool myself no longer; I’d done nothing to be proud of today.

But that could change.

Approaching Tanza with soft, careful steps, I crouched next to her. “Tanza?” I brushed a finger across her shoulder.

The girl recoiled from my touch and turned away. She came up on her feet, but stayed scrunched into a ball, protecting her pages and hiding her red eyes.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

Her voice was thick with tears. “Go away.”

I grabbed one of the pages. “I can help—“

She whirled her head toward me and snapped, “I said go away!”

I stumbled back, and for a moment I was ready to do as she wanted. This was not my problem and she didn’t want my help.

Then my good sense returned, and I barked, “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going to leave a child in the street.” I started gathering pages. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

I looked around for help. The crowd had merely started taking a wider berth around us, but after a moment, I saw the green and silver flash of a Coalition policeman’s uniform—on a policeman with tephan hands.

I’d never thought I’d be glad to see that officer again. I waved toward him, shouting, “Officer! Please, can you help?”

My voice startled the officer, and his surprise turned to concern as he neared and saw the devastation. He crouched next to us and asked me, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” I said. The twist in my stomach reminded me that those words weren’t the complete truth, so I amended, “I didn’t destroy the book. There was a group of boys...”

The officer had already turned his attention to Tanza, speaking low-toned words in their tephan language. When they finished, his demeanor toward me was less hostile but more disappointed.

“Now you want to help her?” he asked.

That now was an accusation that cut like a knife. I deserved it, but I met his gaze boldly. “Yes,” I said, daring him to deny me.

He spoke a few more words to Tanza, then told me, “Gather pages.”

He helped Tanza to her feet while I gathered what I could of the paper. Torn edges, smeared alien words, and pictures of long-dead royals who stared at me with accusing eyes. The queen providing food to the poor, shelter to the homeless, clothes to shivering orphans. She’d done all that and wound up executed; looking at Tanza and the tephan officer, I couldn’t help wondering how much worse they thought I deserved.

#

When I’d gathered all the pages I could into a crinkling, crunching mess, I followed in silence as the officer led us along the route we’d taken, every block seeming as long as a mile. When we reached the familiar yellow building where everything had started, I gave the pages to the officer, and he motioned for Tanza to go toward the stair of the building.

“Is there anything else I can do?” I asked Tanza, almost desperate.

Tanza just turned her head away.

“I think you’ve done enough,” the officer said. The words were soft, but I heard the condemnation in them.

I shouldered my purse more firmly, avoided Tanza’s eyes, then asked the officer, “Can you tell me where to find a train station?”

The officer pointed down the street in the opposite direction from where I’d originally approached the building. “The nearest one is just beyond the Killing Square.”

The words shocked me out of the numbness I’d been feeling. “The what?”

But the officer was already rattling off directions, and I was too busy memorizing the steps—left, then right, past the purple tower, turn two blocks after the bridge—to ask what exactly a Killing Square was. I didn’t think a uniformed police officer would purposely send me to my death, so I assumed something had been lost in the translation.

“Thank you, officer,” I said when he finished. Then I looked at the girl and added, “Thank you, Tanza.”

Tanza's green clothes—now scuffed from battle—hung loosely off her slumped shoulders. After a long moment, she raised her head and looked at me from beneath lowered lids. “Goodbye,” she said.

Her tone meant, “Good riddance.”

My pride flared at that. I thought I'd been rather compassionate--helping her gather the pages, hailing the officer, even trailing her all the way to her home to make sure that she arrived safely. Surely she could show a little gratitude.

But as I walked through the narrow, battered streets, it was my own rudeness that haunted me. Snatching the ring from her fingers as though afraid she'd contaminate it. Fleeing from her rather than fulfilling the promise. Leaving her to fight five against one when a moment's action on my part could have saved her. All day, I'd thought myself better than her because I was human, but my actions had been inhumane.

I tried to put it behind me. There was nothing else I could do. The book was gone, beyond repair. Tanza probably never wanted to see me again. It was best to move on and forget all about the tephan girl and the dark-eyed queen that so fascinated her.

Then I turned the corner and came face to face with Queen Marastel. A picture on the gray stone wall, larger than life, showed the woman whose face I’d seen a hundred times in Tanza’s book. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized. The image was a photo, more or less, but not like any photo or holo-image I’d ever seen from human technology. The colors were more muted than reality, while a strange vibrant shimmer added depth to the image, so it looked as though I could walk inside the pictured scene with a little effort.

The queen’s hair had gone completely gray, her jewels were gone, and her vividly colored gowns had been replaced by a white fabric sheath. What I noticed most were her eyes—they were striking in most of the book photos, but here, her gaze knocked the breath from me. Surely no human gaze could show that much sorrow.

How was she here? Would this queen haunt me wherever I went on this planet, reminding me of my sins against the child?

I noticed a small plaque next to the picture, with a tiny Anglese translation at the bottom, which explained that the image showed Queen Marastel in front of this very building, moments before she was led to death in the center of the square. “Oh,” I said aloud, turning slowly to examine the streets and buildings around me as understanding struck. “The Killing Square.”

This was the center of the revolution that had ended this planet’s monarchy. It was a hauntingly bland neighborhood; no sign of the violent destruction that Tanza had told me of, not after more than eighty years’ worth of repairs.  But pictures and plaques decorated almost every building I saw, telling the story that time had erased. Seven brothers from Kepha stood scarred but proud before a jeering band of executioners. A red-haired older woman tried to cheer up three children as armed rebels escorted them all to prison. The king himself stood tall and white-haired, every line of his face showing his fierce love for his planet even as his people tried to kill him.

I could list examples all day, but I could never make you understand the feeling of being there, gazing at these people in the moments before their deaths. They were young and old, tall and short, had hair and skin in every imaginable shade. They came from regions I hadn’t known existed--desert wastes and mountain ranges and snow-covered tundras. These people had families they’d hated to lose, homes that were as familiar to them as the cottage by the Atlantic had once been to me. They’d made mistakes and suffered for it. They, too, had regrets.

Fear, anger, hatred, love, bravery, cowardice--every possible human emotion filled those alien faces, and it didn’t take long for me to stop seeing them as alien at all. They were people, who’d lived on this planet just as I did, who had loved it the way I’d loved Earth.

I’d never even wanted to know about this world before, but now I was desperate to understand every story these pictures presented. Without Tanza’s book providing context, would I even have paused to look at these pictures? Would I have cared about these people? I doubted I would have. Tanza's childish enthusiasm for a book had upended my world--as I’d upended hers.

With that thought, I found myself back before the picture of the queen. Her sorrowful eyes pinned me in place. It seemed, to my overworked imagination, that she was disappointed in me.

I glared at her. “What else do you want me to do?” I demanded. “What’s done is done. I can’t fix it. I don’t even know what book it was.”

In that hall of death, it seemed a pitiful excuse.

I tore my eyes away from the picture, and my gaze landed upon a door I’d wandered past in my history-induced daze. It was brown and wide, with a sign above proclaiming it the entrance to the Museum of the Alogath Execution Center. I wandered toward it, then froze in my tracks only a few steps away. Next to the entrance was a window—and through the window, I saw books.

This was a museum! Museums—even tephan ones—had gift shops! If there was one place in this world that sold books about Queen Marastel, it was likely the museum that displayed her face on a public street.

I raced into the building, almost giddy, and found the shop just beyond the main entrance. The tiny nook held pamphlets and trinkets, and at the front of the room, a big, silver BookVend machine printed and bound volumes with lightning speed.

I raced through the door. The tephan woman behind the counter dropped her book in surprise as I leaned, panting, against her counter.

The woman asked in smooth Anglese, “Can I help you?”

I stood up and tried to look less like a maniac. “Yes,” I said, in my best politician’s-wife voice. “I need you to help me find a book.”  

#

The door to the charity home loomed large in front of me. I hesitated with my hand before the door. Was I doing something stupid? The freshly-printed book under my arm might not change the fact that the child would want nothing to do with me.

This wasn't about me. I had to try.

My knock was answered by a pale, knobby tephan woman with wisps of blond hair hanging around her face. She stared when she saw my face and clothes. “Madam?”

“Excuse me," I asked, "but does a girl named Tanza live here?”

The woman's eyes glazed over as she struggled to translate my Anglese.

I tried again, speaking more slowly. “Is Tanza here?”

“Tanza…” She trailed off in confusion before her eyes lit with understanding. “Oh!” Gently, she corrected, “It’s pronounced Tanza.”

It sounded exactly the same to me. I was starting to believe those people who said tephans could speak and hear sounds that humans couldn't.

The woman called into the building, and after a storm of voices and footsteps, a slight tephan girl in green clothes came to the door, her curls making a curtain over her still-puffy eyes.

Tanza scowled when she saw me. “What do you want?”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. “I wanted to apologize,” I said. “For what happened. How I treated you. You saved my ring and I treated you like an animal. That was wrong.”

Tanza crossed her arms. “Glad you noticed.”

This child kept finding ways to irritate me, but I swallowed my words before I snapped back in response.

I pulled a book from under my arm. “I know this doesn’t erase what you went through, but I wanted to undo some of the harm that I’ve done today.” I handed her the book, which had the same cover as the book she’d brought to the restaurant. “This is for you.”

Warily, Tanza examined the queen on the cover. “It looks the same.” She flipped through the pages, and her eyes brightened. “It is the same!”

“I printed a new copy. There’s a BookVend down the street. You rescued my ring; it was only fair that I replace your book.”

"Yes, but I didn't think..." She examined the book in amazement before turning that astonished gaze upon me. "This is really mine? To keep?"

“Yes, of course,” I said.

Tanza clutched the book to her chest and smiled at me, positively radiant. That smile transformed her from a feral orphan into a polite little princess.

I couldn’t keep from smiling back.

“Thank you,” Tanza said. Then she saw the other book under my arm. “What’s that one?” she asked, as though hoping it was for her and not daring to ask.

I pulled it out and showed her the cover. It showed the same image of the queen, but this time above an Anglese title—The Queen of Sorrow. “The Anglese edition,” I explained. “This one’s for me.”

If I’d thought she was happy before, it was nothing compared to her radiance now. “You’re going to read it?”

I shrugged. "I couldn't resist. You made it sound so interesting."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. “Wait until you get to Chapter Five. That’s when she first meets the king, and you would not believe the uproar it causes."

She set down her book, grabbed mine, and started flipping through the pages, desperate to show me the start of the story.

From down the hall, an adult voice barked, “Tanza! Don’t bother the woman. I’m sure she’s busy.”

Embarrassed, Tanza closed the book. She pushed it back into my hands. “Sorry. I don’t get to talk about it much.”

“I don’t mind. You’re an excellent instructor.”

Her eyes brightened with hesitant hope. “I could show you more. If you want.”

“I’d be grateful.”

Tanza called over her shoulder. “Garsa! Can I have a visitor in the study room?”

The tephan woman appeared in the entryway. She blinked, taken aback. “As long as she leaves before supper."

Tanza looked up at me. “Do you want to stay?”

No tephan had ever asked me that question before. In all my time here, I’d been an outsider. An invader. I’d never had the desire to be anything more. But those words, coming from Tanza, felt like a welcome.  

I was glad to receive it.

I put a hand on Tanza’s shoulder and smiled. “I’d love to.”

[magicman111]

A Moth to a Flame - Chapter Three

Plumes of thick smoke billowed above the guard tower, blotting out the dusk sky with an ugly, brown smog. Burning red embers danced and flickered in the air, a single stray spark singeing Sasha’s right cheek.

Two girls stood, a dirt clod’s throw apart from each other. They stared each other down. The squeaky toy and Grime were already engaging in a battle of their own, leaving the two former friends alone on that tower. It did little to make the tension any less palpable.

Anne held her sword firmly in both hands, and the rage-filled scowl etched on her face made it clear she was itching for an excuse to ream the blade through her ex bestie’s chest cavity. The sheer hatred boiling inside her veins could not be overstated. Sasha, however, was a different story. She remained cool and kept both open palms raised, a sign of her peaceful intentions. Already a hard sell considering less than an hour ago, she’d ordered her flunkies to lock her and her family up in the dungeon after using and backstabbing her for the fifteen thousandth time.

She knew perfectly well what was at stake here. She knew the consequences not for them, but for this entire world if she failed. Convincing Anne to believe her now was going to be an uphill battle and the rematch she’d spent months prior fantasising about now seemed inevitable.

The irony surrounding both those things was not lost on her.

“Anne, I need you to listen to me!” she shouted over the hot gusts of wind whipping her face. “There’s something wrong with this Andrias guy! We should—”

Anne was having absolutely none of it. “You expect me to believe you?!” she asked her incredulously. “After all the lying and manipulating you’ve done?!” Sliding the sword back into its sheath, she turned her back on her in disgust. “Sorry, Sasha, but you’re out of chances.”

Why didn’t she take a photo? This would’ve been so much easier if she’d just thought to take a stupid photo! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Or maybe if she’d given Anne any reason to trust her.

The gates were now drawing close to slamming completely shut as Anne resumed pushing the lever. If Sasha squandered any more precious time, their fast-approaching army would be locked outside the city. She felt her twin swords weigh heavily on her hips; the tips of fingers twitched.

Whelp, in for a penny, in for a pound. She took a deep breath.

“I think Marcy’s in on it.”

“Yeah yeah!” scoffed Anne. “Blah blah bla—what?”

It was a hail mary that paid off. Anne froze in place and glared back at Sasha as if she’d caught her in the act of stomping on Domino’s tail.

“What... what did you say?” she asked, her voice fittingly ice-cold.

“Anne, look... I get it, okay?” Sasha gutsily stepped forward, closing the gap between them. They still had a glimmer of hope in ending this without a fight, so she knew she had to cobble her thoughts together and choose her next words carefully. “You don’t trust me a-and I don’t blame you, but I swear I’m telling you the truth. Grime and I found these—these weird pictures hidden in the throne room. They... one of them was showing the king with the music box. Th-then there was also something about Marcy’s family, I... I don’t know exactly what it all means...”

Amazing how they’d spent the past months going on wild adventures, escaping dozens of near-death experiences with the many monsters infesting the place, yet this was the one thing she struggled to make sound plausible. Of all the times for that natural charisma and confidence to falter. The way Anne was looking at her like she’d sprouted a third arm out her forehead told her it was going about as well as expected.

“All I know is we shouldn’t be giving either of them the Box. Not right now.” She finally lowered her hands back to her sides, adding, “Just come back to the throne room with me and I promise I’ll show you everything.”

A silence fell over the guard tower, punctuated only by the th-thunk of hundreds of armoured boots rising in the distance.

Now the ball was back in Anne’s court. She’d been rendered speechless by everything she’d been told. All she could do was stare the other girl square in the eyes. Dumbstruck.

Relief washed over Sasha as the tension appeared to simmer down, to the point she felt confident enough to move in closer, stopping when they were only feet apart. Tentatively, she reached out and brushed her fingers against her friend’s knuckles.

