#bro what do you mean my comfort media is changing slightly

[thirddagger]

I'm still making my way (making my way) through VM for the first time (ya girl is both busy and savoring it) and like... next episode is when Scanlan leaves and just... I don’t want him to go I will be so sad ... and I don't know Taryon at all and we meet him In The Same Episode ?? Emotionally unprepared for the whiplash

[wonysugar]

close the door | hanni pham

synopsis : you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she.

genre : fluffy smut!

pairing : non-idol!hanni x gf!femreader

tags : they’re in love your honor, lots of kissing and making out, cuddling, l-bombs, top!femreader, bottom!hanni, they’re both virgins, fingering, clit play, nipple play, neck kissing, hanni’s dogs are mentioned twice lawl, lots of comfort, lots of consent! they’re literally just lovey dovey girlfriends having sex for the first time aheheh

warnings : none :]

word count : 2.5k

a/n : if you’re rereading this and thinking “hey the synopsis changed and there wasn’t an author’s note before!!” well you’d be right I POSTED THIS IN A RUSH I’M SO SORRYYFKEJF

anyways!! this is just to say that this fic is inspired by the lovely writer that is sorry for tagging you twice ahh @facefullofsadness’s fic right over here :] sooo GO READ THAT FIRST! it’s truly lovely and i really enjoyed reading it, hence why i wrote thisskfke. thank you for readingg<33

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

you would die for your girlfriend, actually, even if you only started dating barely a few months ago. who could blame you? that’s what happens when you’ve been best friends prior to your relationship for so, so, so long. it simply started with a ‘hi! my name’s hanni! what’s yours?’ from her part at the innocent age of seven and just like that, years later, you guys were still inseparable. 

so really, your life-long friendship and months-long relationship were both with the same gorgeous and outgoing girl, and the only thing distinguishing those two was the label you used to describe them.

“bro i genuinely don’t understand why he doesn’t just… run away. cause— get this, there’s obviously a murderer in his house right? and what does he decide to do about that? just stay in there. like, okay.. like i’m aware they needed plot but lord, i don’t know at least make it somewhat realistic you know what i mean—“ was what your girlfriend said, on her bed as she sat down in between your legs and leaned her back against you, her head facing forward and resting on your shoulder.

you simply nodded along to her words as you played with her hair, trying your hardest to stay focused on the piece of media before you whilst also paying your utmost attention to her, despite her constant ranting and criticizing of the entire movie. you, having originally liked the film, were now conflicted about your opinion on it. it’s not like she was wrong, her very heavy criticism had to have come from somewhere, after all, but you couldn’t help but slightly appreciate the storyline. so, you weren’t really sure what you felt about it anymore.

one thing you were certain of, however, 

was that your girlfriend looked really good while passionately rambling. like, way too good. she had tied her dark hair into a high ponytail, it also looked wavy due to the rain that was pouring on you guys earlier, her messy bangs fell perfectly onto her forehead. and her smile? it always looked perfect. she always looked perfect. 

and since you apparently weren’t hiding your admiration well enough, she very quickly noticed it.

she giggled teasingly. her voice sweet like honey, her australian accent more prominent than usual, she spoke up, “hello?” before full-on laughing, “were you even listening to me?”

you could only kiss her, that seemed like the only appropriate response in the heat of the moment. she, of course, kissed back just as lovingly before pulling away moments after, a curious and confused look on her face. 

“no seriously, what is up with you?” she kept teasing, smiling stupidly as she kept her gaze lingering on yours for the following seconds, her eyes unconsciously drifting to your lips. “you look stupid.”

“and you look really pretty.” was what you whispered back to her, earning a shy smile and an exaggerated eye roll from her. immediately, you made your lips come into contact with hers again. it felt as if the world would stop spinning if you didn’t, like a slowly growing urge to keep touching her suddenly came over you and you needed to fill it.

“so.. so pretty.” you mumbled, so quietly that it was almost to yourself, before going back in. you allowed yourself to make the kiss deeper and slid her tongue across her soft lips as you demanded entrance. you could hear her let out slight noises, she clearly was not expecting you to do anything of the sorts, at least not right now. she was a tad bit confused, but let you in, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to kiss their girlfriend? immediately, your hands wrapped around her waist whilst you continued kissing her lovingly, your tongue roaming every part of her mouth.

it didn’t take long before your hands started naturally reaching under her top, caressing on her tummy and progressively going higher with each sound she let out.

you pulled away, slightly worried of going too far, “c-can.. can i continue, hanni?”

you were scared, terrified, even! despite knowing each other for years, you’d only been dating for a few months; those are two completely different things! it’s not like you see your completely platonic best friend’s naked body every tuesday. even then, despite dating, you still haven’t gotten that stage of the relationship. and on top of that,

the two of you were a proper pair of virgins. you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she. you didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced loser to her, you wanted to take care of her and make her feel good. what if that didn’t happen? what if you made it awkward between the two of you?? it was nerve-racking.

as if barging into your mind and reading your thoughts, wanting to reassure you, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner before nodding. then, she spoke up, “can you close the door?”

“there’s.. nobody home, though?”

she giggled, “oh i know, it’s just that i don’t want the dogs to potentially walk in on this.”

you groaned dramatically, laughing and insisting that you were too lazy to get up and that her dogs wouldn’t understand the situation if they even walked in. she, in response, just tapped your knee with a cheeky smile, encouraging you to stand up.

“come on y/n, close the door. think about milly and mia; think about their innocence!” she exaggerated.

after playfully hitting her arm and laughing along with her, you got up, proceeded to close and lock the door like she asked you to and eventually walked back to her bed, sitting back on it and positioning yourself the way you originally were, her back to you again. 

“happy?” you asked in a fake arrogant tone.

she hummed, radiant, “yes, very happy.” before turning her head just right and kissing you again.

eventually back to the original rhythm of the kiss, you placed your hands back on her stomach again, slowly caressing and teasing higher and higher with time. once you reached her bra, you proceeded to impatiently unhook it, immediately taking it off of her.

her breathing got heavier with each second that passed, partially due to nervousness, probably. you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the case for you too. the more your hands carefully roamed her body, the more self-conscious you got, you truly had no idea what you were doing. 

then, as if something in your mind clicked, you had an idea. what if you just did to her whatever you enjoyed doing to yourself in moments like these? that could work.. right? maybe??

you glided your hand upwards, your finger lightly grazing her nipple. in response to the sudden movement, a lewd sound accidentally escaped from her pretty lips, her breath hitching. that sound was a small moan.

a small one, barely audible, yet it was still enough for you to feel the activation of every single neuron residing in your brain.

then suddenly, it’s like the concept of making love to her wasn’t as nerve-racking as it originally was.

“s-sorry..” she apologized, seeming slightly embarrassed.

you kissed her cheek, reassuring her, “don’t apologize, i wanna hear you.”

despite it being an accident, she seemed to enjoy the sensation of your hand on her chest, so you went back to teasing her tits and gently groping them before you eventually asked, “is it okay if i go further..?”

nodding in a keen manner, she swallowed her saliva, then breathed out her response, “yes. yes keep— keep going. please.”

well shit! even if you wanted to stop, it’s not like you could, not with how good she sounded pleading for you.

not wasting any more time, you proceeded to separate one of your hands from her chest and quickly slid it downwards; to the band of her sweatpants. now, of course, your other hand was still in its original place, working its magic, but you wanted her to feel more. so much more.

you wanted to convey every surge of affection you violently felt for her into pleasure. and, if there was one thing you surely knew how to do, it was kissing her. 

so, you started kissing on her neck, which she didn’t expect whatsoever, and still heavily concentrated on the hand you had on her breast. then, you pulled on the sleeve of her tee just enough to expose her shoulder and moved your mouth towards it, nipping and gently licking it.

your hand now fully slipped into her pants, you teased her entrance through the fabric of her underwear as you kept kissing her naked shoulder. you listened to her attentively and took mental notes of her reactions; so far, her breathing got heavier, her thighs slightly clenched around your hand and she was now frequently biting her lip. 

plus, her panties were wet. 

did all of that mean you were doing good? …perhaps it did!

and did her drenched underwear make you short circuit? perhaps it did as well!

“d-d’you feel okay?” you asked, before going back to slowly kissing her shoulder. she threw you a quick glance, chest heaving up and down. 

“s-so okay.” she giggled.

her smile being contagious, you found yourself doing the exact same thing, content with the answer she gave you.

soon enough, you traced your finger up her clothed slit before eventually sliding it into the undergarment she wore, making her shudder. after what felt like an eternity, you could feel her slick coat your digits from one swipe of the finger. 

it was tantalizing.

growing impatient, you quickly yet carefully settled your middle and ring finger on her swollen clit, making slow circular motions on it, looking at her in the process. full on whimpering, this time, she stared back at you, no longer embarrassed. she wanted to let you know how good you were making her feel, hence why she was getting louder with each movement you made, and it filled you with enough confidence and adrenaline to gently push her head towards you, leaning in for a kiss.

thankfully, she kissed you back, deeply at that, her eyes closed and her quiet moans muffled.

you pulled away after a few moments, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you reminded her. she simply nodded, brain all fuzzy from arousal.

she grabbed your other hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “g-go slowly.” she whispered.

