#as they suddenly race one another from one stoplight to the next red

[rotworld]

3: Long Goodbye

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

your friend garrett went missing almost a year ago. when he mysteriously reappears asking to meet up again, you're expecting answers. what you get is much worse.

original work. suggestive but not explicit. contains non-consensual touching, blood drinking, emotional manipulation, hypnosis, gore, implied kidnapping.

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You miss the first call.

The train home is crowded. It’s one of those dreary days where the rain feels like knives, falling cold and half-frozen in heavy sheets. Harrow Creek’s staggered silhouettes come and go like a mirage through the foggy haze, an anachronistic chimera of a city with thorns of Neo-Gothic rooftops and scalloped Art Deco skyscrapers, blunt and brutal modernism filling newer valleys of construction. Bright lights and billboards wink past the windows. On nights like this, you used to meet up with friends at an all-night cafe, commiserating over hot drinks and a shared plate of hot, buttery pastries.

It rings once. Twice. You don’t know the number on the screen so you slide it back into your pocket and watch the city pass by in gray-blue melancholy and golden smears of streetlamps. It buzzes, ignored. It goes to voicemail. Your stop is next. All you want to do is curl up in bed and not think about anything. Every signpost, stoplight and utility pole on the long uphill walk to your apartment building is papered with crumpled, peeling posters, faded and weather-beaten. 

“MISSING” they say in bold above a smiling face. Short brown hair. Hazel eyes. A flash of checkered red and black at the bottom from his favorite scarf. “PLEASE CALL IF YOU HAVE INFORMATION.”

You miss the second call. You’re peeling off a soggy sweatshirt and kicking off waterlogged shoes. You need to eat something but you don’t feel hungry, just empty. On the news, they’re saying there’ll be rain tomorrow, too. You shove something in the microwave and watch it spin, checking your messages just for something to do. Someone asks about trading shifts. Someone asks if you’re doing alright. A chime, and then a new message pops up. Unknown number. 

“its me,” it says.

Another chime and then another, and another, coming so quickly your phone can’t finish the notification sound before it interrupts itself with a new one.

“still alive.”

“srry.”

“plz pick up.”

“im in trouble.”

You’ve never hit the “call” button so fast.

He doesn’t answer right away and you pace, your heart racing, listening to the sluggish one-note ringing with growing panic. It’s him, isn’t it? It has to be. That’s how he texts, one rapidfire thought at a time. But what happened? Where is he? Why the new number? Is he with someone? Is he safe? He said he’s in trouble. Was that him before, those calls you didn’t answer? You’re starting to spiral when the ringing suddenly stops. 

Silence. A shaky exhale through static. Someone starts to speak and then stops themselves. Takes a deep breath. Starts over. “H…hey. Hi. I’m…I wanted to talk to you.” 

It’s him. You have to lean against the kitchen counter, your knees buckling. “Garrett?” you say, quiet, hoarse and hopeful. “You’re okay?” 

“I’m okay.” He doesn’t sound okay. Garrett is the social butterfly of your friend group. He’s a smoothtalker, a good listener, the kind of guy everyone knows and likes and owes a beer. And he’s unflappable, too confident to lose his cool, too unbothered by insults to pick a fight. He’s a safe harbor in the insular cliques of Harrow Creek’s nightlife. He’s your best friend. You hear him sniff and clear his throat, a long pause before he tries again. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I didn’t…I couldn’t call before. They’re strict about…” He stops abruptly. Another inhale, pause, exhale. “Can we meet up?”

It’s eleven at night and you’re a cold, tired mess. “Yes,” you say without hesitation. You beg him not to hang up while you change out of your wet work clothes into something warmer and he sounds uneasy. He mutters something that comes through muffled, away from the receiver, and a different voice says something indistinct. “Should I bring someone? Harley’s probably still up.”

“No,” Garrett says quickly. “Just. Just you, please. You’re the only one I called. I can’t…I’m not even supposed to…”

“Just me,” you assure him. There are a million more things you want to ask but he talks to whoever’s with him again in that small, scared tone and you know you won’t get answers. “Where should I meet you?”

“Thank you.” 

Those two words make your chest feel tight and aching. That’s the Garrett you know. The smile you can hear. The quiet relief. He’d sounded so begrudged and exasperated when you offered to bring him cough syrup and tissues that time he got sick, but he met you at the door with and promised to pay you back, looking at you like you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky. He always took care of everyone else. He wasn’t used to being taken care of.

“No problem,” you say, swiping a hand across your face.

“Have you heard of Betwixt? It’s a bar on the east side, right next to the movie theater and the Italian place.” Another pause. Another murmur from someone you don’t know. “I gotta go. I’ll meet you there in a bit. Just you, please. Don’t tell anyone. I’ll explain everything, but it has to be you.”

You throw your coat back on. Different shoes. Remember your umbrella this time. You take the stairs two at a time, throw yourself back into the cold and rush down the same street you just trudged up. East side, he said. Movie theater. Pizza place. You’re not over there much so you look it up online. A couple train stops later and you’re in an old part of town, the streets wide for trolleys that don’t run anymore. The buildings are red and brown brick, the rooftops prickly with chimneys and jagged spires, hunched gargoyles leering over the edge. The streetlights don’t seem as bright, all burnt orange and eerie.

The map on your phone says you’ve arrived as you stand in front of a stone archway with double doors set further inside. A vintage sign hangs overhead, painted wood dangling from a decorative metal pole. “Betwixt” is printed in curling, golden letters on a black background. From here, it looks more like a classy, upscale restaurant than a bar, candlelight glimmering on the other side of the glass. You push the door open. The heat is on inside. 

Wooden floorboards creak under your footsteps. It’s dark. More than ambience, the candles are the only source of light. You can’t see much but you can hear lively conversation, the scrape of chairs and the clink of glasses. You glimpse an eclectic collection of framed photographs on the walls; portraits and landscapes, city vistas and mountaintop views. There are a few small tables scattered around and a row of booths against the wall, candlelight gleaming on leather upholstery. A couple in the back presses close in a booth, hands wandering. You hear a giggle as one of them caresses the other’s cheek. Traces their jaw. Runs one fingers down the side of their neck and whispers something that makes them shudder. Eyes glint in the dark like a wolf’s caught in headlights and you step back quickly.

“Excuse me,” someone mutters, touching your shoulder to guide you out of the way. But they stop suddenly, turning around to look at you. 

Not Garrett. He’s too tall, shoulders too broad. Hands in the pockets of a leather jacket, he tilts his head and looks you up and down with obvious interest and a widening smile. You try to get past him and he steps in your way. 

“Hey. You wearing red?” he asks, his tone flirtatious. 

You stare at him, shaking your head slowly. You don’t know what he’s talking about but you don’t think it’s any of your business. “I’m meeting somebody here.” You take another step back, nervous. You see more animalistic eye shine, the glint of unwanted predatory attention. Your pulse quickens. You’re definitely not supposed to be here. Why didn’t Garrett warn you?

“Yeah? I can keep you company ‘till then.” The man takes a step closer. “Is this your first time? It’s alright. Don’t have to be nervous. You could practice with me, if you want. I’ll be gentle.” 

You back into someone. A hand grips your shoulder, keeping you still. “This one’s mine,” you hear, the words low and angry. Your heart lurches in your chest. You know that voice. The man in front of you scowls, shrugs, and stalks off towards the bar in the back. You turn around and see what you stopped hoping you’d ever see again, lightheaded with overwhelming, conflicting emotions.

It’s him. You know it is. It doesn’t matter that half of his face is concealed, a mask over his nose and mouth. It’s stiff, not flimsy fabric but something firmer. Those are his eyes, wide and astonished with tears bubbling up along the lower lid. That’s his voice, slightly muffled, saying, “Sorry. Uh. Hope you weren’t waiting too long. You wanna sit down?” 

You look around nervously. A few people are staring. You can tell because you can see their eyes, wolf-like and glinting in the dark. “Could we step outside? I don’t think this bar is for, uh…” You don’t finish the thought. It doesn’t matter if you whisper. They’ll all hear you.

“Humans?” Garrett says. Chuckling, like this is funny somehow. “No, it is. It’s for everyone. That’s why I picked it. So we could both…” You look at Garrett and he looks back at you, something desperate in his gaze. “Please don’t go,” he says, his voice quivering. 

“I won’t,” you assure him. You don’t know what else to do, so you step forward to wrap your arms around him. Garrett nearly knocks you over when he hugs you back, surging forward, meeting you halfway and more. He squeezes so hard that it hurts but you don’t say anything because he’s shaking, breathing heavily against your shoulder. He buries his face against the side of your head, the thick material of his mask nudging against your nose and your jaw. He nuzzles into your neck. He growls. When you go rigid in his arms, he pulls away like you burned him, squeezing his eyes shut. His shoulders rise and fall as he takes deep, steadying breaths. In for five. Hold for five. Out for five. He does it over and over until the tremors stop. 

“Okay,” he says finally, opening his eyes. “Okay. Sorry. I’ve got it under control, I promise.” 

“We need to talk about this,” you tell him as gently as you can. 

He looks at the floor guiltily. He nods.

Garrett leads you to a booth in the back. The chair that shares the same table is already occupied. A stranger sits there with a notebook open on the table, pen in hand, scribbling something. He doesn’t look up when Garrett slides into the booth across from him. He’s not dressed for the weather, just a thin tank top under a jacket falling halfway off his shoulders. He has long hair, bleach white, the ends dyed blue. Both arms are tattooed from the shoulders to the backs of his hands. You don’t sit down and Garrett looks nervously from you to the stranger and back again. He doesn’t look afraid of him, you think. More like he’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“Virgilio,” the stranger introduces himself, still not looking at you. You can’t read the page in front of him but there are notes of some kind, something that looks like a list. He’s doodling in the margins. “Just supervising. Don’t mind me.” The other voice on the phone wasn’t clear enough to hear, but it sounded close to his. Deep and gravelly.

“I’ve been staying with him,” Garrett admits. His eyes are pleading. He scoots over further, leaving plenty of room for you in the booth next to him. 

Reluctantly, you sit down. “You said you were in trouble.” 

“I was. I still am, I guess. It’s complicated.” Garrett rests his hands on the table and they fidget restlessly. His fingers have been picked raw in places, pink underlayers of skin and newly-healed scabs surrounding his nails. You set your hand next to his, palm up, offering. Garrett grips it immediately. He laces your fingers together and holds on tight. “You remember I was going on that trip? Flying out to see Nate, hang out for the weekend?” 

You nod. You remember. That’s the trip he didn’t come back from. Nobody’s heard from Nate since, either.

“That’s when it happened. We were going out for drinks. It was some place with live music and…” Garrett rubs his face. “I can’t. I can’t say it. Can you please…?” 

Virgilio stops writing. He hooks his pen into the notebook’s spiral metal spine and actually looks at you for the first time, studying your face, glancing up and down. His stare makes you uncomfortable. It feels like he’s looking through you rather than at you. “What do you know about nightbound?” he asks.

You knew where this was going—knew the moment you saw reflective eyes staring back at you in the dark—but the word still makes your pulse pick up. “Not much,” you admit. That they exist and that it’s what they call themselves. You don’t know when or why ‘vampire’ became a dirty word. 

Virgilio nods. He doesn’t look surprised. “Garrett is the victim of an unauthorized turning.” He speaks slowly and clearly, the words unauthorized turning enunciated so there’s no misunderstanding. “It was traditionalist dissenters. That means people who don’t respect Council authority, running their own compound in the middle of nowhere and grabbing whoever they wanted off the streets. It’s my understanding that Garrett was taken with four others from a music venue, but he’s the only survivor of his clutch. Two didn’t survive turning. They had the other…” He pauses, studying your horrified expression with a slight tilt of the head. The gesture strikes you as animalistic. Bird-like and curious. “Well, they were traditionalists. They only want one per clutch, and it’s up to the hatchlings to see who makes the cut.” 

Garrett squeezes your hand. He avoids your eyes. “Right,” he says hoarsely. 

“Why is he in trouble?” you ask. “It’s not his fault this happened to him. He shouldn’t be punished for it.” 

Virgilio leans back, throwing one arm over the back of the chair. He regards you with renewed interest, his head tilting the other way now, frowning like you’re a puzzle he can’t quite solve. “He’s not in trouble for getting turned. The problem is his appetite. Traditionalists aren’t big on restraint. He’s been taught to gorge himself whenever he’s hungry, and we get a hunger response every time we catch a whiff of a human on the breeze.” 

“I’m getting better,” Garrett insists. He sneaks a look at you out of the corner of his eye but quickly looks away as though ashamed. 

Virgilio nods. “It’s true. He’s come a long way in just a few months. But that’s why he can’t call anyone. They’d want to see him to make sure he’s alright, he’d smell them, and it’d get messy. Well, that and the Council wants him to focus on acclimation. Hatchlings do better in the long run if they start over. Make new friends.” 

“New friends?” you repeat, your voice thin. “So he’s just supposed to cut us off? Let us all think he’s dead?” 

“No,” Garrett insists. “No, no, it’s not like that, it’s more like���like a precautionary—”

“Yes,” Virgilio says. 

You look at Garrett, his shoulders drawn up, trying to disappear into his seat, and Virgilio staring at you both across the table. “But he called me,” you say.

“I let him call you,” Virgilio corrects.

“Why?”

“Well…” He drums his inked fingers on the table over his notebook, humming thoughtfully. “How do I put this…there’s an exception. He gets to keep someone from his old life under very specific extenuating circumstances. You happen to fit all the criteria.” Virgilio pauses. He looks at Garrett. Inclines his head towards you. “Go on,” he drawls. 

“Right. So.” Garrett steadies himself with a breath. “Feeding is, uh…it’s. Really intense. And emotional. So if you’re going to do it, you know, not just from a bag but from a person, from…” He stops, stroking your thumb with his. “If you’re going to do it, it should be with someone you know and trust. Who trusts you, too. That’s how it’s supposed to be. And you’re…I mean, we weren’t…I never got to ask…”

“Garrett,” Virgilio says, sounding impatient. 

Garrett tugs at your hand gently. He brings it up to his mask, pressing it against the inside of your wrist. “I want to feed on you,” he says. His voice is hoarse. His eyes half-lidded and nearly black, pupils fully dilated. “Please. Please let me feed on you.” 

“You’d have to move in,” Virgilio adds, rubbing his chin. “It’s just standard procedure. I have Garrett feeding often, but on much smaller amounts. A sip here and there. And it’s not a bad gig, you know. The Council will do just about anything to keep you comfortable. You’d be doing us a favor, after all.” 

They both stare at you expectantly and it makes you feel like cornered prey. Gently, trying not to upset him, you tug your hand out of Garrett’s grasp. “Can I have some time to think about it?” you say carefully. Garrett’s shoulders sag in disappointment. Virgilio frowns. “It’s just…it’s a lot. All of this. I want to help Garrett. I don’t want to lose him. But I have to figure some things out if I’m going to move.” You have to tell someone. Your friends. His family. The authorities. The nightbound must have their own government—that “Council” Virgilio keeps mentioning—but you don’t trust them. Nothing about this sits right with you. 

“Sorry,” Garrett mumbles. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assure him, shifting away as discreetly as you can. “None of this is your fault, okay? We’ll figure this out, I promise.” Another small, subtle scoot back, but you don’t get far. Someone slipped into the booth behind you. Panicked, you turn around and find Virgilio sitting far too close, one of his hands seizing your arm and the other grabbing your jaw. When did he get up? You didn’t see or hear him move. 

“I couldn’t do it,” Garrett says miserably. 

“I didn’t expect you to.” Virgilio grabs your chin between his thumb and fingers, tilting your face higher to meet his cold gaze. His eyes are gold. Bright and glittering, speckled with flecks of amber and paler yellow. Your struggles to get away from him are hampered by his eyes and just how pretty they are. How nice they are to look at. How easy it is to lose yourself in them. Like autumn leaves. Like honey. Warm. Gentle. Comforting. Gold. 

You feel so tired. What were you doing earlier? And why?

“It takes practice,” Virgilio says. “You probably wouldn’t be able to maintain it very well. It’s another thing we can work on later.” He sounds faraway. Echoing. He never looks away. He doesn’t even blink. Your eyelids flutter but they don’t shut completely. You don’t want to lose sight of him. “Don’t feel bad. You tried asking. If they want to be mad at someone, they can be mad at the Council. Here, hold onto them. It’s fine. They’re under.” 

Virgilio pushes on your shoulder, urging you to lie back. You’re in Garrett’s arms now, leaning against his chest. It feels nice to be here. Nice to be between the two of them. You look up at Garrett and his eyes are pretty, too.

“You can take the outer layer off,” Virgilio says. “Just the outer layer.”

Garrett nods feverishly. He pinches the edge of his mask and something shifts. There’s a shrill, sticky sound like velcro. The mask comes apart, a thick panel of leather peeling off. Garret sets it on the table and you see him better now, nose and lips and the way he’s panting, but there’s still something on his face. Dark lines. Bars. Metal? The frame of the mask is still hooked over his ears. 

It looks like a muzzle.

“Take a breath,” Virgilio reminds him.

Garrett listens. You see his lips part. A tongue, darting out to moisten them. A flash of fangs. He holds you close as he tugs your jacket down, pulls the neckline of your shirt to the side, and leans in. The muzzle digs into your neck. You hear Garrett suck in a deep breath. He shivers. His breath comes in hot, humid puffs against your skin. Saliva drips through the muzzle, his tongue desperately pressed against the metal trying to reach you. 

“Garrett.” 

“I know. I know.” He pulls himself away like it physically pains him to do so, groaning, biting his lip. “Fuck, I can’t…I need them so bad.”

“Look at me. You’re doing fine. I’ll stop you if I have to, but I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you were ready. I’m going to unlock your muzzle.” 

You feel your stomach twist. A twinge of fear sours that sweet, floaty feeling making everything soft and nice. Something’s wrong here, isn’t it? Something is very wrong. You were trying to leave. Why were you trying to leave? You hear a chair scrape the floor. Footsteps. It’s all muffled and dreamlike, impossible to focus on. Your head lolls back and you’re staring at the ceiling. Where are you? Smells like beer. Like blood. There’s a loud metallic clatter and then a hand against your neck. Shaky fingers. A loving caress. 

“Just like we practiced,” Virgilio whispers. The hand on your shoulder tightens. A warm, wet mouth presses against the side of your neck and you remember suddenly, the realization like ice water down your back. It’s too late. You see Virgilio looming over both of you, standing beside the booth. He tilts his head. Smirks at you. Garrett bites down. 

You’ve never felt pain quite like this. There’s the sharpness, daggerpoints sinking into your skin hard and deep enough that blood gushes out of the wounds, and a spreading heat like your veins are igniting. It’s not a nice, neat incision, not just two little pinpricks. His jaw clamps shut and all of his teeth are crunching through flesh and delicate soft tissue. There’s the arrhythmic agony of Garrett’s tongue pressing at the wound in short kitten licks and the greediness of his mouth, harsh suction that pulls and drags at delicate things under your skin. Garrett moans against your skin and you scream when he pulls and tugs and finally wrenches his teeth out of you, only to drag them teasingly against a new, unmarked spot slightly lower. 

You beg him to stop. You plead and you cry and you try to make him look at you. You regret it when he finally does. Garrett looks like a wolf that just dragged its snout out of a dead deer’s belly. Your blood is smeared all over his mouth and dribbling down his chin. Panting open-mouthed, you see it staining his teeth. He swipes his hand across his face, making his fingers red and wet. He licks them, one at a time. He moans at the taste, drool escaping the corner of his mouth.

“I’d let him give it another try, if I were you,” Virgilio says. “No venom in the first bite. If you don’t want to feel that in the morning, you’ll need a dose.” 

You don’t answer. You can’t. It hurts whenever you breathe, or swallow, or your heart beats. You feel like you’ve been chewed up and spat back out, your neck raw and prickling. Garrett’s eyes are drawn to the slow ooze of blood from the bite he left behind and you see the moment he realizes what he’s done, how badly he’s hurt you. Eyes wide, swallowing hard, he tries to say something but never does. He looks at Virgilio but the other man looks at you, waiting for an answer. 

You tremble, your hands clutching fistfuls of Garrett’s sweater. Shaking and reluctant, you touch Garrett’s face, resting your palm against his cheek. His eyes shut and he lets out a pleased sigh, turning to kiss your wrist. You flinch in anticipating terror when he licks and nips at your skin, but he doesn’t bite. Something about the gesture, the reverence he shows your wrist and your hammering pulse beneath the skin, feels important. Maybe it means something special to the nightbound. Maybe he’s trying to tell you something. 

“Make it stop hurting,” you beg him. 

Garrett kisses your wrist again. He holds it against his cheek, eyes closed in bliss. Carefully, he moves you. Rests you against his other shoulder. He exposes the untouched side of your neck and you can’t stop the helpless, frightened tears that prick the corners of your eyes, expecting even more agony. He kisses the spot first. A chaste peck first, then longer, with tongue. You feel his fangs first, sharp as thorns. A dull pressure. A sharp pain.

And then, without warning, there’s ecstasy. 

It starts in your neck. Everything he touches, everything his teeth rip and shred and tenderize, feels electric. The blood dripping down your shoulder feels like a caress. His hands are on your hips and he’s moving, rocking against you, gasping and breathless as he grinds the hardness in his jeans against your ass. Every sensation is razor-sharp and amplified. Everything that used to hurt is heavenly now. Garrett’s teeth come out of your neck with a wet, sucking sound and then he’s licking you, making love to the wound with his tongue, whispering sweet nothings and promises of always, forever, no matter what it takes. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “I shouldn’t have lied. But you’re glad, too, right? This isn’t goodbye after all.” 

You’ll be mad at him later, probably. You’ll scream and you’ll cry and you’ll find a door you can lock, anything to put some distance between the two of you. But it feels good now. Everything is perfect sweetness and heady delight. You curl into Garrett’s chest and he holds you, not like the way he used to but in a new, more desperate way, like you might disappear if he lets go. Virgilio says something about a mending poultice. Stopping the bleeding. Getting you settled at home. You don’t care. But even now, in this warmth and haze, part of you understands that nothing is ever going to be the same again.

[latoyalestrange]

IT’S NEVER OVER

Joel Miller x F!OC

Summary: Jessie tries to return to normal life after Joel fixed her car the night before, and subsequently, took over a portion of her mind since the moment she drove home. In an attempt to bury herself in her work to distract herself, she found out she needed Joel much sooner than she anticipated.

Words: idk yet

Warnings: not edited, oblivious mutual pining, fluff, friends to lovers

CHAPTER THREE -- RED LIGHT, GREEN LIGHT

MAY 2, 2002

Butterflies. Huh. Jessie hadn't felt like that in a long time. He was just being nice, right? An established contractor, a very handsome one at that, could be interested in her? To Jessie, he was entirely out of her legue, especially when compared to the men she'd wasted her time on before. That's not what Jessie wanted to do this time around. She couldn't bare to be toyed with anymore, so she needed to be cautious. Either he was the one or love simply didn’t exist. She came to realize over the years that this was true, just for different reasons.