“Anne. Please.”

This snapped Anne out of her stupor. Reacting as if she’d been touched by something filthy, she broke her hand away from hers. Her expression turned on a dime from bewilderment to one of unadulterated hatred.

“... how dare you.”

Instead of withdrawing herself, Anne shoved Sasha away so violently it nearly sent her off her feet.

“I cannot believe I almost fell for that again! I mean, wow! Seriously, Sasha?! You’re gonna try and save your skin by throwing Marcy under the bus?! HOW DARE YOU!!”

Another jab to the breastplate silenced Sasha before she could respond. Anne was advancing on her dangerously, every step she took forcing her to back up. The only other instance she’d legit felt intimidated by her was back when she’d stood up to her at Toad Tower and even then, a secret part of Sasha was also impressed.

Now she’d touched upon what was already a frayed, raw nerve and it was scary.

“Let me tell ya something, Sash!” yelled Anne. A third strike nearly caught Sasha in the throat. “Marcy’s been more of a friend to me than you ever have! Marcy hasn’t lied to me! She hasn’t pushed me around! And she definitely hasn’t tried to kill my family! Unlike YOU!” She gripped the hilt of her sword, the menace in her eyes daring her to give her a reason. “She’s not only a real friend, she’s my best friend! And so help me, if you ever talk about her like that again, I will personally stick this thing right in your—”

The sounds of stomping boots and clattering armour had grown so loud they became impossible to ignore. Anne looked to her left to witness the sea of helmeted toads congregating outside the city walls.

How could she have let herself get distracted? They were coming. They were practically here.

“You were right; I am better off without you.” She hissed at her with so much venom it practically poured over her lips. “We both are.”

With that parting diss, Anne sprinted back to the lever. She had a job to do and she’d wasted way too much time and oxygen on this cretin already.

Sasha was left standing there stricken, feet glued to the floor. Anne might as well have slapped her across the face to achieve the same effect.

A determined scowl of her own soon spread across her features. You can’t say she hadn’t tried.

She drew the twin swords from her belt and assumed her dueling position.

“Anne, I can’t let you close that gate!”

“Oh yeah...?”

Anne roared, leaping through the air, sword unsheathed and aimed at Sasha’s head.

“JUST TRY TO STOP ME!”

Any swordsman worth their salt should know better than to leave themselves exposed like Anne just did. Sasha had a clear open to cut her in two instead of blocking her strike with both swords if she had so chosen.

To Anne’s credit, she wasn’t nearly as foolhardy as she had been when she first arrived in Amphibia. Right now, however, as they flew around the tower and did battle with the ferocity of dueling birds of prey, Sasha could plainly see it was Anne’s anger guiding her sword.

Anne was hostile, her moves unpredictable. Toad Tower didn’t have nothin’ on this. She wasn’t an exceptionally skilled fighter, neither of them realistically could be when you consider they’d both only first taken up the sword months ago. Still, there was underlying talent between them, and in Anne’s case, hers was currently being amplified by a seemingly bottomless well of passionate fury, which encouraged every last nerve to screw her courage to the sticking place.

She was actively going for the kill.

Narrowly dodging a plunge from her sword and, holding both her own in one hand, Sasha reached the other between Anne’s arms to grip her by the shoulder.

“Anne, stop this!” she begged through gritted teeth. “Marcy—”

“SHUT YOUR LYING MOUTH!!”

Anne freed herself by kicking Sasha in the chest with her socked foot. The collision of her unprotected sole against the metal breastplate hurt like all get out, but she wasn’t going to allow a trivial thing like pain stop her from taking a fatal swing at her opponent’s golden head.

Cat-like reflexes were what saved Sasha from getting scalped. If there was any hope in her mind that Anne couldn still be reasoned with, it was surely dashed now.

None of the paths leading out of this graceful dance of death were great. Simply keeping up her defenses and waging a war of attrition until Anne’s wild attacks inevitably tired her out wasn’t going to work. Whatever it was fueling Anne’s rampage, she didn’t look to be running out of it any time soon. Every parry, thrust and dodge drained a little bit more of Sasha’s stamina. She couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

Frog knows she couldn’t rely on those toads to drag their warty butts through the stinking gate already!

Unless she was able to disarm Anne and fast, the only other option was to meet her viciousness in kind with expectedly grime results. Her training with Grime had taught her that every sword fight was already a potential life or death situation, regardless if you lacked the intent to harm, but however much they’d literally been at each other’s throats, Sasha was not prepared to have Anne’s blood on her hands.

An idea hit just as she arched her back away from a swing that easily could’ve taken her head off. Muscle tissue developed over years of cheerleader practice kicked into gear and in those vital seconds, Sasha flawlessly pulled off a handstand and kicked the sword out of Anne’s hand. The blade plummeted to the city streets below.

That should have been the end of it. With her opponent disarmed, Sasha felt the adrenaline rush sustaining her crash. Her lungs were on fire. Pink and Green suddenly felt ten times heavier in her damp palms. She truly couldn’t have gone on a moment longer.

Unfortunately, Anne was nowhere near spent. In an act of near superman-levels of varsity athleticism, slid behind Sasha, grabbed the hem of her cape and jumped over her head.

Before Sasha was able to register what in the ever-lovin’ Frog just happened, Anne had already tied the cape over her eyes. She barely even had a chance to flail like a dizzy ballerina when Anne’s fist smashed her in the face!

It was a blow powerful enough to send her spinning across the tower. She landed flat on her face, not an ounce of strength left in her muscles to pick herself back up. It was miraculous she didn’t black out then and there.

All that happened around her next was a mad din of noise. She made out the slam of what must have been Anne finally closing the gate. Then someone somewhere sounded a horn, followed by a voice she dreaded to hear more than anything else.

“Royal Newt Guard! Assemble!”

Oh Frog! They’d already freed the king! Anne must’ve sent the rest of her frog family or worse, Marcy to free him from his cell. She’d been so focused on stopping Anne, she didn’t even factor in what the others were doing.

Anne’s smug tone reached her ears, “End of the line, Sash.”

Sasha crawled up to the ledge on her belly. She tore the cape off her head, scattering it to the wind.

What she saw only confirmed her worst fears. Sprig standing atop a knocked out Grime on the roof below. Newt guards were rounding up her soldiers left and right; the tadpole’s giant robot was holding a bunch of them in its mechanical arms.

Then she saw her, a perky smile plastered on her face, shooting a ‘mission accomplished’ thumbs up at Anne.

“Oh no.”

[refinedbuffoonery]

Looking Through A Window (2)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Oh man. My dudes. I received so much love and support and excited feedback on the first chapter that I thought my heart was going to explode. Y’all are so wonderful. Keep it up. <3

*****

Luckily, Matty lets them take the Phoenix jet to Houston. Flying commercial would make today even more tortuous than it already promises to be, albeit for a different reason. 

No matter how hard he tries to distract himself, Mac cannot stop staring at the diamond ring on Riley’s finger. The princess cut gem is stunning and ridiculously large, but it suits her cover as a lucrative arms dealer. A white gold wedding band sits below it. Riley left her usual assortment of rings at home, and Mac can’t help but think her long, delicate fingers look bare without them. 

He tears his eyes away from the rings again and again, both on the plane and while driving to the safe house. Riley drives with just her left hand, her right elbow resting on the center console. Mac likes driving, but there’s something relaxing about riding shotgun while Riley drives instead. He’s never been able to put a finger on it, but the sense of ease washes over him all the same. Admiring the way sunlight illuminates her engagement ring is simply a bonus. 

He doesn’t let himself imagine what he might give her, in an alternate future where she reciprocates his feelings and one day wants to marry him. 

Harley obediently lays in the backseat, staring out the windshield. She's been on her best behavior the entire twenty four hours Mac's known her, ever the professional. 

Which puts her completely at odds with Mac and Riley's shenanigans—cracking jokes, dancing on the plane and in the car, doing purposefully bad impersonations of Russ. These are the best parts of going on ops alone with Riley. They can let loose in a way they just couldn’t when anyone else other than Bozer was around. Everyone else is professional all the time; Mac and Riley are only professional when they have to be. 

Riley taps the steering wheel in time to the classic rock song on the radio. “What do you want for dinner?” 

“Dinner? We haven’t even had lunch yet!” 

“True.” Riley chuckles. “Can you tell I’m hungry?” 

Mac gives her a sly look. “Not at all.” 

They settle on Texas barbecue for lunch on their way to the safe house, because that’s what Jack would choose if he was here. If only the old man could see them now, all grown up and getting sent to take down terrorists unsupervised. 

Seated in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant, Mac raises his brisket sandwich in a toast to Jack, in whatever afterlife he found himself in. Hopefully it’s the one with an endless supply of good barbecue. 

“Oh man, Jack would’ve loved this,” Riley says through a mouthful of food. She sneaks Harley a piece of brisket. 

Mac smiles. “Yeah, he would’ve.” 

It’s easier, now, to talk about him. At first, Mac hadn’t been sure he could ever get to a point where talking about Jack didn’t make him want to hit something or just curl up and sob. 

But here he is, on the other side. Him and Riley both. 

Their safe house is another twenty minutes away from the restaurant, in a nice neighborhood full of trees and children playing on the sidewalks. It’s so much greener than a California neighborhood could ever dream of being. There’s even a park across the street from their apartment complex. It’s exactly the sort of place a young, affluent couple would want to live. 

Riley parks in their designated space, and the pair ascend the stairs to apartment number 202. Outside of the car, they don’t dare use each other’s real names until they’re sure the apartment is free of bugs. The place was furnished earlier that week by other Phoenix agents, but Mac and Riley do a thorough sweep of every room just in case. 

It’s a nice apartment. Wood flooring, granite countertops, matching cabinets throughout. There are pictures on the walls, but Mac doesn’t bother to stop and check what they are. 

Riley clears the space from back to front, so Mac does the opposite. He clears the kitchen first, frowning at the absence of any sort of food, before moving on to the living room. 

Mac stops dead in his tracks when he enters the bedroom. The singular bedroom. With a singular, queen-sized bed. 

Oh no. This is not happening. 

Mac shakes his head and rubs his eyes, hoping his mind is just playing tricks on him and that there’s actually two beds. Or a whole other room he missed before. 

The one and only bed seems to mock him. 

He walks back out, finding Riley already sitting at the kitchen table, turning on her laptop. “Uhh, Riles? There’s only—”

“One bed,” she finishes, not bothering to look up. “I know.” 

Oh god. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not with his dignity still intact. Mac stammers, “I’ll, uhh, sleep on the couch. You can have it.”

That gets Riley’s attention. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re going to be here for weeks. You’ll hurt your back sleeping on the couch that long. Just sleep with me.” Riley’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said. “In the bed,” she quickly adds. 

Mac ducks his head to hide his blush. 

“What are you working on?” he asks in a feeble attempt to distract himself from their sleeping situation. Because it will definitely be a situation if Mac’s not careful. 

“Connecting to the Wi-Fi,” Riley says in a slow, “What else would I be doing?” sort of way. 

“Right.” Mac silently curses himself. Of course that’s what she’s doing. “Anyway, I’m assuming you already know this, since you probably opened the fridge too, but we have no food.” 

“I saw.” She’s multitasking again, manicured fingers flying faster across her keyboard than Mac can keep track of. “Why don’t you unload our bags while I finish this, and then we can go.” 

Unable to help feeling like he’s been dismissed, Mac complies without protest. 

Soon they’re back in the car, headed to the grocery store, and the whole thing feels ridiculously domestic. Mac’s never been a fan of grocery shopping, but Riley makes it almost...fun. For starters, she’s not methodical about it the way Bozer and Desi are. But more than that, getting to spend time with her doing mundane, non-work stuff is a nice reminder that their relationship is more than just the job. They’re friends too. 

Mac wishes there is a way to tell her all that without it sounding weird. 

They come home, unload the groceries, and take Harley for a long walk, and that feels easy too. It feels normal, even though literally nothing about this situation is normal, and Mac already knows he’ll miss this when the op is over. 

But normalcy ends when Riley beckons Mac to sit beside her at the kitchen table, and together they write an advertisement for their arms dealing business. Once they’re satisfied with it, Riley sends it off into the dark web, and there’s nothing to do but wait, like a spider after spinning her web. 

The waiting is the worst part. 

Mac is contemplating taking Harley for a second walk when Riley asks, “Want to help me make dinner?” He takes one look at her hands on her hips and the “you don’t actually have a choice” look on her face and knows he’ll be left to fend for himself if he doesn’t help now. Mac learned that the hard way back when he and Riley lived together. 

“Sure.” 

They work in comfortable silence. Mac chops vegetables and grates cheese for their quesadillas while Riley does the actual cooking part. Even though they are doing separate tasks, Mac is acutely aware of every move Riley makes, no matter how insignificant. Flexing her long, thin fingers around a knife. Itching the back of her calf with her foot. Dancing in place, spatula in hand, while she waits to flip the quesadillas sizzling in the pan. 

Mac smiles softly. Her random little dances are cute. He’s noticed them more and more since realizing he has feelings for her, but if Mac is being honest, he’s always thought the dances are cute. 

Riley hisses as she peeks under the tortilla, checking to see if it’s browned yet. 

“You good?” Mac asks, frowning. 

“Yeah, I touched the pan by accident.” Riley runs her thumb under cold water. 

Her laptop dings while they eat. Wide-eyed, Mac glances at Riley. That was fast. She grimaces before sliding the laptop closer and checking the notification. 

“Is it them?” he asks tentatively. That’s the hard part about this; in order for their business to look more legit, they had to just put an ad out and hope for a response, rather than target the terrorist organization directly. 

Riley exhales. “No, it’s not them. It’s someone else.” 

Swallowing another bite of quesadilla, Mac says, “I don’t know whether I’m relieved or if that’s worse.” 

“Same.” 

There are no more responses that night.

*****

Mac wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in—on his side, facing outward, with as much space between him and Riley as possible. When they crawled into bed the night before, Riley did the same. 

Harley spent the night on the couch. 

She’s a very guarded dog, Mac is slowly realizing. Tolerating, but not trusting. Mac supposes he would be like that too if he was a dog and he got stuck with a bunch of strangers after his human suddenly disappeared one day. 

He makes coffee, feeds Harley breakfast, and takes a shower, all before Riley loses her battle with the snooze button and finally gets out of bed. While she showers, Mac takes Harley for a walk in hopes that the cool, spring air will ease the anxiety that took root the moment Riley released their ad into the void. 

It doesn’t. 

Dark, puffy clouds loom on the horizon, and the few birds Mac hears shriek at each other in warning. It looks like a storm is coming. 

When Mac returns, he’s met with a grim expression, one he understands without Riley uttering a single word. “They answered,” she confirms. 

“What did they say?” Unclipping Harley’s leash, Mac moves to stand behind Riley, resting his hands on the back of her chair. The scent of her shampoo tickles his nose, and he forces himself to ignore it and focus on what Riley’s saying. 