“i will.” you affirmed.

slowly and gently, you slid your fingers into her core, making sure not to go too fast or too rough. thankfully, the wetness was making it easier for you, and probably for her as well. every time that your girlfriend’s breath hitched, that her hand gripped harder on yours or, hell, every time that her eyes closed, you stopped in your tracks and double checked to see if you were hurting her, so it took a little while for your digits to fully penetrate her. 

fortunately, she assured you that you weren’t, in fact, hurting her. some moments just felt more comfortable than others, is all.

once they were fully in, you gave her time to get used to the feeling, still double checking on her state every now and then. after a few deep breaths, she nodded.

“i-i’m ready.”

you started to pump your fingers in and out of her, taking in all of her as your speed slowly increased as time went on. naturally, as more time passed, you felt the urge to make her feel good get even stronger.

that’s when you decided to increase the pace, your fingers curling on just the right spot inside her, pumping faster and faster as your thumb played with her clit.

“is this okay baby—” you asked.

“f-fuck— yes y/n that feels good—“ was what she moaned out, cutting you off. a feeling of bliss progressively and clearly overtaking her whole body.

when you tried to look at her despite only being able to see her side profile, you could’ve sworn you saw an angel. her cheeks were slightly tinted with a pinkish color and her eyebrows were upturned, her whole face contorted with pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat. her eyes hooded with lust, hanni looked down at herself and attentively watched as you played with her. your fingers swimming in her slick, navigating in her folds the way a skilled sailor would the vast ocean, it was hypnotizing, and she realized how this was probably the way you got yourself off on a regular day, and she couldn’t help but moan at both the thought and the sensation. 

you made her feel good, you made her feel happy, loved. you always did.

amidst the chaos that was her messy bed, the setting somehow looked better than every piece of artwork you’d ever seen combined. the bed creaked ever so slightly, and she looked and sounded so beautiful, especially with the way the sun set directly on her parted lips at that moment. 

you were certain that your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“i love you so much, hanni.” you softly said, kissing the back of her ear whilst you kept fingering her. she couldn’t form proper words, so she simply tightened her grip on your hand more, as a way to say it back.

then, once you picked up a stable pace for a few minutes, her back arched against you, her breathing getting heavier, practically panting. her hand’s grip on yours getting tighter, you felt her hot breath hit your neck once she settled her head into the crook of it.

“y/n— baby i think i’m- i’m— mmh—“

that was the moment she reached climax, letting out a long and loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, bucking her hips against your hand before smashing her lips onto yours. quietly, she let a few i love yous slip out of her mouth between kisses, her hand resting on your head, fingers intertwined with your soft hair. 

you particularly made sure to say it back to her every time.

you pulled out your fingers and took your hand out of her pants. still coming down from her high, she smiled at you with tired eyes and kissed your cheek. you smiled back, looking at her lovingly.

“d-did i do okay?” 

she giggled, “..are you seriously asking me that? do you not see me right now?” 

you raised your eyebrows, playful, “for all i know you were faking it.”

“yeah, actually.. i was faking it, especially with how wet i was from the whole thing. aren’t i such a good actor y/n? it’s almost like i legitimately came really hard—”

“shut up.” you elbowed her, laughing. she gave you a cheeky smile before she got up from the bed, grabbed a pair of new underwear from her drawer and opened the bedroom door, heading straight towards the living room to pet her dogs after changing. 

“hey y/n?”

“hm?”

“…wanna bake brownies in a bit?” 

“uhm.. yes? what kind of question is that?? let me just go wash my hands first.” you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom before adding on, “unless you wanna eat very unsanitary cum-buttered brownies, of course—“

you heard her contagious laugh from across the hallway, making you smile to yourself, “you’re fucking disgusting— go wash your hands, you weirdo!”

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

Title: Strawberry Pillow Snuggle - Riya & Spot

Hello, my secret friends. I'm sorry for the long delay. My family and I had much stuff has been going on in our house, plus I have to tackle some of my emotions and venting depression for the past few weeks. Now, I'm slightly slow to recovery and I must stay away from the dark sides of the social toxicity. And when we hit December, I must remain positive during the spirit of holidays before the new year starts. So, in the mean time, why not I draw something snuggle to make myself a little bit better? 😌

• So, if you remember my 2018's Halloween artwork [CLICK ME!], then you know that this is my first time drawing my OC dressing as an adorable Cookie Run character albeit Spot dressing in. But, I will draw Riya, too in the 1st day of December.😉

• Anyways, here are the twins trying out wearing "Strawberry Cookie"'s comfy hoodie(s) 🍓👕combined with "Fabric Conditioner with Expand Formula" 🌸🧴 to make an extra comfort. And if that wasn't enough, their extra hoodie will be stuffed by numerous oversized pillows to make a huge comfy snuggly clothing mattress. 🥰🤗

IMPORTANT NOTE: The "Cookie Run" 🍪🏃 series had become a HUGE popularity in media thanks to ravenous fans, multiple installments on the mobile app, and of course merchandising. So much so for the latter, that Strawberry Cookie 🍓🍪 [CLICK ME!] decided to sell one of her signature hoodies, backpacks, and other merchandises to make an extra profit. And the twins we're happily oblige by ordering numerous hoodies of Strawberry Cookie.

Riya 🐰🏎️ [wearing her owned Strawberry Cookie hoodie]: Yeah, I could never resist on the strawberry scent from that comfy hoodie mixed with the strong fabric conditioner. I could wear this, whatever I want. Do you, twin bro? 🍓🌸👕🥰🤗

Spot 🐶🏎️ [wearing his owned Strawberry Cookie hoodie]: Absolutely, you're looking good, though. As much as I am. And I agree, this combination scent was powerful enough to snuggle our baggy size hoodie and oversized hoodie pillow! *Snuggling tightly* Mmmm... We just love it, so much! 🍓🌸👕🥰🤗

Well, that's all for now. 😊 (I'll try to make more before 2024.)

The Speedster Twins (Spot and Riya) - created by ME! (Spot and Riya's owned) Strawberry Cookie hoodie - Cookie Run series © Devsisters

[bungeenomin]

THE PLAYERS GAME- XIAOJUN X Y/N SOCIAL MEDIA AU {23}

“I’m bored and hungry” Dejun complains, bending slightly and laying his head on your shoulder. 

You roll your eyes, raising your shoulder causing his head to bounce.“What do you want me to do smelly?” you giggle, “tell them to skip everyone ahead of us and make your coffee now because you’re feeling precious?”

“Sounds good to me” he replied as he scrolls through his phone, his head still resting on your shoulder. 

“What’s made you so clingy today?” you giggle, rubbing your hand up and down his arm softly. 

“M’tired” Dejun replies, keeping his eyes on his phone screen. 

“How come? You told me you slept really well last night”, it was now your turn to wear a pout. 

“I may have told a white lie” Dejun smiles softly, looking up at you. 

“Dejun” you sigh, “you could have just told me you didn’t sleep well silly. What was up last night?”

Dejun turns his gaze to the counter, picking up the two coffee’s that were finally placed in front of you. “I just couldn’t sleep” Dejun shrugged as he handed you your coffee, beginning to walk outside. “I was thinking a lot”

“About what?” you question, sipping your coffee as you look up at Dejun. 

“About secret stuff” he teases, sticking his tongue out at you.

“Ugh you’re so annoying” you whine, shoving Dejun playfully. “I can’t stand you sometimes” 

“Mmh sure” Dejun replies, “you love me really” 

A small blush creeps on your face. You know he means it platonically, but it feels, weird. “You wish” you giggle. 

“Lets sit here” Dejun smiles, sitting down on a patch of grass beside the lake that flows through the university. You plop down beside him both of you staring at the lake. You sit in silence for a few minutes, not an awkward silence though, a comfortable one. 

Dejun speaks up, “Psychology was so boring today, it was so damn hard to stay awake”

You take a small sip from your coffee, “Well it’s not like you were paying attention anyway, you were just staring”

“Mmh” he responds, “your face was more interesting than the professor. I would have fallen asleep for sure listening to him, but you kept me awake”

Dejun’s eyes move from the river to your face, his eyes meeting your crimson cheeks. 

“I can’t believe we’re already a month into the project” you say, changing the subject. 

“Yeah, half way already. It’s going so fast” he replies, his eyes retreating back to the river. 

“I know, and i can semi tolerate you now” you tease, staring at Dejun while giggling. 

“I guess i can put up with you” he responds, dramatically rolling his eyes. “I really didn’t think this project would change my opinion on you even in the slightest” 

“Ooh it’s changed, what do you think of me now” you question, your head tilting slightly sideways, causing an automatic smile to form on Dejun’s face. ‘Cute’ he thinks.  

What he wants to say is that you’re not all that bad. That he enjoys your company. The he finds you funny. That you’re easy to be around. That once this project is over, he wants to still be friends. But saying all that wouldn’t be very Dejun of him. 

“You’ll just have to wait and see my project” he smiles teasingly, standing up from the grass. “Let’s go, i wanna grab a hoodie before next period it’s kinda cold. Come on, i’ll walk you to your next class after”. 

You stand up, brushing off your jeans, “You’re a pain, ass clown” 

“What ever you say smelly” he responds, the smile on his face failing to diminish. 