She had a hard time falling asleep that night. She found herself smiling as her mind wandered every time she closed her eyes. She didn’t dream of him once she finally drifted off, in fact she didn’t dream at all. When she opened her eyes, it was suddenly morning but she didnt feel like she slept at all. After a few moments, something felt off. It was much too bright in her room for her usual wake up time for her sunday brunch shift.

“Shit!” She was on her feet in a split second, rushing around to get ready. She fixed the long braid she put her hair in before bed, threw on her uniform, and took the extra few seconds to put a glittery pink gloss on her lips. she raced down the creaky stairs, passing her brother who sat on the couch watching the news.

“Morning! Mom made—“

“I can’t, Leo, I’m late!” She called back as she made it to the back door in the kitchen. She quickly grabbed her dingy tennis shoes and sat down at the table to put them on. The smell of garlic, tomatoes, fresh bread and eggs made her stomach rumble.

“At least take some toast, honey,” her mother, still in her bathrobe and pajamas, emerged from her room off of the kitchen. She took a peice of the perfectly buttered bread she staged next to the pan on the stove and handed it to her daughter.

“Thanks, Ma.” Jessie took the bread after tieing off her second shoe and took a grateful bite. She gave her mother a hug, towering over her petite frame while being average height herself.

“You work too hard, my love.” Her mother squeezed her for as long as she let her. Once her brother entered the room as well, she kissed her on the cheek.

“I love you, Ma,” She avoided the comment, still chewing her bread. She turned to hug her brother as well, who pecked her forehead.

“You’ll be home before dinner?” The girl nodded, taking another bite. They separated and she slung her purse over her shoulder, grabbing her keys off the table. They said their final goodbyes as she walked out the door, a little less flustered and more put together than before.

Her drive to work started out normal. Her car was a little squeaky on a good day and was a bit of an eyesore, but it got her to work and back. That’s all she needed, and frankly, all she and her family could afford. It was her brothers car before he got a new one after getting the factory job. Everything was going to plan, she would be later than she normally was, but if she hussled, she’d be there with a few minutes to spare. But as she could see the stoplight, her halfway point to the diner, she felt a slight jolt in the car. Then, before she could process what was happening, she could hear her car sputtering out in the middle of the road. She tried to accelerate, but it was no use. She thought quickly enough to pull over to the side, in utter disbelief as she put the car in park.

“You have to be kidding…” She sat there for a moment, stunned at her unluckiness as cars honked and drove around her. She rummaged through her purse after a moment, looking for her phone. Sitting on top of it was a sharp index card with “Miller Construction” plastered on the front. She could just call her brother but she’d have to tow her car, and that was money she couldn’t afford to spend. She fought back in forth with herself for a few moments. Time was ticking and the sun was beating down on her in the hot car. Before she knew it, she was dialing the number on the card, her heart pounding as she listened to it ring.

“Miller Construction.” He answered casually.

“I- um—“ Jessie quickly realized how ridiculous this all was. Why would she bother a stranger with this? “It’s Jessie, from the diner…”

He didn’t respond for a beat, so she continued. “Listen, I’m broke down on the side of the road and I’m gonna be late—“

“Where are you?” She was almost caught off guard by his willingness to help her. He hardly knew her. She took a second to look around for street sings.

“I’m on St. Claire and 13th, right next to the Shell—“

“I know where that is, stay put. I’ll be right there.” And with that, he hung up. Somehow, Jessie was left even more confused and flustered than before. She instantly called her boss afterward despite how she was feeling. No matter what, she could not lose this job. Thankfully, her southern-bell waitress was more than understanding.

She waited for what felt like forever, tapping her foot nervously on the floorboard. She recognized their truck as soon as it pulled onto the road, seeing the brothers smiling faces in the front. Tommy pulled it right up next to her, and she couldn’t help but smile as Joel leaned out the window.

“Hi, darlin’. Got a flat?” She shook her head, hoping he didn’t notice her blushing.

“No, she just died on me while I was driving.” Joel climbed out of the truck, the sun forcing him to squint as he looked down at her. Tommy pulled the truck around to align the bed with the front of the car as Joel opened the driver-side door. She gazed up expenctantly for a moment, making his own stomach flutter.

“Scoot over.” He nodded to the passenger seat. She glanced ahead as Tommy hooked something under her car and understood.

“Right, sorry.” She climbed over the center console and almost fell into the passenger seat. Joel attempted to sit down, but quickly realized he couldn’t fit without drawing the seat back first. She stifled a chuckle as he struggled to adjust the seat. He finally settled in with the seat all the way back and tilted just a bit. She could smell his musky cologne instantly.

“Much better.” He sighed before putting the car in neutral. Tommy stuck his hand out the window, giving him brother a thumbs up, which he mirrored.

“Thank you. Really. I would’ve had to pay to get it towed.” Her eyes scanned him as she spoke, taking in the sight of him. God, even the way he sat was so nonchalant yet tempting.

“It’s no problem. I hate to say it but even I get bored on Sundays. My only day off.” He chuckled a bit, leaning on the center console with his muscular arm.

“Let me repay you. Next time you come in, it’s on me.” Their body language was saying everything they didn’t want to say. Turned towards eachother, shoulders relaxed, and it was a good thing Tommy was leading because Joel couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. He knew how much she hated that uniform but it was so damned cute on her.

“Fine. You’re still getting tipped though.”

Jessie spoke too soon, though. Once the brothers got her car to Joel’s garage, she quickly realized a free dinner wasn’t nearly enough. Joel couldn’t find a problem under the hood, so he tried looking underneath her car as Tommy held a flashlight. It was at this point that Sarah emerged from the front door, three waters in hand.

“Hi!” She said cheerfully. “Thought you might be thirsty.” She handed the first one to Jessie.

“Thank you! Your dad’s just looking at my car for me.” She’d heard loads about Sarah. What a good kid she was, how much she took after her father, and some of the things she liked.

“Yeah.” She chuckled knowingly. “He was talking about you last night.” As if it were a reflex, Joel sprang to his feet to meet his daughter.

“Thank you, Sarah. You can go back inside, it’s hot.” He took the last two water bottles and shooed her away. She gave Jessie a pointed look before turning to leave. She glanced at Tommy, who was smiling and holding back laughter.

“Looks like your fuel filter needs changed.” Joel changed the subject, hands stained with oil and sweat beading on his forehead. Fuck. She could hardly focus on what he was saying but it sounded expensive.

“I’ll have to go to the auto shop later. I’ll take you to work on the way so you’re not more late than you already are.” He set one bottle aside for Tommy and opened the other one, drinking selfishly and letting it dribble down his chin.

“Um, sure!” She could hardly speak, let alone know what to say. “But that sounds like a lot of work, no? And money?”

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’. I’ll get it taken care of.” He placed a strong yet comforting hand on her arm, that familiar smoulder on his face.

“Then let me babysit. It takes a village. Maybe I could give her some guidance.” It was the perfect solution. He’d fix her car in exchange for a few weeks of free babysitting and she’d get to keep seeing him. She saw the same realization hit him as a smile tugged on his lips.

“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He let his hand fall, passing by her to get in his truck that was now parked behind her car. He gestured to the passenger seat again. She quickly followed, having to hoist herself up into the cabin. Once she closed the door, they were locked in again, their own little bubble.

“Thank you, again. For everything.” She repeated sincerily. He was silent for a moment, reading the expression on her face as he pulled away from his house. Her smile was almost inviting.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” His sultry voice sent a shiver down her spine. She turned and blushed, her eyes glued to her purse that sat in her lap. “I might just take you up on that babysitting offer.” He added, smirking over at her.

“I’ll show up and force you out if I have to, Miller. I mean it. I’m making up for every cent you put into my car.” Her voice was stern now, which just made her seem more adorable to him.

“Yes, ma’am.” He complied.

“Good.” He chuckled at her intensity. She rolled her eyes, and she was smiling as she did so.

After a few moments of comfortable silence passed before Joel pulled into the patchy parking lot of the diner.

“Don’t work too hard.” He teased as she unbuckled. She bit her lip, and he could see something in her eyes and the way she looked at him. She inched closer to him, hesitating before kissing his cheek. She smiled as she quickly turned to open the door, avoiding eye contact.

“When should I pick you up?” She hopped out of the truck, holding onto the door for support. She planted her feet on the ground, facing him as she propped the door open. She hadn’t thought of how she would get home tonight, so she answered, “Is ten okay?”

The man nodded almost too eagerly, “Yeah, that’s fine. See you at ten.”

“See you at ten.” And with that, she used most of her upper body strength to push the hefty passenger door closed and turned to walk away. She let her face express her true excitement out of his sight as she hear the truck drive away.

Maybe she asked to babysit Sarah out of the kindness of her heart and to repay her debts. Or maybe, and more likely, she used it as an excuse to see Joel more often. Either way, it was a win for the both of them.

[nny11writes]

Ive been playing Star Wars: Racer. Yeah, the n64 game. It has a switch port. Pretty fun. The main loop in the tournament mode is upgrading and repairing your vehicle so you can perform in the more high end races.

Anyway: Street racer Shera au. Catra races to prove she's the best, she tries to repair her own car. Scorpia records *every* race and has a flag saying "best driving cat xoxo :)" on it with a picture of Catra as a cat. Catra hates it.

One day Glimmer shows up with a porsche and beats Catra after a neck and neck race, Catra is so mad she recruits the help of her very off-the-books engineer friend Entrapta who she has never let touch her precious Subaru before. Entrapta says Catra's repeated patchwork jobs have fucked up the car, which hurts Catra's pride, but within three days the thing is repaired and modded with lighter wheels, removed furniture, and an ungodly turbo boost, also she puts refined kerosine in a secondary tank, don't ask.

Anyway Catra and Glimmer, who has also begged her boyfriend to design cute little decal faces for her car, pull up ready to start their rematch, when suddenly an enormous pink limo comes out and blocks the racing path. Out of the car steps Angella, who had weaselled the truth out of Bow, who stands next to her ashamed.

Everyone watches in bewilderment as this tense race gets interrupted by a teenager and her mother yelling at each other about how this ALWAYS happens and she is SO grounded and she only has a learner's insurance for the car anyway so why is she driving alone in the first place.

Okay, so first of all you just unlocked several childhood memories lol. When TPM came out I got super into it and had this awful dorky padawan obi-wan costume from like target that I wore the apprentice braid from until it fell to pieces and played TPM tie in computer game non-stop. So my parents were like, “Huh, neat.” And got us Star Wars: Racer but for the PC (Episode I: Racer? It had a different name I think but that cover art instantly took me back). Anyhow me and my sister took turns playing it and when she convinced me to prank call someone for the first time ever (something she’d also never done) we dialed a random number and just held the phone to the speakers while the game was playing.

The lady called back and left a stern voicemail about prank calls that shamed us so much we actually stopped playing the game afterwards 😂

ANYHOW

I actually like the idea that Catra does basic work on the car decently, but she can probably install mods with some issues and run ins. I wouldn’t trust a street racer who can’t do some work on their own car! (I say having known a small handful of them actually lol, my hometown is notorious for street racing and even my brother in law used to get in on the act) That said, I can see her being one of those people who mis-installs a fancier system of some kind. Like, the new fly wheel works great but Catra fucked up the new muffler system and didn’t realize it because it happened because of something else in the system, ya know? Entrapta would still 100% tell her she fucked up her car because Entrapta is sensitive to the feelings of the vehicles. Catra does not understand what the fuck that means but she’s not gonna ask when Entrapta somehow supercharged her turbo and put in experimental wheels and axels that are light but strong. Catra was excited when she replaced the hood and trunk with carbon because the car was so much lighter and better afterwards. This is that times twelve! Catra swears off self repairs because she literally can’t make heads of tails of it anymore, and also Entrapta wants to.

Glimmer absolutely bought her way into the sport, but it’s her hard work that got her to be a street racer. She used to go to the track and at first just did straight shot races, mostly against herself. She took Bow in it once, and his face was frozen between pure joy and pure terror under the helmet he was forced to wear and borrow by the racetrack. Angella didn’t like her daughter’s hobby, but at least it wasn’t a motorcycle or heaven forbid that dangerous street racing. Glimmer would eventually move up to track racing and then decided to take her skills to the roads and see. Bow is not thrilled by this, but he is an overly supportive boyfriend and will support her hobby gosh darn it!!! He demands that she wear a safety suit and helmet which she does making her look extra dorky compared to the rest but she races well!

When her and Catra face off for the first time it is neck and neck because Catra has more practical knowledge than Glimmer. Both of her car and the streets, but Glimmer’s build up with her car means she has more practiced skills that are too dangerous for drivers to learn on the streets on the fly. Mostly though Glimmer keeps up because of her ability to have thrown money at her fancy car. By the time Catra and Glimmer are ready for their re-match, Catra’s car is now on par with Glimmer’s money machine but Glimmer has been able to spend the time on the roads learning the routes more and becoming more familiar with the feel of street racing.

Mostly thanks to impromptu races, don’t tell her mom.

Except whoopsies! Bow totally crumbled like a house of cards. Glimmer and Catra are old enough, have their full licenses, and really have done nothing wrong as the street races they went against one another in were both sanctioned. Sure, they both do illegal races too but legal ones for big multi-car groups. So when Angella rolls up in her limo and gets in a full out fight with Glimmer there isn’t much that can be done about it. They go head to head again (ignoring everyone else there) and this time Catra beats Glimmer.

Now they have a back and forth going on where they keep facing off under various situations, and eventually end up in a long sanctioned race where you need a copiolt to actually tell you were to go and help out. Bow gets freaked out right before it starts and Angella offers to go in his place.

Look, Glimmer got her love of fast cars from someone.

Catra takes Entrapta as she’s quick, clever, and also knows what to do if the refined kerosine goes sideways.

Over the radio the whole time both teams just bicker with one another and each other, they both end up off the track somehow and are now racing illegally just against one another. The finish is a photo finish, and also filled with cops. Angella pays for everyone’s bail and they go for either a drink or ice cream. They may or may not race one another on the way there too. Bow and Scorpia meet them because “Wow! But also, don’t do that to me again please!”

[hangovercurse]

Crash Into Me

You’d been MGK’s assistant for years, but you never thought you had a chance at anything more with him until one stoplight changes everything.

Request: “ok im so sorry if this is 2 specific but ive had this idea for ages abt pining!colson x an insecure/clueless!reader who has been his assistant forever. she gets into a car accident and calls him hours later to tell him that a temp will be taking her place for a few weeks (bc of injuries) and he's like ?? why?? she explains nonchalantly, then kells kinda freaks out and shows up at the hospital all worried”

Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Cursing, car accident (descriptive)

A/N: This was cute 😊

Word Count: 3185

“Alright Kells, I’m out for the night. I’ll email those tracks to the board when I get home and I’ll let you know if I get any updates for tomorrow’s press.” You told the blond man who was sitting on the couch as you put your laptop into your bag. You tried not to yawn as you heaved it over your shoulder, “anything else?”

You glanced at the kitchen clock that read 2 am and let out a small sigh. You were used to late nights given your job as assistant to a rockstar, but most nights you were able to leave before 8 pm. Tonight you and Colson had gotten really invested in the tracks you were editing and lost track of time.

“Y/N,” he turned to look at you with puppy dog eyes. He wanted something that you really weren’t gonna want to give him. “Could you come over early tomorrow to help me pick out what to wear for the Vanity Fair interview?”

You chuckled, “you know they have their own wardrobe department?”

He sighed, “yeah but you know me so much better than all those stylists. I trust your opinion more.”

You rolled your eyes as he tilted his head, begging you. “Fine, but I’m buying us coffee with your credit card.”

He broke out into a smile, “thank you, love you!” He called as you walked towards his front door.

“Whatever, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You told him, taking your car keys into your hands, and stepping out into the LA night. There was a soft breeze that shook the trees slightly, making you smile. It felt nice outside for the first time in a while.

Because of this, you decided to drive home with your windows rolled down, letting the wind flow through your hair. The roads were pretty barren by LA standards, so traffic was pretty much non-existent. You were sitting at a red light, your fingers tapping against your steering wheel as one of Colson’s songs played through your speakers softly.

You reached to turn up the volume as the light turned green. You pressed the gas, your car moving forward into the intersection. Suddenly you heard a loud squeal of brakes, looking over to your passenger window to the sight of two headlights barreling towards you. You tried to speed up to get out of the way, but it was too late.

The truck rammed straight into the side of your small car, pushing your vehicle over into the car next to you. You put your left arm up to shield you from any flying debris, but it was futile. The infrastructure of your car fell apart at the force, the dashboard collapsing onto your right leg. Luckily, your left leg managed to avoid the destruction.

You could barely feel the force of the whiplash due to the pain in your abdomen at the deployment of the airbag. Glass from the car next to you fell into your car through your open window, cutting into your skin.

And then all of a sudden, everything stopped. The truck that had hit you had stopped moving, allowing you to fully assess the damage. Your car was totaled for sure, and your leg was definitely crushed. You cried out in pain, breathing heavy and trying to see straight. You could hear the sound of sirens in the distance, giving you some sense of relief.

When the paramedics got to the scene, you were the last passenger to be taken out of the crash due to your car being in the center. A firefighter had to break the glass of your windshield, which was already cracked, in order to pull you out. When you told him your leg was stuck under the dashboard, he sent a team of men to lift it from your foot and another to pull you out of the wreckage.

They were all amazed you were still conscious but got very worried when you told them you couldn’t feel the pain in your leg. You rode in an ambulance to the hospital, the EMTs helping pick the glass from your skin and assessing your injuries. You made jokes with them to calm yourself down, something that you did with Colson and Rook whenever they got into accidents while you were out with them.

You thought about giving them Colson’s name when they asked about your emergency contact but decided against it. You didn’t want to worry him until absolutely necessary. You figured you’d see what the doctor had to say and if you wouldn’t be able to come back to work, then you would tell him.

Unfortunately, that’s exactly what the doctor said. In fact, you wouldn’t be able to leave the hospital for at least a week due to your shattered leg, bruised abdomen, and concussion.

The leg would require at least 2 if not more surgeries to repair and you would be on close watch for development of a more serious brain injury. After that you most likely wouldn’t be able to be back on your feet for another 8 to 12 weeks, which was kind of a requirement for your job.

It was almost 5am, so you weren’t necessarily thinking straight when you called Colson from your cracked phone. He answered, his voice conveying how tired he was. “Y/N? Everything okay?”

“Hey Kells, I’m not gonna be able to come in early tomorrow, or at all. I’m gonna start looking for a temporary replacement tomorrow if I’m feeling up to it. Oh! And I couldn’t send those tracks to the board, sorry.” You told him, only half registering the words you were saying.

The confusion was evident in his voice, “what? Why do you need to find a replacement?”

You realized you had forgotten to tell him what happened. “Oh, yeah! It’s kind of funny.” You started, chuckling but then realizing that laughing made your stomach hurt even more. “And by funny, I mean not funny at all. I got into a car accident. Some dude ran into my car in an intersection and now I’m in the hospital.”  

“Which hospital?” Colson asked, suddenly much more awake.

“Hollywood Presbyterian.” You told him, “why?”

He sounded like he was rushing around, which he was. “I’m coming to see you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, “why? I’m fine, you don’t need to do that. You have a big interview tomorrow, you should sleep.”

Colson sighed, “fuck the interview, I’ll be there in a few.”

“Colson you don’t-“ You started, but he hung up before you could tell him not to come.

Why was he rushing to see you in the hospital? Sure, you were friends, but he had much more important things to worry about right now. And besides, you were more casual work friends. He wouldn’t even know you existed if you didn’t work for him. Sure, you had a huge crush on him, but he was your boss, you were just someone he asked to do things he didn’t want to do.

 20 minutes later Colson ran into the hospital room, stopping when he saw you in the bed. Your face was red from chemical burn and a few cuts of glass. Your right leg was propped up with basic bandaging around it. His heart broke at the thought of how much pain you had probably been in.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly, moving to sit in the chair on your left side.

You shrugged, “I’ve been better.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” He asked, eyes full of pity.

“I didn’t want to bother you unless it was serious. Figured I’d find out if I would have to miss work before telling you.” You said, squeezing your eyes shut as a headache washed over you.

Colson’s mouth gaped open, “you didn’t want to bother me? You got in a car crash and you weren’t gonna call me unless you would have to miss work?”

You shrugged again, “yeah. If my laptop wasn’t completely crushed in the accident I would’ve just found and sent a temp in tomorrow, but obviously that’s impossible.”

“Y/N you’re kidding me, right?” He asked, exasperated. You furrowed your eyebrows in response, causing a sigh to fall from his lips. “Y/N I don’t give a shit about a temp; I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh, I’m fine. A little shaken and these headaches are killer, but they gave me a lot of pain medication so, I’m fine.” You smiled at him, your thoughts racing as you tried to figure out why he cared so much about how you were feeling.

He nodded, hand reaching out and landing on top of yours gently. “So, do they have to do surgery? What all did the doctors say?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

You nodded, “yeah, at least 2 surgeries. One around 11 am and then depending on how that one goes they’ll schedule the next. And they have to watch me to make sure my concussion doesn’t get worse.”

He pulled out his phone, typing away. “What are you doing?” You asked, suddenly feeling very tired.

“I just emailed the PR liaison for Vanity Fair and told them I wouldn’t be able to make it to the interview.” He responded.

“Why did you do that?” You asked through a yawn.

He looked at you like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, “because I have to be with you right now.”

You were very confused as to why he thought he had to be here. “Colson, I’ll be fine. You should go to the interview. You don’t have to stay here.”

“I do have to be here. I want to be here.” He said, sternly.

“Why?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes open.

“Because I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll just call you after the surgery, it’s no big deal.” You responded lazily.

He shook his head, “I want to stay here with you, Y/N. Okay? I care about you.”

You were too tired to process what he was saying at this point, so you just let out a hum. “I need to make sure you’re okay. I need to see you being okay. When you called me, I swear I was gonna have a heart attack if I didn’t see you.” He continued.

You were barely awake at this point, letting out a simple, “I’m okay” before slipping into unconsciousness.

 Suddenly you were back in your car, “Bloody Valentine” playing from your speakers. The sky was dark green, almost like a painting. In front of you, the red light turned green. Like clockwork, you pressed the gas, moving into the intersection. Suddenly, the lights disappeared, and you heard the familiar chilling sound of breaks squealing. You looked over and saw those headlights coming towards you, getting closer and closer, brighter, and brighter.

You screamed at the sight, the familiar paralyzing fear coursing through your body again. “Y/N!” Your name played through the radio. That’s not in the song, you thought. “Y/N!” Colson’s voice rang out again before the truck made contact with your car.

You woke up in a cold sweat to Colson standing over you, hands shaking your shoulders lightly. “Y/N.” He said, relieved when your eyes began to open.