“They want to meet. Today.” 

“Time or place?” 

Riley points at a small box on her screen. “Just an address.” 

“What’s there?” 

“A warehouse,” Riley says. “Owned by the same shell corporation other Phoenix techs already tied to the organization.” 

“Not very clandestine, are they?” 

“No, they’re not.” Riley looks up at him, her head bumping his sternum, and butterflies ricochet inside Mac’s rib cage. There’s something soft in Riley’s expression that makes Mac want to kiss her. “Are you ready for this?” 

Mac sighs. “As ready as I ever am. Are you?” 

“Yeah,” she says, but her confidence falters. Without thinking, Mac squeezes her shoulders in reassurance before walking away to change.

*****

The warehouse is located on the edge of the city, in an industrial area that has certainly seen better days. Even from a distance, Mac can see cobwebs decorating the warehouse windows and rust creeping up the roller doors. Aside from Riley, there’s not another soul in sight. 

As per the directions the organization sent after Riley confirmed the meeting, Mac parks on the south side of the building, near the only functional-looking door. He doesn’t look at Riley as they get out of the car, instead desperately trying not to cringe at the cold, heavy weight of the gun holstered at his side, hidden beneath his jacket. 

High-end arms dealers couldn’t walk around unarmed, unfortunately. 

Although her hands are occupied with holding Harley’s leash, there’s a gun hidden beneath Riley’s suit jacket as well. Mac’s stomach churns. The second Riley emerged from their bedroom earlier wearing that jet black suit, she was a different person. She was wholly Genevieve Turner, and no matter how hard Mac tried, he couldn’t find even a single trace of his best friend beneath the icy exterior. 

Locking their SUV, Mac smooths the lapels of his own black suit and slips into character as well. 

The dark clouds Mac noticed earlier are directly overhead now. Mac has never believed in omens the way Jack did, but he can’t help hearing Jack’s voice in his head, warning him that black clouds are a sign of certain doom. Or something like that. 

There’s no one inside the warehouse, at least as far as Mac can see. “Hello?” he calls, the word echoing slightly in the open space. Aside from a few random wooden crates, the room is empty. 

A door slams, and then an older man comes into view. He’s probably in his late fifties, with graying hair and a beer belly his shirt doesn’t quite cover. The man swaggers like he owns the place, although Mac doubts the leader of a terrorist cell would deign to play tour guide. 

No doubt there’s a quip on the edge of Riley’s tongue about entitled white men, but she doesn’t share it. 

The man extends a hand to Mac in introduction. “Conrad.” His sneer doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Mac frowns, keeping his hands at his sides. “Last name?” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

What he’s about to say might screw everything up before it even starts, but Mac says it anyway. In his gut, he knows it’s the right call. “If it doesn’t matter, then we’re done here. My wife and I have no interest in entering a business relationship with someone too inexperienced to understand that trust is integral to any transaction.” Mac spins on his heel and strides toward the door, Riley falling into step beside him. 

“Wait!” the man calls. They pause, turning around slowly. “Deacon. Conrad Deacon.” The man seems to know he’s already lost. Good. “Welcome to the cause.” He gestures for Mac and Riley to follow him. 

Mac stands his ground. In his peripheral, Riley stands utterly still, the perfect mask of cool, collected neutrality. Almost bored, even. It’s scary how easily she becomes her cover. 

“Come on now,” Conrad says, taking a single step forward. “We have much to discuss.” 

That’s enough of the power play, Mac thinks, but just as he’s about to give in and follow Conrad, Riley utters a single, sharp command that rings through the room. “Sit.” 

Harley obeys. 

Riley’s lips curve in a cruel, taunting smile. “Then enlighten us.” Mac suppresses a shiver; he’s seen this side of Riley plenty of times before, watched her hone it over the years, but it’s still unnerving. Admittedly, it’s also kind of hot. 

Conrad ignores her entirely. He croons, “Why don’t we start with your names?” It’s phrased like a question. It sounds like a question, but Mac sees the demand for what it really is. 

Mac gestures to Riley. “This is my wife, Genevieve Turner. And my name is James.” His father’s name tastes like ash on Mac’s tongue. 

“And the dog?” 

“Killer,” Riley sneers. Mac isn’t sure if she’s kidding or not. 

Again, Conrad doesn’t acknowledge her. “James, why don’t I give you the tour and explain what we do here.” 

“We’ll go on the tour, but we are not here to join your cause.” It takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower to maintain his neutral tone. “All we care about is what you’d like us to provide and how much you’ll pay for it.” 

Conrad doesn’t hide his displeasure. “Fine. Follow me.” 

Mac and Riley are led through the open warehouse. The layout is straightforward and nearly impossible to get lost in. But after Conrad shows them a room full of rifles—countless hung on the walls, floor to ceiling, the rest in half-open crates—Mac finds himself counting the number of wooden shipping crates scattered around the building. 

He doesn’t like his final number. 

Arming terrorists doesn’t sit well with Mac, even if it serves a purpose. It makes him sick, knowing he will likely be indirectly responsible for their next attack. 

Especially because those crates are no doubt full of the kind of rifles designed to kill people most effectively. The ones hanging on the wall are military grade, probably cutting-edge. Desi would know exactly what they are and how they work. 

Trusting Riley is paying close attention, Mac only half listens to Conrad babble about the cause. But then the older man says something that stops Mac in his tracks. “Our country is being run into the ground by whiny do-nothings,” Conrad asserts, “who waste our money and spew garbage that some people matter more than others. Well, you know what? Hardworking, everyday Americans matter. But no,” he scoffs, “those damn liberals don’t like it when we remind them of the truth. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off.” 

The ground sways under Mac’s feet. He knows these people believe this, read it in Matty’s extensive briefing notes. But it’s another thing entirely to hear someone say it to his face. 

He can only imagine what Riley must be thinking. 

Clearing his throat, Mac tries to redirect the conversation. “Like I said, we don’t care about your cause. Just tell us what you’re looking for, and we’ll be on our way.” 

Conrad eyes him suspiciously, but complies. “We’re looking for something a little more than what you can get at the store, you know?” 

Mac doesn’t, not exactly. He’ll have to ask Desi later. “I do,” he lies. 

“Good. Here’s what we’re willing to pay for it.” He hands Mac a folded piece of paper, and Mac does a double take when he reads the number. There are a lot of zeroes. “And as a show of good faith, we’d like it delivered tomorrow.” 

“Tomorrow?” Riley splutters. Mac feels it then, the broiling rage slipping through a crack in her persona. He needs to get her out of there. Now. Not just to preserve the op, but for Riley’s wellbeing. Some audacity Matty has making Riley play nice with men like this. 

Mac slides his hands into his pockets, using the movement as a cover to brush his knuckles against Riley’s fist. I know. I’m here. I’m sorry. 

For the first time, Conrad addresses Riley directly. “Yes. Tomorrow. Unless that’s something you can’t do?” 

“We can do that,” she replies calmly, and the difference between her reactions is like night and day. As quickly as that crack appeared, it was gone. 

“Excellent.” Conrad takes another step toward Riley, offering to shake hands, but Harley’s low, menacing growl keeps him at bay. Rewarding the dog with a quick scratch on the head, Riley closes the gap and shakes Conrad’s still-outstretched hand. 

“It’s a deal,” she says. Following suit, Mac shakes Conrad’s hand as well and follows Riley out the door, neither of them uttering another word. 

Mac drives. One look at Riley’s trembling fist decides for him. 

By the time the warehouse disappears from the rearview mirror, he can’t take the silence anymore. “Hey,” Mac starts, but Riley cuts him off with a hand. 

“Not until we’re inside.” 

They hit every single red light between the warehouse and the apartment, and Mac anxiously taps the steering wheel. Raindrops land on the windshield. They’re small at first, but soon the drops are large and numerous enough to refract the streetlights, and Mac struggles to see where he’s going. He adjusts the windshield wipers over and over, never landing on the right speed. 

Too slow. Too fast. Too slow. Too fast. 

Mac settles on a setting that’s slightly too fast, and the squeak of rubber on glass nearly matches his heart thudding in his chest. 

Riley stares straight ahead, unmoving, unblinking. Mac wants to reach out, to let a gentle touch say what he verbally can’t, but the road is slick enough to make him keep two hands on the wheel. We’re almost there, he reassures himself. 

By the time he parks, it’s pouring hard enough that the ten second walk from the car to the door soaks them to the bone. Riley’s hands shake as she unlocks the apartment door. 

Once they’re inside and Mac unclips Harley’s leash, Riley turns to him with pained, pleading eyes. His heart breaking all over again, Mac draws her in for a long, tight hug. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to. 

Mac just cradles the back of her head and sways gently, wishing he could fix the world for her. 

Neither pulls away, even when Riley suddenly says, “If Conrad was smart, he would’ve had someone bug our car while he paraded us around the warehouse. I don’t think he’s actually smart enough to do that, but we should check first, just in case.” 

Mac curses himself for not thinking of that. “Good call.” He rubs Riley’s back, hoping the gesture is soothing. “I hate the way he treated you,” he snarls. “Like you weren’t even worth acknowledging.” 

“Welcome to being a woman.” 

It was more than that. They both know it. But neither say it.

*****

“You need what?” Matty shrieks over the phone. 

Mac winces. “Sorry.” He’d called Desi first, to ask what kind of guns Conrad meant with his innuendo, and received a verbal lashing for not asking any follow-up questions. But she made her best guess anyway. Now on the phone with Matty, it doesn’t take even a single brain cell to know that her reaction will be much, much worse. 

“He wants us to prove ourselves,” Riley adds. “As a show of good faith.” The words come out dripping in venom, but their boss doesn’t comment. Mac takes a second to study her; Riley changed into leggings and an oversized flannel shirt, and there are still remnants of dark makeup smudges under her eyes. Now, she’s sitting on the kitchen counter with her knees tucked into her chest. It’s weird to see her take up so little space. 

Matty sighs, deeply and loudly in a way conveys her annoyance more than words ever could. “Fine. A few weeks ago, Border Control confiscated a huge shipment of smuggled guns near El Paso, so I’ll see if we can borrow those. But next time, Blondie, don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He doesn’t correct Matty in that it was Riley who made the deal. That would only add fuel to the fire. 

“Thank you,” he says, and Matty hangs up. Mac runs a hand through his damp hair. “That went well.” Riley’s lips twitch, but it’s not the amused reaction he hopes for. He’s at a complete loss regarding what to say to her, so Mac gently asks, “What can I do?” 

Riley slides off the counter, and Mac reaches for her automatically, although he doesn’t actually touch her; his hand hovers just beside Riley’s elbow. She doesn’t shrink away, but she makes no move to touch him either. 

“Help me put him and everyone like him in a deep, dark hole where they can’t hurt anybody. And then just…” she trails off, taking a deep breath. “Keep being you.” 

With that, she walks away, leaving Mac alone in the kitchen, racking his brain to figure out what that last part means.

*****

Later that night, Mac tosses and turns, replaying Conrad’s words. Once we’re rid of them and the insufferables who elected them, this country will be better off. They seem off-kilter, like what the man said and what he really meant are misaligned. Mac sighs, rubbing his face. 

Another bolt of lightning illuminates the bedroom, and Mac automatically counts the seconds until he hears thunder rumbling in the distance. The storm is moving closer. 

Beside him, Riley lies on her back with her eyes closed, although her breathing is too light for her to be asleep. Mac wonders if her mind is just as loud and chaotic as his. 

For Riley’s sake, he hopes it’s not.

*****

Sleep never finds Mac. 

The storm rages all through the night, but by the time dawn arrives, the thunder and wind dissipate, leaving just the steady downpour. The clouds are dark enough that Mac can hardly tell the sun even bothered to rise this morning. 

When Riley’s alarm goes off, it’s like the shrill tone is mocking Mac for being awake. Riley groans as she shuts it off. 

“Morning,” he mumbles. His throat hurts. He needs water. “Did you sleep well?”

Another groan. “No.” 

“At least you slept,” Mac mutters.

Riley rolls onto her side, drawing one of the extra pillows into her chest. “Do you always toss and turn that much?”

It was his fault, he realizes, that she didn’t sleep. Mac suddenly feels guilty. “Sorry. And no.” 

He expects Riley to be upset at being kept awake, but she isn’t. With a look that just might be understanding, she softly asks, “What were you thinking about?” 

Mac can’t say that his thoughts whip around his mind like raindrops in last night’s storm. Not without sounding crazy, at least. So instead he says, “I don’t even know. I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Me too,” Riley admits. “It feels off.” Her eyes are heavy, and Mac’s had enough early mornings with Riley to know it’s not just the lack of sleep weighing her down. 

“Go back to sleep. I can handle the delivery.” 

Riley rolls her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that by yourself.” 

He doesn’t argue. “Okay.” 

A moment passes between them. It’s been happening more and more lately—holding eye contact a little too long, sharing smirks when no one else is looking, stealing moments where it’s just the two of them and nothing else matters. Each one gives him hope that there’s not a wall between them, but instead, a door. Someone just has to be brave enough to open it. 

Sitting up, Riley quipps, “Just don’t make me regret letting you sleep in the bed with me.” Mac snorts. 

“No promises.”

.

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[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt4

hello!! sorry i’ve been posting so much, i’m just really excited to get to the bulk of the story. like i said before, if you have any suggestions, please don’t hesitate to reach out!! 

pt 1

pt 3

pt 5

(Y/N) looked from her new friends to the Fire Nation soldiers that surrounded them. A little voice in the back of her head said she could reveal herself now. She could pretend like she had been tricking the Avatar and his friends and get them captured. But if she did that, the world might lose its last hope of beating the Fire Nation. If she fought alongside the Avatar, she condemned herself to being labelled as a traitor. 

(Y/N) had been in a city of the Earth Kingdom for two years and she was sick of it. Not of the city itself, or of its people, but of living in a city occupied by the Fire Nation. She watched from the balconies as their soldiers mistreated the people whose families had lived there for centuries. They beat the men and starved the women and children. It was sickening to watch and when she brought it up to her family, she received drastically different replies. Her mother insisted that she simply stay inside all day so she wouldn’t have to hear the injustice that was happening in the city below them. Her father threatened to write to the Fire Lord that she was questioning his orders. She wondered if her father had always been an evil man, or if it was a new occurrence. 

Witnessing what the Fire Nation was doing to innocent people did not sit right with (Y/N). Sometimes she dressed in Earth Kingdom clothes that she had purchased in the market and asked people about their experiences with the Fire Nation. This war had raged on for 100 years, so everyone she had spoken to had a story to share. The Fire Nation had torn apart families, destroyed homes and crops, and imprisoned innocent children for simply being earthbenders. It made (Y/N) sick to her stomach. 