The walk to Dejun’s dorm is fast, conversation carrying you the entire way there. “I’ll literally be like two minutes” Dejun says, turning the key in the door. “What the fuck goes on?”

“What?” you question, sticking your head inside the door and almost having to do a double take with what you see. You see Johnny and Ten, cuddling on the couch, something you already knew about. What surprises you is seeing Hendery, and who you recognise as Xuxi, Dejun’s friend sitting on the couch, Hendery sitting comfortably on Xuxi’s lap, his head buried into the crook of Xuxi’s neck. 

“Wow y/n, how are things?” Hendery sheepishly says to your shocked figure standing in the doorway, Dejun just as baffled as you are.  

“Aha, bro, fancy seeing you here” Xuxi blushes, looking at Dejun. 

“Xuxi i fucking live here”

——————————————————————————

let me know what you think!

main masterlist | previous | next

socialmedia!au xiaojun!au wayv!au nct!au

pairing: xiaojun X y/n

genre: college!au , fluff , angst

warnings: smut, oral, sex

summary: Hockey player!Xiaojun is the biggest player in UCS, both on and off the ice. He has a different girl practically every time you see him. But when y/n has to learn all about the player for a psychology project, will she just be another girl that’s dragged into his game?

taglist: @xiaojunsmintchocci @whoe-dis @yancupidxhyunjin @hyucksgaze @ngayongabi @kswblueprint @kylomeyon @neocluefor @amymoonl @ta3ilmoon @thatonekpopsweater @captainasianllama

ask to be added!

[cinnaminsvga]

🌸 social media au where y/n posts a fake boyfriend application on twitter as a dare but ends up seeking something real in the long run (aka how to fall in love the zillennial way) 🌸

A/N: I know I said this update wouldn’t be written, but I decided to fix the little drabble I already had written and... It’s not as bad as I thought and now I’m moderately happy with it. Anyway... We’re entering angst city babey so please put on your seatbelts because we are SOARING! || W.C. 1.8K

prev // part 18 of ? // next masterlist here.

[updates every 6PM PST]

After sending his last text to you, Namjoon is only slightly surprised when he sees your caller ID flashing on his phone screen. When he looks at the time, he notices that it had taken you less than a minute for you to call him, no doubt ready to scream your head off at his outrageous suggestion. Admittedly, he knows that his idea might be a little outside of your comfort zone, but he believes you can do it. If his people reading skills are even remotely average, then he’s sure that it’ll work if you just—

“KIM NAMJOON! HOW IN THE WORLD DID YOU COME UP WITH THAT CONCLUSION?” Your voice is loud enough to burst an eardrum, but luckily, Namjoon had already expected your volume and had held his phone an arm away. In his nine-ish days of knowing you, he’s somewhat accustomed to your theatrics, though you’re still no match for Hoseok’s excited shrieks.

“Hello Y/N,” Namjoon hums, sitting up groggily from his bed. It’s a bit too early to go to sleep, but he supposes that your panicked screams are going to keep him up a little bit longer. “I feel as though you’re overreacting a little.”

“A little?” You scoff loudly, and Namjoon can imagine you pacing circles in your room. You did always seem a little fidgety when you two went out together. “Namjoon, you can’t just expect me to go on a date with Jungkook—“

“Why not? You guys go out all the time, don’t you?” Namjoon points out, smiling slightly at your exasperated huffs.

“Well, that’s different! Those were platonic hangouts! Just bros being bros!”

“Then change the context a little bit. You don’t have to ask him to be your boyfriend just to go on a date.”

“Namjoon, I know you’re a smart man but I don’t think your math skills are all that great,” you say brusquely. “That doesn’t add up! If I ask him on a date, then he’ll know I’m into him and—“

“And that’s a bad thing?” Namjoon interrupts, raising a brow. “Y/N, we both know you’re being a little unreasonable right now.”

You splutter for a moment, but you find that you’re unable to retort. Namjoon smirks, continuing, “Y/N, I know you’re worried that Jungkook might get swept away now that he’s quote-unquote ‘single.’ I get it. But if you’re not going do anything about it and suffer in silence, then he’s definitely going to leave. Besides, I already told you that he probably likes you back, judging from how jealous he got. You could probably even ask your friends and they’d tell you the same.”

You snort. “God, I’d rather die than talk about… love stuff with those freaks I call friends,” you cough out a laugh, muffling the sound before it can continue. Namjoon knows you’re a bit conscious of your “unflattering” snorts, but he just finds them cute. A lot of the things you don’t like about yourself are cute in Namjoon’s eyes. “I can’t even imagine going to any of them about this… They’d just bully me and make me do something I don’t want to do!”

“Isn’t that basically what I’m doing right now?” Namjoon laughs, giggling even harder when he hears your tired groan.

“Yeah, but you’re nice. Unlike those meanies,” you say. Namjoon hates to admit it, but he does appreciate being special to you, even if it’s over something trivial like this.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do,” Namjoon starts. He can hear you humming in agreement, but he doesn’t stop there. “But, it is a suggestion. Seeing as how you don’t have any other idea how to solve this mess, I’d say go for it. What’s the worse thing that can happen?”

“Um? I get rejected? Hello?”

“You don’t have to let him know it’s a date, you know.”

“What do you mean? Namjoon, you should stop speaking in riddles because I honestly don’t have enough brain cells for this, clearly.”

Namjoon sighs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… What if you fake date him?” When you don’t reply immediately, Namjoon is quick to keep talking. “Not that I’m asking you to stop fake dating me! What I’m trying to say is… Maybe try to rekindle the rumor that you and Jungkook are dating? He doesn’t have to know it’s a date, so long as everyone else thinks that you two are.”

“I… I guess?” You sound unsure, though Namjoon admits it’s kind of a long shot to begin with, not when you wouldn’t know the last thing about being subtle. He kind of wants to throttle you, in a gentle way. It’s honestly frustrating to see you like this, and he just wishes he could… Make the problem go away.

That would be easy. If Y/N just stopped pining after Jungkook, then he could just come in and—

His thoughts skid to a halt, nearly slapping himself to keep from going down that road again. Look at him, trying to help you with your mess when even he can’t get a handle on his own emotions. What is going on inside my head, he thinks sadly to himself.

“Listen, it’ll be really easy! All you have to do is text him and say, ‘Hey, wanna go have dinner with me tomorrow?’ but bring him somewhere nicer, perhaps? Then take a photo of him all dressed up and looking boyfriend-y and post it on Instagram. I’m sure that’ll shut people up.”

“Namjoon, I don’t know if you’re aware, but Jungkook’s definition of ‘dressing up’ is combat boots, a hoodie, and his god-awful backpack the size of Africa. He looks like a nerd.”

“I mean, you kinda dress alike…” Namjoon mutters, and he’s thankful that you don’t hear his slight slip-up. He clears his throat. “A-anyway, I’m sure it’ll be fine? I think it would be more suspicious if he wore a suit and tie or something. So long as you guys look cozy and comfy together, I’m sure people will take the hint. If worse comes to worst, I can maybe slip something to Johnny and he can retract his statement or something.”

“I hope to god that isn’t the case,” you say. Namjoon nods, before realizing you can’t even see him.

“Right. Well, I think everything should work out perfectly. Just ask him to some popular couples restaurant. Maybe the nice Italian place in Hongdae? Something more romantic, not necessarily fancy.”

There’s a pause on your end for a moment causing Namjoon to sweat a little, wondering if he might be overstepping. He does genuinely want to help you, though he hopes he isn’t actually weirding you out somehow. He’s not adept at handling love problems as much as he’s trying to appear to be, since he’s mostly using the romance novels he had read during his teen years as his sole source of reference. This is what I get for not dating for so long, Namjoon thinks, grimacing.

“Namjoon.” You break the silence, your voice quieter than before. Namjoon has to strain his ears a little, pursing his lips as he waits for your response. “Are you…”

Namjoon tilts his head. “Am I?”

Namjoon hears you hesitate, stuttering syllables over his phone speaker like you aren’t quite sure how to ask your question. “Do you remember when I asked you a few days ago if you were sure you don’t actually have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah?”

“I just… I don’t know how to say this without being weird, but I just want to say you’re great. Like,” you huff out a laugh, incredulous. “You’re just… The perfect package? You’re so kind and so sweet and it’s just? Almost mysterious how you don’t have someone special to call your own yet.”

Namjoon smiles wryly to himself, head bowed as he stares at his wrinkled bedsheets. “I suppose other people don’t feel the same way.” He tries forcing out a laugh, but it sounds a little strangled. His chest feels tight, strangely. Hopefully, you don’t notice.

“No, I highly doubt that! You’re literally the perfect guy. Any person would be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.” You sound almost indignant, like you can’t imagine anyone ever thinking badly about him. He almost wants to laugh, but he tightens his hands into fists instead, digging his nails into his palms and leaving crescents in their wake.