Your entire body was shaking like a poodle and your arms subconsciously reached for Colson, hanging onto his shirt for dear life. “It was just a dream.” He whispered as your eyes darted around the room. “You’re okay.” He reassured you.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, hands leaving the fabric and moving to cover up your face. “I’m sorry.”

Colson sat on the bed next to you, legs hanging off the side as he stroked your face gently. “It’s okay, baby.” He turned to the nurse who opened the door, a worried expression on her face. He shook his head at her, “sorry, she just had a nightmare. She’s okay.” The nurse nodded but stayed in the room anyways, checking your vitals.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled again, the words seeming to be the only thing you could say.

Colson shook his head, “stop saying that, it’s okay.” You pouted at him, trying to scoot over so he would lay down next to you, but it was way too painful. “What are you doin?” He asked, a smile on his face.

You sighed, “wanted you to sit next to me but I can’t move because of this stupid leg.” You motioned to the leg in question.

Colson chuckled, “I can sit next to you in the chair.”

“That didn’t work last time.” You whined.

He looked at you with an expression that was both amused and confused. You were definitely still high on pain medication. “What didn’t work.”

“It didn’t stop the nightmare.” You frowned, hand reaching for his. He chuckled, standing up fully and looking at the nurse.

She flashed him an amused smile, “If you want, we can try to move her. I don’t know how much we can do without hurting her ribs, though.”

Colson nodded with a gracious smile, “hear that? We can’t move you because of your ribs.”

You glared at him, “I may be very high right now, but I’m not that high.” You said, making him giggle. “She said you could try.”

Colson let out an exasperated sigh, one arm going under your back and the other under your left leg. “Is this what it’s like taking care of me all the time?” He asked and you nodded your head firmly.

“Yep. Except I am much smaller than you, so you have less work to do with me.” You smiled as he lifted you off the bed, which quickly turned into a grimace. “Ow!” You yelped and Colson quickly set you down, slightly closer to the right side of the bed.

“Fuck, sorry princess. Are you okay?” He asked, voice soft.

You nodded, sucking in your bottom lip to block the whimpers of pain that threatened to escape your mouth. “You probably don’t remember, but one time you were so crossed that you called me to pick you up from a party. But you couldn’t make it out of the car, so I had to carry you into your house. And then you demanded to sleep in your own room, so you made me drag you up the stairs instead of passing out on the couch like normal.”

Colson let out a breathy chuckle, glad you weren’t hurt too much. He carefully sat onto the cot next to you, pulling up his right leg to sit on the bed. His arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into him slightly. You shifted so that you were comfortable, left hand finding his own left hand and holding it. He brought his left leg up onto the bed so he was fully laying with you.

Your head rest on his chest, a soft smile on your face as his thumb rubbed circles on your hand. The nurse left, satisfied that you wouldn’t hurt yourself further. Colson pressed a small kiss to the top of your head, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

“What time is it?” You asked him, to which he responded by pulling out his phone and showing you the lock screen. 8:47am. You nodded, a frown on your face, “did you get any sleep?” You asked him softly.

“I’m fine, I was asleep for a few hours before you called me.”

You sighed, feeling guilty. “You should go home and get some sleep.”

You felt him shake his head from behind you, “I’m staying right here.”

Despite wanting to force him to go home, you couldn’t help the happiness you felt at his stubbornness to stay with you. “You know you don’t need to be here. I won’t be offended if you leave.”

He chuckled, “stop trying to get me to leave. I’m here. On my own accord, okay? I’m gonna take care of you.”

You paused, thinking about the word floating around your head. “Why?” you whispered.

Colson’s face scrunched in confusion, “what do you mean “why”? Because you’re my friend and I care about you.”

“I mean, yeah. But I’m not like a “drop everything” kind of friend, I’m just your assistant.” You muttered.

Colson made an “are-you-serious?” face and let out a snort. “Seriously? You are so much more than you give yourself credit for. You mean the world to me, of course I’d drop everything for you.”

You couldn’t think of a response, his words making your heart race. “oh.” Was the best you could come up with.

“Y/N, seriously, you think way too low of yourself. You’re amazing.” He said, nose burying into your hair.

You shrugged, “you only say that because I take care of you when you’re drunk and help you do all the things you don’t want to do.”

Colson’s expression softened, a frown forming on his face. “I’m saying that because I think the world of you. You’re the kindest, funniest, coolest person I know. I meant it, when you told me you were in the hospital, my heart almost stopped. I felt sick to my stomach just thinking about you being hurt.” He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I wish you could see how much you mean to me.” He mumbled.

You were quiet for a little while, processing what he had said. “You’re only saying that because I’m in the hospital.” You muttered, a frown on your face. You were trying to keep your hopes low, knowing once you were out of here, he would regret saying any of this.

“Y/N, are you being serious right now? I’m saying this because I’ve been fucking in love with you for the past year and a half.” He said and you could feel your breath catch in your throat. “I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

You bit your lip, turning to look up to him. “I just- I didn’t want- you wouldn’t.” You stumbled over your words, taking a deep breath, and starting again. “I didn’t want to read too much into it or get my hopes up. I figured you’d never be into someone like me so I just told myself you were being nice. I thought you only treated me well because I worked for you.” You mumbled.

He frowned, holding you tighter to him, “I am so, so into you. You are the only woman in my life who has ever stuck by me through my worst shit. Like even when I was a total jackass you stayed with me. How could I not fall in love with you?”

You bit your lip, tears threatening to spill at his sweet sentiment. You’d never had anyone say something that kind about you. You’d always assumed people only kept you around because you did stuff for them, but here was the man you were in love with telling you that he cared about you for you.

“I love you too.” You whispered, leaning your head further into his chest.

[that-otome-potato]

One Good Ride

I AM A THIRSTY POTATO! I have no regrets for that which you have chosen to click on and read.

Pairing: Kokuyou x Reader

Rating: Explicit/NSFW

Word Count: ~3700

Notes: THIS IS SMUT.  No real story, just me quenching my thirst

Summary:  When you have a boyfriend like Kokuyou and he invites you on a bike ride with him, who would say no? Especially when the ride turns spicy before you even make it to your destination!

Thank you @lancermylove for the inspiration and help with lore and such XD

‘Ding!’

The sound of an incoming message drew your tired eyes from your computer screen to your phone next to your keyboard.  The sender read: ‘Kokuyou♡’. You immediately felt a rush of energy fill you and an excited smile to form on your lips.

When you leaned away from the keyboard and opened the text message, what you saw made your smile grow.

‘Grab your gear.  Five minutes.’

You stretched and rubbed your eyes before closing down the Starless project you had managed to convince Unei to let you help with, and rushed to your closet. Inside, you changed out of your pajamas and into a pair of cute cut off shorts, a short sleeved t-shirt and running shoes. Looking at yourself in the mirror inside your bathroom and applying some light makeup, you grabbed your personalized helmet and jacket that Kokuyou had given to you the previous Christmas, and hurried out the door, locking it behind you.

When you reached the front door of your building, you skid to a stop when you caught sight of Kokuyou. He was a sight to see, leaning against his bike with his legs and one arm crossed while his other elbow rested on the bent limb, holding a lit cigarette near his lips with a fingerless-gloved hand.  He took a drag from it as he watched other people pass by, eyeing them surreptitiously, ever cautious. You admired the way the smoke curled and undulated through the air as he exhaled before being taken by the light breeze that tousled his blood-red hair. It was an image that only a lucky few could see outside the covers of a high-end magazine.

Your eyes trailed from his short, flowing hair, down his leather clad arms, admiring the peek of pectoral muscles from where his black shirt was v-cut low.  His silver belt-buckle caught a ray of sunlight that fell on him from above, dappled by the trees that lined the sidewalk. The buckle was definitely his style - you knew for a fact that if the need arose, he could use the piece as a weapon to defend himself. Dark blue ripped jeans encased his long legs, with black biker boots to finish off the look.

Unconsciously, you licked your lips at the delicious sight before you. “Hey, you,” you call to him as you exit through the glass front door of your building.  This drew his attention and you felt his carnelian gaze on you like a flame licking your flesh as he looked you over from head to foot as you had just finished doing to him. When you stop right in front of him, you can see his pupils flare in appreciation, even as he smirks down at you and keeps up his tough guy façade. “Like what you see, tough guy?  I certainly do.”

“Alright, you.  Let’s get going already.” Kokuyou stepped to the side and motioned for you to get on first. Without further prompting, you hopped onto the back, yanked your helmet onto your head and threaded your arms through the sleeves of your protective jacket and faced him. This earned you a deep sounding chuckle from Kokuyou as he reached towards you to check the straps on your jacket and helmet to make sure you would be safe.

Once completed to his satisfaction, he gave you one of his rare looks filled with tenderness.  “Beautiful.” 

He continued looking at you on his bike for a few moments before he put his own helmet on and turned to lift his leg up and over to straddle his prized Aprilia, causing a flash of heat to move from the top of your head to your lower belly. 

It wasn’t just him mounting his bike that caused this feeling in you - it happened all the time now.  From watching him perform on stage to watching him as he worked around the tables in the shop. What was it about his movements that you found so attractive?  You didn’t know, but it affected you greatly - and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You were glad that your helmet was securely in place, lest your lover saw your blush and teased you for it.

Several minutes later, you were speeding out of the quiet part of town that you lived in, arms wrapped securely around Kokuyou’s muscular torso, his warmth seeping into you through your fingertips, his muscles under his shirt flexing as he drove expertly through traffic from one town to another, taking scenic routes and side streets that allowed slow, arching turns.  You could even feel the rapid beat of his heart as it raced with the adrenaline and joy riding brought him.

There had always been something about moments like this that you enjoyed, that had affected you physically. So much so that it had been after a winding ride with Kokuyou that you had succumbed to the desire you felt for each other and had slept together in a room at a small hotel at the end of your trip before returning to Starless.

That felt like such a long time ago now, and yet the memories of that trip and others since then were as fresh as the day they happened.

You groaned, the sound muffled by the helmet you wore. The memories were proving to be so vivid that, between clinging to Kokuyou and the feeling of the revving engine between your legs, your arousal was settling hard and low in your belly.  When Kokuyou stopped at a stoplight, you could help but pull closer to him and roll your hips a little, just for some friction to relieve some of the tension building up in your body.

“You ok back there?” You nearly jumped at the sound of Kokuyou’s voice, low and raspy in your ear. 

‘Shit.  I forgot that there was a Bluetooth mic in my helmet.’ You chuckled slightly at getting caught.  “I’ve been better.”

You felt, more than saw, Kokuyou shift to turn his head to look at you from the corner of his eye through the visor. But you had other things on your mind.  Like how you would be more than willing to rip everything off of his body and fuck him senseless when you reached wherever he was taking you, if not sooner. 

When he started driving after stopping at yet another red light, the revving of his Aprilia to accelerate with traffic, you nearly whimpered when the fire in you flared, your arms constricting around him again to press yourself harder against him. 

You had enough.

“Kokuyou, we need to stop.”

“Why? We’re almost there.”

“This can’t wait.”

“What, do you need to piss or somethin’?”

A frown formed on your face at the sound of a smirk on his voice.  ‘The bastard knows…’

“Just find somewhere private.”

Your short conversation had only been a few sentences long, but the sound of his deep, whispered voice sent directly into your ear made it all the more intimate and erotic.  As if he was whispering directly into your ear again, saying all the things he had planned to do to your body to give pleasure as he thrust into your giving heat.

Kokuyou turned back to look at you from the side again, his eyes meeting yours through the visor, peering deep into your own as if he was confirming his suspicions.  You refused to be the one to break eye contact, trusting his driving and knowing he wouldn’t let anything happen to his motorcycle or you.  You watched his carmine eyes widened slightly, surely seeing the desire shining in your own. Your heart gave a hearty thump at the sight of the red of his eyes getting eaten by the black of his dilated pupils and the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing under the edge of his helmet as he attempted to swallow.

Your lover quickly turned back to face the direction of the road and quickly found a deserted alley, driving as deep into it as he could before stopping and extending the kickstand with a flick of his booted heel.

You, on the other hand, had already pulled his shirt from his pants and snuck your hands up under it to caress the taught muscles of his stomach and upper torso, pinching one of his small nipples at the same time you rolled your pelvis against his ass. This caused a shiver that racked his entire body and a growl escaped his soft lips - you felt your body respond in kind.

The reaction you always felt to that sound had never happened with anyone but him. Whenever Kokuyou released one of his growls, especially when one or both of you were aroused, there was just something in the animalistic sound of it that created a need to copulate deep within you that you always answered.

With slight difficulty - you could, and had, spent hours exploring his large broad body and it was always difficult - you removed your hands from under his shirt and climbed off of his bike.  Without delay, you took off your helmet, then his, before he even had a chance to bring one leg over the bike to face you.

Once he had moved one of his powerful legs over, you gripped the sides of his face and crushed your lips against his, drinking from him over and over like a woman without drink for far too long.

Kokuyou’s large, scarred hands came up to rest on your hips and brought you closer between his legs, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your flushed skin under the hem of your shirt. You could feel the hard ridge of his arousal every time you rubbed up against him. When you groaned, enjoying the taste of his lips, he pulled you even closer and you wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging your fingers lightly along the scar on the left side of his neck he received when he was younger. This rewarded you with another shiver and a growl from him.

Suddenly, Kokuyou’s strong grip grew more so as he lifted you up by your hips and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and sat in his lap.  A giggle escaped you before he took over the kiss, making you gasp and giving him the perfect opportunity to thrust his tongue past your plump lips.

Kissing Kokuyou was like having sex - not just emotionally, but by the way he thrust his talented tongue past the barrier of your lips over and over, to toy with your own and touching every part of your mouth.  When he got in the mood, he would take your mouth and ravash you without even removing any clothing, leaving you hot and bothered if it was all he had time for in between performances or while on break from working in the shop.

But he always made up for any discomfort you felt from your shared desires later, sometimes multiple times and over the course of an entire night.

When you two finally parted, panting for breath you’d both denied each other, you ran your lips along his left jaw, leaving behind slow, sensual kisses along the way - his scar as your destination.

“What brought this on then?” His question came out raspy with the desire for you that you could feel growing even more. 

“Does there… need to be...one… when your body calls to mine… on an inexplicable...level?” You ask in between kisses and nips, taking the flesh there between your lips and leaving small red marks behind.  When you finally reached the sensitive mark, you dragged your tongue along the length of the old wound before taking the end closest to his ear between your lips and sucked on it.  Hard.

 “Fucking hell!” He growled at the same time he lifted one hand gripping your hips and brought it down smartly on your ass as light punishment. 

You might have believed it almost even hurt, due to his angry tone, if not for the way his hips pressed against your own rolled up against your heat at the same time.  The ridge in his pants definitely told you that he was enjoying your treatment of him very much.  As it had before, when you heard the rumble escape him and vibrate through his chest, you could feel it ratchet up your lust for him even higher than before, nearly burning you alive from the inside out.

You were so close to climax, so close to feeling such bliss as you had never felt from another person in your life. “Kokuyou -” his name came out on a breath when the hardest part of him rubbed perfectly against your clit through your shorts and panties. Just...a...little bit...more…

He dug his fingers into your skin to hold your rocking hips still. “You still haven’t told me what all this was about, rubbin’ yourself against my back like a bitch in heat.  How are you planning on fixing this?” He emphasised what ‘this’ was by pulling you back against him with increased strength and pressing his covered shaft against where you needed him most.

“You’ll see…” You gasped. Kokuyou was too good at making you feel sexy and desired.  He knew all your weaknesses, where to touch you, where to kiss and nibble. You knew he enjoyed exploiting all of them, taking joy in seeing all of your reactions, claiming them as his own.  

Kokuyou used his grip on you to lift you up into his lap, placing both knees on either side of his hips.  This made it easier for you to teasingly move your hand down his hard torso, feeling every one of his muscles he’d worked hard for over the years. Your journey halted when you reached the ridge in his pants his cock had created. Using deft fingers you had gained from as long as you had been with Kokuyou, you unbuckled his belt even with the zipper of his pants being wedged against it by the crown of his manhood. 

Finally, you released his cock from his pants and you smirked up at him when it sprang free of its confines.  “No boxers, huh?  Were we hopeful?”

He answered your smirk with one of his own. “Not so much as hopeful, but knowing.”

You just growled as you wrapped your hand around his hard shaft and began pumping it, using your other hand around his neck to bring his head towards you into a passionate kiss. Somewhat distantly, you could feel one of his hands move from your ass along the side and under the hem of your shorts to probe at the entrance to your womanhood past the edge of your panties. With one quick movement, he sheathed one finger, then two, inside your body and moved them easily with your arousal.

Your back bent away from him out of reaction at the feeling of his long, thick fingers moving inside you, the callouses on the tips of them creating a delicious friction along your inner walls. This gave him the perfect opportunity to latch onto your pebbled nipples trying to poke through your thin shirt and bra. It took everything in you to keep your hand around his cock as he thrust his fingers in you, scissoring them back and forth to get you ready for him while running his tongue around one nipple.  He bit down on it slightly and tugged before releasing it and going to the other to give it the same treatment. 

Pleasure was making your body absolutely sing at the slight sting he left behind, to the point you could feel your orgasm right in front of you. With one more thrust of his two fingers inside your body, you felt your release wash over you.  You nearly screamed from how it came over you, but Kokuyou nuzzled your chin up and took your lips to keep quiet. When you finally settled, you looked at him, puzzled.

“Public, remember?”

A furious blush bloomed high on your cheek bones as you buried your head in his shoulder in embarrassment while panting for breath.  How could you have forgotten?!  “Oh my god.” 

Kokuyou chuckled again and kissed your temple. “You good?”  

His deep voice rumbled into your ear and awoke your arousal once more, helped along by his fingers still sheathed in your body and his hard shaft still in your hand. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Then let’s finish what you started.  It’s because of you after all.” He removed his fingers from your heat and brought them up to his mouth to begin licking them clean of your arousal, not once breaking eye contact. “Mmm, delicious. Never been with another girl that tasted as good as you do.”

“...Bastard.” That same vibration from the top of your head to the tips of your toes returned at the sight of him enjoying your essence.  He gave you a chuckle as a reward, but you abruptly cut it off when you lifted yourself up on your knees against the seat of the bike. Gripping his shaft with renewed strength, you steadied yourself with your other hand and, using his cock, moved your shorts and panties out of the way so that you could impale yourself on him in one swift downwards motion until you were sitting flush with his lap.

Both of you needed a moment once your bodies were joined, yours so that the burn of your walls to accommodate could abate, his so that he wouldn’t finish right then and there. After a few moments, you began rolling your hips back and forth slowly, the feeling of him moving inside you exquisite with your steady rhythm.

When you started fucking yourself on his shaft, he spread his feet wider to give support so as to avoid toppling the bike. Everytime you lifted yourself up, his grip on your hips brought you back down harder and harder, the crowned tip of him running across the spot along your walls that always caused you to melt as no other man had gotten you to.

Was it because he was longer and thicker than anyone else you’d been with, in every way?  Or because it was Kokuyou and everything about him was stimulating in some way.

Soon, though, all those thoughts and any others turned to white noise as you started moving against each other faster, guided by his hands.

“Fuck, you’re tight.  But so wet.”

Heavy, panted breaths escaped as you instead of the moans you felt in your throat.  You used your legs to move on him, controlling the pace of your pleasure, trying to keep in mind where you were currently copulating.

Right as you started feeling your body toeing the line between pleasure and the bliss of climax once more, your walls constricting around him as he moved inside you, Kokuyou used his superior strength to bring your movements to a stop with his hands on your ass.

A whimper escaped you unbidden. “Kokuyou!  Why did you stop me?”

“You were too close and I was a little too generous of your playtime.  Now it’s my turn.”

Kokuyou stood with his hands under your rear, his cock still inside you, and turned to go around his motorcycle to press you against the building he’d parked next to.  You gasp at the contact of the cold brick wall against your back.  Using that same wall, Kokuyou moved his hands to your thighs and hooked his hands under your knees to bring them up, revealing where you were connected to the world, if it weren’t for his large body blocking anyone’s view. He looked down and you could feel him twitch inside you before he began moving again, watching his shaft slide in and out of you easily with your juices coating his cock.

Your new position also gave him the opportunity to hit you deeper and from a slightly different angle, the head of his manhood rubbing you perfectly along the ribbed flesh of your g-spot, knowing it would bring you to climax faster. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, bringing him as close as possible and he placed his forehead on your shoulder as if to concentrate as his pistoning hips moved harder and faster, becoming more erratic as he chased his own orgasm. You could feel the knot in your lower belly tightening again more and more the more times he filled you and retreated.

“Koku… I…” Kokuyou’s attention was drawn up to your face, to take your lips in a passionate kiss. As he devoured your lips and played with your tongue with his own, he brought your legs back down to wrap around his waist. Once you were securely wrapped around him, he placed one hand on the wall next to your head and the other hand under your rear to make sure you stayed right where he wanted you.

“Touch yourself.  I can feel how close you are.  Your sweet body has my cock in a vise grip and it’s taking a lot of strength just to fuck you, you’re so tight.  Why don’t you go ahead and come for me again, _____.” You find a way to nod and he gives you a hungry smile. “Then do it. Come.”

You bring your hand down between your legs and begin rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts and it didn’t take long before your second climax came over you, rocking your body, your throat feeling raw from trying to keep from screaming out loud.

“That’s my girl,” Kokuyou whispered right into your ear before sinking his teeth into the tendon of your shoulder and groan, feeling his cock twitch inside you with his own release.

For several moments, your shared panting filled the alley.  When Kokuyou lifted his head from your shoulder, red eyes met yours and they held such tenderness as he looked at you through slightly damp bangs.  You looked down at him, a rush of love for the Team W leader filling your heart.  You carded a hand through his hair to push it from his eyes and Kokuyou sighed at your touch.

“Feel better?”

“Much.”

“What was that all about?  You don’t usually come on to me that strongly in public.”

You just chuckle and place your forehead on his.  “What can I say?  You’re hot, it’s hard to keep my hands to myself sometimes.”

[ducktracy]

166. steamlined greta green (1937)

release date: june 19th, 1937

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: berneice hansell (junior), mel blanc (bartender)

it’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it?

the title appropriated from the song “greta green”, streamlined greta green chronicles the adventures of a little car who wishes to grow up into a taxi cab, much to the chagrin of his mother, who wishes he’d follow the footsteps of his father and become a touring car. tex avery would expand upon this premise 14 years later with his own short, one cab’s family, where the little child wants to be a sleek hot-rod instead of a taxi like his father. interesting to see how times change!