So she decided to get back at the Fire Nation. It started small, like stealing food from the kitchens to distribute amongst the poor, but she eventually went as far as sneaking into the jails at night to free innocent earthbenders. It was hard, maintaining appearances as a child of a Fire Nation general while also freeing the innocent people her father’s forces had captured. She feared every night when she crawled into her bed that one day she would wake up to soldiers standing above her. But she could not stop herself from helping people who needed her. 

(Y/N) was in the town square, playing with a few of the Earth Kingdom children, when she noticed a small group lurking in the shadows. They were dressed unlike anyone she had ever seen, so she knew she had to follow them. It was two boys and a girl walking together and peering around each corner to make sure that no Fire Nation soldiers lurked on the streets. While their backs were turned, (Y/N) made her presence known by clearing her throat. The trio jumped and turned around, and she was face to face with a boy in a yellow tunic and pants with blue arrow tattoos, and another boy and a girl from the Water Tribe. 

“You guys aren’t from here, are you?” (Y/N) asked. The girl smiled. 

“No, we’re not. I’m Katara and this is my brother Sokka. We’re traveling with Aang.” The youngest boy raised his hand to smile and wave. “He’s the Avatar.” 

(Y/N) felt her mouth practically drop to the floor. The Avatar was standing right in front of her! The Fire Nation’s greatest threat was a boy who was barely older than ten. “This place is crawling with Fire Nation soldiers. Follow me.” She led them through alleyways and secret passages until the were at the door of the basement of her house. It was once home to the best earthbender in the city, but her father had done quick work with kicking him out and sending him to prison along with the other earthbenders. The basement remained untouched by her family and its servants. (Y/N) was pretty sure those who lived upstairs didn’t even know that it existed. 

She shut and locked the door behind them. “This is the safest place in the city.” 

Sokka looked at her incredulously. “Are you serious? This is the Fire Nation general’s house! Did you see all those guys out front?” 

“I can promise that I’ve been hiding out down here for a long time. I don’t even think they know it exists.” She sat on the floor and patted the dusty earth beside her. Aang sat down, then Katara, then finally Sokka, after a bunch of suspicious glances at (Y/N). 

“You haven’t told us your name,” Aang noted, but he didn’t seem accusatory. She felt sweat begin to accumulate on her palms. Should she tell them her real name? Would they know that she was the daughter of the Fire Nation general? She looked at their kind expressions (except Sokka’s, he still looked very wary of her) and decided to take a risk. 

“My name’s (Y/N).”

“How long have the Fire Nation been here?” Katara asked. 

“About two years, I think,” (Y/N) responded. 

“Have you been here the whole time?” She nodded. 

“The soldiers...they’re awful. I’ve seen what they do to the people here. They tear families apart, they starve the citizens, they lock all the benders in prisons. It breaks my heart.” 

“We’ll try to help, in any way we can.” Aang said. (Y/N) shook her head. 

“There’s no way you can do that. The Fire Nation literally wants you dead!” 

“Trust me, we know,” Sokka grumbled. 

“We have a bit of experience breaking benders out of prison,” Katara said with a smile. “Maybe you could help us do that! Are you a bender?” Warily, (Y/N) nodded. 

“I’ve been bending since I was a kid but I’m scared to use it around here. I hope you all understand.” Aang and Katara nodded. 

“It’s settled then. Tonight, we’ll break all of the benders out of the prison and help them take their city back.” The trio put their heads together as they started to formulate a plan. 

“Hey, (Y/N),” Sokka said. “Are you just gonna sit there or are you gonna give us some intel on where the earthbenders are being kept?” 

(Y/N) felt herself smile. She scooted closer to the three kids to begin discussing their plan. For the first time in a long time, she felt less alone. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alright, so their plan didn’t go quite as expected. 

Their night began as easily as it could. They covered themselves in cloaks (Y/N) had found in the basement and traveled back alleyways to reach the prison where the earthbenders were kept. She tried her best to remember the layout of the prison on her father’s desk that she had seen for a moment, but she ended up leading them to many close encounters with Fire Nation soldiers. 

“I’m sorry!” She whispered once more as Sokka had to quickly knock out one of the guards. “I told you guys, I’d only barely seen the map! I don’t know why you put me in charge!” 

“I guess we just thought that the Earth Kingdom girl might know a little bit about the Earth Kingdom prison!” Sokka whispered back, causing (Y/N) to deepen her frown. 

“Guys, it’s okay,” Aang said, putting himself in between the two teenagers. “Where there’s guards, there’s prisoners. I heard some more voices down to the left. Follow me.” 

Quickly and quietly they followed Aang through the twists and turns of the prison. While Sokka held his boomerang and Katara had water at her hip, (Y/N) felt utterly useless. There was no way she could use their bending to help them. If she did, she would be outed as Fire Nation immediately, and they would lose all trust for her. 

They finally found the cells where the prisoners were kept. The benders looked at them suspiciously, but (Y/N) pulled back her cloak to reveal her Earth Kingdom clothes. “Don’t worry,” she said as she worked at one of the locks on the cell door. “We’re here to help.” 

She and the others made quick work of the locks, freeing each and every one of the benders that had been arrested. Although the people were weak, they assured the group that they would be ready to fight if necessary. Successfully, they led the prisoners out of the prison. That is where their real trouble began. 

Somehow, an alarm had been sounded that alerted the guards of the escaped prisoners. Fire Nation soldiers began flooding out of the prison at rapid pace. The group of four stopped in their tracks and Aang turned back to the rest of the prisoners. “Go!” He shouted. “Get back to your families! We’ll hold them off!” 

The prisoners turned and ran back toward the city. The guards there had no doubt noticed all of the commotion, but by the time they thought about stopping it, it was too late. The prisoners, although weakened, were fighting to take back their city. 

(Y/N) felt a pit of fear in her stomach. She felt like she could do nothing as Aang, Katara, and Sokka fought off the Fire Nation soldiers. Soon, their backs were pressed against each other as the soldiers had them surrounded. 

“You said you’ve been bending since you were a kid,” Sokka said to her through gritted teeth. “We could really use some of that right now!” 

(Y/N) looked from her new friends to the Fire Nation soldiers that surrounded them. A little voice in the back of her head said she could reveal herself now. She could pretend like she had been tricking the Avatar and his friends and get them captured. But if she did that, the world might lose its last hope of beating the Fire Nation. If she fought alongside the Avatar, she condemned herself to being labelled as a traitor. 

(Y/N) took a deep breath and felt the fire roar through her body. It was a powerful feeling. Her father had once said that fire ran through the bodies of the people of the Fire Nation, and that was one thing he said that she actually believed. She began shooting fire blasts at the soldiers. While they had been trained by the military, she had been trained by some of the best firebenders in the entire Fire Nation. She danced around the people she had grown up beside, knocking them unconscious with her techniques. With the help of the others, they swiftly conquered the soldiers. 

Aang landed on the ground and pointed his staff at her. “You lied to us.” 

She felt ashamed of herself. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Katara demanded. “You’re the enemy!” 

“I know,” (Y/N) exclaimed. “But I’m not! I promise, I’m not. I’ve seen the bad things the Fire Nation has done to this city. And I tried to help where I could. I would sneak the citizens food, or I--I would break them out of the smaller jails. I knew I couldn’t break everyone out of the prison by myself, so when you offered to help, I knew I had to take it.” 

“How do we know you’re not trying to double-cross us right now?” Sokka questioned.

“I’m the daughter of the Fire Nation general who conquered this city! I could’ve turned you in when you first got here, but I didn’t. By helping you guys, I’ve betrayed the entire Fire Nation.” She turned to Aang. “Please, let me escape with you. I promise, we’re not all that bad.” 

Aang stared at her for a moment, eyeing her up and down. (Y/N) weighed her options as she watched him ponder. If they didn’t accept her, she would have to run away regardless. She wasn’t sure if she could survive on her own, but she knew she would receive a punishment far worse than death if she remained here. 

“I believe her.” She let out a sigh of relief. 

“Are you kidding me?” Sokka shouted. “She’s Fire Nation! She’s the enemy!” 

“The Monks taught me that we can’t define one person based on the actions of the group. (Y/N) proved that she’s on our side by helping us today. She’s right, she could’ve turned us in so many times, but she didn’t.” He turned to her. “You can come with us. You know how the Fire Nation thinks.” 

Katara and Sokka grumbled unhappily, but she couldn’t contain her smile. She hugged Aang tightly as tears formed in her eyes. “Thank you, thank you! I promise, I won’t be anything but helpful to you all I want nothing more than the reign of the Fire Nation to end.” 

---

Tag List!

@soft4kei , @bubblebars , @pleasantfankingdom , @vintageroses1014516

thanks so much for reading! 

part 5

[quidfree]

prompt: tdbk in a post-apocalyptic setting (HEHEH)

self-servicing AND a helping hand to a friend in need, we love a good strat

this got incredibly out of hand but i hope you enjoy!!

--

it’s been two months and five days since he last saw someone that katsuki lays eyes on him. two months and five days, and yes, he is fucking keeping score, why wouldn’t he be?

two months and five days is long. two months and five days is long enough that he’s taken up the habit of muttering to himself to fill the air, because dead silence makes him paranoid, always expecting sudden interruption, and he chooses to ignore the fact that muttering to himself is a quirk he might have picked up elsewhere. jesus. if deku, scrawny and asthmatic and perennially, psychotically self-sacrificing, is somehow still alive, he thinks he might be glad to see him again, just out of sheer disbelief.

there’s other people he’d be glad to see. perfect timing, for the zombie apocalypse to erupt right when he’d been on a summer internship in tokyo. to think the old crone had been bitching about it before he’d left- don’t get mugged on the underground, all that shit. like he was some hare-brained tourist. like people didn’t expect him to mug them. whatever. he thinks his parents are safer, out in a smaller city, than anyone has been in tokyo, tells himself it’s not blind hope that makes him explain the radio silence away. it’s statistics, and the geography of the outbreak, and the memory of his mother beating a would-be pickpocket over the head with her shoe until he passed out.

six months ago he’d first walked into his cramped rental flat in tokyo, barely the space to unroll his mat. six days later the pandemic had begun. slowly, first, confusingly, two weeks of shadowing jeanist to court and back while the news got increasingly weirder, and then by the third things took a turn for the fucked, and his parents were calling frantically telling him to come home stat, but by then it was too late. tokyo’s the new york of japan- in sci-fi movies it’s always struck first. the city was on lockdown before he could so much as book a flight out.

that was five months ago. by four and a half his phone carrier service had gone dead.

he doesn’t like to linger on anything, but he especially doesn’t like to linger on what happened between the start and the middle of it, the slow descent from incomprehending disbelief into hell on earth. he doesn’t throw the term around- not one for flowery prose. for the first while there’d been something almost rewarding to it, the whole survival strategy, him and the interns and lawyers at jeanist’s office taking scope of their resources and planning their ways out. now it’s been two months and five days since he’s run into anyone alive, he fails to see the bright side.

the media called them the infected, or the walkers, or some other dumb shit, but everyone knows they’re zombies. it’s some kind of chemical weapon- americans, if you ask him- that’s mutated them, but they’re zombies by anyone’s definition. lumbering, decaying, dead, very keen on extending the invitation. the first time he’d seen one up close- whatever. he’d killed it. he’s killed so many by now he’s lost count, and that’s not an exaggeration. these days he’s not so big on those.

the office had been overrun, in the end. some of the other interns, panicking. bitten. dead. jeanist had held them off while katsuki dragged hysterical staffers out of the window, and the last he’s seen of the man he was catching his unflappable gaze as the doors burst open and jeanist slammed the window shut.

they’d scattered. maybe he would have stayed on, tried the group thing out of a sense of responsibility alone, but there were too many subgroups for him to rotate around. he’d split off, eventually, cut his losses. sometimes he catches someone he recognises walking the streets, wonders when and how and what. he’s still never seen jeanist. he thinks probably he offed himself.

if it ever comes to it that’s what he’s doing. he has a gun ready for it. one bullet. in the apartment he’d stayed in for a while, some forensic doctor’s place, he’d studied the angle that worked best. straight through the temples, angled down.

then there had been that thing with the league. he doesn’t want to think about that, but he does, constantly, because that’s how he knows. two months and five days. the last person he spoke to was that fucking girl.

like zombies weren’t enough- criminals who fancy themselves cultists roam the streets in packs. it’s like every shitty blockbuster movie he’s never bothered to see packed into one.

two months. five days. there’s no way of communicating with the outside world. after he’d shaken off the league he’d had jack shit on him- lost his bag in the initial fight, and his apartment was a lost cause. in the end he’d made his way back to the firm, but that had been a literal dead end too. he’d managed to retrieve, of all things, his phone, skirting the streets around the firm, probably dropped in their original escape. it’s functionally useless but he’s managed to charge it once or twice, stare at old photos and texts that fail to send. he has nothing else of his own except the clothes he’d worn that last day with jeanist.

he’s remade his belongings, obviously. he’s competent, as it turns out, in apocalypses. somehow it doesn’t surprise him. he works out a routine. when he’d first found a hole to burrow himself in post-league he’d spent days just picking up patterns- when, who, from where, how. once he was entirely sure he’d gotten it down to a science he’d risked it back out, mapping the area out incrementally, one rotation at a time. two months and five days in he has it down to an art instead.

he moved regularly for the first month post-league, avoiding anywhere that seemed inhabited by zombies and people alike. can’t trust anyone, and besides it’s way too much of a liability having other people around to get themselves bitten. he can look after himself, but he’s not signing up for charity work. by the second month he’d found his current address, the top floor of a mid-rise apartment complex in meguro city. apartment complexes are risky, but this one’s door locks are still functional, and once he’d cleared out the ground floor and made the rounds to check for stragglers he’d wagered it about as secure as it could get. the stairs are a bitch, but the zombies don’t like them either, preferring to straggle in lobbies, and for another thing the height is convenient. the roof’s close by for a way out, and it gives him a good view of the surroundings.

the apartment itself is nothing special. residential. he picked the cleanest one, which also meant the one half-moved out in a hurry. he pretends like he thinks the owners got out but he spotted a suitcase with their name abandoned in the elevator. the guy was a teacher at the university. the woman was in sales. it’s decent for a tokyo flat, two bedrooms, a bathroom, good kitchen, nice living area. the fridge had been full of expired goods, but the shelves had some cans in them- soup, rice, beans. pots and pans. he’s been working through the floors of the place one room at a time taking inventory, lugging the useful shit back up. nothing beyond the strictly practical- he takes food, medecine, clothes, someone’s watch once, binoculars. he’s not making a home for himself, just stocking up. he sleeps with his bag on his back, the essentials locked and loaded. the gun was an apartment find too.