“Well then… I guess that makes you lucky to have me, then?” Namjoon nearly slaps his hands to his mouth, a cold tingle of embarrassment mixed with fear running down his spine. Did he really just say that— “What I mean is, erm…”

“N-no, I get you.” You’re giggling, but—is he imagining it?—you sound a little nervous to his ears. If he thinks hard enough, he can almost imagine you blushing, bottom lip trapped underneath your teeth. “I guess I am lucky to be your fake girlfriend, huh? Even for just a few weeks?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes out the word, guilt washing over him like waves. Here he is, feeling things that he shouldn’t be, over a girl who was never his to begin with. There are seedlings in his chest, barely anything to write home about. But he knows—a gardener can see the garden even before the flowers have bloomed. Each day he spends with you is another day they get a chance to grow, and he’s afraid he’ll soon be overrun, unable to handle the forest that is bound to erupt. “Just a few weeks,” he echoes, unable to completely hide the sadness from his words.

“I guess I am just being melodramatic about everything, huh?” you say. It takes a moment for Namjoon to even remember what the two of you had been talking about, so caught up in his thoughts that he has to pinch himself back to reality.

“Think of it as a funny story to tell your grandkids,” Namjoon says.

You laugh, and Namjoon can feel a seedling sprout its first leaf. “Yeah. Definitely. God, I can’t even begin to think about kids… Not when I can’t even ask him out on a fucking date.”

“You can do it, Y/N.” Namjoon whispers. He flops back down onto his bed, eyes half-closed as he stares at his cracked ceiling. If he breathes quietly enough, he can hear the sounds of Seoul outside his windowpane. If he stops breathing altogether, he might be able to hear you across the city, your socked feet padding towards your bed, curling up into your own blanket.

“Thank you, Namjoon. Really.”

For what? Namjoon leaves that part unspoken. “You’re welcome,” he says instead. He drops the call, feeling a little emptier than before.

[jonathanrook]

legally i have to give you intern 2

em you have awoken an ungodly beast inside me so i need to warn everyone that this post is. incomprehensible. but so is mymusic so i guess we're all used to it.

How I feel about this character:

i watched mymusic as it was airing/running/coming out specifically bc i'm a jack stannie, and as a kid melvin was my second favorite character (w scene being in first, obvs) for mostly that reason. he basically hovered around this ranking until my most recent rewatch in the summer of 2020, which was actually spurred by some events in my personal life that vaguely reminded me of scene's season two arc w jeff, and i thought it'd been a funny/nostalgic way to get my mind off things.

(i want to side note here that -- i know you didn't ask, but -- i love jeff. i have since i was a kid. like, obviously not as a person but i think he's honestly the best written character in the series, w indie close in second. idk what it says about the f*nes that their most interesting and well rounded characters are the villains, but i digress. to this day i'm salty that jeff never got added to the theme song and wasn't really included in promotional merch.)

however, in said rewatch, certain things about how he was written started to really get under my skin, and certain moments in particular have really stuck out to me in a negative way. like, for the entirety of season one and a good chunk of season two he's one person, and then he leaves mymusic and we have an entirely different person, but not in a nuanced character building sort of way.

i've said a few of these points before but i'll repeat them here regardless. at the risk of sounding like i've put on a tin-foil hat, it's my sneaking suspicion that scindie was supposed to be endgame, but since fan reception to it was pretty neutral, and scenechart stans were, at the very least, more vocal, changes were made to the intended finale, which is why in the last scene he's basically just. indie. like, if everything about the show was exactly the same but indie was the one who had ended up w scene in the end that would have made so much more sense since a) scene had a crush on indie that he/everyone knew about and b) indie was kind of a dick despite the half-assed attempts at redemption, so both combined make it slightly less weird/out-of-nowhere that he kisses her w/o her consent (since, even though like. implied consent is not real at worst and a fuzzy subject at best but you could argue that scene would want indie to kiss her); and this isn't even taking into consideration that c) melvin is heavily queer-coded in both seasons, with his friendship with nerdcore being, dare i say, homoerotic at times, and his arc about leaving the company and changing his name mirroring nerdcore's almost perfectly (with nerdcore being a character who b*nny [at least] has all but confirmed is actually gay).

i've also been on the fence about melvin's behavior in that final scene making more sense for indie's character being an intentional decision as a way of shoe-horning in a theme about the lasting effects of abuse/cycles of abuse/the corruption of power but i also don't think the f*nes are smart enough for that. however, for the sake of defending my straw theory, i also point to the scene where indie comes to visit the acid factory after melvin told him to shut up, and we see melvin use reggie as a foot-stool, going as far as to say that it feels good to do so (which, in all honesty, i think is a bit that was entirely improvised, since the f*nes were "notorious for never saying cut" [paraphrased from a bts video], but work w me here). he's also given a seltzer mug that perfectly resembles indie's kombucha mug. in these moment melvin is directly emulating the behavior of his previous abuser, purposefully or not, literal moments after being promoted to an equal position of authority, which was totally just included as a joke, but could also be argued is meant to show that he's becoming indie; or, if we acknowledge that the f*nes have no fucking clue what they're doing and were just directing like chickens with their heads cut off, it at least shows that melvin's new position of power is leading him to understand where indie was coming from, which is supported by their conversation in the finale.

the following contains a couple brief mentions of irl sexual assault so if that's something you'd like to avoid skip to the next section!

HOWEVER, that alone isn't what i have a problem with, since i think melvin is completely justified in being a dick to indie (and also reggie enthusiastically consents to being used as an ottoman so good for him i guess). the issue comes completely in how he treats scene in the scenes where the f*nes clearly thought what they were writing was super romantic. like, the fact that the only thing he's got hung on his cubicle wall is a single picture of scene taken from the fucking opening credits (like. how hard would it have been to have. literally any other photo[s] esp since there's an abundance of cute bts pics of the cast in costume that could have been put there) and him scrolling through her twitter at work really creep me out (and at the risk of oversharing the weird, like, social media stalking angle really fucks w me bc that may or may not have been the exact fucking thing i was trying to escape in rewatching mymusic in the first place). also, having him sexually assault scene as a means of comforting her after she had just been sexually assaulted in the same way by someone else was... a choice (which is also, uh, personally familiar).

again, i recognize that demonizing melvin wasn't what the f*nes were trying to do here, and i perhaps seem hypocritical for opening liking jeff, but what makes jeff work is he's intentionally "the bad guy." having melvin do the same things as indie and jeff uncritically only proves further that the f*nes can't write for shit, and ruins his character which had, up until he quit mymusic, been unironically good. like, it's obviously not beneficial that the exact asshole things he does are personally triggering, but the character would still be a mess and i would still dislike him regardless.

i want to say though that jack delivers a surprisingly great performance despite how shoddily his character is constructed and how little experience he has as an actor. like, it's clear he was having a lot of fun on set and i would love to see him in something, like, good; i think he could pull off even like, guest television roles, which is a lot more than can be said for other youtubers.

-----

All the people I ship romantically with this character:

nerdchart should have been canon i'm sorry. i know that close, nonromantic male friendships are valuable, esp between queer men, but also gd wouldn't it have been baller to have a canon interracial mlm ship. like. c'mon. and they could have been such a good friends to lovers story! we already got to see how melvin was the only person nerdcore could really be himself around so it would have been so cool if melvin's self-advocacy arc/flowchart arc had revolved more around nerdcore with a little role-reversal! and then they kiss! like god intended!

also i ship him and indie bc i'm a grubby little gremlin man ohoho. enemies w weird sexual tension? sign me up. not even enemies to lovers i'm not saying this one should have been canon i just love the vibes. do you think melvin and indie ever explored each other's bod-- *gunshot*

-----

My non-romantic OTP for this character:

i wish him and scene had just been bros. god remember in season one when they were just bros that was the life.

alternatively, i wish we'd seen more bonding w him and metal, as a means of reconciling that. uh. moment from season one. along similar lines i would have loved to see him get closer w rayna in a similar way to how she bonded w nerdcore in season two. i think that could have also worked to show how she'd grown between the two seasons.

-----

My unpopular opinion about this character:

HIM. AND. SCENE. SHOULD. HAVE. JUST. BEEN. BROS. (though i think my general dislike of him is pretty unpopular, lmao).

when the show was coming out i don't think it's unfair to say that scenechart/scenetern 2 was the most popular ship (aside from potentially techstep whatever) but luckily we're all gay and have better taste now. unfortunately i totally fell into this camp and scenechart was even my otp for years (until it was arguably more unfortunately usurped by reddie in 2019) and i didn't even realise that it's a hot mess until, again, the summer of 2020.

when actually watching the show the choices the f*nes made in regards to how the ship actually became canon are so odd and out of place, too? okay, so, on one hand everyone just shipped scenechart bc it was the whitest hettiest ship in the show (esp in season two when idol left) aside from scindie (and we already discussed what's wrong w that). but, on the other hand, lainey and jack clearly also just got along? and i suspect that lainey probably also admired jack's work and was happy to be working with him bc we have so many shots throughout even the first season when the ship wasn't the intended endgame of lainey scene looking really fondly at jack melvin at times when it doesn't make much sense at all, esp since she's smitten w indie? this trend continues into the second season which arguably works but it still seems really out of place for him to be the one to ultimately make the first move on her since it's clear she was the one crushing this whole time and also he's gay! this bitch is gay what the fuck!!