“lullaby of broadway” underscores a busy street scene as we open. trolleys, cars, you name it, all narrowly avoid crashing as they bottleneck through a busy (and poorly regulated) intersection. two cars inevitably crash together, spurring an altercation. reducing the anthropomorphic cars’ dialogue to nothing but furious honking through means of a muffled trumpet is a wonderful touch, furthering the whimsicality of the short as a whole. angry exchanges morph into a heated wrestling match--suspension of disbelief works well as a nearby stoplight turns red and signals the cars to stop. they take a breather at opposite ends of the “ring”, and once the stop sign turns green again, they go back at it. the scene itself is reminiscent of the epic sequence in porky the wrestler where the entire wrestling ring is transformed into a train. perhaps not as exaggerated, but still enough to warrant praise.

fret not--the majority of cars seem to uphold a camaraderie as we hone in on a taxi dance hall. jaunty animation of anthropomorphic cars dancing together fill the scene inside (as does some sign gags, one sign reading “five can dance as cheap as one”), accompanied by a chorus of the title song. by this point, the merrie melodies songs were on their way out the door. i don’t believe i mentioned it before (probably too preoccupied by digesting the racism of the cartoon), but the merrie melody before this, uncle tom’s bungalow, was the first merrie melody to exclude a song entirely. the songs were a detriment to the cartoons rather than a bonus, and as a result, the songs themselves became much more halfhearted in the cartoons they were featured in. here is no exception.

all of the taxi cabs are happily dancing together. all except one, a lady taxi sitting politely aside with nary a dance partner. she turns bashful as a taxi approaches her for a dance, and in a clever twist, the lady taxi plops a coin inside her meter, switching the label from vacant to occupied. anthropomorphic cars aren’t as mind-bogglingly inventive as they used to be (just look at the pixar films), but for 1937, this entire cartoon is extremely creative. friz has worked with anthropomorphic cars before--he animated the beginning part with piggy of this wonderful scene from you don’t know what you’re doin’!, which still holds up as one of my favorite merrie melodies. the animation here (as in 1937 here) is wonderfully jaunty and fluid, and to boot we’re met with an innuendo as the lady taxi’s meter continues to rise. following in the steps of tex avery and his love of jackpot gags since day 1, the meter turns into a slot machine, winning the jackpot, and a plethora of gold coins shower out as the male taxi happily collects the coins into his hat, much to the bashfulness of his partner.

away from the busy city is a quaint little backyard, where we stumble upon the star of the picture--a tiny little car reading a book on how to be a taxi cab. the underscore here is “my little buckaroo”, which would find a home time and time again in many a warner bros cartoon (such as the 1938 friz freleng cartoon with the same name, as well as the daffy duckaroo, my little duckaroo...) the little car sighs longingly as he reads. the backgrounds are beautifully painted, conveying the homely nature of the scene rather nicely. very atmospheric, very nostalgic. the car’s mother emerges from the garage, honking and searching for her son junior. 

mama car finds junior engrossed in his book, to which junior panics and hides the book behind his back. the power of domineering motherhood prevails as junior reluctantly forks the book over. “i wanna be a taxi,” he protests indignantly after seeing his mother’s shocked expression at the brazen literature her son was reading. “a taxi? of all things! i want you to grow up and be a nice touring car like your father.” berneice hansell’s squeaky vocals are endearing as always as junior refuses. “i don’t wanna be a touring car. i wanna be a taxi!”

not having any more of it, mama car drags junior by the “ear” (one of the metal covers of his tires) and takes him inside their humble garage abode. as mama car prepares junior’s lunch for school (gasoline of course), you’ll notice a wonderfully clever visual gag--a framed portrait of an old car from the early 1900s hangs on the garage wall, affectionately labeled “grandpa”. my initial thought was that this was a dig on the 1933 disney hit the three little pigs, which couldn’t be too far off. this wouldn’t be the last time friz rips on disney--wait til’ his behemoth pigs in a polka 6 years later.

with lunch prepared, mama places the lunchbox in junior’s seat, much to his displeasure. junior takes off, with mama cooing at him to run along to school, stay away from traffic, “and keep clear of those railroad crossings...”

junior reaches the intersection between auto school and the city. his plight of decision is accented by a visual dotted line as he reads both signs, turning his head, trying to make a final decision. the school bell tolls like a funeral bell--with that, junior plays it brave and heads for the city instead. city life already asserts itself as intimidating as junior attempts to cross the bustling city streets. as the stoplight turns red, he readies himself at the line, preparing to take off, but once the light turns green, he’s repeatedly run over (or run above?) a number of cars as the cars zoom forward beneath him, rendering the little car paralyzed. very fun, smooth, hurried animation. once traffic clears, the light red again, junior is now in the company of an older, slower car, who patiently waits for the signal to go. once the light is green, the sound of the bell throws the old car into a boxing frency, shadow-boxing with an invisible enemy. this gag was referenced all too many times in the disastrous porky’s moving day by jack king just a year before.

junior gets jostled around by traffic as he wanders aimlessly into another intersection, eventually throwing himself into a safety zone (one thinks of picador porky), a fitting underscore of “little man, you’ve had a busy day” accompanying junior as he frantically pants, trying to catch his breath, his heart (where the engine is) beating furiously. more jaunty animation as junior, ever the genius, breaks the physical restraints of the cartoon world as he lifts up the painted lines and carries the safety zone with him. caught up in complacency, he tumbles straight into an open storm drain, weaseling his way out on the other side of the street. 

suddenly, relief--a gas station catches his eye. he approaches, the gas station serving as a soda fountain of sorts, manned by a bartender voiced by (who else?) mel blanc, asking “what’ll ya have, son?” the gas comes in a variety of flavors--strawberry, grape, orange, etc. junior signals the orange, which is “powerful stuff, son!” junior has his fill, and instantly the gas takes effect, sending jolts through out his body as the engine explodes in a rhythmic cadence (a classic warner bros gag). after the initial shock, junior is revitalized and ready to go--”gee, i can go fast now! watch!” 

predictable yet endearing, junior takes off in a flash, much to the bewilderment of the bartender. a camera pan reveals junior standing at the bartender’s side, clearly pleased with his work, much to the awe of the bartender. junior’s attempts to show off are endearing and serve as suitable momentum to the inevitable climax as he zooms over to the railroad tracks, “yoo-hoo!”ing the bartender. “shuffle off to buffalo” underscores the sound of an approaching train, hurtling across the railroad tracks as junior observes in awe. if my memory serves me correctly, the particular footage of the train used here is the first of many reuses--this train pops up in a number of cartoons, the one coming to my mind right now being porky’s picnic in 1939. perhaps it was used before this and my memory is just poor, but, at the very least, i can say that it’s the same train.

junior, now cocky, decides to race the train to show off, speeding alongside the tracks on a rural stretch of road. his excitement is cut short by a road hog--literally. a giant pig shaped car, labeled ROAD HOG in threatening bold letters slows junior’s momentum, junior honking angry “barks” at the offending car. junior attempts to pass, but to no avail. instead, the road hog grows even more obnoxious by stretching its tires out to hog the entire stretch of road. thankfully, a bridge comes to junior’s aid as the road hog is sent riding above the support beams, with junior passing below and now in front of the road hog.

road hog taken care of, junior gets gutsy again as his attention focuses once more on the rival train. determined to out-perform, junior attempts to race alongside the train, casting looks of validation occasionally to see just how well he’s holding the lead. the energy of the next handful of scenes is just swell--friz’s knack for musical timing comes in clutch as the railroad crossing bell dings in hurried succession with the beat of the jaunty music. some tashlin-esque camera angles as the train heads straight for the audience, with junior crossing over the tracks just before it, narrowly avoiding an inevitable collision. the charade is repeated again (with the footage flipped), but the energy is just as strong the first time around, especially with the key of the music elevating up a notch to D instead of C, heightening the anticipation and adrenaline. 

even if the energy is rampant, it can’t be maintained for the remainder of the cartoon, just watching junior do his gymnastics. friz knows this, too, which is why we get a view of junior’s gas gauge dropping to empty. predictably, junior stalls out on the train tracks as the train approaches. the train hurtles towards the audience, junior cowers in fear... and fade out to black.

i give friz credit, as i didn’t expect this to happen at ALL. i assumed his mother would swoop in out of the shadows to save the day and give him a stern talking to afterwards, but instead we’re met with a rather bizarre and somber scene. an ambulance tow truck hauls an off-screen junior to the auto garage hospital, and we’re met with a rather moody surgery montage. the suspense is extremely thick--the directing here is very cinematographic, very tashlin-esque, and VERY well executed. we never once see the injured junior. we have a split-screen montage of the surgery, showing oxygen being pumped, utensils passed around... the directing is top notch. very brooding, very smart to withhold junior from the audience, as well as concealing most of the faces of the operators. the minor key rendition of “my little buckaroo” does wonders to maintain the somber mood.

outside, we see mama car pacing aimlessly around, tearfully “oh dear”ing all the way through. the suspense doesn’t stop--the back door creaks open. after a beat, we see little junior, alive and mostly well, covered in bandages, running to his mother. they embrace lovingly, but that doesn’t exclude junior from a good lecture. 

another wonderful turn of events as we hear the all too familiar bellow of a train whistle during mama’s lecture. junior displays how much he’s learned his lesson by darting straight towards the tracks once more, hungry for a race. all the broodiness, all the moodiness, all the tears and heartfelt sorrow are thrown out the window as junior’s need for speed prevails once more. 

what also prevails once more is the train. junior manages to dodge the train at first, mocking the train in the process, but in the midst of his gloating, he’s oblivious to the other train hurtling straight behind him. 

again, junior gets hit. junior is relatively unscathed, albeit dazed as we fade back in from black. iris out as we see that the train is now in shambles, taking a much more severe beating than junior did.

i have to say, i thought i knew where this cartoon was going--i certainly was mistaken! i assumed it would be much more disney-esque, much more cutesy and endearing than it actually turned out to be. with that said, i ended up enjoying it a lot more than i would have as a result. the music score was lovely all the way through, as was the animation and the creativity. as i said, talking cars aren’t as surprising now, but this was pretty damn innovative for its time, and they certainly made the best of their surroundings and setting. the dark turn the short took was wonderful. energy was high all through the cartoon, but especially during the climax, and the broodiness of the surgery scenes serve as a strong juxtaposition to the previous scenes. it’s certainly evident both tex avery and frank tashlin have rubbed off on friz--as they should. friz is a solid director who is WAY too underrated for my tastes. his timing, both musical and comedic, is impeccable, and his cartoons are wonderful to watch. he doesn’t get as much praise because he’s not as “wacky”, but subtleties are just as, if not more so, important than wild animation, and i’d argue that especially for its time, this is pretty wild! tashlin’s camera angles and filmmaking techniques and tex’s need for speed and absurd humor both rub off on friz as we see here, and it pays off extremely nicely. at first i wasn’t too enthused to watch this cartoon, as i figured it’d be your “standard” merrie melody, but after seeing the end i would definitely recommend you to watch it. it’s fun, light-hearted, and it wouldn’t hurt to watch just once. go check it out!

link!

[nitewrighter]

for your overwatch prompt thing on ao3 could you do sombra getting discovered by the eye thing? (or not, idk how easy that'd be to write)

I think I could manage something! I really love Sombra’s origin story, and I love the concept of her having an undercurrent of well-earned paranoia.

—-

It was a night like any other. 17-year-old Olivia Colomar was perched, cross-legged in her swivel chair, fingers racing across the keyboard. She had a few names for her portal–the rabbit hole if she was feeling posh, combing through the offshore accounts of CEO’s sapping the life from her city, Mictlān if she was feelng more dark, turning over the internet’s rocks and seeing the predators and traffickers and the assassins writhing underneath, and there were invisible threads connecting both worlds, drawn taut. 

She followed a handful of criminal organizations’ servers like one might have accounts on different social media platforms. The Shimada data servers were always entertaining because it was a bit like watching a trainwreck in slow motion. She gleaned what assets she could without their noticing, but mostly just used them as a jumping-off point for a whole network of numerous off-the-book bookkeeping for an impressive number of Asian, American, and Pacific corporations. There was a money-laundering casino in Monaco that had a host of all sorts of interesting friends. She gleaned what she could from these organizations, and she would (internally, at least) emphasize the word ‘glean’ because she was only grabbing what no one would notice, the runoff and the little forgotten numbers. If anything she was keeping the books cleaner for them. She kept tabs on a good number of governments as well–Overwatch’s digital defenses were practically Swiss cheese, fitting for their Zurich base, but really only a handful of individuals from the organization really caught her attention: Reyes, O’Deorain, and LaCroix–they seemed like the only people who really knew what they were doing, but that was just off of what Olivia could get from the emails. She gleaned what she could from Overwatch and a handful of messy political official’s accounts as well. She reasoned that if governments needed money to support the people, she was just helping the government do its job… even if it was just one person (her), and all the while her invisible threads were there–like that line of half-consciousness drifting through a daydream. She knew they were all connected at one source. It wasn’t a hunch so much as a pattern she could follow, the priorities of one singular, powerful, unseen force, pushing everything towards… something. 

Some things only needed the right nudge–a Shimada assassination here, a shipment of rare minerals needed to construct hard-light projectors there, and a chain reaction would be set off—a building collapse in Numbani, a multi-antibiotic resistant virus escaping past the confines of a hospital in Giza, a gas explosion in the Rockies, the effects were seemingly random, and yet, the trails of money and resources bursting forth in the aftermath of these found their flow, found their way into the most unassuming pockets. Old money–money that survived the Omnic Crisis, money that somehow hid away from all the government’s reconstruction efforts after the crisis, but it wasn’t sitting stagnant. No, it was feeding back into the cycle– perpetuating itself, but still moving towards that unknown center. But oh she was getting better at tracking them down. She was getting faster at it, too. She had drawn out complex webs  in cheap black and white composition books of different organizations and where they were sending their money and resources. She hid them behind her processors. She felt a bit silly for going analog for the most vital bits of data-tracking, but she chalked that up to whatever the Omnic Crisis and its aftermath had done to twist up her childhood psyche–that wasn’t important. What was in the notebooks–that was important. What was on the screens–that was important. Being the unseen watcher–that was very important.

Which was why a cold panic spiked through her body when, after just a few keystrokes, no more daring than any other night, all of her screens suddenly blared red. Her music distorted and folded over itself, its catchy beat turning to a groaning ripple. This wasn’t a virus. It couldn’t be a virus. She had too many safeguards in place for a virus, and any virus that could get past her defenses would have to be one she wrote. All the fans on her processors were whirring with the strain of whatever intrusion this was on her system.

Then words appeared on her main monitor.

>Hello, Olivia.

Olivia flinched back from her screen hard, her breath catching in her throat, fogging warm over her fingers as she covered her mouth, not sure if she was trying to suppress a scream or quiet her breathing.

>You’re very observant.

Olivia was hammering away at her keyboard, unsure if she should reset the system or if that was what it (what was it?) wanted, but trying every combination she could to try and pull out of whatever she had just stepped in.

>That isn’t going to work, Olivia.

A bolt of electricity rippled over her keyboard and Olivia cried out and yanked her hands back from the keyboard as more words started appearing.

>You’re going to watch, Olivia, and you’re going to remember.

> It’s okay. 

>You’re good at it. 

>This is what you’ve been doing nearly every night for nearly 10 years now.

>You got your nice, fast, strong, computer and all its neat little parts from it. 

> You got your pretty clothes from it. 

> You’re very good at it and you’re going to keep doing it.

Olivia’s chest was rapidly rising and falling with her breath and she was shaking her head as if whatever was putting the words on her screen could see her right now. Could it? How would she know? She could access classified CCTV as easily as tying a shoe, what could they do? And then the words started their dance across the screen again.

>You can watch, Olivia. 

>You can watch all you like.

>But just know we’re watching too.

>And that we’ve been watching for much, much longer.

>And we can do a lot more than just watch.

There was a horrible fizzing sound and all of Olivia’s screens were suddenly displaying a stylized eye symbol, glowing candle white against screens that were the same red as the back of your eyelids after staring into the sun, Olivia could smell smoke as another ripple of electricity shocked out from her processors and suddenly her room went completely black. She shrunk in her seat, some primal part of her, some screaming little Omnic Crisis orphan with the logic of ‘they can’t get you if you’re small enough,’ overriding half her senses for a solid minute until she notice the light outside her window had shifted. She got up from her seat and went to the window. The streetlights were out. Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking, and out there in the dark were the partially glowing skeletons of a few Los Muertos members puzzling under a burnt-out stoplight. Whatever had just made contact with her had sent a message by knocking out the power for her section of the city grid.

She slumped back into her seat, but panic threw her right back out of it again and on impulse she seized her composition books from their hiding spot behind her now smoking processors. She flipped them open, her eyes blurring with tears–she wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the panic–as she looked over her notes. This wasn’t safe enough. Analog wasn’t safe enough. Nowhere was safe. Head still buzzing with panic she yanked out her wastebasket and set it in the middle of the floor, then rifled through one of her drawers and seized a lighter. She held her notebooks at arm’s length over the wastebasket and flicked the lighter underneath them. One click, a spark, and nothing. Two clicks, nothing–stupid, panicking, shaking hands. Four clicks and a little flame sprung up on the lighter and she brought it shaking up to the corner of the notebooks, but then she stopped before flame could meet paper. 

This was her work. This was what she could do. This was her. And they thought they could stop her–what, because they had been around longer? They thought they could scare her–they had scared her–no they had to scare her. They wouldn’t have reached out to her if she wasn’t a threat, or shaping up to be one. She had to keep going. But now she had to be smart about it. She set the notebooks down on her desk next to her smoking monitors and paced around in the dark. She looked back around her dark apartment.

“They just turned some lights off…” Olivia said quietly, “Anyone can turn some lights off.”

They could find her. They already knew where she was. She could memorize it—it was practically already a memory web in her head already–but without the data, without her processors to back it up, these were just the notebooks of a conspiracy theorist. And the processors weren’t safe anymore, she knew that. No hardware. No analog. Definitely no cloud. That only left…

She curled the fingers of her hand inward and outward. The human brain was capable of storing terabytes of data… it could probably store more. It would probably have to store more. She would have to be more.

—

It was the next morning in a dingy back-alley Augment shop. 

“You’re talking about a second brain,” said the cyberneticist, folding her arms, “I’ve done plenty of spinal implants and neural data drives, but you’re talking about grafting a goddamn hard-drive onto yourself.”

“With my other specs–” Sombra started, almost completely swallowed up by her hoodie.

“Yeah, and your other specs are insane–” said the cyberneticist, pressing her hand to her forehead, “It’s like you’re trying to turn yourself into a–a human data lamprey. I don’t know how I could implant them without crippling you.”

“…I have some neuroprosthetic blueprints ripped right out of Ogundimu Prosthetic’s R&D department,” said Sombra, pulling out her holophone and displaying them, “The procedure’s safe. If the babies in Numbani can manage it, so can you.”

The cyberneticist studied the blueprints. “I mean, procedure wise, yeah, doable, but I’ll need to whip up a lot of the components in-shop and the amount needed to offset the amount of lathanum alone—”

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” said Sombra, pressing another button on her phone and showing her a number.

“…not really,” said the cyberneticist, “But,” she pointed at the number on the screen, “That? That’s good enough for me.”

“I’m glad we understand each other,” said Sombra.

—

Olivia Colomar died on Wednesday, November 8, after throwing herself onto the tracks of the Metro de Dorado. Suicide by train had been significantly cut down all over the world thanks to advances in station safety design in the past few decades, but not every city could afford to install such preventative measures, especially not in the wake of the Omnic crisis. A crisis orphan herself and a savvy freelance tech security consultant, Olivia Colomar lived a quiet, solitary existence, but had handfuls of friends in a few reform- and Crisis-reconstruction-minded forums online from her days in Overwatch’s UN-sponsored orphanages, a handful of foster homes, and Adawe Foundation-sponsored boarding schools. Everywhere she went, she was one of hundreds, thousands. A face in the crowd, no more remarkable than anyone else. 

That was the narrative Sombra went with. To her own credit she anonymously wrote herself a very touching obituary, though she doubted anyone would read it. It was a lot easier to make a death without a body than one might think, especially with her new augmentations. First fabricate the CCTV footage–the same technology that could remove crowds from photo frames could add new randomized crowds pieced together from months of footage before. Then came the legwork: shut down the station for maintenance, shut down the train for a certain amount of time, spill your blood that you’ve been draining out of yourself from the three weeks of healing from your augments onto the tracks. Hypertrains. Barely left enough to cremate. Fudge the right paperwork at the morgue and from there you were just a stamp on a piece of paper in a dusty filing cabinet in archives no one gave a shit about. It would have been harder, she reflected, if she had people who cared about her, but, lucky for her she didn’t. But that didn’t matter.

The eye was right. She would keep watching. And now, with neuroprosthetics itching under her skin, hungry and sore and tingling, with neural implants scorching along the side of her head, with the remains of Olivia Colomar’s life burning behind her, she would do a lot more than just watch.

[leahhale]

9-1-1: Josh Russo

@bitweird1 requested: “Thx!❤ Could you do one where the reader works with him as a 911 operator and they aren't dating but they both like eachother and the reader gets hurt or is in a dangerous situation and has to call 911 and Maddie is the 911 operator that answers and Maddie has to tell Josh and he gets worried but the reader's ok in the end and she only has a few scratches?❤🥰❤ (And I'm Bi too!, sorry I just wanted to add that in there😂) (Not to the request but the ask)”

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” The familiar voice of your coworker, Maddie, met your ears and you breathed out a sigh of relief. That question, one that you repeated on auto-pilot again and again and again each day, never bothered you. Neither did Maddie’s voice; it was actually comforting and calming, a much welcomed sound in the middle of a hectic day or at the end of a painful call. But now? Now that was the last thing you wanted to hear, the last question and voice you wanted to hear. You just wanted to get from the bank to work in one piece and go about your day as normal, you didn’t want your day to be thrown off track and deal with all of this stress.

“Maddie? Oh, thank God! It’s me, it’s (Y/N). I’ve been in a car accident, I don’t think it’s too serious, I can still feel my toes and wiggle them. I’m too scared to look down, my arm is covered in blood and—“ You rushed out in a quick breath, unable to look down at yourself for a second time after seeing blood in the first glance. Looking out the hole where your window to your left should be at the red pickup truck that hit you and the enraged man stepping out of the driver’s seat, your heart rate picked up and you couldn’t seem to bring in enough air to your lungs. You hoped he would focus on himself and his car and leave you alone to wait for help. “I’m on the corner of South Azure Avenue and Pepperbrook Way.”

“I’ve dispatched the 118 to you, hang in there, Buck will be there soon. Oh, and I’ll tell Josh,” Maddie informed you, hoping her brother would be a familiar face to help you calm down. She was right, knowing Buck and the other team members of the 118 would be the ones to find you and help you put you at ease. It was easier to talk to and be treated by familiar faces, your best friend’s brother would surely crack a joke or two to take your mind off of this crappy situation. But on the other side, the thought of Josh made your stomach flip, made you worry about what he would say or do. You didn’t want to hear a “why are you telling me?” on the other end of the line.