his biggest problem is transport. he recognised this early on, because so could anyone with half a brain. tokyo’s teeming with public transports overrun by the undead, cars abandoned on the streets, but the actual streets are packed day in and day out. whatever movie said zombies hate the sun was full of shit, because as far as he can tell the only time they actually react to the weather is when it rains. all night and day they’re shuffling in tireless motions around the city, gaining numbers. there’s a rhythm to it, sure- they’re more sluggish at night- but it’s an incessant flow. he can’t drive a car, has found no convenient manual stored nearby, and google went and croaked on him when the electricity did, so there’s no way he can just take advantage of a lull and jump in. by the time he’s figured out how to get any given vehicle to start he’ll be surrounded. even if he could find a way in, there’s no way out- driving through streets packed with zombies is a doomed exercise, especially given that half of the cars in the city are busted or low on fuel.

his current plan involves boats. he’s not sure if zombies can swim yet, but they don’t like the rain so he’s betting no, and even if they do they’d fare no better than a human at climbing a boat from the waters below it. if he can make it to tokyo bay somehow- at least off the coast there’ll be room to manoeuvre. but he needs to figure out the basics of ship-operating first, and also to relocate his supplies nearer to the bay somehow. if he ends up on the open seas he’ll need the food to last him the journey.

so he’s been doing this. rounds, collecting shit. taking inventory. scoping the streets out. he spends the nights planning, the early mornings reading. there’s no power in the building. it’s freezing. six months since his internship, winter rolling in. if he gets to tokyo bay the waters will be frigid, but the sea doesn’t freeze over.

his biggest concern at the moment is hypothermia, if he’s being honest. he’s collected every fucking duvet in the building, it feels like, but there’s only so much he can bury himself under. he’d be warmer if he didn’t insist on bathing in melted snow, but he went so long without washing in autumn that he fucking refuses to waste the opportunity. he smells like some ridiculous apple berry blast bullshit because he’s cycling through shampoos, but sometimes he thinks he’s only sane when he’s brushing his teeth in the mornings so he’s not about to let up on the hygiene.

three and a half months ago he was meant to be back at school. he has no idea what’s happened to his classmates. most of them were home for the summer. he thinks yaoyorozu was abroad. lucky her. kirishima was the last he heard from, all suppressed terror, and even now it makes him feel sick to think about it, because he knows full well the asshole was scared for him. sometimes he thinks about what it would have been like facing this shit as a group, but he never dwells on it. he’s better off alone.

he’s cold. he’s tired. he needs to get to the nearest library, because no one in the building has shit about boats. he doesn’t want to leave the building yet, but he needs a book. can’t go into this shit blind, not without knowing what he’ll need once he gets there. and besides he needs to stay sharp on the streets- get back into the swing of it, literally. one month since he moved in and he’s barely seen a zombie in the rotting flesh. the doors have been holding up, and he’s far up enough that none of the regulars outside can smell him, decide to unionize and break the door down.

he’s had an assortment of weapons, since the start of this. most effective was the gun, also a heavy chair once. his trusty hockey stick had snapped on his way into the building, a month ago, leaving him to fend the last three tenants off with goldfish bowls and doors to the neck. he’s found a sturdy baseball bat since that he’s claimed as new weapon of choice, though never used. he takes this, when he goes. the bat, the backpack that never leaves his back, the longest coat he can find in his collection. not the heaviest, despite the biting cold, because that restrains movement, but the longest, to minimize contact. hat and gloves for the same reason. balaklava just for the cold.

the apartment is empty as he winds his way down, footsteps loud, and it’s dusk- just late enough that the zombies are slower, though not late enough that it really makes a difference. it’s be too dark if it were; he’s trying to save flashlights for real emergencies.

the setagaya library is the only actual library near him, as the maps inform him, but too far to risk. in the address book he finds a local bookshop three blocks away, and it’s there that he heads, already cold to the bone as he grits his teeth and locks the complex door assiduously behind him. there are zombies just across the street beginning to moan in his direction. he ignores them, breaking into a jog.

maybe because their blood doesn’t flow to their brains, maybe because their muscles are deteriorating: zombies aren’t incredibly fast or incredibly intelligent. what they are is resilient, and single-minded. but outrun them and outsmart them he can, and so he does- runs the paths he’s memorized, sticks to corners and shadows and scales ladders and crosses rooftops and just about manages to get to the street in question without even having to swing his bat.

once he gets there, though, he gets swinging. the bookshop is in an unfortunate position, and there’s an entire group parked in front of it. he lets them spot him first, so they break off in his direction, then climbs onto the overturned truck they’ve shifted to and springs back down into the doorframe of the bookshop, kicking the door in before they can register his itinerary. he slams it shut just before a greying hand scratches at it in outrage, heart pounding a steady tattoo, then glances around rapidly. no sign of life, but that means nothing.

there is, then, an unmistakable jingling sound from the very back corner of the room, behind rows and rows of antique-looking books. keys, or metal on metal. movement.

company, katsuki thinks, between anticipation and trepidation. his bat sits comfortably in his hands as he raises it.

jingling, closer, and he moves in on instinct, breathing feeling loud as he brushes past the anthropology section. he can just about see around the corner when a sudden sixth sense makes him whip around, bat swinging down heavily, and just in the nick of time- wood connects with metal, hard, knocking him back a pace as his teeth snap together from the impact, but he’s swinging again in self-defense just as there’s a sharp intake of breath and his brain catches up- red, white, painfully familiar. the bat makes an aborted spasm.

“bakugou,” shouto todoroki says, in disbelieving tones, crowbar lowered but not dropped. katsuki gapes.

“am i fucking hallucinating?”

the crowbar lowers further.

it is him, unmistakably. maybe with someone else he would have hesitated longer, but todoroki's hard not to single out. his red-white hair is tousled, long behind his ears like he's absently tucked it and forgotten about it, and he's grimy, smells sour and dusty, but it's him. katsuki's own hands stay gripped around the bat, their gazes playing some odd symmetrical game as they catalogue each other for the same exact thing- looking for bite-marks. todoroki's less covered than katsuki is, but there's blood on him, old, dried. too old for recent bites, anyways. inconclusive.

"what are you doing in-" todoroki starts, maybe having concluded that there's no way to assess his status with the layers he has on, but then his frown twists. "oh. your internship?"

which answers katsuki's own question, sort of, because now that he thinks of it enji was on that high-profile murder case in the high court. still- still, his brain is stuck on the incongruity of it, shouto todoroki in the apparently living flesh, and it's been two months and five days. he just keeps staring.

"i came for a book," is what leaves his lips, eventually, rough, and his voice sounds hoarse with disuse. it jars him into action, moving past todoroki on auto-pilot, because somehow he can't quite register his presence, doesn't know where to begin. he wasn't factoring this into his day.

it's dark inside, books hard to discern, so he gets his flashlight out, hits it against a shelf so it alights. there's a section on travel near the back. nautical travels of the eastern seas. useless. a map book of the japanese seas- maybe. he mechanically slides it into his bag. his fingers feel rigid. he's still cold. what the fuck is shouto todoroki doing holed up in a bookstore? where is his father? how long has he been here? what is he doing, alive, talking, walking, in the apocalypse, ambling into katsuki's routine with a crowbar in hand?

he can't see or hear him at all. now he's back here he can tell the ringing was rigged up- tiny trap-wires set around the store, what looks like fishing wire with bells attached. smart. of course it is. he's losing his mind. where has the bastard gone? is he even here? it's fucking freezing in the bookstore. where does he sleep? he hadn't looked starving. actually he hadn't looked anything- just blank as usual, barring the surprise. fuck! he's been staring at the same book for a good thirty seconds without registering the title.

beginner's guide to boating. miraculous. he nearly breaks todoroki's kneecaps when he sees his legs appear silently next to him.

"fuck! don't sneak up on me, you asshole!"

"boats," todoroki says. "that's your plan?"

it makes him flare hot with something like rage, because he doesn't fucking want input on it, doesn't want to be told odds, and it has him on his feet, slamming todoroki back into the opposite bookshelf within seconds.

"mind your own damn business!"

todoroki seems mildly startled at best, shifting a little so a book isn't digging into his neck, and for a moment katsuki is distracted by the scalding warmth of him under his arm. he doesn't know when he last came into contact with a living body. it's disorienting. he thinks probably it was the senior partner who fell down the stairs, minutes before the zombies swarmed the lobby, pulse skittering frantically with fear.

he drops todoroki, steps back. two months five days. maybe he's gone a little crazy.

whatever! whatever. he's fully functioning, he has his book, he's leaving. he's going to be off-schedule at this rate, times gone muddy with distraction. even without touching him he feels like there's residue warmth on his palm, making the rest of him shiver by contrast. if the zombies could have just gotten properly active in summer...

he's halfway to the door when he remembers- again- todoroki is actually there, watching him inscrutably from the bookshelf, swaying a little on his feet. despite himself he turns to stare back. he doesn't know what to- this wasn't in the plan, he doesn't know. he's going anyways.

it's because he's staring-cum-glaring at todoroki that he sees his eyes widen, and then he's leaping forwards on instinct as the window in the door shatters, decaying arm bursting through as loud moaning suddenly fills the dead silence.

"shit!"

"it's because there's two of us," todoroki reasons, in a tone like he's annoyed with himself for not realising this, which would make katsuki feel marginally better about his own stupid lack of thought if he wasn't so pissed. he'd counted on the zombies losing interest on his presence once he was out of sight, but the smell of two live humans in close proximity would obviously keep some of them near.

"is there another way out of this place?"

"back entrance, but it leads into a dead-end alley," todoroki retorts, suddenly functioning, eyeing the creaking door as thumping intensifies from the other side. "there's a way to scale onto the drain-pipe above but it wasn't made to take two people's weight."

"shit," katsuki curses, feelingly. "where's the drain-pipe lead?"

"roof. i don't know if either of us could scale it fast enough for the other to follow before they get there."

katsuki looks at him, crouched calmly stacking something or other into a loose duffel bag, rusty crowbar by his feet, then looks back to the groaning door. his gut tightens with a sort of pissed off fatalism.

"how long 'd it take you to get to the roof? five minutes?"

"i could do it in three, maybe less," todoroki estimates. "it's slower with the frost."

three minutes. katsuki hoists the bat higher, takes a step then two back from the door.

"fine. go. i'll follow."

"bakugou-"

"it's the most logical fucking plan of action," katsuki snaps, eyes still on the door, adrenaline spiking. "if you get up there before i get outside i can make it to the drainpipe before anyone nabs me. i can hold them off for three fucking minutes. and you're the one who knows the way up. you go."

"i know," todoroki says, which makes katsuki glance back at him, finds his face set with nothing but fixed determination. "i was going to say to give me your bag. it'll make it easier to climb."

there's something about this that makes katsuki's head briefly thud with something like a pounding headache, lungs gone tight, but he refocuses, blinks away the dizzy spell. the last fucking thing he wants is to give the bag away, but unless the plan goes as hoped he's dead anyways, so there's no point in arguing.

he shrugs his backpack off, slides the gun out, shoves it into his back pocket. todoroki fastens the straps around his shoulders without comment, then turns and runs, not wasting any time. it makes something in him-

the door breaks in.

there's five of them at least, the ones from before. the first one goes down with a direct hit to the head, skull caving in with a crunching sound, but he has to retreat immediately, make them spread out of their pack formation as he zig-zags back through the rows of books. they're slower than humans but not slow, breaking into a fast paced shuffle after him; he turns a sharp corner, doubles back as fast as he can to catch a second one from behind. crack, snap. the one in front lunges back before he can swing again, sending him running back; he jumps onto the seller's counter, dodging an arm, then brings the bat down full-force onto the zombie's neck. three. there's another one nearing the broken door, the other two circling back to the front at the commotion. he jumps over the counter, ducking under an arm, knocks into the nearest bookshelf with all of his weight, sending it sprawling towards the door, books flying and frame landing awkwardly across the doorframe. it doesn't block entry, but it befuddles the would-be incomers.

there's an arm grabbing his shoulder; he dodges a gaping mouth, bat spinning to hit at the rotting jaw, once, twice, bones splintering decisively on the second hit, but the last straggler is on him and the others are crawling in through the door. he runs, down to the back of the store, nearly trips over todoroki's traps himself as he goes, miraculously jumps clean of them as his pursuers stumble. it gives him the seconds to jump up to the back portion of the shop, grab a nearby chair and throw it at the advancing huddle, knocking them back a step, then turn sharply into a row, sprinting down to the back of the room where the emergency exit sign hangs half-broken. it's closed, likely behind todoroki, but he slams through it before any of the zombies near, staggers at the sharp gust of cold air that hits once he's out. the sun is nearly set, casting a red haze over the alley, and there's a pack of six zombies right beneath the glinting drainpipe, still trailing after todoroki's scent, moaning around the corner signalling backup. fuck.

there's a loud scraping from above, then todoroki's head appears over the edge of the roof, something grey and unwieldy in his hands; a satellite dish comes falling down, catching speed as it goes. it hits the pack dead-centre, crushing two of the zombies into pieces on impact, others reeling backwards in confusion, and he doesn't have the time to question his odds four-on-one. he runs in while they're still dazed, beats one into the wall, head splattering, turns and swings into the second as it zeroes in on him, head collapsing inward and drenching him in blood. the other two are too close to hit; he twists, jumps back, curses, eyes the alley entry where others have scented blood. fucking- no, two on one, god, he's not dying two on one, not after the bullshit he's been through. he kicks heavily into the one's chest, just missing the hand trying to nab his ankle, which sends it knocking into the other, and like that they're just aligned enough that he yells and slams the bat through the first one's head, in three rapid blows, hitting the one behind it on the third as bits of skull go flying. it's not enough to take it out; he hits again, manic, and it gets him on the second go. then he's scrambling to the drain pipe, mindful of the others closing in, shoves his bat down the back of his shirt and under his waistband before he throws himself at the drainpipe.

"brace against the wall," todoroki calls, almost in the moment he does so, hands slip-sliding on the damp pipe as his boots hit concrete; there are arms nearing, outstretched, but he bunches his stomach and drags himself up, feet first then arms, side of his arm scraping heavily against the wall as he moves almost horizontally upwards, fingers clenched around metal. the fucking gloves are no help; he pauses, braced and shaking with tension, to rip his gloves off with his teeth, one hand then the next, dropping to the floor below as his bare palms hit the freezing metal.

he's so cold it hurts, but he's halfway up the wall. methodically he moves. one foot. other foot. one hand. other hand. stomach muscles, straining, arms pulling. up a fraction. then another. then another.

"wait," todoroki says, closer than he feels, and he glances up for the first time, finds him an arm and a half's length away. "you'll slide at the top."

"then what the fuck do you suggest i do?" katsuki bites, half a yell, too strained to scream. todoroki leans, heavy, arms outstretched.

"do one more. then take my hand."

katsuki wishes he could spit on him. todoroki's expression has gone tight like he knows what he's thinking, like he's not sure katsuki won't let himself fall all the way down rather than put himself into the uncalloused hands of shouto todoroki.

the pipe creaks. katsuki moves up, ignores the way his blood boils, eyes the outstretched hands. he can hear todoroki breathing, hot against the cold air.