-----

One thing I wish had happened with this character in canon:

at this point i'm struggling to think of anything i haven't covered yet. oops.

i've talked at length before about how he should have been a woman/lesbian, but the tl;dr is that it would have solved a lot of the queer-coding "problems" that just didn't get resolved in the show. if he'd been a lesbian then not only would the friendship w nerdcore still made sense, but scenechart would have as well (not even mentioning that both of scene's other relationships w men make a lot of sense as comphet anyway).

[justniaaa]

Unravel Me (4)

Gif by: @blackisblackisblack​

Rating 18+NSFW

Work Count: 3.4k

Pairing: Christopher “Rio” Martinez xblack!oc

Warning: Swearing, mentions of a gun

A/N: Hey my loves! I’ve missed you guys so much, so sorry for the late update. I’m not going to lie and say it wont happen again because it most likely will but I wasn’t expecting to be gone for so long. Anxiety/ Depression is a fucking bitch bro and like I said before even if my posting isn’t constant, I always want to make sure to give you guys content. Thanks for you for rocking with me and Enjoy chapter 4! Happy reading and please dont forget to like, comment and reblog <3

Summary: Toni forms an unsuspecting friendship with Christopher that turns into something more. As her feelings towards him continue to grow she starts to  unravel the secrets that surround him and in return, he unravels her completely.

Chapter 4: Let the games begin

After the eventful night between Toni and Chris, it was like the days went by rather quickly and before she knew it, Friday was here and Toni’s nerves were coming along for the ride. When she came home that night and told her girls about what transpired with her and the mysterious business mogul they gave out beaming smiles and all three of them jumped around, excited that Toni was going out on a date. And of course, don’t even get her started on Aaliyah, the woman was more than elated, and every chance she got she made sure to bother Toni about her new “boyfriend.”

Toni was walking in from work at Print Monthly and let out a yawn. Working two jobs, and writing a new article was slowly catching up with her, but with enough caffeine, she thinks she could make it through. She took off her heels and placed her keys on the entrance table trying to stifle yet another yawn, that was on its way out of her mouth. As she went further into the apartment she didn’t hear any movement from either of the girl’s rooms so she figured she was home alone. Toni went into her room not caring to turn on the light since she had a small night light in the corner and shut the door. She dropped her purse on the floor and took off her clothes, only leaving on her bra and panties. Toni sighed and shuffled to her bed, face planting into it as she wrapped her sherpa throw around her body. Since the AC was fixed the day before her place was nice and cool and all she wanted to do was take a small nap.

But before she could float away to unconsciousness her door was rushed open and the light flicked on, “Oh no bitch, get up!”

Toni groaned hearing Rocky’s voice and covered her face with the blanket, wishing for  a couple of minutes of sleep, “Antonia Kelis Thompson, up now!”

The blanket was ripped away from Toni, and she put her face into the pillow, “Just five minutes,” she groaned.  

“No, get up! Sage made you a smoothie to help with your energy before she left for the grocery store and you need to drink it so we can get you together for tonight.”

Toni turned her head and looked at Rocky, she was standing next to her bed with her eyebrow raised and a hand on her hip and the other was outstretched with said green smoothie in her grasp.

“It’s only six Rocky, we meet up at nine.”

True to his word, Chris hit her up and they set up a time and place to meet up, the place being an escape room to which Toni was particularly thrilled about. She had always wanted to go to one and she vaguely remembered mentioning it to him on one of their morning talks at the cafe. After they arranged their night out they continued texting each other throughout the day and it felt good to have that feeling of giddiness whenever she heard her phone ding and it possibly being him.

Toni huffed and sat up, sitting cross-legged on her bed and took the drink from Rocky’s hand. Taking a few sips she scrunched up her face from the taste but soldiered on when she saw the look Racquel gave her. When she finally finished the last bits of the smoothie, she put the glass on her nightstand and turned back to her friend.  

“All finished, what’s next on the list warden?”

Racquel rolled her eyes, “So damn dramatic, go take a shower and I’ll dive into that mess  you call a closet to find you something to wear.”

Toni stretched her limbs as she stood up from the bed while Rocky shooed her to the bathroom grabbing her towel from the back of the door in the process.

“And don’t forget to shave bitch!” Rocky yelled out.

“I shaved my legs yesterday, why the hell am I going to do them again?” Toni said poking her head out from the doorway, her confusion was evident.

“I’m not talking about your legs, girl,” Raquel said, winking. Toni didn’t plan on sleeping with Chris tonight but with how crazy the attraction was between them anything was possible. So with understanding and gratitude, Toni simply nodded and backed into the bathroom, closing the door and getting to work.

After the long half-hour of exfoliation, shaving, and showering, Toni came out of the bathroom feeling fresh and squeaky clean and walked into the sight of her bed strewn with clothes. She took in the sight of her best friends arguing with a piece of clothing in their hands about which outfit would work best. She chose to ignore them knowing that whatever they picked would be applicable and tightened the towel on her form, going to her vanity to do her makeup and hair. The girls interrupted her a few times showing her what they chose and Sage helped Toni curl her hair in the back. Music and bouts of laughter were heard throughout the home and the minutes ticked by getting closer to when Toni was deemed to leave. She was just putting on her light blue jeans when her phone went off, interrupting the song that was playing on her Bluetooth. Rocky and Sage continued talking about whether she should wear heels or sneakers, and Toni finished buttoning her pants walking over to her device. The name Chris was on her screen, and before the voicemail picked up she answered.

“Hello,” she said.

“There she is, thought you weren’t gonna answer,” Chris’s smooth voice came through the phone, making Toni’s stomach flutter with butterflies. She could vaguely hear noises of machinery in the background but she didn’t think anything of it because as quickly as the noise came it was gone, like he went into a separate room.

“I mean I didn’t have to pick up, especially since you're interrupting me getting ready for my date,” Toni sat down on the bench at the end of her bed.

“Oh, word? Who’s the lucky man?”

Toni looked down at her nails, “Some guy I met a couple of weeks ago, he ain’t all that but I decided to have mercy and give him a chance.”

Chris laughed into the receiver, “I bet he’s hype as fuck to take your pretty ass out.”

Toni shrugged like he could see her, “I mean, I am kind of great.”  

“That you are Antonia, that you are.”

Toni covered her mouth with her fingers, trying to control the megawatt smile that was threatening to break out. They knew each other barely a month and already the way Chris made Toni feel was slightly alarming. “Is everything okay though, because if you need to change the time or something that’s fine.”

“Nah we good, just wanted to check up on you. And make sure I wasn’t gonna do an escape room by myself.”

“No worries, I’ll be there,” Toni said grinning.

“Aiight, so I’ll see you soon yeah?”

“Yes, sir nine o’clock.”

Chris chuckled, “Aight mama, later.”

Toni hung up and put her phone back on the charger, “I’m guessing from all the flirting we just heard, that was him,” Sage asked.

She shook her head, “Yeah, he was calling to make sure we were still on tonight.” Toni went and looked at the shoe options they picked out, thankful that her friends lended out a helping hand.  

“We think the all-white Nike’s would look great with your outfit. Plus it will give your feet a break from the heels and you can run around as you play the game with your boyfriend,” Rocky smirked when Toni gave her a dirty look at her use of the “B” word.

“I agree,” she told them. After bending down to put her sneakers on, Toni stood up and examined her outfit in the mirror, liking how it looked. The white bodysuit accentuated her curves and the light blue jeans and sneakers really brought everything together, making her feel comfortable but be cute at the same time. Toni sprayed her perfume and got her crossbody bag and phone, listening to her friends give her a pep talk as she walked to the front door.

“We put some wipes in your bag and some mints as well just in case your breath gets hot,” Sage said, following behind Toni.

“Oh yes and some pepper spray if he decides to get handsy,” Raquel continued, bringing up the rear, “You never know he can turn into an asshole when the clock strikes twelve.”

Sage gave Rocky a glare and nudged her, “I doubt it will come to that, Racquel but it is always good to be safe.”

“Yes, it is,” Rocky grumbled, rubbing her sore side. Sage may be small but her elbow had some power behind it.

Toni turned to them when they reached the door, “Thanks guys for all the help.”

“We got your back girl, you know that.”

“And have fun tonight please, you deserve it and it will do you good to get some dick. It might help you stop being so damn uptight.”

“Sage!” Toni gasped, hitting the girl’s arm while Rocky stood next to her nodding in agreeance.

“I can’t stand you guys.” Toni picked up the keys she left on the small table by the door and opened her arms, “Alright give me some loving.”

They all came in for a group hug, just like they always did back in college, “Love you hoes,” Toni murmured.

“We love you too,” Sage and Rocky said together.

*****************************************************************************************************

Pulling into the parking lot Toni texted Chris letting him know she had arrived and while she waited on his reply she stared down at her phone and went through her social media. Suddenly a knock on her window made her jolt in the seat and look up with a hand to her chest. She let out a breath when she saw it was Chris at her window, his eyebrow raised and his mouth curved into a smirk.

“Geez Chris, you scared the shit out of me,” Toni exclaimed through the closed window.

She reached next to her, to get her purse and took her keys out of the ignition, placing them and her phone into her bag. She unlocked the door and he opened it for her, a smile still residing on his lips, “My bad ma, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Toni side-eyed him as she got out, “Liar, you know damn well it’s too dark for your ass to be playing games.”