“Tell Josh what?” He asked in passing, conveniently always right where he needed to be. With a look over Maddie’s shoulder at the screen, he was able to scan the information and recognize your personal cell phone number. He nodded slowly to himself, his brain taking a few seconds to truly process the information he saw: your name, your phone number, car accident, driver injured. He stilled, breath catching in his throat and fingers tightly gripping the back of Maddie’s chair. He was already moving, on his way out the door when he shot a glance over his shoulder to Maddie. “I’m taking my lunch break,” he said, sounding distant and distracted.

She knew, Maddie knew everything around the office, but mostly because she was good friends with both you and Josh. She knew about the crushes you were both harboring for one another but wouldn’t act on because he was your superior and that was frowned upon, no matter how professional you two would be at work. She was sick of hearing both of you say some version of that, sick of the excuses you both came up with to justify putting off the inevitable and hiding the truth. You knew how important it was to separate your home and work lives, every first responder did; it was what you had to do to survive the job. It wasn’t like two 9-1-1 dispatchers would face the same problems as two officers or firefighters in a relationship in the same job.

You couldn’t bring yourself to get out of your car, even though you knew your neck and spine and head were okay, not until after Hen and Chim poked and prodded you to give you the all clear. The questions, the pressure to various parts of your body, and the bright light shining in your eyes were nothing to you, you barely noticed it when you were too occupied thinking about Josh. He was probably going about work as normal, you’d see him in a day or two when you went back. Buck lead you to the ambulance where he sat with you while Hen cleaned and bandaged the cuts on your arms and chest from the shattered window and you thanked every higher being and star in the sky that no glass got stuck in you. The cleaning solution hurt worse than the impact, now that the adrenaline was wearing off and you were aware of all that was happening.

Meanwhile, Josh was stuck behind some woman at the nearest stoplight who was texting instead of paying attention to the light, causing him to curse loudly and he slammed his palm against the center of the steering wheel to honk the horn. His knuckles turned white while he drove, his grip tightening as his mind raced with thoughts about you. What happened? Were you okay? What if the worst happened? That was normal, normal things to think and worry about in regards to a coworker, nothing more. It was friendly concern and friendly racing to an accident scene to check on you. Normal. Friendly.

Buck’s jokes were met with half-hearted laughs and distracted nods, not that he noticed because he was laughing at his own jokes like they were the funniest thing he heard. Hen laughed, too, not because the jokes were funny but because Buck was kind of her friend and she wanted to be supportive. Okay, it’s because his jokes were so awful that it was impossible not to laugh at. Buck and Hen bowed out with a pat on the leg and a friendly smile when Josh showed up, barely remembering to put his car in park as he pulled up to the scene. He had to resist the urge to pull you into his arms, to hug you, to make sure you were safe and you had to resist the urge to get up, to fall into him, to hold him close until you forgot your morning trip to the bank. You and him had been dancing around each other for too long, even Carrie from accounting and Joe the janitor would roll their eyes at you two when they caught an almost intimate but utterly awkward encounter.

“Maddie told me you got in an accident, I had to… I had the afternoon off so I thought I’d stop by to check on you,” he lied as he took a cautious step closer and suddenly you could see everything Maddie told you, everything you couldn’t see, no, refused to see, before. You could tell when he was lying, knew his voice and ticks from his calls when he tried to reassure people things would be okay when they clearly wouldn’t be. And… Screw it. Now was as good of a time as any to take a leap of faith, to take a risk and reap the rewards. It wouldn’t be easy but it helped to still have post-car accident adrenaline coursing through your veins making you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would work out.

“I’m fine, just a few little scratches. No stitches, no broken bones,” you reassured him with a warm smile as you got up from your spot sitting on the edge of the ambulance. Holding up your arms to show the few bandages, you proved that you were truly okay. You boldly took a step forward to get closer to him, to close the respectful work colleague gap in favor of breaching into the I-want-more zone. “Since you have the afternoon off,” you began, a hint of sarcasm and knowing to your voice, before adding on, “let’s go to lunch. A date.”

“Will I get a kiss at the end?” Josh asked with a wide grin and a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. He offered his hand, which you gladly took, and led you away from the accident scene. Or a few feet away from the ambulance, which allowed Hen and Chim to clean up and pack up their gear. The other paramedics across the street were dealing with the angry man, having a much less pleasant time than anyone else. You felt bad for them, knew their job was hard enough without the difficult, whiny assholes yelling and waving their arms around.

“Only if you take me home,” you answered, happy to finally be going on a date with the man you had spent too much time staring at from afar. The nights in bed spent thinking about break room conversations and morning walks in when you happened to park next to one another. The pre-planned conversations and moments you rehearsed saying “good morning, Josh” in the mirror no one would ever know about. You were stopped by a woman who came to stand in front of you, block you from leaving. “I was hoping to do this later,” you offered up hopefully only to be met with an amused laugh.

“Uh-uh, honey, no special treatment. You have to answer questions, fill out your report,” Sargeant Athena Grant said and you groaned in response, reminding her of the times she would tell her teenage daughter no and be met with an attitude. You knew you would have to fill out an accident report, answer questions but you hoped you could go to the station after lunch or later in the day. Anytime other than now when you were about to finally go on a date with Josh. You were so close! At least Athena had the decency to look a little guilty from pulling you away at the worst time to take care of the worst paperwork after the worst morning.

“Go, I’ll wait for you,” Josh promised, grateful to take a minute to call into work to take the rest of the day off. He didn’t even have to come up with a lie, everyone in the office was so happy that you two finally made a move. The betting pool, after way too long, finally closed and the one patient winner was thrilled to win the whole pot. Yeah, Maddie was the worst friend for getting $300 richer betting on your love life. And if Maddie greeted you the next day with a knowing grin and nudge, you couldn’t bring yourself to mind one bit. Especially not when you caught Josh smiling at you from his desk.

[whatmakesmehappyy]

Sunshine

This is something that I’ve had sitting, completely finished, in my Drive so I wanted to share it. I hope you like it and let me know if you want more :) The black and white world was one that you had come to know since you were able to understand things. The tattoo on your collarbone was something that had appeared recently, however. You cringed at the irony when you had first noticed it. The fact that you lived in a black and white world and the tattoos were in color was laughable. It was a sun, that much you knew. Even though you only saw it as black and white you could tell that it was vibrant, radiant, it made you happy just looking at it. You had been told that the ink was yellow, but that meant nothing to you, you couldn’t see colors. But you did know that the ink was vibrant, even in dull black and white.

The soulmate system was something that you had a love/ hate relationship with. It was romantic to think that there was one person out there for you that accepted you, faults and all. But you also wanted to rebel against it. Who says that you have to fall in love with this person? Why couldn’t you chose?

The black and white world would shift to color when you locked eyes with your soulmate. The tattoo was something that represented how you felt about them. Which confused you. How did the universe know what you would feel about a person you hadn’t even met?

You had woken up one morning to see the tattoo poking out from your tank top. You yanked the collar of the shirt down to study it more. The tattoo signified that you were going to meet your soulmate soon. When you had noticed the tattoo a giddy feeling crawled its way up into your stomach and you had let out a bubbly giggle at the thought of meeting him.

You wondered what tattoo your soulmate had that represented you. “Y/N! You’re going to be late if you don’t hurry it up!” Your roommate called to you. You looked at the clock and noticed she was right. You cursed and tossed your hair up in a tight ponytail. Picking up the pair of pants that you had picked out you struggled into them, hopping around to get them up your thighs. You let out a huff when they were finally buttoned. You grabbed your bag and ran out of your room, kissing your roommate on the cheek before grabbing your keys and running out of your shared apartment. Jamming the key into the ignition and twisting you threw your car into reverse and backed out of the spot, your radio blasting. You winced and turned it down, you were listening to it just a bit too loud the last time you drove and had forgotten to turn it down. In your defense 5 Seconds of Summer’s new album had just been released and you were determined to learn all the lyrics to every song before your concert in a weeks.

“Vapor” had just come on, half way through the song and you hummed along, letting the world around you fade away. The song was beautiful, and you were calmed listening to the instruments and the boys’ voices flow together. You came to a stop at a red light (you only knew it was red because it was at the top) and looked to your left. A black van with tinted windows was beside you and you narrowed your eyes at it, wondering what or who could be inside. Part of you wanted it to a huge celebrity but another part of you was screaming “stranger danger” and you wanted to look for every kid on the street and tell them to stay away.

As you were looking at the vehicle it pulled away and you turned to the stoplight to see the light had shifted to the bottom light, signaling that it was time to go. You pushed down on the accelerator and made your way through the intersection. The van pulled in front of you and you slowed down. It took a left and you did too. The van pulled into the parking lot where you worked. You eyed it cautiously. It parked and the engine was shut off but nobody got out of it. You pulled into your normal spot and shut the car off, pulling your keys out and opening the door. You shut it behind you and made the short walk to the door of the shop where you worked. You greeted your co-worker, Jennifer, cheerily before going to stand behind the counter, organizing a few things as you went. The store was slow today, according to your Jennifer, so the two of you made small talk. “How’re the kids?” You asked her.

“Good, Charles just said his first word yesterday, it was “mama”. I want to freeze him in this age so he never grows up.” She said, smiling, “Oh! I have a video of his saying it, do you want to see?” You nodded enthusiastically and she pulled out her phone from her back pocket. You really liked Jennifer, she was always happy and the two of you had a great time working together. The day seemed to fly by with her.

You made your way out from behind the counter and onto the floor. You straightened things and rearranged the decorations, searching desperately for something to do. The bell above the door chimed and you looked up, a smile on your face, ready to greet the customer. “Hi! How are you-” You cut yourself off and Jennifer looked up from what she was doing to see why you had stopped talking.

“Hey! You’re the girl in the car! You were next to us! You work here?” One of the boys who had walked in asked. You nodded slowly, but didn’t say anything. The black van that was next to you and that had pulled into the parking lot was theirs. There, in front of you was Luke and Calum from your favorite band. Luke continued to speak, “Awesome! Well we’re just browsing, don’t mind us.” You nodded again and backed away from them, bumping into something on your retreat. ‘Way to keep it cool’ you thought to yourself. You made your way over to Jennifer who looked at you questioningly.

“That’s Luke and Calum, they’re part of the band that I’m seeing in a few weeks.” You explained and Jennifer nodded in understanding. She went back to her task while you tried to calm your racing heart.

“Hey Ash would like this!” You heard Calum’s voice call from behind a shelf and you smiled lightly. The bell chimed again and you greeted the new customer, grateful to have a distraction. You guided the customer to the item they were looking for, answering all their questions with grace and smiling widely the whole time. When the customer was fully satisfied he handed you the item and followed you back to the register, pulling out his wallet to pay. You recited how much he owed to him and he handed you cash.

“Have a great day!” You chirped and he thanked you while pushing the door open.

“Can I buy this?” Calum said, pushing a few items onto the counter and you blushed, looking down, focusing on the items he was handing you. You didn’t understand why you were acting like this, you were usually confident and talkative, working in customer service, you had to create and hold conversation all day. You figured it was because it was Luke and Calum standing in front of you that you couldn’t find your voice. You were almost done ringing everything up when Jennifer decided it would be a great idea to step in.

“Y/N is a huge fan of yours! She’s going to see you guys in concert soon.” You blushed fiercely, glaring over at your co-worker. She smiled even wider at you.

“Really? That’s awesome! Have you been to a concert of ours before?” Luke asked, coming up beside Calum.

“No,” you said, avoiding eye contact, “this will be the first time. I finally saved enough money to get good tickets.” You explained.

Calum nodded enthusiastically, “Well we’ll try our hardest to make sure the concert is the best ever.” You laughed and smiled at him. Luke’s phone rang and he picked it up, Calum looking over at him while he was talking.

“Okay, we’ll be there in a few. Don’t freak. We were just exploring.”  Luke rolled his eyes at Calum playfully and ended the call. “That was Mikey. Him and Ashton are done recording and want to go get food.” Calum nodded before handing his card over to you and taking the various items he purchased in his hands.

“Well, thank you for everything! Hope to see you soon!” Calum said, waving over his shoulder as Luke followed him out the door. “Wait!” Calum said, stopping so abruptly that Luke bumped into him, “Picture!” He said, walking back over to the counter, putting the items down again. Jennifer grabbed your phone from where it was resting on the counter and pushed you out from behind the counter towards the two boys. You walked over cautiously, still not looking at them directly.

“Okay! One, two, three!” Jennifer called after the two boys had wrapped their arms around your shoulders. You smiled widely as the shutter went of a few times. “Okay, all done.” She handed you your phone and smiled at the boys. The said their goodbyes and were out the door. You saw the van pulling out of the parking lot soon after. “Luke has beautiful eyes.” Jennifer commented and you nodded.

“I’ve heard that they’re amazing. And blue. What does blue look like?” You asked.

“Blue is like…” she trailed off, “blue is the color of the sky. And it’s calming, but it’s also shocking. Blue is the color of cold, when you can see you breath in the morning and when your nose gets all runny from staying outside too long. But it can be sad too. It’s the color you feel when somebody you love passes away. But it’s vibrant. So vibrant. It’s that gulp of air that you get when you come up from being underwater too long. It’s also the water, calm and serene.” Jennifer finished.

“I think my favorite color may be blue.” You laughed and Jennifer smiled at you.

“Bryan’s favorite color is blue.” She said, referring to her soulmate and husband. “We painted our room blue because he loves it so much.”

You nodded and began restocking the shelves. You turned around suddenly, “What about Calum’s?” You questioned.

Jennifer took a breath before beginning, “Calum’s eyes are a color called brown. They’re warm. Brown is warm. It’s the feeling of a warm embrace after a long day, it’s the feeling when your shoulders relax and you breath in the familiar scent of your home. It’s the feeling the warmth in your blankets when you first wake up and the smell of coffee in the morning. The feeling of the warm coffee touching your lips and warming you from the inside out.” Jennifer said, writing something down on a pad of paper. You turned back around and continued the task at hand.

[vipclifford]

Don’t Let The Colours Fade To Grey

Warnings: mentions of death

Red was the colour of your dress the night he met you. The party had been going on for hours, hours spent downing shots in hopes that the next one would give Luke the confidence to approach you. Dancing amidst the flashing lights seemed to be your element, hypnotising the tipsy guitarist with ease. Rosy were the colour of his cheeks when he asked you to dance. You happily complied, wrapping your arms around his neck while his shaky hands found your hips. The ruby heels on your feet guided him to the rhythm of the music that blasted through the room. Luke blamed his borderline drunkenness for struggling to keep up with your moves, the scarlet colour in his cheeks spreading to his neck and ears in embarrassment. Your wine coloured lips pressed against his in an eager kiss, trying to distract the man from his inability to dance. Kisses at every carmine stoplight you encountered on the drive to his home kept the fiery heat pulsing through your veins, blood full of lust and excitement. Burgundy lipstick stains scattered his neck, matching his velvet shirt. The same shirt you delicately unbuttoned while straddling his lap. Red was the colour of your dress that laid discarded on Luke’s bedroom floor.

Orange was the colour of the sky the evening he asked you to be his. You had spent the day walking around Los Angeles, neither wanting the date to end. The golden sun was setting, casting over you a soft amber glow that made you look so ethereal Luke just couldn’t help but ask. “Only if you buy me another ice lolly,” you joked, gingerly pressing a kiss to his lips. Happy fingers laced with yours, dragging you to the closest ice cream stand to buy the requested tangerine popsicle while you chuckled behind him. That sound was enough to get Luke’s heart racing. You kissed the stupid boy with the silly smile who dropped to one knee before you, popsicle in his hand. The same silly smile that stayed on your face for weeks. Being teased by the boys for his actions that day were worth it whenever he held you against his chest, How I Met Your Mother softly playing in the background. Pumpkin nails traced his jaw softly, loving the feeling of Luke’s stubble against your skin. He asked you to paint his nails too. You spent the next ten minutes carefully coating them persimmon “so we’d match,” Luke excitedly pointed out. Orange was the colour of the blanket he wrapped you up in when you fell asleep against his body.

Yellow was the colour of the flowers you tucked into each other’s hair. Unwanted buttercups and dandelions from his garden. A sudden “I love you” left his lips as you held a buttercup underneath his chin, pretending to see whether or not he liked butter. You looked up at the blonde in surprise but smiled softly, telling Luke the three words he longed to hear from you. His smile radiated sunshine. Large hands grabbed your cheeks before he kissed your lips passionately. A glass of lemonade was thrown at you both, Michael snickering from his seat as he yelled to “get a room!” This prompted the blonde to chase the guitarist, his backyard erupting into laughter the second Michael got pushed into the pool. His hand tugged at your wrist to spin you into Luke’s chest, romantic lyrics spilling from his lips as he serenaded you in the sunlight. You giggled as he tried to guide you in a dance, wrapping your arms around his canary shirt. “I love you,” you told the golden boy once more. He ducked his head to capture your lips, loving the taste of sweet lemonade. Loving you.

Green was the colour of the jungles and rainforests Luke had flown you out to see in Thailand. You marvelled at the tall trees from the pool, letting the sunlight kiss your skin. A lime cocktail was handed your way and you smiled gratefully at your boyfriend. He held onto your chartreuse air bed so neither of you would float away from each other, your hand resting on top of his. This was the perfect two year anniversary trip. You talked for hours about everything and anything, Green Day playing in the background. Luke loved watching you when you weren’t looking, finding beauty even when you simply sipped on green tea. He loved when you wore his seaweed shirt barely buttoned up. Luke especially loved when you both found yourselves in the forest attempting to climb up a moss-covered tree. That’s when you couldn’t stop laughing at how silly you two were being, and he knew then and there that he would do anything to keep you that happy forever. Sunrises at the beach after a night of drinking, wrapped up in a pistachio towel, became his favourite way to spend time with you.

Blue was the colour of the two lines shown on the stick. You stared down at it with shaky hands, not expecting a positive result. Luke’s cerulean irises clouded with confusion at your anxious frame when you stepped into the living room. The pregnancy test was pushed across the ultramarine sofa and into his hands, carefully analysing his reaction. His smile was so bright as he engulfed you in his arms, loving and excited words settling down your nerves. Soft fingers found their way beneath your navy hoodie, which was once Luke’s, excited for the next stage of your lives. You’d never seen Luke look happier than when you cut a slice of the cake together, revealing a sapphire interior. Names were pondered on for hours as you painted the spare room together like the sky. Your baby’s room. Feeling the baby kick against his palm for the first time filled his heart with intense joy. He really was going to become a father. The navy box in his pocket grew heavier as the months ticked by, but he never asked to secure your love for him. Your love was blue like the ocean, deep and powerful. The azure dress you wore darkened as your water suddenly broke in the streets. Luke drove you to the hospital, excitement and fear pulsing through his turquoise veins. It was finally happening.

Violet was the colour of the blanket Lily was wrapped up in. Luke looked down at his surprise of a daughter who slept peacefully against his chest. Everyone was shocked when the baby you delivered wasn’t in fact a boy, but a sweet little girl. Luke’s heart managed to swell as he held Lily in his arms for the first time, his bundle of joy loving the softness of his grape jumper. You pressed a tired kiss to his cheek, leaving a mauve lipstick stain on his skin. Lily grew so quickly in a year that Luke’s head was unable to catch up with his little princess. She wobbled over to her father, dropping heathers she’d ripped from the bushes on his lap before jumping into his outstretched arms. Luke hugged the girl in the lilac fairy costume she refused to ever take off, glittery wings and all. You loved watching your little family interact as you munched on raspberry jam sandwiches. The moonlight gave the silver diamond ring an amethyst glow the night Luke finally decided to propose. “Marry me, Baby. Let me make you the happiest woman alive.” You cried tears of joy as you hugged the man close, your lavender perfume consuming his senses. Violet was the theme of your wedding.

Black was the colour of the casket that stood elegantly in the front of the room Luke struggled to walk into. The darkest of clouds fell over the city, dropping the worst storm he’d ever seen. Pathetic fallacy, he thought. His black suit brought tears to his eyes, remembering how breathtaking you looked in your ivory dress the last time Luke dressed up. He cried when he saw his two-year-old wearing a black dress. The short eulogy he wrote was cut short by broken sobs as he fell against the marble tiles on the ground. He stayed there for minutes that felt like hours, much like when he heard the news of your death in the hospital ward. He watched how the colours faded to grey within a second as he held his baby close, inconsolable cries coming from the empty man. Lily tried to cheer her dad up with hugs and saying the few words she knew, knowing that this always brought a smile to her father’s face. “Mama,” she said eventually, making Luke cry harder. He was grateful for the hands that took the toddler away from him arms. Black was the colour of the darkness he was left in now that you were gone.

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[alteredphoenix]

Red Fruit (WIP)(Sailor Moon/Madoka novelette)

A/N: This is an old WIP from July 10, 2015, as part of a crossover series between Sailor Moon and Madoka Magica, in an AU in which (and I put this in the simplest terms possible, because 2015!AlteredPhoenix was and still is super big on metaphysics and ontology) the cast of Madoka existed in a more high fantasy/military fantasy, Warcraft-inspired version of the Silver Millennium and were also reincarnated in the present day but in a separate timeline outside the Sailor Moon continuum. In this AU, all the planets of the universe were Earth-like and existed within their own Dyson Sphere, but the fall of the Millennium and Queen Serenity’s sacrifice (here described as an event called the Diaspora that is remembered now only by the remnants of the Mau race that exist in the shadows) saw the natural balance of life and death torn asunder and persist in atmospheres that they are known for today.

When constructing the series (which went under the name “Until We Meet Again”, although that version is old and discontinued, but is planned to be salvaged in some capacity and can be read on Fanfiction.net), my goal was to make the girls of Madoka deviatory from their canon personalities. Here Kyoko is a nondenominational girl that is very much anti-police and anti-establishment. She does not have faith in the pantheon of Mars and cares little for the interplanetary affairs that prelude the war that would destroy the Golden Age of the Silver Millennium. This fic would have her be put in the crosshairs of Mars’ law force and see her sentenced to serve as a pack mule to Endymion and his Four Guardians as they go on a mission (that I can’t remember the life of me what it was).

This mission would change Kyoko’s worldview and mold her as the person she is depicted in canon, and would carry over into the main AU story in the present, post-Rebellion world that would see her and Sayaka jump through timelines trying to reclaim Goddess!Madoka from hiding from Devil Homura’s hunt to recapture her.

(Mami would be elsewhere in the present day Sailor Moon timeline (which, at the time of that story, “A Passing Glance”, set it around 2017), infected with a parasitic version of Walpurgisnacht that is only held at bay by Nagisa’s watchful eye and the hope that Rei will purge and cauterize the blight before it overcomes Mami.)

-

“I thought you said you weren’t interested in seeing them?” said the voice, and Kyoko nearly dropped the apple she was holding.