"drop me and i'll turn you."

he braces. one hand leaves the pipe, and for a godawful moment he's grasping at nothing. their hands connect, rearrange themselves; todoroki has a death-like grip on his wrist. his foot slides. the second hand is thrown rather than extended, and todoroki's eyes flash alarmingly as their fingers brush and miss, but he doesn't fall, hangs there by an arm for a heartbeat, jolt like he's dislocated his shoulder before his boot catches something and he shoves upwards, todoroki grabbing hold of his hand and yanking full-body at him.

katsuki falls over the top of the roof in disjointed movements, the both of them half-hitting each other as momentum carries them down, lands with an elbow in todoroki's stomach and a hit of tile to the jaw.

his head spins; he shoves up immediately, falls back down when his arms protest, adrenaline pounding hysterically. his limbs are shaking with belated exertion. todoroki is still holding his wrists, punishingly tight, his breaths heavy nearby. his body is still hot beneath him.

he scrabbles backwards, onto his knees, todoroki dropping his hands and dragging himself up to his elbows. for a moment they stare at each other, panting loudly.

he wants to yell at him but the words don't come. two months, five days. it's not even todoroki's fault, really. he was living there unperturbed. there's a flush of exertion over his cheeks now, and maybe he's just gone crazy what with the constant thinking about unbeating hearts but he feels a little obsessively interested in the visible flow of blood beneath his skin, wants him pink all over if that'll prove him living a minute longer.

he shakes himself, exhales in a burst.

"are you all right?" todoroki asks, and up close katsuki realises his voice is hoarser too. in the shop he'd been too dumbstruck to register it, but it's there beneath his normal cadence, a scratchy undertone. he hasn't spoken in a while either. something about it-

all right, he'd asked. unbitten, he means. katsuki shakes his head.

"we need to get going."

he hadn't meant the 'we', but he thinks at some point when todoroki's fingers dug into his arm hard enough to pierce flesh the message had gotten under his skin too. they're not fucking splitting up now. of course they're not. this isn't model un or a baseball match; it doesn't matter that the guy drives him insane. and this is todoroki, too- excruciatingly hyper-competent at every challenge life throws at him. if there's anyone less likely to rely on katsuki for the next however-long until one of them is forced to shoot the other, he hasn't met them.

"where?"

"my place. 's not far. how d'you get down from here?"

"the next building over has a fire-escape."

"fine. let's go then."

todoroki hands him back his backpack. he hits his bat against the wall to shake some bits of bone and flesh off, eyes unfocused on the task. he thinks desensitisation is the word. it's maybe the third or fourth time he's fought them off without registering anything about them once. usually he gets stuck on some detail or other, schoolgirl shirt or smile wrinkles. freckles. proof of life. there's that movie he watched once with kirishima and the rest of them, some kind of sci-fic thing, and at the end when the monsters come the dad shoots his whole family dead to spare them. turns out it's the military instead, come to rescue them. kirishima had cried.

questions pile up in his throat. he forces them down.

they jump from the rooftop to the next with relative ease, the gap narrow, his foot just catching on the edge before he rights himself. the fire escape is solid where the drain pipe wasn't. he wonders how in the fuck todoroki ended up here, in some old bookstore.

he's gotten good at scaling shit. he thinks in another life he'd have made a top-grade gymnast, or a superhero. when he'd broken out of the league's hold he'd made a spiderman worthy leap onto a clothes-line.

they make it back to the apartment as the sun vanishes, late, and because they're late his perfect scheduling is off, leaves them facing a pack of easily a dozen zombies swarming around the doors. there's another way in through the side, but it requires forcing a door open that he doesn't have keys for, and that means an entry-risk.

"i'll clear a way to the door," he says, hoisting his bat higher. "you keep them off my back."

todoroki follows his gaze, nods.

they advance in the dark, close together, and it's bizarre having someone breathing down his neck after so long, makes him on edge, expecting a bite that never comes. when the first zombie starts turning their way he breaks into a run, brings the bat down fast and heavy so it connects with a sick thud, flashlight clicking to life where he holds it between his teeth. it blinds one zombie long enough that he gets it too, and then it's chaos, flashlight swinging drunkenly as he batters this way and that, fighting off the clawing arms with irate kicks and loud swearing. if there's one thing he fucking loathes about the apocalypse it's how touchy-feely everyone is, all endlessly grasping hands and drooling maws straining for a piece of him. it makes his skin crawl, which makes him see red, which makes him go through fights like this, all furious movement, too keyed up to feel afraid. he never goes into a fight expecting to lose.

behind him, around him, wet crunching and moans track todoroki closing the pack; in off-beat synchronisation they move their way through the group, dropping bodies as they go. he's by the door before he knows it, light catching the heavy glass, switches the bat to one hand as he drags out the keys. the first time he'd gotten in the door had been open; his luckiest find since was the functioning key, sealing him out of harm's way. he's efficient with it, no fumbling, has it in and open in the time todoroki exhales sort of shortly as their backs connect. bakugou yanks the key out in the same movement he grabs blindly at todoroki's collar with his bat-holding hand, hooking a finger to swing him through the door and diving after him to slam the door shut on a wrist, bone snapping and the hand falling limply to the floor as they put their weight on the door for as long as it takes him to lock it again.

todoroki's crowbar is sopping red, guts in his hair; he casts a look around, doesn't even ask if katsuki thinks the door will hold, if katsuki has thought of their scent luring zombies in. most people would have.

he has, obviously. thought of it. that's why he lives on the top floor. the scent doesn't linger. doesn't matter if there's two of them up there. the door holds for as long as the stragglers press up against it, but as soon as they're out of sight the zombies will drift again.

they make their way up the stairs. he's warmer now, purely from the exercise. heat rises. another reason he lives at the top. doesn't feel like it when he's freezing his ass off at night, but he knows his science.

they make it to the top floor in silence, and he pushes his door open (unlocked, this one, because by the point anyone reaches him up here he'll be long gone), goes for the camping lamp on the floor, trudges along with it in hand. remembers his houseguest.

"kitchen's there. there's a bathroom. two rooms. living room. no power or running water but i have some water in the bathtub if you want to wash."

"it's nice," todoroki says, and the worst thing is he sounds like he means it, almost politely. it makes katsuki stop dead to look at him, struck again by how unreal it all feels, but it almost feels reassuringly normal, staring at todoroki in disbelief. in the bad lighting he looks otherworldly, even despite the filth and zombie gunk he's covered in, all half-lit and angelic like something out of a hazy dream.

"i can't fucking believe it's actually you, half 'n half."

it escapes him unthinkingly, but it's true, and besides that it has the unforeseen consequence of making todoroki's composure fracture, shoulders rising and falling on a mute laugh, exhausted wryness in the tilt of his head. for a split second his gaze is dizzyingly and uncharacteristically frank, almost intimate.

"the feeling is mutual."

if the moment stretches he might do something wholly deranged; he rolls his aching shoulder, gestures to the bathroom.

"you go first. you reek."

todoroki says his thanks to his back as he retreats.

he returns to routine. strips, despite how fucking cold he is, wraps his shoulder tight enough that it hurts, rubs alcohol onto the more worrying cuts and scrapes. drags some bedding to the second room, then drags himself to the kitchen, shivering, mentally redoing his maths, then pulling out his notebook to jot down the edited stock. pauses, hesitates. in the margin under the date he writes: found half 'n half. it's not a diary, but he feels like he should make note.

todoroki appears silently in the doorframe, wrapped in a towel and scrubbed red, and there's something reassuring about how clean he looks, balanced out by how disturbing it is to see him so casually bare. he's barely glanced up at him that he drops the towel.

"the fuck-"

todoroki just turns in a neat 360, then wraps himself back up. katsuki snaps his jaw shut, ears burning but head clear. no bites. right. the previous times- whatever. reluctantly he stands and turns. when todoroki eyes his boxers he glares.

"you don't think you would have noticed if i got bitten on the dick today?"

he's not entirely sure todoroki won't fight him on it, but he concedes after a moment's assessing stare, shifts from foot to foot.

"you can have some of my shit to wear," katsuki says, pointing to the wardrobe he's requisitioned. "some of it's too big. should fit."

todoroki just nods, follows suit.

he wonders, as he scrubs himself down with a bucketful of water, teeth chattering and bath-tub still half full, if todoroki was always so goddamn quiet or if he's traumatised or some shit. the guy was always the annoying silent type, but he doesn't remember him this monosyllabic. habit, probably. what does he know.

he dresses, layers up, shoves his dirty clothes with todoroki's in the basket. when it fills he'll dunk the whole lot into a tub of his used water, but until there's that many dirty clothes he leaves them out.

todoroki is sat on the couch wrapped in blankets and wearing someone's dad's heavy knitwear, illuminated by (of all things) a gas lamp that katsuki had found but never managed to light. so the asshole has matches.

"you hungry?" katsuki asks, really only to make him speak. todoroki nods, counter-productively, but he's talking next.

"don't waste your food on me."

"shut up, asshole," katsuki mutters, on instinct, fatigue setting into him. jesus. the martyrs he's surrounded with. "you can make the next grocery run."

todoroki only looks at him longly, but he follows him into the kitchen, eats the cold soup without complaint. he likes cold food, katsuki thinks, then stops at the thought. he has no idea how he knows it. it feels like a memory from a different life. he likes cold food. like that matters.

it's not very late, though it's pitch black out. he goes to bed early these days to make the most of the sunlight. he's not sure what to do with todoroki, though rationally that's not his concern.

he can't find it in himself to ask the obvious questions. it's partly because he doesn't want to hear the answers and partly because he doesn't want to have to give his own. it's not like they were fucking bosom buddies before this all went down- he's past hating the guy, despite how unbearable he finds him, would call them something adjacent to friends under duress, but it's not like they make a point of hanging out outside of class. and todoroki's a terrible conversationalist, always.

even so. two months, five days. he wants to talk, if only for the pleasure of getting to call him a superior bastard, if only to know that he's still the same confounding weirdo whose face he wears. it's not even the words, really- he wants to hear a pulse beat near him, to catch alert eyes on his, to watch his chest rise and fall. alive.

he can't believe the asshole stripped naked like that. pale flesh all over, but not that diseased grey tint, just regular winter cold, like the inside of a peach. bruises and scratches littering his limbs. nasty half-healed scar like someone had tried to gut him with a knife.

his lips are peeling when he licks them. he found vaseline in someone's drawer but he uses it sparingly. whenever he goes outside his lips crack to the point of blood. against the glow of the stove he can see only half of his new flatmate where he sits surveying his newly clean crowbar.

"what's in the duffel?"

he'd have bristled more at the invasion, pragmatic though it is, but todoroki only shifts obligingly to raise it to his lap.

"medical kit- bandages, aspirin, tweezers, needle and thread. three water bottles. instant noodles. biscuits. matchbox. a city map. a change of shoes. a space blanket. my wallet. wire. rope. an alarm clock. a mechanic's manual." he pauses, feels around, drags out a glass bottle. "this."

it's vodka, of all the things. katsuki half wants to laugh.

"you drink now?"

"kept me warm," todoroki shrugs. which is, maybe, all there is to it. maybe not.

"i'll run you through inventory in the morning," katsuki says, if reluctantly. best todoroki knows what they have on hand, despite how little he feels like letting him into his notebook. it's not like he's deku, writing down his little feelings all over it, but it feels revealing anyways, for todoroki to know what he's been tracking.

there's nothing else for them to talk about without heading into dangerous territory. todoroki packs his things back into the bag, careful, and katsuki is sick of his own weird emotional breakdown, doesn't know where this sudden needy cloying bullshit is even coming from.

two months five days, his brain says, chipper, and then offers to rewind the days preceding that. he hisses through his teeth before he remembers he has company.

"i'm going to bed. 's fuck all to do without wasting light. stay high up if you want to go exploring."

todoroki has gone back to muteness, because he only nods as katsuki glowers at nothing in particular and makes his way back to his room, unhappy at the sight of his diminished bedding. it's not like he's actually able to use the whole apartment's bedding anyways- too unwieldy, too heavy, whatever- but the three duvets and two quilts had been working well enough to insulate him against the chill, and with two sacrificed he's resigned to a night of tossing and turning.

fuck his life. he thinks maybe the reason he's been having these fits of weirdness across the days is just fatigue. between the nightmares and the cold and the actual zombie break-ins over the past six months he doesn't think he's managed a single night's good sleep beyond the times he's blacked out. he feels untethered, at times both more and less emotional than he's used to being.

no surprise that having a real life human being around- and one that he knows at that- is making him almost ill with conflicting urges. part of him wants to lock todoroki out in a cold sweat and never lay eyes on him again. part of him wants to cut him open and grab at his beating heart just to confirm he's not alone. the rest of him lies there wondering what the fuck is wrong with his brain.

he lies there for maybe an hour trying to get to sleep, but his mind has kicked into overdrive in the way that it does every goddamn night nowadays, replaying scenes he didn't even notice in the moment. one of the zombies by the bookstore had barely reached his shoulder. when he'd washed his bat there had been bits of an eye clinging to the base.

he's too busy being cold and annoyed and possibly hysterical to notice the soft footfall until it's close, jerking up on instinct to brandish his bat, but he can tell by the moonlight filtering in slivers through his blinds that it's todoroki, if the lack of shuffling hadn't given it away.

"what the hell is wrong with you?"

"i didn't mean to startle you," todoroki says. monotone, but in an off way, almost dreamy, like he's asleep. it makes katsuki's skin prickle with foreboding; he stares at the little he can see of his face, alert now.

"then what do you want?"

"you sound cold," todoroki says. still in the doorframe, unmoving. he wishes there was more light.

"it's the middle of winter, jackass, of course i'm cold. can you fuck off?"

"my father is dead," todoroki says, completely unprompted, voice not changing in timbre in the slightest, and it makes katsuki's heart jump before he sits fully upright, trying harder to make his face out.

enji todoroki, gone. he guesses he'd known that on some level, for todoroki to be roaming around like a ghost, but it doesn't compute. jesus. maybe todoroki's actually fucking lost it since. he imagines two months and five days tracking back to losing his father, feels that gut-punch of paralysis in his stomach.

he's so caught on processing it that he doesn't even register todoroki is climbing into the bed before he's halfway under the sheets.

"what the fuck are you doing?" his voice half-breaks on it, rising in sheer disbelief as he jerks violently back, because seriously- there's insane and there's insane, and he's starting to suspect todoroki is so out of it he'd snap his neck in his sleep.

todoroki has the audacity to shush him, distracted, and it takes katsuki actually grabbing him hard by the shoulder, braced to hit at the slightest flicker of intent, to stop him in his tracks.

"hey, asshole, i'm talking to you! are you out of your goddamn mind?"

where he's stopped now todoroki's one eye catches the moonlight, big and dark and eerie. he blinks slowly like he's coming out of a trance.