“Oh shit, don’t tell me big bad Antonia is scared of the dark.” Chris closed her car door behind her and Toni hit her key fob locking the vehicle. They began walking through the sparsely lit up parking lot, heading towards the building that had MadeYa Look Escape Room in bright lights at the front.

“Listen, frightening things live in the night, so don’t shame me.”

Chris chuckled as they walked side by side, his hands behind his back, “Nah, no shaming here baby. I used to be the same way, years ago.”

Toni felt a jolt at this new nickname, she hadn’t been called baby from the opposite sex in years and it made her feel warm inside to be hearing it from him. Toni decided to play it cool and not show how much the term of endearment affected her, but she secretly promised herself she would gush about it later in the privacy of her home.

“What made you stop being scared?” Toni asked as they finally reached the entrance.

She went to open the door but his ring covered hand was suddenly on top of hers, making her palm sweat on the cool metal of the handle, “When I became the scary thing to the monsters.”

Toni noticed the sudden shift between them as she gazed into his dark brown orbs. You would think after a statement like that she would be afraid but she felt perfectly fine, safe even. She didn’t know what to think about that, so she intended to not think about it at all.

“I forgot to tell you earlier but you look beautiful,” Chris said, his eyes not leaving hers, he was close enough that he could hear her breath stutter but didn’t comment. Toni bit her lip and pushed a piece of hair behind her ear.

“You got your nose pierced,” she said, surprised. Toni saw the faint glint of the piercing from the glare of the lights and even though she never dated a guy with one it was different and it fit him perfectly.

Chris took note of the change of subject but he nodded anyway and ran his tongue across his bottom lip, making it shine, “You like it?”  

“It’s cute,” She said with faux disinterest. Just like last time, with the close proximity they were in Toni could smell his cologne that was dark and subtle. They would kiss if she stood on her tiptoes.

“You ready for me to whoop your ass in this game?” Chris teased, and just like that the spell was broken and the light-hearted flirting came back into play.

Toni scoffed, grateful for the break from the tension “Please, the question is are you ready?”

With her hands still encompassed in his, they both opened the door and went to the front desk to pay and get instructions. The brunette clerk who they later learned was named Debbie was none the wiser to the something that transpired moments before, as she explained rules and questioned which room they wanted to play. While the middle-aged woman was talking, he had his hand rested on the small of Toni’s back and tried as she might she couldn’t focus on anything else but the heat of his palm. Luckily, another couple came in after them and they were able to play against the pair in the zombie apocalypse escape room. Before the game started Toni and Chris set up a bet for whoever solved the most clues even though they were on the same team. Toni ran her hand through her loose curls to put her hair up in a ponytail waiting for the countdown and noticed Chris’s outfit, “You don’t think you’ll get hot running around in your jacket?”

As per usual Chris was clad in all black but he had on a jean jacket over a black shirt this time rather than a regular button-up.  

“I’m straight,” Chris said nonchalantly. Before she could interrogate him further, Debbie’s voice came onto the intercom letting them know she was starting the countdown. Quickly, ten seconds turned to one, and the game began.

*****************************************************************************************************

The couple walked out of the room breathless and delighted with how well the game turned out. They beat the newlyweds by a landslide with one minute to spare, and unfortunately to Chris’s exasperation, Toni solved most of the clues and now she had full reign over tonight.

“Congrats guys!” The clerk complimented as she handed them two free t-shirts for winning and even offered to snap a picture of them to put on their winner board. Chris declined grumbling about how he hated taking pictures but of course, when Toni gave him puppy dog eyes and reminded him she was the captain of tonight he grudgingly relented. Only on the grounds of them taking the photo on their personal phones and that Toni promised not to rag on him the rest of the date.  

Toni gave the woman her phone already opened to the camera app and they both took their place in front of the winner’s board. She didn’t know where to position herself, not wanting to be too much in Chris’s personal space if he wasn’t comfortable with it, but he made the decision for her when he put his arm on her shoulders and brought her in close, making Toni’s palms sweat. She quickly decided to wrap her arms around his waist praying he couldn’t feel her heart practically beat out her chest when she leaned against his side. They both looked at the camera with big smiles earning an “Awww you two are adorable!” from Debbie.

As Toni went to pull away, she brushed against something solid and what felt oddly like steel under his jacket. Stepping back Toni pondered over the fact that the object that she touched was most likely a gun and that was probably the reason why he didn’t want to take off his jacket before the game.

“Here you go hun,” Debbie said, passing Toni her phone.  

Toni graciously thanked her while she took the device and tried to school her features. She knew people had guns, even her father had some locked away at his house but something about him hiding it made her stomach roll.

They went out into the cool night and Toni walked next to Chris quietly still thinking, “So where to boss, since you running shit now.”  

A beat passed and she could see Chris in her peripheral take a look at her, wondering why she wasn’t responding.

“You good mama?” He inquired.

 She was acting like such a dumb ass, it wasn’t like he was her boyfriend he didn’t have to necessarily tell her why he had a gun and she was fine when he told her the monsters were afraid of him. So why did the gun affect her so much?

Toni looked over at him seeing his brows knitted in worry and decided to push the issue aside for a second. “Yep, but the real question is are you good after that ass whooping I gave you? Mr. I’m gonna win just watch.”

Chris groaned, “I thought you promised you wasn’t gonna flame me.”

“Obviously I lied, I just wanted you to stop whining and take the damn picture.”

“Nah, I just think you wanted a pic so you could look at it and fantasize about me all the time.”

Toni snickered and pushed him, “Please, don’t flatter yourself.”  

They were still talking when they finally reached her car. Toni leaned against her door, she could see his Range a couple of spaces from hers. “So what now Antonia?”

He asked while he stood in front of her, his hands in his pockets.

“Not sick of me yet?” Toni wondered, tilting her head.

“Never that darlin’.’”

Toni cleared her throat feeling her cheeks burn, damn him, he knew exactly what the hell he was doing. Not wanting to put it off any longer she made the choice to just ask him about the gun, not wanting to proceed with the night without being in the know.  “Can I...ugh this is probably so stupid but can I ask you a question first before we leave here?”

He straightened when he heard the way she stuttered like she was worried about questioning him, “Go ahead.”

Toni crossed her arms, “You can tell me it's none of my business and honestly it’s not that big of a deal but is there a reason why you didn’t want to tell me you were carrying a gun? I felt it while we were taking the picture.”

She was expecting him to get upset about her interrogation  but his posture went lax, seeming happy that that was what she wanted to ask.

“I didn’t say anything ‘cause I wasn’t sure if it was gonna freak you out. I use it for protection only and I should have told you instead of assuming.”  

Toni sighed and rubbed her forehead, “No, I apologize it just took me by surprise is all. I knew someone that carried and it always seemed like he used it more to showcase how much of a dick he was rather than use it as a safety precaution.”

“Hey,” Chris raised Toni’s chin, making her focus on him. “Don’t ever be scared to ask me somethin’.  Even if I don’t like the question, imma always try and give you as much of the truth that I can, aight?”

“Okay,” Toni said.

“Okay,” Chris dropped his hand and grabbed Toni’s holding it in his grasp, still looking at her, “So we gonna chill in this parking lot all night or we gonna go to the next spot?”

Toni lightly squeezed his hand with a mischievous glint in her eye, “I know the perfect place.”

“Aiight then,” Chris walked to the passenger side of her car waiting, “Let’s go.”

“You’re not gonna drive your car?” Toni wrinkled her nose, puzzled whilst unlocking the car.

Chris opened the door and simply said, “Nope I trust you,” before getting into the vehicle leaving Toni speechless.

Toni let out a harsh breath and whispered “This man is too fine,” getting into the car as well. It seemed like their night had only begun.

Tag list: @aria725 @kikilovesdankmemes​ @briannab1234​

[live-long-and-time-warp]

It’s hard to leave your toxic friends... but it’s so worth it

I don’t normally do this, but as I sat in a Saturday morning meeting thinking about all of the things I felt this past Friday, I felt compelled to share my story.

A brief background: throughout college and for several years afterward, I considered my tight-knit group of college friends as some of my closest. In addition to my best friend of 20 years, some friends from high school, my work team, and some other dear friends scattered across the globe and throughout the U.S., this group of college friends was who I considered to be my foundation. This group of friends was extremely important to me, but it was not without its bumps in the road.

In my senior year of college, I had a falling out with one of these friends, the ringleader I’ll call her. I say this because she is quite honestly the source of 95% of my problems with this group. She is a master manipulator, and an expert gaslighter. There were a few others that contributed to this too, but she was by far the worst.

I can’t elaborate on every single thing that this person said and did over our 7 year “friendship” but a brief summary would be: asking me point blank if I thought I might be a lesbian after coming out as bi (to this friend group and in her presence, I might add) only several months prior; asking me how much money I spend on books about “Chernobyl” every month with the implication that she’s concerned about my finances; telling me that my resume may not be as impressive as I think it is (I’m the deputy director of a nonprofit with both state-based and national projects and had been for close to a year prior to this conversation); would clean up the crumbs from in front of me while I was still eating and comment on my messiness; told me that one of our mutual friends doesn’t like discussing politics with me because I get too fired up (again, I work for a nonprofit that deals with social justice); telling me that crying while comforting my friend who had just lost a loved one to suicide after they began crying was weird and that I “stole her thunder” (we were slightly drunk, I’m an empath, and she was talking about some deeply personal things that moved me and crying was my natural response... and oddly, she was appreciative of my tears because I was “the only person that actually stayed with her”); and so much more that I know I’m forgetting.