Tightening her grip on it, she glanced behind her to see Mami and her damn pleated fan, unfolded to display a watercolor scene of flying fish with their oval mouths open to swallow the stars; a sleepy, rural village basked beneath a sky full of alien moons. It was a surreal image, one she did not understand, and staring at it for too long made her nerves itch in the way sliding a rusted nail down a used chalkboard would. “With all the noise they’re making, it’s hard not to ignore them,” she said, and peered over the balcony. “Look how garish they dress! Are they supposed to be soldiers or stoplights?”

Mami joined her and studied the cavalcade of men marching down the cobblestone road. She studied their uniforms for a moment—sharp, finely-pressed plated suits ranging from black to royal blue to ashy grey. “They look like they could blend right in at night.”

“Not those guys! The ones grouped around tall, dark, and pale.” Kyoko nodded their way, just as they were crossing beneath them.

Mami finally saw the quintet and nodded. “Ah, Prince Endymion and his Four Heavenly Kings. I don’t see King Aethlius among them. He must be in the Basilica with the other dignitaries and magistrates.”

“I don’t care about the King or any of that drivel!”

“Then what troubles you?”

“Just look! They’re not wearing any helmets! They’re not blending with the rest of the crowd! A sniper could put a round in every one of their heads and they wouldn’t even know what hit them!”

Mami watched the rest of the procession arrive. “I highly doubt an enemy of the state would risk his life attempting an assassination with this many people.” She waved the fan airily at her face. “We can’t see them from this angle, more or less be able to even if we tried, but the Talonites are all around us. They know all the secret places of the Forum as well as the Eternal Flame knows all about them.”

“So say I throw this apple at blondie there,” Kyoko said, pointing at one of the Kings with short, wavy hair the color of wheat. “Or that guy with the bleached roots.” She indicated a taller male towering over his brothers and Prince. “Would the gods see fit to cast a compulsion on their warrior-priests and make me spontaneously combust with a snap of their fingers? Or perhaps someone will jump out of these very shadows and turn me into a pile of ash with a single swipe of his uchiwa?”

“Any and all threats will be dealt with, depending on how severe the order the High Priests gives them,” said Mami. “If I were you, I wouldn’t waste precious food.” She leveled a pointed stare at the bag of apples pressed against the other girl’s chest.

Kyoko scoffed. “It’s not wasting food. It’s sustenance and makes for good ammunition.” She sank her teeth into the fruit and chewed.

Mami sighed. “Not only would you face possible death to the warrior-priests, the local merchants would have your head if they hear about it.”

“Why should they? There’s plenty of arable land, and no one’s howling for blood this year. Human sacrifices are so last millennium.”

“The Republic of Mars hasn’t been ‘howling for blood’ in over seventy-five years, since before the King’s father Aeolus passed away,” Mami groaned. “Must you always sleep through history, Kyoko?”

“None of that matters to me,” she said, and dropped the apple core into the bag; she was not about to incur Mami’s ire over leaving her spoils in a place that wasn’t a container or trash receptacle. “It shouldn’t matter to you, either. You’re not from here so that’d be understandable. But why should I go through all the trouble learning about the history of the Alliance when it’s written by gods-fearing victors?”

“You shouldn’t say that!” Mami shouted, and started, surprised at her outburst. Her cheeks coloring, she looked over the balcony and saw that the retinue had come and gone. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Need I remind you the consequences for spouting heresy?”

Kyoko rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, I’ve heard it all: the forty lashes, exile by vote of majority, the public stoning, the burning at the stake. ‘S nothing new.”

“You can’t just say stuff like that in a place like the Republic, especially in a region that boasts the highest population of Talonites and religious adherents on the entire planet.”

“I’m entitled to my rights just as much as the next person.” She pulled another apple out of the bag, polished it off against her shirt, and took a hefty bite from it. “’Tough titty,’ said the kitty.”

“Kyoko,” said Mami, and the tone of her voice was like tempered steel, “you’ve been warned twice by the political police. If it happens one more time,” her eyebrows knotted worryingly. “If it happens one more time,” she pushed on, more softly, “we’ll never see each other again.”

Kyoko stopped, no longer feeling hungry. She sighed, dropped the apple into the bag and wiped her hand of its juices against the brown paper. “Mami—“

“Have you ever stopped and wondered what your family thinks about you?” Mami asked suddenly. “What your neighbors must think? When they see you with the heretics, the non-believers, taking to the streets, wreaking havoc and disrupting the peace with your beliefs, what do you think goes through their minds?”

Kyoko’s mouth went dry, her tongue arid as the red deserts that lend credence to Mars’ name. For one brief, absurd moment, she kicked herself for not having brought something to relieve her thirst. “Hey now…I’ve never actually hurt anyone. The ones that incite all the riots and clashes with the police…I’m not part o’ that crowd.”

“But surely you were a part of them?”

“Well, when I’m tryin’ to get away from everything, then yeah, I have to push and shove my way through. I’ve gotten into a few scraps, but it’s not like I cause them. There’s a reason for getting off scot-free and claiming self-defense by having the aggressor throw the first punch.”

“And for everything else? Do you put a halt to evening traffic and topple vehicles to delay the opposition in their pursuit? Do you fight back with restricted magic as per the laws of the Basilica Carta? Do you vandalize holy sites like the Face of Vulcan? Have you been injured by a Talonite and asked yourself ‘I will give unto him what he has given unto me tenfold’?”

“I don’t regret what I do,” Kyoko said testily. “I’ve been beaten and kicked like a sack of rice while being pinned down and bound by spellweavers. I’ve been sent to jail and harassed by officers and prisoners alike that my efforts weren’t worth the trouble. I nearly had my hair burnt to a crisp by one of those priestly chaps. Hell, at one point I got trampled by my like-minded brothers and sisters making a hasty retreat and almost died.”

“But have you?” Mami snapped the fan closed and jabbed it under the girl’s nose.

Kyoko growled and swiped at it, but Mami was faster and pulled away before the fan could be ripped from her grasp. “So what if I have? I’m human! I don’t claim to be perfect or a saint! Not like you,” she grumbled the last part.

“I am as imperfect and sinful as you are,” Mami said, frowning tiredly. “As are the free peoples of the Alliance and the far-flung races of the known universe. But you must be careful, Kyoko! The sons and daughters of Kagutsuchi will not tolerate any more of your antics.”

“They’re not antics! And I’m not afraid of those flame-worshipping lapdogs. They’re going to have to do more than dress like festival dancers to scare me.”

“You’ll be scared when they come into your house one night and drag you out—by force—to the execution grounds,” Mami snapped, and then, more softly, “No amount of pleading on the behalf of your family will sway them to ignore the Word bestowed by their elders…or that of the Eternal Flame. Peace, Kyoko, must be maintained…and you’re not helping.”

Kyoko sighed, ran a hand through her hair. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me, Mami.”

“I want to believe that,” she said, turning away. She looked out beyond the conical spires of the high-rises, past the cupolas and lighted braziers of the Church of the King of the Hunt, to the horizon. It looked like rain, and where there was rain there would be lightning and thunder, and there would be fire. Vicious, hungry fire, dancing and out of control. “I want to, but I can’t bring myself to. Something’s got to give.”

“You mean something I’ve got to give.” And she wasn’t going to. Not her beliefs. Not her cause. Not her life. Nothing.

“How else are you going to stop them? It’s either that or you’ll die.” Mami looked at Kyoko, and her face was long and haggard and sorrowful. “And I don’t want you to die. I will heal any injuries you might sustain or ease any anger or worries you might have, but I can’t cure death.”

“Ah, yes. Death. The Talonites can stamp out religious persecution and all manner of crime, but they can’t stop what’s inevitable.” Kyoko gathered the bag in both arms and, putting all her weight into her haunches, pushed herself onto the balls of her feet and rose. She joined Mami at the balcony and breathed in a lungful of air through her nose. The air was charged, thick and heavy with the coming downpour. It was pure and refreshing, but it was nothing like the smoky, sulfurous odor flames were wont to exude. “Kinda ironic, isn’t it?”

Mami nodded. “Aye. But for the phoenix that builds its nest atop the tallest mountain and sets itself ablaze, it rises anew from the ashes.”

“It’s just a bird,” Kyoko scoffed.

Mami sighed and pressed the tip of the fan to her forehead, brow furrowed in resignation. “Once again, you fail to see my point. Kyoko, I won’t ask you to promise me not to get into any more trouble than you already are…but at the very least try to stay out of it. I’m not always going to be there for you when you need a place to hide or words to whitewash any misgivings. I’m only here until summer’s end and—”

“’I won’t be here forever.’ I get it. Thanks for the warning, Mom.” Kyoko quashed the guilt skewering her breast at the hurt that flashed across Mami’s face. She couldn’t let that bother her. Not here, and especially not in front of Mami. She could feel like shit later, away from everything in the privacy of her home.

“Very well,” Mami said calmly, stiffly. “I entrust you to be on your…ahem, best behavior. As you were.” She stuck the fan into her waistband and glided past Kyoko, as a skimmer does on the surface of a still lake.

[the-woman-in-the-writing]

“Broken Stoplights” a short story

Rating: PG-13 Contains: Graphic imagery Word Count: 1,305

Author’s note:

An attempt to describe a headache without using words such as pain, headache, migraine, et cetera.

Meat. Meet.

Bare. Bear.

Weak. Week.

Flower. Flour.

What do you call these?

Your 1st grade teacher called them homophones. Now let’s have a quick review before I tell you this story.

Homophones are words that are pronounced the same but have different spelling and meaning.

Alright, remember them?

It’s okay if you don’t (but I’m sure you do), we’re not going to use them for this story. We’re going to use its counterpart: Homonyms.

Homonyms, on the other hand, are words that are spelled and pronounced the same but differ in meaning.

Take, for example, the word beat.

It can either be the action of assaulting someone or a sound.

For this story, you need to remember only one homonym.

Tissue.

Tissue is a paper you use to wipe liquid or dirt off off things. You’re aware of it, I’m sure. It’s not 1857 anymore.

But…,

Tissue is also the cellular organization level between cells and a complete organ. Make an ensemble of similar cells and you get a tissue. Combine tissues and you get a complete organ. Combine organs…so on, so forth… We finally get to you.

But for this story, we need to get to me.

The weatherman last night was right. The road felt slippery on the wheels of my car because of the rain and 42 kilometers per hour windspeed. I was on my way to my mother’s place because she wanted help fixing her new curtains (ugly, if you ask me), but really, she just wanted company. Of us four siblings, I was the only who bothered to check if she isn’t burning the kitchen down ever since my father divorced her (he cooked for us).

It was about 2am when she called me.

“You need help fixing curtains?” I groggily said on the phone.

“Yes.” Mom said plainly.

“It’s 2am, Mom, why are you just telling me this now?” I asked while trying to answer the question myself.

The line went silent, but I could hear The Carpenters singing in the background. She was watching her wedding video. Again.

“Oh, you know me, forgetful sometimes–”

“Mom, I told you. You have got to stop sulking around and watching your wedding video. It’s not helping.” I tried to turn on the lamp beside me, but its sudden flash felt like someone tried to squeeze my brain.

“Oh. You heard? I was just–”

“Dad’s not gonna come back, Mom, whether you waste your time on that damn video or not. Besides, you cheated on each other. It’s both of your fault.”

The line went silent again. Probably said too much out of grumpiness.

“I’m sorry–” I tried to apologize but she talked over me.

“No, I’m sorry. It’s late and you’re right. This video isn’t going to do me good. Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow – I mean, later.” She said with a hint of pity for herself.

“No, Mom, it’s not your fault, I–” She hanged up.

And so, we’re here.

Now, this is where tissues come in. The first kind.

For some reason, I caught a cold and had to place a box of tissues beside me. I blew my nose and threw the tissue on the seat next to me. In a few minutes and stoplights, that seat is going to have a mountain of tissues, and I guess it will feel like a cushion if somebody sits on it. I groan out of irritation and turned left to the highway.

The storm was picking up – and luckily, not traffic – and flashes of lightning crossed the sky like it was trying to break the sky apart. Someone was squeezing my brain again.

The mountain of tissue is now just a hill, and I couldn’t tell apart if it was lightning I was seeing or the vitreous gel in my eye is pulling my retina. To distract myself from the invisible hand prodding and pinching my brain, I tried to occupy myself with something else.

How many patients am I going to visit during my rounds later? I hope Mrs. Corinth agrees to take her meds without having to call two nurses to maker her do it. The two nurses in the emergency room seemed like they were having an enlightening conversation three days ago.

“The Egyptians would put the pharaoh’s organs inside a jar, thinking it was sacred or something.” The first nurse said.

“That’s disgusting.” Amelia replied, scrunching her nose.

“Yeah, and you know how they get the brain out?”

“How?”

“They have this, like, long, tiny hook” – he hooked his index finger – “that they would insert through the nose. Then they would pick the brain with it and pull pieces of it in long strings out of the nostril–”

“Oh, Jeffrey, stop. I’m gonna vomit.”

Same, Amelia, because right now, it feels like some Egyptian is picking my brains out through my nose.

Now comes in the second kind of tissue.

The tissues encasing my skull and covering the surface of my brain are inflamed, lighting up my sensory and motor cortex like a broken stoplight changing from green to red to green to red to green…

I press my finger hard on my temple, making circles around it. The road is blurrier, not because of the rain drops racing across the windshield, but because of the vitreous gel pulling my retina. I could taste mucus on my lip, so I blow my nose again.

I close my eyes, trying to build a shield over my brain so that nobody would squeeze or pick it out, but by the time I opened my eyes again, a roadworker flashed his light to my car, sending signals again to my sensory and motor cortex.

Green to red to green to red to green to red.

“Oh, Jeffrey, stop, I’m gonna vomit.”

Last night’s Chinese takeout rose up through my esophagus and out of my mouth, spreading across on my jeans and on the steering wheel.

“Damn it, get yourself together.” I said to myself, attempting to push down the almost-digested dumplings back in my stomach.

I tried to get another tissue from the box, but I was all out. I knew I had another one in the glove compartment, so I reached for it. I opened it, pulling out papers and receipts to try and find tissues or wipes. My attention switched from the road to the compartment. There was roadwork beside me and I knew I needed to focus more on getting past it before I get the tissues or wipes, but the vomit on my lap and the ones sliding between my fingers on the steering wheel really felt gross.

If you were in my place, you’d know.

What I’m doing right now is difficult. Trying to wipe off vomit while retrieving tissues and keeping my attention on the road is challenging as hell, especially when there’s a lightshow happening (which I can only see) and an Egyptian pulling out strings of my brain from my nostril.

Then suddenly, my fingers slipped from the steering wheel, making me lose my balance and land my head on my mountain of tissues. The sensory and motor cortex of my brain kept on lighting up, and the tissues encasing my skull sent more pressure.

I get back up immediately, grabbing the vomit-covered steering wheel, but it was too late.

The road was no longer slippery, but bumpy, as if I was driving on wet dirt, and the light I was seeing was no longer from my pulled retina, it was from a construction vehicle I was colliding with.

Both tissues, the mountain and inside me, covered in more blood than necessary…

Hazard lights flickering like my sensory and motor cortex…

Changing from green to red to green to red to green to red…

[imagines-dreams]

Family and Karaoke - Michael Mell Imagine

Rating:PG

Warnings: Michael Mell’s big Filipino family, there are children in this story, loooots of random kissing, Tagalog words

Summary: After being with Michael Mell for a long time, it’s time for you to meet his crazy, big, loud family. Apparently, they also have a tradition that when someone brings in a date, that someone has to do something special.

Word Count: 2147

Notes:  

Tito (“Tea-toe”)=Uncle

Tita (“Tea-tah”)=Aunt

Kuya (“Koo-yah”)=word to show respect to an older male sibling or cousin

Ate (“Ah-teh”) =word to show respect to an older female sibling or cousin

Parol (“Pah-roll”)=a Filipino version of the Christmas wreath, a big light made out of different colors

Mano Po (“Mah-no Po”)=literally translates into “hand, sir/ma’am”, a sign of respect shown to elders where the person touches the elder’s knuckles to the forehead that is said to give the person blessings

Tagalog ("Tah-gah-lowg")= national language of the Philippines

Mahal Kita (“Mah-hahl Key-tah”)=literally translates into “You are the most precious thing”, means “I love you”

You smoothed out your dress for the fifth time that night. You cringed when you realized how sweaty you were. How could you not be though? You were going to your boyfriend’s family reunion for the first time. You had met his parents already, but his whole family? He told you about a few important figures. His grandma, grandpa, a few of his nieces and nephews. Oh god, but you were going to mess up. You were going to forget their names and mess everything up. They would tell him that you weren’t worthy for him and he-

“Babe?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “I’m fine.”

Michael blinked a few times before taking your hand in his. “They’re going to love you. Just like I do. I mean, who can’t love you?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. I’m just nervous. You’ve told me about your family several times, and they seem amazing. I just don’t want to ruin anything.”

“You do remember I buy vintage collectibles, aka the things that my family thinks it’s a waste of money.”

“But they’re so cool!” You turned in your seat to face him better. “Plus, they make the basement more colorful. I mean, did you tell them that if you get the entire collection, you’re practically a millionaire.”

He smiled. “See, this is exactly why I love you.”

“I love you, too.” You giggled and kissed his hand. When Michael began to blush and stare at you like you weren’t real, you laughed and turned his head towards the road. Good thing the stoplight was red.

Michael shook his head to regain his focus. “Uh, right, we’re almost there.”

You blinked a few times. There was one house with many lights and decorations and the iconic parol Michael had told you about. There were quite a few parols, each one blinking a different assortment of colors. “Woah,” you gasped. “I think which house it is.”

Michael beamed. “It’s been that way since November.”

~ - ~

Michael wrapped his arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head. “You’re going to do fine.”

You fidgetted with your purse. “Wait, so who do I do the, uh, mano po thing with again?”

“Aw, babe, just my grandparents, and anyone else who looks like grandparents.” He shrugged. “When in doubt, just follow my lead, ok?”

You nodded. You replayed the action you were supposed to do in your head. They were going to hold out their hand slightly, and you had to gently take their hand and press their knuckles to your forehead. A sign of respect and hope for luck, Michael had told you. But, what if you did it to the wrong person, and they got offended because they were too young to have the mano po done to them.

Michael gazed down at you. Noticing your furrowed eyebrows and tense shoulders, he quickly grabbed your shoulders. Before you could squeal or protest, Michael pressed his lips against yours.

You whined, worried about your dress and hair, but it took less than a second for you to melt against him. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled you closer and closer, even when the two of you couldn’t be any closer. The bright lights and loud music faded to nothing, and you could just feel Michael all around you. His slight cinnamon breath and gentle lips. His hard grip turning into a gentle hold. The brief cold touch of his glasses against your cheeks.

Then, he pulled away from you, and the door opened.

“Michael!”

“Tito!”

You held your hand to your head as you tried to adjust to the exponential loss of Michael’s touch. That kiss left you breathless and slightly dizzy. The bright lights and loud music didn’t help.

Then, Michael’s arm was around you again. “Tito, this is (Y/n).” Your boyfriend blushed a little. “I’m her boyfriend.”

You blinked a few times before extending your hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

The man stared at your hand. For a split second, your eyes widened, and you wanted to die under his stare. At least you’d be in Michael’s arms.

However, the man beamed. “Ah, come ‘ere!” He pulled you in for an unexpected hug and squeezed you tightly. “Finally!” He turned around and shouted over his shoulder. “Mikey got a girlfriend!”

Michael’s eyes widened. “Tito, n-”

“Kuya!”

“Tito!”

Suddenly, an army of small children appeared out of nowhere, pushed the man out of the way and tackled your boyfriend. Michael stumbled back a few steps and laughed. He called each of the kids by name, ruffled a kid’s hair, and scooped a little one into his arms.

You sighed at the sight. There were at least ten of those kids, and he was doing so well. How was he able to-

“Come on,” the man said as he welcomed you inside. “You have got to meet everyone, and I warn you, we are all huggers.”

And he wasn’t exaggerating. There were so many people at the reunion. You did the mano po to one grandparent who laughed and tried talking to you in Tagalog. When he realized you couldn’t understand, he apologized and told you that you looked too beautiful for his grandson. You hugged many people, and it seemed like every five minutes, someone new would hug you.

You just went with the flow, floating past the two dining tables of food and grabbing a plate. You floated past a room just for karaoke. The backyard was for drunk relatives and one unfortunate aunt and uncle who were trying to barbeque. Another room was dedicated towards the younger members of the family, where you finally found your boyfriend giving a piggyback ride to one of the children.

You laughed and made your way towards him.

Michael’s eyes lit up. He inhaled through his teeth and found a nice couch to set the child down upon. “Hey!” He kissed you quickly, and you looped your arm around his.

Before any other words could be spoken, four kids ran up to the two of you. “Wow,” the kids said in awe.

You smiled and sat on the ground. “Hey, guys, do you know who I am?”

They shook their heads.

Michael sat down next to you. “Can you guys say, ‘Tita’?”

“Tita,” they repeated.

“(Y/n).”

“Tita (Y/n)!” The kids hugged you and greeted you with “Hi’s” and “I like your dress’s” and “Are you Tito’s girlfriend?”.

Michael just laughed and began telling everyone stories based on video games.

~ - ~

Michael and you collapsed on the couch as soon as one of his cousins decided to entertain the younger ones. Michael patted your shoulder. “Hey, there’s video game room.”

You gasped and narrowed your eyes at him. “How dare you keep that from me.”

He laughed and kissed your cheek. “Race you there!”

~ - ~

“I can’t believe it!”

“It’s not possible!”

“I never thought I’d see the day.”

Michael and you had been the last two standing in a Super Smash Bros fight. It had been ten minutes. Each of you had one life left. No one seemed to have the advantage.

You were intensely watching your character. Your reflexes were getting better since you started dating Michael, and it felt natural to do all the combos you had learned from him.

Michael’s cousins stood around the two of you, absolutely shocked to see the video game master actually struggling.

Then, the game paused.

Someone yelled, “Oh, come on! Who pressed it?”

Michael smirked. “Babe?”

“What?”

Then, he kissed you.

You gasped, and the controller fell out of your hands. You kissed Michael and slowly reached up to wrap your hands around his neck. He pressed his lips against your harder. You had to lean back at the sudden force and ended up lifting your legs so they rested on his lap.

The voices of disgust soon turned into gasps and “oh’s”.

You pulled away, the voices too loud to ignore, and immediately slapped Michael’s shoulder. “Cheater! This is a new low!”

You were too caught up in the kiss to notice that Michael didn’t lay a finger on you. His hands were too occupied winning, while your poor controller was on the ground. Michael kissed you quickly. “It was the only way I could win.”

“You bet it was!” you yelled. You hit him with a pillow.

Michael froze. Then, he smirked. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Oh, really?”

Someone yelled, “Pillow fight!” and suddenly, pillows were being thrown everywhere. You caught some, threw some, and even once got Michael on the back of his head. Score!

~ - ~

“I win,” you heaved.

“I disagree.”

“Wanna bet, Mell?”

“No. You win.”

You beamed. “Thank you.”