"oh, i-" he pauses. his pulse is sluggish under katsuki's hands, skin fire-hot. feverish, maybe. shit. feverish, very possibly. he'd had no layers in that shitty bookshop. "sorry."

he says it like he's not sure he means it. katsuki doesn't let up with his grip.

"how long you been sick, icyhot?"

"sick," todoroki repeats, processing it. his gaze sharpens. "days. i think maybe- what day is it?"

"wednesday. thirteenth."

"six days, then," todoroki says, quiet. their gazes catch, more consciously now. "i'm fine. the adrenaline helped."

"sit still," katsuki warns, and then pulls up quickly, shrugs his backpack off, digs out the medical kit. he has a decent stock of medicine in the apartment, enough that he only hesitates a beat before pulling out the advil bottle, unscrewing the cap to fill it. he knows the dosage by heart. "drink."

he nearly drops the whole bottle when todoroki just obediently sticks his mouth to the rim of the cap instead of taking it himself, hot breath fanning over his fingers as he drinks. it makes his own pulse go skittering with discomfort when he fills it a second time, brandishes it back. the cap is sticky and wet when he screws it back on; todoroki is still half-sitting where he told him to when he's done his bag up and slid it back onto his back.

"why'd you tell me about your dad just then?" katsuki asks, despite himself, if only to fill the silence.

"did i?" todoroki asks, on an exhale, visible eye swivelling to him. "i don't know. i was thinking about the cold, i think. he wasn't cold in the end."

he resists the urge to check his temperature. probably it got worse once he tried to go to sleep, all the residue adrenaline gone. it can't have been peaking all day, or they'd have never made it out in the first place. and it's not from a bite. just a fever. he's medicated. he'll sleep it off.

"i'm not crazy," todoroki informs him, suddenly cool, not so hazy. "just sick. i could hear you tossing and turning. that's why i came."

"why're you in my bed?" katsuki shoots back, on the edge of combative, not really. maybe he's a little relieved. he's a lot pissed off, even though he knows todoroki probably genuinely didn't realise what a state he was in the last week, might have actually been trying to make sense of his fluctuating mood himself. no shit he'd been so weird when they first ran into each other.

"i'm not sure," todoroki admits. "it seemed important at the time."

this makes him want to laugh, though he doesn't. the cracked-open raw part of him that still smarts loudly whenever he thinks of jeanist thinks he missed him somehow.

"glad we solved that mystery. get out now."

todoroki makes to move, stops when they're facing each other, blue eye white-pale on his. "actually i remember now, i think."

"i swear to god, half 'n half..."

"you're cold," todoroki repeats, factual, then back to floaty. "and i couldn't hear..."

he doesn't expect him to do what he does, which is why he doesn't stop him when he puts a too-hot palm directly over his heart, doesn't even pull back when he pushes, knocking him onto the bed.

"todoroki-"

"it's fine," todoroki says, scratchy, sweat-warm. he slides onto his own side in a heavy, graceless motion. face to face, half an arm between them, palm stuck to his chest. "it's fine."

it's the scratchiness that wins him over, or maybe the fever flush of him. todoroki may be fucked in the head but he's not, which is why he knows full well he's being insane by not shoving him out. it's just that on some extremely uncomfortable and deranged level he gets it, because he's been tracking his pulse like a shark since they first ran into each other. there's something less insane beneath it too, pragmatic acknowledgment that it is actually a great deal warmer when there's body heat to share, but he knows full well he'd have toughed it out, six months ago, sent him back to bed and spent the night half-awake in spiteful resignation.

it's six months later, though, and somewhere along the line he's been rewired wrong. he thinks it's not unlikely that he's just this desperate for a full night's sleep.

it doesn't really matter why, though. he lets him stay. in the morning if todoroki is back to himself he'll see right through whatever he says, and on balance he doesn't fucking care.

he's so fucking tired. two months and five days, six months and three. the last time someone touched him for more than a second without trying to kill him it was a crying intern, this bespectacled guy whose name he'd never bothered to learn choking on his own blood as he clutched katsuki's wrist for comfort. before that he thinks it was his mother, exchanging their usual routine of brusque ruffling before he got on the train. he hasn't cried since the start of this, but he feels like crying now, hot throbbing behind his eyes. he sucks in a breath, forces it down. time and place. he's said it like a mantra since the start, like there's ever going to be one.

todoroki is fast asleep, but his hand's still there. his fingers have curled into the wool.

two months and five days, he thinks again, remembering other hands, clutching his face, pinning his arms. that's changed now, he realises. still marks the date, but not the last time he's spoken to someone.

ten minutes, thirty seconds. he reaches to pull the covers higher over todoroki's shoulders, feels his stomach constrict when his hand brushes medicine-sticky lips in passing.

maybe todoroki can sail. that's a rich kid thing to do. he'll have to ask in the morning.

he falls asleep within fifteen minutes, forty seconds of todoroki, and doesn't wake until the sun rises.

[the-fiction-witch]

Urges P1

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT

COUPLE BENNY WATTS X READER

RATING SMUT

I gently hummed my little tune as I locked up my front door going down the steps to the dusty new york streets. I turned on the railing heading down the steps to the lower apartment. Then down some stairs again until I reached the basement apartment door unlocking it with my key and heading inside out the cold even if it wasn't much warmer in here. Shutting the door with my hip and locking it behind me absentmindedly moving my keys from the door to the hook on the wall, heading down the little steps hanging my coat and such up too heading to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee but just as it was boiling.

"Y/n?" I heard behind me making me jump out of my skin putting a hand to my chest in shock as I almost screamed turning on my heels to face the bedroom door.

It was open and leant on the frame of the door stood a familiar skinny figure. Barefoot and bare chested with a tight pair of jeans and his floral robe over his shoulders, a cup of coffee in his hand, his hair a matted mess that made it look as if he just this moment woke up his eyes barely open and yet a smirk on his lips as his other hand fiddled with his facial hair where it must have been annoying him as he clearly hasn't shaved in a few days and it was getting beyond the length he liked it to be and would no doubt deal with it later, his chains hung loosely against his bare skin, his other jewelry sat on him too comfortably ad he pretty much slept in it all at this point and likely barely noticed it was there at all  "Morning"

"Benny! You scared me" I complained 

"Says the girl who just broke into my fucking house"

"I have a key"

"Yes but one usually knocks first babydoll"

"Don't call me that Benny" I sighed returning to making coffee 

"Why not? You are my little babydoll aren't you?" He smirked coming to lean his arm on the counter beside me I tried to ignore him and tried not to look even if I wanted to look at him "your cute when your trying not to look" he smirked kissing my cheek and going off to do something else 

"I didn't know you where home"

"Course you didn't"

"I didn't, I'll go you don't need me" I began but before I could even move

"Y/n, of course I do come on. You clean when I'm here all the time you're literally the only person who cleans anything in this place" he laughs "sorry, I'll stop bothering you" he says sitting at his table looking at his chess board I nodded having my coffee and starting to work.

I only lived upstairs from Benny and we had gotten very used to each other, and during a time I was out of work he suggested that I could look after his place when he wasn't around and he'd slide me a little money for doing it. I always looked after his place while he went away even once I got another job, it wasn't much just checking nothing goes gross in his fridge, making sure the laundry gets done, making sure knowone breaks in, eventually thought it changed into me basically being his cleaner and I come in ever so often when he's not here and clean up for him and of course sometimes when he is here. I didn't mind it, it was something to do. 

As I stood cleaning the kitchen scrubbing the sink and countertop I felt the burn of eyes on me making me turn and see Benny sat his elbow on the table, his hand under his chin, his fingers across his cheek, his eyes squarely on me and my hemline. 

"Yes?" I asked 

"Nothing" he answered

"What are you looking at?" I asked as I worked 

"At you"

"Why? What are you looking at me for?"

"I like to watch you work" he shrugs smiling a little at me 

"It's not all that interesting" I smiled "if it was you'd do it and then I wouldn't have a job" I laughed

"Touche babydoll"

"Benny I hear you call me that again I'm throwing this sponge at your head" I warn 

"Babydoll" he smirked milking every Letter of the word I could heard the smirk on his voice on each syllabus and he smirked gently biting on his bottom lip as he finished the word and I didn't move "I knew you wouldn't"

"Your infuriating sometimes" I sighed 

"Only sometimes?" He asked "I rather thought you found me infuriating all the time?"

"Not all the time, sometimes you can be quite lovely" I explain as I finished my cleaning in the kitchen and began sweeping the floor 

"Aww your lovely sometimes too" 

"Aren't I lovely all the time?"

"Sometimes… your other things"

"Such as?"

"Sometimes you're lovely, others you're fascinating. Sometimes your… desirable"

"Ohh am I now Benny?"

"I think so" he says I ignored him and continued my work sweeping the floor and doing the other jobs I usually did for him until I began packing my cleaning stuff away again "y/n?" He spoke up grabbing my wrist so his hand was so smooth and strong he wasn't an inch from me so much I could feel the heat or his exposed skin "would you… stay? And do another little job for me?"

"Well what is it?" I asked straightening myself up a little and trying to put space between us 

"Would you stay and do something with me?"

"What are you talking about Benny? What do you mean?" I asked 

"I mean" he smirked moving closer so my chest was against his own Whispering in my ear in his hushed deep voice in the same way he had spoken earlier milking every word every syllable a lustful sound to the sentence "stay and be my little babydoll?"

I was confused but by the look on his face I knew what he wanted

"Benny!" I said in shock backing away however I backed tight against the kitchen counter so I had no escape from him 

"Aww what's wrong?" He smirked, grabbing my waist, his hands on my waist, his things rubbing on my hips "don't you want me?" He growled 

"Benny I uhh I umm-" I stutter no words arriving at my brain too focused on what he was saying in what he was doing and mostly the fact I had a half naked Benny watts pressed against me it was enough to make anyone nervous never mind what he was asking of me. 

"Because I want you"

"You- you what?' I stutter

"I want you" he growled "I want you so badly babydoll." He smirked before I could even breath he moved his hips against my own pressing his hard erection against my leg 

"Uhh Benny!" I gasped in shock feeling him grind against me he smirked pressing a trail of open mouth kisses from my shoulder to below my ear 

"I want you y/n, so badly my pretty little babydoll, I want you, I need you," he groaned into my ear 

"Benny I uhh I uh I have to go' I said pushing him off me completely and running to the door grabbing my things and leaving before he could even get out a word 

"Y/n! Y/n come on! I'm sorry!" He yelled trying to come after me but I just ran upstairs and locked myself in my apartment leaning in the closed door and gasping for breath, my body shaking and my heart throbbing out of my chest. 

I laid on my little bed staring up at the ceiling unable to sleep, unable to stop thinking about earlier. Everything that happened, everything he said, did he mean it? That he wanted me… that he needed me. He couldn't have. It must have been a joke like that. Benny's called me babydoll forever even if I didn't like it mostly I think just to get on my nerves. He couldn't have meant it, this is Benny watts he has girls throwing themselves at him especially when he's away. Why would a handsome, smart well known chess champion like Benny be interested in me?

I snuck out of my bed fixing my little nightie a little slipping on my robe and my slippers checking the time, it was eleven forty. I climbed out of bed and went to the front door of my apartment I don't know what I was doing but I didn't stop myself as I unlocked my door locking it again as soon as I was outside hurrying quicker then I ever had before down to benny's apartment trying not to get drenched by the rain I opened the door with my key as quickly and quietly as I could closing it again without making a sound. The apartment was dark almost pitch black the only light the orange hue on the living area from the frosted glass window of Benny's bedroom and beam of harsher light coming from the door that was open a little shining brightly across the room. The light in his room was on, and I heard sounds that led me to believe he was awake. 

"Uuummm… uuuuummmm… uuuh!" I heard gasps and groans almost like he was in pain for a moment I was worried Incase he was hurt but I heard another sound like clicking I listened closer slipping off my slippers and my robe hanging it in the metal poles by the door steps stepping as quietly as I could towards the wall that separates his bedroom from the rest of his studio apartment the clacking sounded like… kissing. I froze thinking he had someone over with him but "uumm y/n" he groaned between the kisses I froze pushing my body against the ice cold concrete wall unsure of what I was hearing "uuuhh!! Please please…"

I was interested I couldn't stop my feet slowly and silently moving so I stood my back leant against the concrete wall my hand on my mouth to muffle my breath, I knew I should go, I knew this was wrong but I couldn't stop listening

"Uuummm… uuh! Ughh! Y/n, y/n… please." He groans "please, I need you babydoll" he almost whined "I need you so badly, please… just uumm just something, just touch me, uughhh!" He moaned rather loudly I'm surprised I couldn't hear him upstairs in my apartment "uuummm… those perfect lips, those beautiful eyes, uumm that seductive skin, uhh!! That plump little body, uhhh! I need her! I need her!" He almost screamed "please, please kiss me, touch me, uummmm fuck me" he groaned "uuummm y/n please I need you babydoll" I moved slightly trying desperately not to be caught, convinced I was dreaming this couldn't be real it couldn't. I peaked around the open door, my view slightly abstracted as the door was hinged this side, the frosted glass revealing a little more of what was inside then what I could already see.

Benny watts laid in his bed his head against the pillow, his hair out of place and matted, his skin glowing in the warm orange light, his chains gone his chest completely exposed a shine of sweat across his skin, his eyes closed and his mouth hung open in pleasure one hand grasped at his pillow the other on his mattress and sheets gripped like a tallon to the sheets in desperation, my eyes lingered on his jaw sliding down his slender neck, across his skinny but strong chest down his stomach the hint of his V before the covers concealed it from my eyes "uuhh! Babydoll… please, I need you" he whines, grinding his desperate hips against his covers. I moved trying to see more but I knocked the door making it move so I hid myself away against the concrete as the door moved and a tiny creek echoed across the apartment. There was silence. 

"... Has a little girl come to forgive me? Did she not expect to see me this way? Can she see how badly I need her now" he groaned. I kept quiet, not wanting him to know I was here and spying on him "uuhh! Your so beautiful, so gorgeous, I've felt this way for so long" he groaned "since you moved in babydoll" he smirked "I've wanted you since the first moment I saw you, I can't take it anymore, you have no idea how much strength it takes me when I see you not to…. Ummmm, rip that dress off you, or drag you to bed with me, or bend you over and fuck you senceless. But it got so bad that…" he began "I Can't do it anymore…"

I froze, confused about what he was talking about.

"I was touching so much, thinking of my sweet babydoll that… I broke myself" he explained "I can grind and I can try to… touch myself but if I do. I can't cum." He explained I felt bad that sounded so horrible makes sense why he did what he did "well… I can but it doesn't feel good. I just feel more frustrated. More frustrated it's not my babydoll touching me" he groans "even if I do try and cum, I can't cum without…. Uhh! Thinking about you." He moans grinding harder "even with… other girls" he smirked "uumm I've tried so many times, but I can't finish unless I imagine you, I have to bite my mouth with other girls because if I don't I'll just scream out for you babydoll" he explained "I've never been so desperate in my life, your all I can think about, I haven't gotten release in a two weeks, I haven't felt satisfied in a year. Please…. I need you," he begged "I'm not mad at you, for looking. Or for sneaking in. Please, if you're their babydoll. I need you, I want you so badly," he groans his hand moving from his sheets under them slowly moving "uughhh! Please, kiss me, suck me, ride me, fuck me, give me hand, give me head I don't care just… Touch me! Please babydoll please!" 