There were many other things more insidious, including gaslighting me about my inclusion in several group activities and why it should have been obvious why one friend disliked me enough to not invite me to her wedding after years of claiming cluelessness.

In our senior year, I left that friend for the first time after she humiliated me at a party by commenting loudly and with condescension on my weight. When I cut ties with her, I felt as if I had just left an abusive relationship, and for a while I didn’t want to seek a friendship with her again.

But the other friends in our group still hung out with both of us, so eventually I allowed myself to be sucked back in. 

In the years after we graduated, I thought that this person had actually changed- I worked abroad for a year after college, and after returning I saw a marked difference in her demeanor and how she interacted with us. She seemed more self-aware of how her words and actions adversely affected other people, and I thought that maybe the ugliness of that horrible portion of my senior year was now just a faded scar.

But then things escalated very quickly. Over the course of several weeks at the beginning of this year, I started to feel myself questioning whether I had made the right choice in rejoining the group: I was so sure of how I felt after I left it the first time, I felt so empowered and free. So why did I allow myself to rejoin them? Was it really the right choice?

I got my answer a week after the insurrection at the Capitol. One friend who already had a history of saying hateful things about women (which I tried to put a stop to to no avail) finally went full white supremacist asshole, and instead of joining me in calling his comments unacceptable and defending me as he mansplained my job to me, the ringleader criticized me and told me that “I can work in activism and politics and be wrong”.

That’s the moment I finally woke up.

I left the chat that very moment. Every time they added me back without my consent, I left again.

Every time I got message from the ringleader that was full of gaslighting comments and false apologies, I didn’t say a word. Just deleted the message. Finally, I was able to gather the strength needed to block those toxic friends from all social media and my phone. One of these friends was someone I tried to make like me for years after I was told that she hated me for no reason, by her own admission.

Some may not agree with this approach, but I made the choice to cut contact and go radio silent on my own after consulting my friends, specifically my best friend who had been there for me during the incident my senior year.

As weeks went by, some of the true friends from that group reached out, and then immediately backed off after my polite request for space, indicating that I was welcome back at any time and they were always here for me.

The ringleader chose the opposite approach. She continued to gaslight me, made a group chat with myself, the white supremacist, and herself. She sent me messages from her second account, one that I remembered to unfriend but forgot to block. She told me that if I don’t “course correct” by a certain date she would block me on my account (too late, bro) and that “we wish you all the best”. This implies that it was on behalf of the entire group, something I know three of them would never do. However, at this point, I have had to distance myself from all of those friends so as not to give the ringleader the attention she wants from me.

I lost over half of my closest friends over night. It felt like my skeleton had been torn from my body. I considered giving in several times and reaching out to them. But now, over a month later, I understand how necessary it was to excise what was essentially a malignant tumor. The Chernobyl researcher in me wants to compare it to Acute Radiation Syndrome (ARS): an unseen poison that slowly infiltrates every part of your mind and body and rots them from the inside out.

2020 was an extremely hard year for me, as it was for so many. I am so lucky and privileged to have been in the financial situation that I was and had the support of my genuine friends and family.

But it was still the worst year of my life. I have suffered from pretty bad OCD for most of my life, and while I usually keep it under control, last year it became nearly impossible to do so. I also fell very deeply into clinical depression, and worked to the point of burn out and exhaustion. The primary thoughts I had during this depression were: 

“Why aren’t you working? You’re lazy.”

“You’re a failure, you’re 26 and haven’t applied to grad school yet.”

“You piece of shit, still living with your parents? What a disappointment.”

“What is wrong with you?”

It was unbearable. I’m honestly not entirely sure how I survived it, but I think a certain 3-year-old goddaughter of mine and a few close, real friends had something to do with it.

I worked very hard with my friends, a therapist, and a psychiatrist to overcome this depression and get my OCD back under control. Now, I feel like such a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I still have depression, and the OCD will always be with me (like a bad habit... literally?); but I am so much more happy with myself and my life, as I should be.

And I am very, very, very well aware that therapy was not the only reason I have recently begun feeling this way. It’s very hard to see that you’re being manipulated while it’s happening. Because of my trusting nature, sometimes manipulative comments would be interpreted as heartfelt guidance.

It wasn’t until I started the journey away from them that I saw just how much this group and their negativity (because even the best of them weren’t always the kindest) impacted my mental health.

The event that made me want to share this story is this: yesterday was a rough work day. As a full-time community organizer, I am pretty much burnt out all of the time. Breaks are taken, but with projects addressing issues from COVID relief to systemic racism and police brutality, it never feels like enough. 

I had to officially take a step back as a sole lead on an annual event that I organized for two years, and it was gut-wrenching.

Now, I cry often, but I don’t usually get to have therapeutic cries. You know what I mean? Like, as you cry, all of the tension that built up in your body by negative feelings is finally being released with every breath and sob?

Well, the dam finally broke in a team meeting on Friday. I started sobbing and couldn’t stop. And my colleagues were so, so kind. They let me vent, they let me cry, they would not accept my apologies for crying. They told me that I was strong for setting up boundaries, and that they were here for me.

We spent a lot of time at the end of the meeting each talking about our self-care routines. And as I sit here typing this, I am actively trying not to cry at the purity of their support.

This experience has taught me what real friends are. Real friends do not put limitations on your emotions and fears.

Real friends do not give you deadlines for processing your feelings.

Real friends do not criticize you for things that, while they may not agree with, do not affect anyone’s health or marginalize anyone.

Real friends don’t marginalize vulnerable communities.

Real friends help and support you with constructive criticism (when it’s asked for) and love, not patronization and manipulation.

I thought I knew all of these things before, but I know now that I am still learning... and that that is perfectly okay. I don’t regret most of the times we shared together. I am appreciative of the positive memories that their friendships gave me.

Three of the friends in this group are actually good people, and maybe one day when the dust is settled I’ll reach out to them and establish one-on-one friendships with them (if they want to). 

And I have to thank my real friends, including @tryingtobealwaystrying, for all saying the exact same thing: you deserve so much happiness and fuck all of those guys.

So, the point of this post is to tell everyone this: you can leave your toxic friends. It’s incredibly difficult, stressful, and honestly traumatizing. And there’s no shame in needing time or feeling unable to leave those friends now. There’s also no shame in returning to those friends.

But please know, from this nerd to the reader: anyone that makes you feel any less than the beautiful, amazing human being you are and doesn’t want to help you become an even better human on your own terms is not a true friend. They don’t deserve you or the light you can bring into their lives.

And every agonizing step away from those friends is a step closer to a happier, healthier life.

[gumnut-logic]

When the World Goes Boom (Part Six)

This chapter is huge and was a challenge to write. The fic itself is now over 17,000 words. So much for a quick fic for Alan’s birthday. I give up.

Spoilers & Warnings: Spoilers for season three, angst, hurt/comfort, brothers and family, 5875 words

Many thanks to @scribbles97​​​ and @i-am-chidorixblossom​​​ for putting up with my crazy and reading this at random moments.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs::

-o-o-o-

There was nothing said between Jeff and his mother on the trip back to the house. Sally was of two minds. The first was to let it all play out, let Jeff trip over the brilliance of his boys and teach him the hard way that they knew what they were doing.

Not that she thought he didn’t trust them, it was more an unfamiliarity of how the family functioned in an emergency situation. This was the first time since his return that any of the boys had received a serious injury. It certainly wasn’t the first time for the family in his absence. Certain things had been put in place, certain habits came to the fore as the family retreated into itself.

Which led her to option number two - to sit him down, run interference between him and his middle son before they could blow each other’s heads off. Because that was what was likely to happen. Jeff was a lot like his eldest in temperament and John never responded well to Scott in confrontation.

So, her second option seemed the valid course.

Except Jeff refused to pick up the conversation.

Damn stubborn Tracy. The breed only came in that flavour and it could be as frustrating as hell.

As the car pulled into their driveway, she gave it one last attempt. A hand on his arm. “Jeff, hear him out.”

“I will.” Tight and dismissive.

She sighed internally and grabbed her bag, following him out of the car. The breeze was stronger than earlier and it caught her hair. “Jeff, they have been doing this a long time. They know what they are doing.”

He turned at that, one step on the front porch. “Mom, so do I.” And he turned back and entered the house.

She sighed. This was not going to end well.

Sure enough, words were already being exchanged as she entered the room.

John was frowning, his calm obviously unnerved by one of a handful of people capable of shaking it. “It was a legitimate move, Dad.”

“I’m not suggesting it wasn’t. My concern is that you did it without consultation.”

“I didn’t need to consult. It is my responsibility.”

“For my business.”

The room froze. Oh, Jeff. Her heart hurt.

“Dad, I...” Those turquoise eyes turned to her for the briefest of moments before flickering away. “The business is under the control of all of us, Dad. You know that.”