He laughed and kissed you once before resting his forehead on yours. “I kinda wanna go home.”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah, so do I.”

He nodded. He stood up and held out his hand. “Prepare yourself, it’s going to take a while to say goodbye.”

You looked over the railing. A sea of people waited on the first floor. You sighed. “You’re not wrong.”

Michael smiled and and held you close. “Before we dive into chaos, I love you, and you were wonderful tonight.”

You giggled and brushed his messy hair back. “I love you, too.”

He kissed you sweetly and softly before trying to lead you through the crowd. You and Michael had hugged at least fifteen people before one of his aunts spoke to him in Tagalog. He replied nervously before getting interrupted by her again. Suddenly, the two of you were being pulled into another direction.

“Oh, no,” you whispered. You knew where you were heading. The karaoke room.

“MIchael needs to sing!” someone shouted.

“Michael! Michael! Michael!” they chanted. Someone pushed your boyfriend into the clearing and handed him the microphone. He laughed. “Guys, I haven’t sung in years.”

“We know!”

He shook his head and looked to you.

You opened your mouth, about to say an excuse for him, but your boyfriend shook his head and looked through the songbook. His family cheered like they had won the million dollar lotto.

Michael laughed. “I got it! I got it!” He put down the songbook. “For the record, I hate you all.”

“We love you, too!”

“Go Mikey!”

“Serenade! Serenade!”

You stared at one of his cousins weirdly. Serenade?

Michael blushed. “I know, Ate! I am, I am.”

The music flowed through the speakers, and you had to cover your wide smile. This was too perfect.

Michael took a deep breath. “Oh, her eyes, her eyes, make the stars look like they’re not shining. Her hair, her hair, falls perfectly without her trying. She’s so beautiful, and I tell her everyda-ay.”

His voice sounded so heavenly. When he sang the first verse, it was soft and gentle, almost like he was whispering it to you. Then, the chorus hit.

“When I see your face!” Michael pointed at you and beamed. “There’s not a thing I would change, cause girl, you’re amazing.” He held out his hand for you, and the crowd parted immediately. With red cheeks, you took his hand and let him pull you to the front. “Just the way you are.” Michael held your hands and pulled you closer. “And when you smile-”

You giggled and leaned back just a bit.

Your boyfriend wrapped one arm around your shoulders and motioned to the crowd, “The whole world stops and stares for a while, cause girl you’re amazing. Just the way you are.” Being the drama queen he loved being, he added another “yeah” at the end of the chorus. His family cheered and whooped, all while you kept blushing.

“Get her a chair!”

“Someone have a chair for the future Mell?”

“I got a free chair!”

A chair was pushed towards you, and you gladly sat down.

The rest of the song was spent with Michael working the crowd, occasionally kissing you on the cheek or hand, and ending the song with an impressive show of his range. When he was done, he bowed, said, “Thank you,” and held out his hand.

You smiled, your cheeks still burning from hearing Michael Mell serenade you, and took his hand. You curled up by his side as the embarrassment and happiness overtook you. You barely registered Michael quickly saying goodbye to everyone before leading you back outside. “(Y/n)?”

Still holding onto his shirt, you gazed up and giggled. “I didn’t know you could sing.”

He blushed and awkwardly swayed back and forth. “Uh, yeah, my family kinda raises everyone with karaoke.”

“I’m glad they did.” You quickly kissed him. “You have a wonderful voice.”

“Thank you.” He kissed you again. “You were amazing, as always.” He let out a short breath. “Now, I just want to watch some movies and cuddle. Ok with you?”

“Perfect.”

He rubbed his nose against yours. “Mahal kita, (Y/n).”

You smiled. “Mahal Kita, Michael Mell.”

No, I can't speak Tagalog, although I desperately wish I could. Yes, I am obsessed with Michael Mell, and yes, I love my culture so much that since George Salazar is Filipino, I will imagine all characters he plays as Filipino, (aka Michael, Grover, and Mr. D are Filipino because YESSSSS)

Also, if someone has a better pronunciation guide or definition of these words, tell me! I was staring at my computer pronouncing things for at least thirty minutes, and I'm still not sure.

[juggieheadcoopers-blog]

The Girl From the Journal (Pt 4)

Soulmate AU: The Girl From the Journal

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3

–

They could have heard a pin drop. Silence engulfed the room as a table full of open-mouthed individuals leaned forward in their seats, waiting with bated breath to hear Betty’s response to Archie’s life changing question. 

“Elizabeth, are you going to answer the poor boy or are you going to leave him kneeling there like a terrified statue with a diamond ring the size of Texas?” Alice stood from her seat to slam her palm hard against the surface of the dining room table, her eyes wide with desperation as she urged her daughter to make up her mind. 

“Archie, I…” Betty’s throat closed up, the words she was so desperately trying to communicate to him, unable to stumble out of her mouth. 

“I love you, Betty,” Archie told her, his gaze warm and loving as he pressed the ring into her over-turned palm. “It’s been the two of us ever since I could remember and I couldn’t see a future without you in it. I’d be honored if you would agree to spend the rest of your life with me.”

“I just - I - I think that we should talk in the kitchen,” she mumbled, pulling him up by the arm so that he was now in a standing position and dragging him across the room towards the hallway leading out of the dining room. 

Alice beat the couple to the doorway before they could escape, grabbing her daughter’s arm in a firm grip as she leaned in close to her ear. 

“Betty Cooper, think about what you’re going to say to him very carefully,” Alice warned, her fingers tightening around her forearm as her eyes blazed with intensity. “Don’t make a mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life.” 

“Let go, mother,” Betty snapped, jerking away from her mother’s grip and taking a step away from her. “This is my life. I’m not a child anymore and you can’t control me. So get out of my way.” 

Betty sidestepped Alice to lead Archie into the pristine kitchen, a bead of sweat beginning to form on her forehead as her mind raced with a million different thoughts and emotions that were sure to end in Archie getting his heart broken.

“What’s going on?” he wondered, his brows knitting together in a mix of confusion and concern for the girl next door he had been in love with for so long.

“I’m wondering if you’ve really thought this through, Archie,” Betty explained, her heart racing a million miles a minute in her chest as she paced back and forth in front of the counter. “I mean this came out of nowhere, don’t you think? I - it’s just- marriage? Marriage is a big deal. It’s real and scary and forever. Don’t you get that?”

“Betty, we’ve been dating since our freshman year of high school,” he reminded her. “Some would argue that we had our first date in the sandbox on the first day of Kindergarten. I’d hardly call me proposing to you an event that came out of the blue.” 

“Archie, I’ve barely seen you in two weeks,” she pointed out, her voice coming out much louder than she had intended as she struggled to keep calm. “That’s not normal for a couple that lives only a few miles from one another, not to mention the fact that our parents are still neighbors and that the schools we work at are right down the road from each other.” 

“You know how busy I’ve been with the team,” he mumbled, a defensiveness to his tone that Betty recognized from the hundreds of other times he had used this as an excuse not to be in the same room as her. “I promised the school board that I would get the high school football program back to where it used to be when we were students there. That hasn’t been easy.” 

“I know that,” she breathed, her voice attempting a note of sympathy, but mostly coming out as tired and frustrated. “I love that you’re so passionate about being a football coach, Arch, but I wish that you would save some of that passion that you have for the sport and use it in your relationship with me.” 

“Betty,” Archie took a step towards her, but she quickly moved out of the way as her gaze dropped to the gold and brown etchings in the marble countertop.

“I realized something over the past few weeks that I think we both need to hear right now,” she explained. “We’ve been together for so long that I think we’ve forgotten what it feels like to just be alone and to not worry about anyone else but ourselves. I think I’ve missed that. And if you’re being honest with yourself, I think you’ve missed it too.” 

Betty ran her fingers through her long blonde locks, a habit she had grown accustomed to on the rare occasion she wore her hair down so that it spilled over her shoulders in golden waves. 

“When we were apart these past two weeks, I found myself feeling that sense of clarity that comes with being on your own and discovering the way you see yourself instead of how someone else sees you, that I haven’t been able to feel over the past few years. It’s been really good for me and I think we need to explore that more,” Betty’s heart pounded frantically in her chest, her words carrying a sense a finality that she hadn’t realized they held until that moment. “As much as I care about you, I think it’s what I need right now.” 

“You’re breaking up with me.” It wasn’t a question, simply a statement laced with disbelief and hurt that made Betty’s heart lurch in her chest. 

“Archie, I’m just-”

“After a ten year relationship, I propose to you and your response is that you would rather be alone than to marry me,” Archie snapped, his cheeks red with anger as he glanced around the room for something, anything, that would reveal this moment to be a nightmare instead of a twisted version of reality that he never asked for. “Is this really happening right now?”

“Arch, I don’t want to hurt you,” Betty muttered helplessly, her eyes pleading with him to understand that she still cared for him the way she always had. “I know you don’t understand it right now, but this is the best thing for the both us.”

“I can’t see how living in a world where we’re not together, is the best for either of us.” 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes prickling with tears as she backed out of the kitchen and headed for the door leading into the backyard. “I really am.” 

She hated herself for hurting him. She hated herself for letting her uncertainties and concerns about their relationship go unspoken for so long. And more than anything, she hated that all she wanted to do after ending a relationship that had been a significant constant in her life since she was five-years-old, was to run away to a place that was silent and still and secluded so that she could read the journal that the stranger with the dark hair and soulful eyes had given to her earlier that evening. She knew it was wrong. But she couldn’t push the feeling out of her mind. And what made it even worse was that part of her didn’t even want to. 

–

Jughead liked the stillness of walking along the empty streets of downtown Riverdale after dark. Most nights he found himself taking a stroll past the locked-up store fronts and kiosks to find a bench that overlooked the traffic light above the main intersection in the square. He could watch it blink yellow for hours, some days staying until the sun peeked its way up above the horizon and the stoplight changed back to its regular routine, the green and red blinking on suddenly and overtaking the yellow completely. More often than not, he would only come across one or two late-night travelers heading home from a long day of work or a dinner date that lasted too long. What most people wouldn’t understand was that he didn’t mind the solitude. In fact, after his father left him when he was sixteen he had grown accustomed to the feeling of being alone in a way that he almost craved it. He never needed much company other than the girl from his journal and his sister Jellybean. He never had to worry about anyone other than himself, and that was alright with him.

That is, until he met Betty Cooper. 

As he sat on the exact same bench in front of the exact same traffic light on this particular night, he found the loneliness to feel more constricting that it normally did. There was a weighted shadow on his heart that hadn’t been present any of the other nights he had spent sitting there and was now likening him to the knowledge that there should have been someone accompanying him on that street corner. 

“It’s never going to change you know.”

A distant smile formed on his lips at the sound of Betty’s voice, the fateful timing of her appearance oddly fitting for the circumstances of which they had met earlier that same day. 

“No matter how long you stare at it, it’ll keep flashing yellow until about 6:00am,” her tone was light and playful, but there was a sadness evident in the faint dimness settled into the clear emerald of her eyes that Jughead noticed as he turned in his spot on the bench to meet her gaze. 

“I like it like this,” he told her, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he continued to watch the light blinking in front of him. “It reminds me of watching the fireflies in my backyard on summer nights when I was a kid. I was always so fascinated by the way they blinked in and out of color so effortlessly. I remember thinking that I had never seen anything so beautiful and elegant before and I was so mesmerized that it would take my mom hours to get me inside. I could’ve stayed out there for hours if she had let me. Anyway, that’s how I feel when I watch this traffic light most nights. As crazy as that sounds, that’s what I think of when I look at it.” 

“An elegant traffic light,” Betty nodded slowly, a look of skepticism present on her face as she took the seat next to Jughead. “Okay, I think I’ve officially heard everything now.” 

“Yeah, well I’ve had a lot of nights to think about it,” he muttered, leaning back onto the bench and adjusting his leg on the pavement so that his jean-clad knee was dangerously close to bumping into her bare one.

“It’s so quiet out here,” she whispered after a moment, pulling her cardigan down her wrists so that they covered her hands, the fabric crumpled into a ball in her fists as she fought a cold chill from overtaking her body. 

“So are you,” he noticed, his mind drifting back to the rambling mess of a girl who returned his journal to him earlier that morning and noticing how calm she seemed at this particular moment. “I know I’ve only known you for a day, but even I can tell you’re not yourself right now.” 

Betty turned her face away from Jughead so that he wasn’t able to notice the tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. She let them drift close for a moment as she attempted to stop the drop of liquid from rolling down her cheek.

“I think I really hurt someone tonight,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper as she took in a ragged breath. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make it right.” 

He wanted to reach out and wipe the tear that he knew had escaped her swiping, cardigan-clad fingers, but knew that was impossible. Instead he turned his gaze back to the yellow glow of light reflecting off the puddle of water on the street in front of him and tried to keep his distance. 

“Well I can’t speak for Betty Cooper, sad and beautiful girl resting on a bench on the corner of Third and Crescent, but the girl from the journal?” Jughead turned his head slightly to meet her tear-filled eyes with a reassuring smile. “She wouldn’t do anything unless she felt it was right in her heart. Her heart is my favorite thing about her. And it has rarely ever failed her.” 

“I’m starting to think that we were both wrong about that,” she admitted quietly. “Maybe I’m not her after all. I don’t think I could ever live up to the words you’ve written about this girl. This fictional girl. She’s so strong and brave and inspiring. I’m slowly realizing that I’m not any of those things. And maybe I don’t deserve to be.” 

“That proves to me you haven’t read it yet,” he said confidently, his gaze flicking down to her now-folded hands resting comfortably on her lap. “Because if you had read it, you wouldn’t be saying any of this right now.”

Both were quiet a moment as they let Jughead’s words sink in, Betty’s lips quirking into an amused smile as a thought crossed her mind and realization took over her expression. 

“You called me beautiful,” she beamed, turning to narrow her eyes at him and smiling even wider as she watched him squirm uncomfortably on the wooden paneling beneath them .

“I did no such thing.” 

“You did,” she countered, a look of smug accomplishment making its way onto her face as she sat up straight to cross one leg over the other. “Just now, you said ‘Betty Cooper, sad and beautiful girl sitting on a bench.’ 

“I think you’re hearing things.” 

“Yeah well it wouldn’t be the first time,” she muttered, warranting a confused glance from Jughead as he met her gaze with furrowed brows and curious eyes. “Don’t ask.”

“Wasn’t going to,” he told her, a faint smile resting on his lips as he turned to stare amusedly at the soft features of her profile, the angle of her chin and the way the right side of her mouth quirked up and left the other side to rest still and slightly lopsided in the most beautiful way possible causing his breath to catch slightly in his throat. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Jughead turned his gaze back to the puddle, biting his bottom lip as he attempted to stop the ever-growing smile that was still creeping onto his face.

“No, seriously, do I have something on my face?” she asked, her hands flying up to frantically swat at her cheeks in her attempt to remove any unwanted critters from finding refuge on her skin. “Is it a bug? Please tell me it’s not one of those mothy looking creatures with the big wings and the antennas that look like they could poke your eye out if-”

“It’s not that,” he assured her quickly. “Do you have the journal with you?” 

“Yeah, it’s right here,” she nodded, pulling the leather-bound book from her purse and setting it delicately on her lap. “Why?”

“Flip to page 34,” he instructed without answering her question, standing from the bench quickly and taking a step down the sidewalk away from the bench and the traffic light and the girl with the journal resting comfortably in the palms of her hands. “Read that passage and then try to tell me that I wasn’t writing about you.” 

Betty frantically flipped through the inked-soaked pages to find the passage Jughead was referring to, her eyes scanning over his words and absorbing every verb and syllable like they were a precious treasure meant to be treated delicately. 

She had a habit of tugging the sleeves of her sweaters over her fingers, balling the fabric into her fists as if she were trying to hide her hands from the rest of the world. Like they had a secret that the world wasn’t ready to hear, and the pastel pink cotton was her way of concealing it before anyone could figure out what it was. It drove her mother insane. The fabric never quite settled back into all the right positions again, and for someone who craved order the way a moth craved the yellow glow of a streetlamp, it drove her up the wall. And part of her -  the twisted, dangerous side that only a rare few had the pleasure of witnessing - found a sense of joy in this that scared her in more ways than one. 

“Wait,” Betty slammed the journal shut, springing from the bench and sprinting around the corner to catch up with Jughead. “What’s happening? I mean the journal, you and me? This is crazy right?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugged, turning on his heel to take a few steps closer to Betty, the blinking yellow glow of the traffic light bouncing off the windows of the buildings surrounding them. “But I’ve learned to understand that sometimes the craziest things in our lives turn out to be some of the best gifts to ever be given to us. I believe that. Do you?” 

“I’m starting to,” she breathed, her heart pounding so fast that she thought it might jump right our of her chest. 

“Goodnight, Betty,” Jughead smiled faintly to himself as he backed away from her and began heading back down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. 

“Jughead!” 

Betty pounded down the sidewalk again, pulling on his shoulder so that he spun around to face her. The movement - frantic and unbalanced - caused Betty to trip on a cracked piece of pavement, lurching forward and nearly faceplanting onto the asphalt laid out before them. Jughead reached out to catch her at the exact right moment, one hand clamped firmly around her waist and the other grazing the smooth skin of her palm before she lifted it to rest on his cheek. 

Betty held her breath as her fingers connected with his skin. There was that spark again. A surge of something so much stronger than electricity that neither of them could explain. Betty’s fingers tingled against the cool skin of Jughead’s cheek, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was exactly where her hands were meant to be at this very moment. This was exactly where she was supposed to be at this moment. And even though she had told Archie she needed to be alone, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this meeting wasn’t a random coincidence brought on by chance and a little bit of luck. This was fate. And the journal was how it all came together. 

“What now?” Betty breathed, her face so close to his that she could see every mole and freckle on his smooth skin that the dim moonlight allowed her to see. “What happens next to the girl in the journal?”

“I guess you’ll just have to read it to find out,” Jughead told her for the second time that night, removing himself from their embrace and smirking to himself as he glanced from the journal that she was clutching in one hand, to the stunned look resting on her o-shaped mouth and wide green eyes, and back to the traffic light. 

Betty watched as he made his way down the sidewalk, her shoulders hunching slightly in defeat as she stumbled back to the bench and flipped open to the first entry in the journal. She had found the solitude that she had been craving a few hours before. But she couldn’t help but feel an absence next to her where Jughead had just been, causing her heart to flutter in her chest as she began to read his words, her gaze never once leaving the pages in front of her until the sun nudged its way over the tall buildings of downtown Riverdale and the traffic light blinked green again.  

[hockyeah]

Mind Candy (4)

Chapter: 4/?

Ship: Marliza

Summary:  Of all the things Maria wasn’t doing, bribing her misbehaving child with candy just to talk to her incredibly attractive teacher was very high on that list. Definitely.

Word Count: 2556

Warnings:  Mild language

_____________

Susie was babbling the entire way home, ecstatic at having seen one of her favorite people, someone she didn’t believe existed outside of the school. Maria kept her eyes on the road for the most part, but her gaze wandered to the wires connected to the stoplights, and lingered on the two birds sat on top, surveying the street with watchful and beady eyes. Maria smiled, remembering the birds Susie had drawn on the back of her menu. The ones that she had compared to the three of them. Maria was overthinking, analyzing the color choices. She was red, and Eliza was blue, and Susie was the purple. Maria knew it was irrational, but she hoped beyond hope that is was a sign from the universe, telling her that, yes, she might have a chance.

“Mommy, can I have my lollipop now? I ate my dinner.” Susie retreated from her long and constant monologue to ask a direct question. Maria looked back at her through the rear-view mirror before quickly reaching inside her purse and grabbing the lollipop by it’s stick. Keeping a watchful eye on the road, she handed the lollipop back to Susie, who grabbed it with an earnest hand. Not more than several minutes later, she pulled into their apartment parking lot. She carefully stepped out, stretching as Susie exited behind her. Susie yawned with the lollipop still in her mouth, her tongue stained in a rainbow of food coloring.

Maria had to stifle a yawn, the events of the day finally sinking in and taking effect on her mind and body. She led the girl inside, unlocking the door and hanging her bag on the hat rack. Susie followed with her bookbag, walking over to the living room and falling on the couch with an exhausted exhale. Maria laughed at the overdramatic girl and sat beside her on the couch. Susie snuggled up next to her, laying her head in Maria’s lap and opening her deep brown eyes. She batted them lazily as Maria ran a hand through her short curls. She was on the brink of sleep, her nearly finished lollipop hanging lazily out of the side of her mouth, and as the two lay in silence for long while, Maria allowed her thoughts to wander.

Her half-asleep daughter had picked up on the rewards. That was perturbing enough, Maria’s childish as well as hopeless crush on her teacher had been inadvertently found out by Susie. The crush was another thing that Maria couldn’t shake from her life, and it was beginning to unhealthily consume her to the point of restless daydreams that she chased after in her working hours. This was, as a whole, unacceptable. She was an adult, with a young child at that. Longing for an unrealistic romance so much that it impeded her daily functions was not very adult-like.

When she looked down again, Susie was sound asleep in her lap, the lollipop lying on the living room rug. Maria smiled at the sleeping child before carefully scooping her up into her arms and carting her down the hall, laying her in her bed and pulling up the covers, leaving a soft kiss on her forehead. She was still dressed, and her teeth weren’t brushed, but Maria figured that one night  of letting it slide wouldn’t hurt, and exited the room with a quiet goodnight.

Maria too was exhausted, and decided to end her day with a peaceful bath, as her earlier lateness had prevented the occurrence of one. She drew the water for the tub and slowly undressed, unbuttoning her maroon dress shirt, letting it slide gracefully onto the ground, finally prying off her black heels and sliding off her slacks. She removed her makeup and slowly took her hair out of it’s messy braid. It fell down her back in curl upon curl, the frizzy flyaways that were the bane of her daily style finally freed. She yawned again before stepping into the warm bathwater, steamy coils of vapor floating gracefully through the air.

Sinking into the comfortable heat, Maria craned her head back and let her hair trail into the water. She didn’t get to do this often, just sit in the bath and relax, for Susie would often interrupt her moments of peace. She took the time to think about her work, her daughter, and, unsurprisingly, Eliza.

She thought of Hamilton at work, disheveled as usual and trying to summon a conversation out of her. It was not unusual for this to happen, for anytime that Hamilton could drag a discussion back to himself, more likely than not to brag. He was an odd man, always working, always talking. She had heard rumors that he was ruthless in debates, and she wished that she never fell victim to picking a fight with Alexander Hamilton.

But, enough about Hamilton’s asshole tendencies, what was she grateful for? Her boss, Mr. Washington, for being fairly lenient when it came to her child. The man had no children as far as Maria knew, but he was married. She was grateful that her job paid well enough to support herself. Albeit, she wasn’t very high ranking within the company, but she was certainly useful and needed. She was grateful for all of that, but most importantly, she was grateful for Susie. She loved her, loved who she was, who she was becoming. Maria reached for her shampoo, uncapping it and drizzling the cool soap into her hand, running her fingers through her hair, she massaged her scalp, letting the soap trail down her back.