I hid myself away again unsure if I could watch this, a part of me wanted to and yet another part of me was so ashamed of looking. I could hear his moans and groans getting louder the closer he got but they always stopped suddenly for some reason

"Uummmm uuummm uuhh uuuuuh! Urrgh-"

"Uuhh! Uuhh! Uuuuuummm babydoll! urrghhh!-" 

Like everytime he got close he was stopping himself or maybe he wasn't lying maybe he really couldn't do it without me 

"Uuh fuck! Not even my imaginations enough tonight, maybe I broke that too" he groans "please babydoll, just… let me see you" he said making my body freeze "just for a moment my sweet babydoll, just… just let me look at you. just for a moment, just let me see you y/n" he begs "just one look. Nothing else I promise. I just need to see you, I need something. Anything! Just let me look at you, just till I cum that's all I ask my beautiful babydoll" he pleads I stood a moment thinking as I looked into the room but his eyes were on the door and he smiled even if I was mostly hidden away " I knew you were there. Please… just come out, I'm not mad, just let me see you" I shook my head and hid away again as I was before "no? Why not? Please I need to see you, why are you so shy? I mean… you've been looking at me haven't you babydoll? Don't I get a look too? As I'm so... desperate" I didn't answer Unsure what to say or what to do "say something then… please, if you won't touch me, and you won't let me see you then… just say something, anything, let me… ummm hear your beautiful voice I can imagine the rest just, let me hear you" he begs "please I need you!" He screamed 

"I'm sorry Benny" I answered before running as quickly as I could back to my own apartment.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 5 - The Stratosphere

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, where will they go?, 2.7k

@trevor-wilson-covington​ is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

“So, I was thinking,” Luke was saying to Julie once everyone was back in the green room, chatting lightly as they packed up their gear. “Maybe I could visit your mom in the hospital and play some songs for her. Cheer her up, you know?”

Julie looked so touched. Willie still didn’t know their whole story, but they seemed like a good fit. He had offered to help Alex load up his drums, but apparently there were people paid to do that here. Alex was just supervising it because he wanted to make sure they were handled right. It was a pity this place was full of techs and ushers and security because it was so tempting for Willie to try a few tricks on his board in there.

He’d finally gotten a proper introduction to everyone, and it turned out that all of Alex’s friends were great. The guys were all super chill, and he couldn’t thank Julie and Flynn enough for letting him be there to begin with. They seemed almost like a family. If he didn’t think about it too long, then he could ignore how badly he wanted to stay around all of them for as long as he could. Willie couldn’t remember anywhere that had felt so warm and open. He ran his fingers over the new bandage that he’d gotten on his hand.

Alex sat beside him, gear all stashed away.

“So, what’s your plan?” he asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Willie teased. “But it’s close.”

Alex looked around the room and then back at him with wonder in his eyes, raising the corners of his lips.

“Just the two of us though,” Willie added.

“Of course,” Alex nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Hey, guys,” Luke spoke to the entire room. Flynn, Reggie, and Bobby stopped the silly hand clapping game they were in the middle of and all turned their heads to face him.

“Julie and I just came up with a super cool plan,” Luke continued. Julie stood with him, and Luke immediately stood back to let her speak.

“I told you guys that my mom’s cancer is back. She’s given a lot to me, and I don’t think I could ever give back everything. But it would be really neat if we all gave her a private mini concert.”

Cheers went around the room, making Julie beam with happiness.

“I know it’s short notice,” she went on. “But I want to try to do it once we’re all back in California.”

“But what about your shows in the next couple of days?” Flynn questioned.

“I’m gonna see if I can reschedule them. I know it isn’t an ideal thing to do but with my mom’s condition, I’ve gotta do what I can.”

Willie sat quietly. He would’ve been happy to be involved, but was too aware that he was staying here in Vegas. That same feeling of wrongness crept along his skin, making him fold his arms and rub his thumb where it rested. He wasn’t sure when he’d picked up the habit, but he was doing it a lot more often recently.

“Uh…” he started. “I’m gonna catch up with you guys later, if that's okay.” He glanced over at Willie in a subtle but giddy manner.

The group finished discussing plans about getting together for a quick practice and what kind of songs they would do for Julie’s mom. When Willie suggested Yellow Submarine, Alex advocated for it as well, and he was happy to have made at least some contribution to their ideas. Once all that was put together, everyone got ready to go their separate ways. All the guys shuffled toward their van and Alex hung behind for a moment.

The guys all looked mildly surprised, but ultimately shrugged.

“Catch you later, Alex,” Luke said, giving him a wink. Reggie was singing Yellow Submarine under his breath as they drove away, to which Willie giggled quietly.

“You ready?” he turned to Alex, noticing his hands were free from clutching the strap of his fanny pack this time.

“I guess I am,” Alex said, smiling through his nerves.

Willie took his hand tightly and carried his board with the other. Alex's smile only grew wider as they hurried out to the street. The goofy jerking between their hands only made them squeeze harder to keep contact. He could hear the delighted chuckle being released behind him as he guided Alex across the city. He felt his lungs let forth a youthful yell from his throat, and he felt like Peter Pan crowing as he flew through the stars.

People darted out of their way as they rushed onward. Willie eventually saw his target, the Stratosphere, and didn't even bother pausing before he pulled Alex through the entrance. The elevator was just being emptied and before anyone could stop them, he tugged Alex inside and pressed the buttons to get them to the highest floor. The doors shut and they felt the jolt of being lifted from the ground pull them downward.

"Aren't we supposed to pay for tickets?" Alex panted, laughing between breaths.

Willie, also doubled over in laughter, just shook his head.

"Capitalism sucks, man! Don't buy into it!"

Alex only wheezed, leaning into the wall for support. Eventually, they both sat on the floor and after a few more bouts of laughter were able to calm down and breathe normally.

"When you said you had your ways I didn't know you literally meant you could just walk in anywhere," Alex thought aloud.

"The concert was luck," Willie smiled. "Here, it's just practice."

Alex shook his head incredulously. They both sighed, feeling that strange tension that had been there back in the diner, except Willie felt it in his fingertips. He eyed Alex’s hand lying inches away, and imagined himself reaching through and lacing their fingers together.

"How's that relaxing going, by the way?" he wondered.

"Hard to tell with you around," Alex stated, sarcasm not to be missed.

"I'll take the compliment."

Their long ride inside the elevator was near the end, and they stood up as the numbers got closer. Willie felt Alex's pinkie reach for his and he was happily surprised at the feeling of skin twining with skin. It was like they didn’t have to say anything - they just felt the same things. The door opened to the fresh evening breeze and revealed the wonderful sight before them.

"Whoa," Alex breathed, immediately drawn to the view on the observation deck. The lights from below sparkled in his eyes and Willie followed as they came right up to the railing. Both of them sat in awed silence, watching everything blink and glitter beneath them. The mountains in the distance bordered everything in a gentle, majestic manner. Willie had been up here so many times and somehow never noticed the odd sense of being folded in angels' wings before.

“I’ve been an idiot,” Alex started saying. Willie turned his head in confusion. Their hands slipped apart as Alex began gesturing to emphasize his words. “I’ve been thinking all day about how everything goes wrong and expecting everything to go wrong. I haven’t been enjoying anything nearly as much as I should be right now.”

Willie didn’t reply just yet. He just looked at Alex, watching how tense he was still, almost as if he could see the lion in the cage inside his head. All he wanted was to set it free. He looked around, and while there were a couple people on the other side of the observation deck, they seemed likely to just take pictures and then head back down.

“You know what I love about being up here besides the view?” he asked Alex.

“What?”

Willie gripped the railing as hard as he could, took in a deep breath, and screamed out into the darkness. Alex looked around nervously, but only watched the other people on the deck make their way back to the elevator.

“You gotta try it,” Willie urged.

Alex braced himself against the barrier and gave a nice little yelp.

“Oh, are you a puppy up for adoption?” Willie joked, tugging on Alex’s jacket. “Your whole body needs to let go.”

Alex looked back at him with an intense focus, and then turned back to the railing. Filling his lungs to the brim, he yelled viciously over the top of it. Willie joined him and they both staggered between screaming and taking moments to breathe. Something about it said words beyond what they had spoken. Willie heard a unique sort of agony as Alex belted everything to the night. He wondered if his pain came through as well.

Alex finally sighed as he finished his last shout and then looked up at the sky and closed his eyes.

“I did enjoy that,” he said. “Thank you.” He dropped his posture and Willie smiled at seeing him finally loosen up.

“Didn’t know you had so much pent up rage,” he commented.

“I guess I didn’t either,” Alex said, chuckling darkly. He sat on the ground and looked up at Willie to follow suit. Taking a seat across from him, Willie eyed him curiously.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Staring contest,” Alex said plainly.

Unfortunately, Willie blinked immediately. Probably ten times in succession, actually. This time, Alex got to laugh.

“Okay, not an actual staring contest,” he said. “ But I’ve tried this with all the guys in the band. We look into each other’s eyes for a few minutes, no speaking, and we just....know each other better. Bobby’s the one who started it.”

Willie only nodded as they got into comfortable positions before locking eyes. He tried to silence any impulses for his mind to focus on anything else and channeled everything into looking at Alex. Even in the dim light, he picked up the green color staring back at him. The stillness outside rivaled the storm within them.

Slowly, the storm softened into waves of caring kindness. They were powerful, but low, as if Willie were wading in shallow water and letting them crash over him. Each wake broke upon him in just the way he wanted to collide with them. This wasn’t a tide where he would get lost in the danger of the deep. The current was pushing him back to the shore, toward safe ground. 

The image in his mind suddenly morphed, and he was transported from calming waves to a rickety road. Fields passed by as he found himself looking out a window. His vision steered to his left, and an older man with a jovial smile sat at the wheel, turning to him as if they’d been passing jokes between them. The man’s familiar laugh echoed in his head.

 Absent-mindedly, Willie grabbed Alex’s hand. Pulled out of his trance, Alex looked at him with concern.

“I just remembered something,” Willie said, sounding like he’d received divine communication. It almost felt like he had. That image was supposed to be locked away, he’d been told. Never to be known again.

“What, like you left the stove on or something?” Alex asked in confusion.

Willie shook his head seriously. His hand was still squeezing Alex’s but he couldn’t get it to loosen its grip. It wasn’t because the memory had scared him, but fear was present anyway.

“No.” His eyes had trouble focusing on Alex’s face, now. “I think I remembered my dad. Like we were driving together. I remembered him.”

Alex dipped his head lower as he tried to figure out what Willie meant.

Willie bit his lip and looked at him apprehensively. This wasn’t the intended topic of discussion tonight. It wasn’t a subject he was usually allowed to speak of to begin with. He opened his mouth and clamped it shut, and then opened it again.

“I have retrograde amnesia,” he confessed.

Alex’s jaw slacked and hung open for a minute. Willie wasn’t sure how long he could handle this gorgeous boy blinking at him in disbelief before Alex closed it again.

“Oh my god, Willie,” he started, still sounding unsure but remaining gentle.

“I’m sorry, that’s sort of a really big thing to just drop on somebody,” Willie started.

“No, no, you don’t need to be sorry,” Alex soothed. “But, oh my god, you just remembered something.”

Willie ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath.

“Yeah… I did,” he said, just realizing the significance of that himself. His past wasn’t entirely under lock and key. That...brought a lot of emotions with it.

“Wait, so how long have you been like this?” Alex asked.

“About a year and a half,” Willie told him solemnly. “Caleb told me I was hit by a car when I was out skating. I even have a scar.” He lifted his hair and turned his head so Alex could get a look. Alex grimaced and shook his head, clearly not liking the visual he’d received in his mind.

“You’re lucky you’re not dead,” he said.

“Yeah, Caleb said that too.”

“Wait, who’s Caleb?” Alex blurted.

“Oh,” Willie looked downcast. “He’s my legal guardian. And my boss. You saw him this morning, remember?”

“That’s your legal guardian?” Alex said, sounding slightly upset. “Guy gave me the creeps.”

“That’s fair,” Alex said, sounding a little unconvinced of his own statement. He sat quietly for a minute. Willie studied him, worried about how he would respond next. Any fun had been sucked out of the air due to his own personal business.

“Yeah, well,” Willie shrugged. “He does that. But, what can I do, you know?”

“So, for the past year and a half,” Alex started. “You’ve had nobody except your boss?”

Wow, that hit him right in between the eyes. Willie hadn’t actually considered that before. He blinked momentarily and then looked directly into Alex’s eyes as pain slowly took over. Then hot tears welled up, causing him to look away.

“I guess not,” he said quietly, his voice already trembling. Before he could huddle into a little ball, Alex’s arms were around him, pressing his head to his chest. Heaving a sigh, he let the tears fall as quietly as he dared to be. His hand crept up to hold onto Alex’s shoulder and gripped tightly. A funny weight was felt on the top of his head, and he realized Alex was running his fingers through his hair. It was so soothing, so...sweet. Willie didn’t realize that was something he missed from his many forgotten memories.

Soon, he straightened up and wiped his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said to Alex, knowing he couldn’t possibly convey how grateful he truly was.

“Of course,” Alex assured him, still gazing upon him tenderly.

“I guess I killed the mood, huh?” Willie attempted to joke. Alex simply smirked and shook his head.

“For what it’s worth, I was totally lost in your eyes, so I needed to come back to reality.”

Willie couldn’t help but smile, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“That was for free,” he said, already getting back into step with his sense of humor. “I charge everyone else.”

Alex quietly entered the hotel and slipped into the door of their room. The guys had thankfully left it ajar so he wouldn’t be locked out. Luke was already lightly snoring on the couch, and he saw that Reggie and Bobby had both taken the larger bed. Carefully pulling his fanny pack over his head and setting it on the side table, he kicked off his shoes.

“Hey, Alex,” he heard Reggie whispering. Dammit. “How’d it go?”

The entire night replayed on fast forward in his mind, and he couldn’t get over the beauty of it all. The weight of it all.

“It was good, Reg,” he whispered back. He quickly changed and climbed into the bed that came down from the wall. Too many thoughts and feelings swirled in his mind like a cajun soup. Willie was amazing. There was nothing else to it except smaller details that attested to the same fact. Today had been all he would have of him, though. His mind paused on that thought as silence filled his ears.

“Did you kiss him?” Reggie whispered out of the blue in curiosity.

“Hey, bigger spoon,” Bobby mumbled groggily. “Be quiet.”

Alex didn’t answer, but smiled quietly to himself. He should have kissed him.