Susie was smart, there was no denying that. She had figured out Maria’s involuntary reward system, connected the dots between the lollipops and Eliza. Maria felt like a giddy schoolgirl, constantly fawning over the other woman. Hell, she didn’t even know if Eliza was gay, or if she was even interested or single. She had to be, in some way. This couldn’t all be platonic. If it was, Maria wouldn’t know how to handle herself. She was young, certainly, but many mistakes as a teenager had led her to have very little experience in a love life. She finished rinsing the shampoo out of her hair and added conditioner, once again running her hands through her slicked hair.

Alas, her life would have to continue on in the same pattern, for she had a child and a steady job. She couldn’t just leave for some wild adventure. Nor could Eliza, she reasoned, for working as an elementary school teacher left little time off. Maria wanted to spend time with her again, was still  glowing from their last encounter. She finished washing her hair and stepped out of the tub, draining the water as she grabbed a soft towel.

Her hair hung damply around her shoulders as she ran a careful brush through it. The bath hadn’t been that well planned, she pondered, concluding that she would have to stay up until her hair dried to avoid waking with worse tangles than usual. She supposed she could work, but even that didn’t sound too appealing. Perhaps she could read? Although, she didn’t have a book in the house for herself, they were all for Susie. And, as much as Susie loved Dr. Seuss, Maria didn’t think she would enjoy it in the same way her daughter did.

She entered her room, shifting through her dresser before pulling out a soft blue nightgown in a color that reminded her of Eliza. She pulled it on before using her towel to pull her hair up into a wrap, securing it until it was dry. She sat on the edge of her bed, pulling her phone off it’s charger to check her email. She refreshed the app, discarding a flyer advertising a 50% off sale, and saw, much to her relief, that her job had sent her no pressing news.

Although a work may seem laborious, Maria was seriously wondering what else she could do. Despite how exhausting her day had been, she was still filled with leftover adrenaline from the meetings with Eliza. Even though she had spoken within her twice today, Maria was still craving her presence. Mindlessly scrolling through her phone, her finger stopped suddenly.

Could she text Eliza? Could she even guarantee she would respond? Maria didn’t think it was too late, but Eliza was a kindergarten teacher. What if she didn’t want to be spoken to at all? Maria chided herself for overthinking, but yet, she still couldn’t bring herself to touch her contact name.

Finally mustering up enough courage, she tapped on Eliza’s name and slowly and hesitantly typed a message.

To: Eliza

“Dinner was fun”

Maria let out a long breath as soon as she sent the message. She was oddly nervous, reaching for validation through her phone, hoping with all her heart that Eliza would respond. A minute passed, then another. And another. Maria’s heart falls, and she sets her phone by the side of the bed. She stood, walking over to the desk where her laptop was slung in it’s case. She sighed dejected and unzipped the case, pulling her laptop out of it and setting it gently on her desk. Opening the lid and powering the computer on, she leaned back in her chair, pondering on what to do.

She could begin another project, try and outdo Hamilton, just for once. She smiled to herself at that thought, outdoing the man would take months, if not years. However, she didn’t see anything better to do, opening a word document and resting her fingers on the keys. Suddenly, her phone buzzed on her nightstand. Maria lept up from her chair, her heart racing. She grabbed her phone excitedly, before sitting down and unlocking the device. She blushed after realizing what she had just done, spastically reacted to something that wasn’t even guaranteed, a notification that could be from anything. She looked down at the screen, taking in the two words that had been the reply.

From: Eliza

“It was :)”

Maria found herself smiling, giddy at the response, even if it was easily interpreted as being friendly. Maria’s fingers hovered above the keypad, wondering how to continue the conversation. Her phone buzzed again, and she read the text, grateful she didn’t have to think of something to say in that moment.

From: Eliza

“Susie was astounded that I was there, it was super cute.”

Maria smiled and typed a response.

To: Eliza

“Yeah, she was talking the entire way home. I can’t believe she thought you lived at the school.”

Maria hit send, elated. Eliza was talking to her. It was so odd, she would never have dreamed this to happen, for her to be texting Eliza after quietly admiring her for months.

From: Eliza

“I’ve heard weirder, to be honest.”

Maria wasn’t surprised, being a teacher certainly had the perk of having baskets of stories about children thinking in only a way that they could.

To Eliza:

“Like what?”

She was genuinely curious, having only heard stories from Susie, who wasn’t always the best at following a narrative.

From: Eliza

“It’s too long of a story to explain via text.”

What she said next made Maria’s heart skip a beat.

From: Eliza

“Call me.”

Maria nervously reread the words again and again. Looking for some other meaning, just to be sure that was exactly what she had said. When her double-checking proved useless, she dialed Eliza’s number slowly. Her finger hovered tentatively over the call button before touching the phone icon, regretting the movement immediately. She pulled the phone up to her ear, praying that Eliza wouldn’t pick up.

“Hello?” a light voice sounded through the phone speaker. The phone had barely rung once before Eliza had picked up.

“Eliza?” Maria asked, shifting her hand position on the phone to guarantee maximum comfort in case the call lasted longer than planned.

“Yes, Maria.” Eliza laughed before continuing, “Once I had a student adamantly declare that she wasn’t going to do her work because, and I quote “You do know that I didn’t sign up for this. My dad did it.” Maria burst out laughing, quickly lowering her volume when she remember the sleeping child in the other room.

“Susie’s asleep in the other room, I have to keep quiet, but my god.” Maria stifled another giggle. She heard Eliza laughing on the other end of the call, and her eyes widened at the sound. She loved hearing Eliza laugh, she wanted to tape it to play it again and again and again.

“What are you doing right now? I didn’t think elementary school teachers stayed up this late.” Maria teased, glancing at the clock. It was about 10:30, not unreasonably late yet.

“I’m grading papers, actually.” Eliza spoke, and Maria heard the muffled shuffling of papers through the phone. Maria had to wonder how difficult they were, as kindergarten didn’t exactly scream advanced work.

“Once, we were discussing geography in the United States, and Susie raised her hand and told me that the only three states were solid, liquid, and gas.” Eliza told the story excitedly, and Maria let her laughter loose again, having never heard this about her child. “Yes,” Eliza continued, “Susie is quite the scientist, especially when we’re talking about anything other than science.”

Maria smiled into the phone, knowing that Eliza couldn’t see her, but she felt that her smile still radiated through the device. She launched into another story about Susie, and how she once managed to find a bird that had fallen out of its nest at the park and spent all of her time trying to build it a house. She was so involved that she missed the scampering of little feet behind her.

“Mommy? What are you doing?” Maria whipped around around to find Susie stood in her doorframe, rubbing her eyes sleepily, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and trailing on the floor behind her.

“One minute-” she said to the phone before looking her daughter in the eye. “I’m on the phone, sweetheart.” Susie’s brow crinkled as she looked her mother up and down.

“Who are you talking to Mommy? You never do that.” She asked. Maria blushed at her observation and hoped her daughter didn’t also realize her very flushed cheeks..

“Can I tell you in the morning, Suz? It’s really late, we should all be going to bed soon.” Maria compromised, hoping that the event would be forgotten by morning. She led Susie back into her room and tucked her in again, leaving a gentle kiss on her forehead before stepping quietly out the door, through the living room, and onto their small screened in porch. She hoped her speech would be muffled, for it was getting quite late and she would hate to have Susie awaken again.

“Eliza?” she spoke into the phone, “You still there?” she asked, waiting patiently for a response. When one didn’t come she thought that Eliza may have hung up, for her conversation with Susie lasted longer than she had wanted it too.

“What? Oh, yes, of course.” Maria heard Eliza’s cheery voice and smiled to herself, grateful that their conversation wasn’t over just yet.

“Now, where did I leave off?” Maria inquired before launching back into her story.

[lxlipetals]

you made me a believer.

TAGGING: Lili, Cole @ole-cole

LOCATION: Los Angeles, CA, Cole’s house.

TIMEFRAME: May 9th, 2017. Late evening.

NOTES: With the house free to themselves, Lili and Cole make the most of their night.

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content.

Lili held Cole's hand firmly in hers as they got out of his car and began to head up the steps to his apartment. She hadn't said much during the car ride back; naturally, at dinner, she had talked about anything and everything, always so eager to hear what Cole had to say about things on her mind but she had wanted to take the time going back home to collect herself. Dylan had vacated the place hours ago, probably resolving to wash every single thing he came across when he came back even if that was exaggerating slightly. She just wanted some alone time with her boyfriend, and to feel free to feel comfortable and not have to hide her affection or enthusiasm for being with him. They had at least a few nights together and Lili planned on making the most of them. This was the moment where she figured out what she was comfortable with, and where she was at on a level of intimacy. How much did she trust Cole? How much did she trust /herself/? They were heading up to Vancouver before they knew it and Lili wouldn't have the safety net of a roommate to fall back on if she ever grew scared of her growing feelings for the boy currently fumbling around in his jean pockets for his key. She knew there was no race to figure out everything tonight but..she wanted a head start. Reaching her hand out to place over his, Lili connected her green eyes with his blue ones and slowly maneuvered herself so that she was pressed up against the front door - just like he had wanted. With her hair in a high ponytail and a short, dark blue dress that stopped right at her thighs, Lili had dressed to kill tonight. Her back was covered by thin lace only and it was clear that she wasn't wearing any undergarments. She wanted this night to be memorable in more ways than one. She leaned her head back lightly against the door and with one hand resting on the knob, Lili bit her lip and stared at Cole. Heat pooled low in her belly at the way he was staring at her and even with her heart pumping in her chest at how much control she was about to let him have, Lili knew this was exactly what she wanted (and needed) from him. "We skipped dessert," she whispered to him and tugged him a little closer to her.

Cole: They had been out to a really nice dinner, taking the idea of date night to it's full course something they had not done quite enough over their courtship so far. They had enjoyed the ambience of the restaurant Cole had chosen, eaten more than either of them probably should have, something they both had too frequent a tendency to do. The small tapas potion not a match for the fact that the two of them managed to order almost the whole menu between them to then share through the course of the meal. He knew things where playing on her mind as much as his through out their dinner, the thought of coming home to an empty house where the thought of restraining himself till he was at least partially out of ear shot of his brothers room before ravishing her, and removing the stupid skimpy dress that had been driving him wild all night, every time they had stopped at a stoplight his eye line had dropped to where the light material was lifting further up her creamy thigh, the strength he had to show not to stop the car in a dark alley and have his way with here in the back of the jeep was substantial. The thought of now being able to be with her as openly as he wanted in his own home for the first time since they had taken the leap together completely was more than appealing, memories of the night they had shared together before Mexico at his place flooding into his mind, along with the image of her in his red checker shirt that night the three of them had got high, the way it had skimmed her butt cheeks just barely as it gave him a glimpse of the tiny boy short beneath. As the made their way to the front door his fingers moving with purpose in his pocket in search for the little metal bundle, with them finally grasped in his hand his eyes followed her as she pressed herself against the door in a way that made his mouth go dry. He pressed the hand with the keys in them against the door far above her head his other hand resting on her thigh where the fabric of her dress met skin as he caged her against the door. "I thought you didn't want me to be sweet" He breathed out next to her ear, voiced deep laced with want and teasing as he towered over her hand starting to slip under her skirt further up her thigh, the fact they were still currently outside his house escaping his care for moment.

Lili followed the motion of his arm extending gracefully over her before she settled her gaze on his face. The feeling of him trapping her in, like a predator cornered his prey made her heartbeat quicken and her legs involuntarily clench together. She could feel heat flooding her cheeks and Lili's breath hitched as he started to slide his hand up the bare expanse of her thigh. "I don't," she continued in the same whisper but the words ended slightly choked as her throat had suddenly grown dry. She swallowed. "I'm just letting you know /I'm/ a good option for something sweet to taste tonight." Her tongue swept over her upper lip after she said this and like as if she were giving him a visual clue of just exactly she had meant, her legs parted the barest inch for him to move his wandering hand closer and closer to - A noise, the rattling of a trash bin being taken out broke Lili out of her lust-filled cloud and she quickly straightened up, her head ducking down shyly so she didn't have to look at his neighbor. She was all for experimentation tonight but public exhibitionism? Maybe a little too much to try tonight. Sliding her hands underneath the collar of his leather jacket, Lili gave Cole an affectionate smile. "Maybe we should actually get inside. I lost myself for a minute. You just look - /really/ hot tonight." Her voice grew softer as she finished her sentence, taking in his appearance and her grip tightening slightly. "Inside. Now."

Cole: He raised an eyebrow at her words reveling in the way he was effecting her leaning forward to take the lob of her ear between his teeth gently before his lips brushed along her jaw as he spoke. "Oh I intend to find out exactly how sweet you taste tonight." He grinned as his hand moved further up her thigh towards the welcoming heat at the apex, noticing just as the sound of his neighbour brought her to that there was no barrier to stop him from having gone further with in venture. A perdetory smirk played on his lips as he took her in not moving from her in the slightest keeping her exactly where she was for a moment longer almost out of curiosity how long she would before pushing him away. The drive way was entirely secluded even with the noise of his neighbour there no way of them being seen other then perhaps some of the nearby windows if they were at the right angle. He finally removed his hand from beneath the skirt of her dress. "Could have been fun." He a little against her thigh accenting his words making his now painful arousal that had been building since they had got in the car after the restaurant clear to her. "The cold air might have heightened the arousal for you" he grinned as he wrapped his arm that hand been toying with her thigh round her waist holding her against him as he finally unlocked the door. Maneuvering them inside before slamming the door shut and locking it with her now caged between him and the other side of the door. "Got something about a leather jacket darling" he asked as he moved his hand slowly between her thighs again. Dropping the keys to the floor by the door.

Lili noticed that Cole had yet to distance himself from her and sneaking another nervous peek over at what she could see of his neighbor's driveway, she shook her head slightly. "Maybe another time." She wouldn't lie and say there wasn't a part of her that didn't feel excited over the thought of performing something so taboo but it /was/ cold out and her nerves were on high alert enough. Unable to hide her chuckle, Lili regarded with amusement that he /still/ didn't want to let her go even as he twisted his key into his lock and moved them inside. A rush of warmth settled over her as they stepped out of the low temperature outside and then she was pressed up against his door again. "Mhm," she nodded wordlessly, her green eyes slightly wide as she reveled in his predatory gaze. Her entire body felt like it was already on fire and he had barely started. She registered the sound of the keys dropping onto the floor and she let out an involuntary moan at what she knew was about to come, and the feeling of his fingers just barely grazing her clit. He was going to toy with her tonight. Lili was merely Cole's play thing right now, and it was the most aroused she had ever felt. "No panties," was all she could manage to whisper and her nose brushed against his as she kissed his lips lightly. "Just for you."

Cole: His hand pressing along her collar bone as he ground against her pressed her body entirely to the door between his, he pressed his lips hungrily against her neck as he ducked slightly moved his hands to her thighs hoisting her up swiftly readjusting the way his body was pressing her to the wood of the door, her dress bunching up as he did. one arm staying under her arse as as his other hand pushed her dress up over her hips thrusting forwards slightly to keep her secure as he used both hands to move it completely from her body discarding the tiny expanse of material on the floor as it left her completely nude against his fully clothed body hands roaming over her as he bit and sucked along her neck one hand gripping the back of her neck now. He made his way back to her lips for a moment, trapping her lip between his teeth roughly for a moment.

Lili whimpered out softly as Cole lifted her up, wrapping her legs securely around his waist. His thumb dug roughly into the hollow of her throat and Lili swallowed, feeling the white hot flames licking against her thighs only intensify at how tightly he had her pressed against him. She didn't know if it were possible to come simply from being jerked around but she was definitely struggling to calm the slow fire spreading through her veins. She didn't want this to finish before it only started. There was a slight breeze as he pushed up the thin fabric of her dress and then she let out an audible, /loud/ moan at the feeling of his arousal pressing directly against her throbbing center. She was going to have to skip underwear around him more often. Raising her arms above her head to help him in the removal of her dress, Lili let them fall down so that her fingers could grip at his still covered shoulders tightly. His tongue flickered and nibbled at her neck, the creamy skin would soon be littered with purple and blue bruises and this thought made Lili tighten her grip around his waist. "Cole," she breathed out and wriggled against him, trying to will his hands that were still gripping her waist to dip down just a /little/ lower. When his dark blue eyes connected with hers, Lili swallowed once more and moaned into his kiss. "Fuck, /touch/ me," she whined out lightly. "Please," she added, knowing that if she begged, she might get a more appeasing Cole.

Cole: He grinned to himself at her apparent inpatients his actions clearly having as strong an effect on her as it did for him, smirking he closed the gap between their lips once more the pressure near brushing, he gripped at her hair deepening the kiss as he brushed his hand along her thigh closing in on her wanting heat, but not actually touching her where she needed yet. He moved his hand from her hair to press under her breast rolling her nipple between his fingers just as he finally gave her one light stroke where she needed him before starting to undo his own belt abandoning his touch of her body only holding her against the door cold leather of his jacket pressed against the burning heat of her skin as he finally kicked off his boots, and stepped out of his jeans, his lips never leaving her lips or jaw in his efforts. Shifting out of his boxer he shift her lower against his body pressing against her but not yet moving into her. "You so you want it rough?" He whispering in her ear smirking as he move into her with a hard thrust before stilling as he took her ear lobe between his teeth for a moment. He was teasing her and they both knew it but he could see how much this was effecting her, and the though of seeing how far he could push her with sheer frustration was thrilling him to no end

Lili let out a louder whine as Cole teased her, his fingers not dipping into her wet heat like she wanted him to but rather tweaking her nipple. A pleasant sensation, but it felt like lite action compared to what she really wanted. As Cole leaned back to rid himself of his pants, Lili took this brief second to move her digits shakily through her still tousled hair, her body unable to help its continuous arch towards him. She wanted to move her hands towards his lower appendage, but they were stuck on his shoulders to keep herself upright. Her fingers slid over the cool leather of his jacket, the metal zipper feeling like ice on her heated skin. Her whole body was in flames; she could feel the heat spreading over her cheeks, over her chest, a pretty flush that probably went straight down to her toes. His gentle strokes from their first time seemed like millions of years ago - no matter how much she loved sweet, tender Cole, Lili wasn't sure she could ever pass this dominant version of her boyfriend that she was currently seeing. She was a strong, independent woman just like the next girl but there was something so /hot/ about being used for physical pleasure. At least she got to use Cole right along with him. "I do," she whimpered in response to his question and Lili stared at him with wide, wanton eyes and then cried out loudly as he thrust roughly into her. Her nails dug into his jacket, and she wasn't sure if she wanted him to take off just yet. She wanted to mark him up too but the sight of Cole wearing nothing but his jacket was making her wetter, if that were possible. Lili ground her hips into Cole's in a circular motion, frustrated as he simply smirked at her and stayed still. She could feel him swelling inside of her and the ache was making her emit small noises, desperate with need and coming from the back of her throat. "/Move/," she choked out and beat her fist lightly against his shoulder. "Damn it, Cole!"

Cole: He bite his lip before beaming at her in a probably much too familiar to her by now cocky way as she begged him to move enough with the teasing now he was going to give her exactly what he and she wanted, he knew had a taste of him being somewhat rough with the scene they filmed before any of this started and by god was he ready to show he exactly how heavenly sore he could make her. He gripped her hip with one hand the other noting tightly in her hair as he took her lip his in a bruising kiss as he started strong hard trusts into her, slamming her harder against the door with ever trust of his hips into her. Shifting her head to the side with a tug of her hair his lips found her neck again kiss and nibbling against her sweet spots her had found in their weeks of sweet exploration, using his knowledge of her body to his advantage. He moved his hand from its grip her waist to let his arm fully wrap around her angling her a bit to help make his trust hit deeper inside her.

Lili glared as Cole continued to give her a cheeky little grin. This motion she normally found adorable, but her sexual frustration was at an all time high and Lili opened her mouth to let out a string of expletives that would make probably even /him/ blush when - "Shit," she gasped out right before his lips covered hers. Opening her mouth fully so that his tongue could wrap around her own, Lili whined needily into the French kiss. There was a dull pain going up her spine with each hard thrust Cole executed against her but the pleasure far overtook it right now. She could feel herself clenching tighter and tighter around his cock, a loud moan finally escaping her when he moved his lips to her neck. Careful exploration over the past few weeks had made Cole an expert in which spots made her sigh and keen, and he was using that to his full advantage right now. Her breath was coming out in heavy pants, choked in sound each time he angled his hips to slam back against her. For once, Lili is cursing that her boyfriend is able to make her cum so easily because she doesn't want to let this feeling go. So she fights it, she continues to hold back her orgasm just so she can focus on the feeling of Cole's strong arms holding her up as he pumps into her and hear his own ragged breath from the exertion of his actions. Her nails raked sharply down his back and Lili held onto his shoulders tightly as she feels her control slipping. "I'm gonn-a-un/gh/," Lili cried out loudly at a particularly violent thrust and her mouth dropped open, her teeth sinking into the muscled flesh of his shoulder as she quieted.

Cole: He kept up his trusts as she came around him continuing as the tightening around him pushed him to the edge pushing into her with continual strong trusts for moments after she had fallen apart around him, the feeling of her teeth digging into his shoulder being the last resort to throw groaning and panting of the edge gripping her tighter as his own body weakened as he came into side her with a strong burst, hand gripping tighter into her hair as he let his forehead fall against the wooden door, thankful it was sturdy enough for what had just taken place. "Fuck." He breathed out us he simply held her there against him. "You know there's no one else in the house you can be as loud as you want" he smirked even though she couldn't see as soon as he was able to speak again. Much more aware of the fact he was still wearing his jacket and shirt as the material clung you his slightly sweaty back and cause and unwanted barrier between her chest and his own.

Lili shuddered against Cole as she came down from her high. Every part of her felt as if it were buzzing and white noise could be heard as his temple slumped right across her. She was grateful he was still holding her steady because her body was still shaking. Moaning at the sensation of him coming in her, and the warmth of him, Lili pressed a gentler kiss into his shoulder to soothe the sharp teeth marks she had just embedded there. She could taste salt, and licking her lips at how this only seemed to arouse her once more, Lili exhaled deeply. "Shut up," she breathed out herself with the affectionate smile that always came along each time she uttered that phrase to him. /Maybe shut up will be our always./ She trailed her fingertips over his hip bones and then breathed out once more. She didn't think her heart was ever going to resume normal beating. "That was round one, right," she mumbled and Lili began to drag her fingers up the fabric of his shirt. "There's still other rounds where I'm on my knees and then you're on your knees and then I'm turned around.." When her green eyes finally connected with his, she blinked at him mischievously. "You know there's no one else in the house, we can do /whatever/ we want," she parroted his earlier words back to him playfully and made a move to push his leather jacket off him. He looked sexy in it but she also wanted a chance to shamelessly ogle his bare chest.