Her son swallowed, but kept his composure. “In that case then, why wasn’t I consulted?”

“Because that’s not how it works.” John straightened just a little. “Scott is the primary contact. He sees to day to day activities and calls on my assistance at need. Scott gets injured, the ultimate decision making falls to me. I made a decision to save future lives and I actioned it. I have no doubt Scott would support such a decision.”

Sally had no doubt either. Lemaire really was an idiot and it explained why they had so many rescues listing Oxy-Baker as the culprit.

Jeff swallowed visibly and Sally groaned internally. Jeff had come back from his isolation a changed man, but the core of his personality, the same aspect that had enabled him to survive so long alone, was still there. He wasn’t one to stand on the sidelines, particularly in a business he had built from the ground up.

“You created a media storm.”

“Lemaire created a media storm and Eos has it under control.”

“That control is limited and you know it. She can only delete so much before absences are noted and questions asked. You can’t jeopardise her or our operations for random gossip.”

“It is under control, Dad.”

“Then how did I find out about it?!” Great now his voice was rising.

John was still holding it together. “I know what I am doing. Lemaire cut his own throat with that broadcast. I knew he would do it and worked it into the strategy.”

“What strategy?”

“Dad-“

“Why am I never told anything? Why am I always on the outside?”

“Dad-“

But there was no stopping him. Sally’s eyes widened as her son flared like a sun gone nova.

He threw up his hands. “My own family! I, just...John, why do you shut me out?!”

John just stared. “Wha-?”

“Jeff.” Sally reached out and put a hand on her son’s arm.

He turned and stared at her, his eyes widening.

Sally opened her mouth.

Jeff’s phone rang.

The moment snapped. Sound returned to the room. Jeff’s harsh breathing. John’s wide eyes.

Her own heart beating too fast.

The phone rang a moment longer before Jeff reached into his back pocket and yanked it out.

His voice harsh. “Jeff Tracy.”

Her son kept the phone on voice only.

“Hello, Val.” His glare at John proved this discussion was not over. “They are both on the mend. Alan still need further surgery, but Scott is getting there slowly.” His voice was tight. “You know the deal, dressing changes twice a day. Burns are the worst. Virgil is on it.” A pause and a frown. “Yes, I’m fine…John and my mother, at the house.” He sighed and lowered the phone, deploying it’s holoprojector. Val Casey appeared before them all.

She frowned up at Jeff. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Val, I’m fine.”

Her lips thinned as if she didn’t believe him. Sally was not surprised. Val could always read Jeff, almost as well as her sister. The two of them used to gang up on him.

Sally had often wondered if Val could have become something more than the boys’ aunt, but Jeff had never pursued and Val just fell deeper into her career.

No doubt, Val would pursue the topic of Jeff’s health later, but for the moment she resumed the reason for her call. “We have begun investigations into the explosion and I was hoping International Rescue would be willing to share your data on the incident.”

Jeff’s eyes flickered to John. “I had assumed you had already received it.”

John caught that gaze and held it. He shook his head just a little.

Jeff’s eyes widened.

Val was talking to someone out of projector range. “Foster says she has yet to receive anything. John?” Her dark eyes turned to her nephew.

“We’re still assessing the situation, Aunt Val.”

She stared at him a moment, her lips thinning. “Very well. I will want Foster to interview Scott, Alan and John at their earliest convenience.”

“That may be some time, Val. My two boys were seriously injured.”

“I know that Jeff. I don’t like it any more than you, but there was a major explosion in orbit. We now have projectiles intruding on shipping lanes and orbital contamination. It is a mess up there. The World Council is demanding an investigation. This could affect the operation of International Rescue.”

Jeff frowned. “How?”

“There are those who claim your rescue organisation is at fault.”

“What?! Two of my sons nearly lost their lives.”

“Then prove they weren’t responsible by sharing the information.”

Jeff’s eyes hit John’s. “I will see to it.”

Val held his eyes a moment longer. “I look forward to it. GDF Command out.” The phone flicked off before anyone could comment.

“Why haven’t we cooperated with the GDF?” The words were sharp and shot at her middle grandson.

“It has become our policy to not trust the GDF.” John’s expression was resigned.

“Why?”

“The Hood has a spy in their ranks, possibly more than one.”

“The Hood is in jail.”

“It’s not the first time and it doesn’t mean much, Dad, trust me.”

Jeff’s lips thinned.

John straightened and appeared to steel himself.

Oh, for the love of-!

“Jeff.” Again, she reached out and touched his arm.

Again, it was thrown off.

Jeff opened his mouth.

John’s comms went off. “John, you there?” Gordon.

The room froze.

The astronaut stared at his father a moment longer before turning slightly and thumbing his collar. “Yes, Gordon?”

“Hey, bro, I think we have a situation.”

“What?”

“You okay?” Gordon’s tone became concerned and she could hear her fishy grandson’s frown over the commline.

“I’m fine. Details, Gordon?”

“Alan’s remembered something. We don’t think the explosion was an accident.”

As her heart sank, Sally stared as John’s turquoise hardened into obsidian.

-o-o-o-

Okay, if Virgil was honest, pushing Scott out into the sunshine wasn’t entirely just for his brother’s benefit. He closed his eyes, holding the bed still a moment as the sun hit his face.

“Oh, god, who turned the sun up?”

Shit.

Virgil grabbed his sunglasses from his pocket and handed them to his brother. They were snapped up and shoved on Scott’s face ever so fast. The wraparounds blocked out everything and the concussed man sighed in relief.

“Sorry.” So much for being the medical expert in the family.

“‘S okay.” Scott lay back and literally melted into the bed. “Feels good.”

Virgil relaxed a little and resumed pushing the bed out towards the gardens.

“Not too far, Virgil.”

His shoulders dropped. “Kayo, I just need a tree and a view. Scott needs it.”

The security officer held his gaze.

“It’s only Lemaire. The man’s an idiot.”

Her stare continued.

“Please, Kay.” Puppy dog eyes maybe?

He held it for a few seconds longer and was satisfied to see her shoulders finally drop. “Fine.” She stalked into the fore, hand signals thrown at both Jeremy and Iz and the three security officers bracketed the bed and the two men.

Oh, he was so going to pay for this.

But, yeah, totally worth it.

Kayo led them out into the park and under a tree as requested. Virgil pulled the hoverbed to a halt with a sigh. The view was magnificent.

Jeremy stepped closer and took up a position near the Tracy brothers, Iz melted into the gardens and Kayo glared at Virgil one more time before talking into her comms quietly and running a perimeter.

So going to pay for this.

“She’s going to turn your life into hell, Virg.”

“Eh, she loves me. She won’t kill me.” He walked around the bed and perched on it beside his brother. “How are you?”

The breeze caressed his cheeks and it was wonderful.

“Better to be outside of that room.”

Virgil caught the unspoken terror in his brother’s voice. “Alan is going to be fine.”

“I know.”

Virgil reached out and touched his brother’s arm. “He will be. I promise.”

Scott turned to look at him at that, tired eyes staring up at him with a fragile hope Virgil had never quite seen in them before. Scott was always the powerhouse of inspiration in their family. The leader, the mover, the focus. To see him so tentative was alarming.

It was the concussion.

It had to be the concussion.

“Are you okay?”

Virgil startled. “What?”

His brother was peering at him. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Virgil, seriously, are you okay?” Scott was frowning in concern.

Great.

“I’m fine.”

“You have bags under your eyes bigger than Grandma’s handbag.”

Virgil rolled those eyes. “Exaggeration. I just haven’t had my coffee this morning.”

Scott stared at him in alarm. “You were up that early and haven’t had coffee?”

“No.”

“What?”

“I had coffee over breakfast. Just haven’t had my morning refill.”

That stare continued. Ever so great. Now Scott was worried about him. “I’m fine. You’re the sick one.” He turned away so his brother couldn’t stare at him any longer.

“Did you sleep?”

“I slept.” A couple of hours at least.

“For goodness sake, Virg-“

He placed a hand on his brother’s arm. “I’m fine. Quit worrying.”

“It’s my job.”

“You’re on sick leave. Give it up.”

“Look after yourself.”

“I am. Just drop it, okay. I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Exactly.” But it was said under his brother’s breath and Virgil doubted he was supposed to hear it. He ignored it anyway and turned away to focus on being outside and free from the confines of the hospital.

Scott appeared to give up, though he did manage to shoot Virgil a concerned look every now and again.

Virgil ignored him and just sat back against the headboard with his brother and relaxed.

He was on the verge of dozing off when his comms squawked at him. As he focussed enough to answer, Kayo swept out of the shrubbery and joined them.

Virgil’s heart sank even before he heard Gordon’s voice.

The explosion wasn’t an accident.

-o-o-o-

The room was ever so much more depressing and confined with so many people in it.

Their father and grandmother returned to the hospital, this time bringing John with them. Virgil noticed from the moment his middle brother walked through the door that something was up between him and Dad.

When Aunt Val and her second walked in behind him, Virgil realised exactly what.

Their Aunt immediately moved to both Scott and Alan, enquiring after their health. Her second, Captain Foster appeared both fearful and uncomfortable and had every right to both emotions.

Virgil glanced at Scott and found the expected concerned expression on his face.

But his brother shook himself and the commander made an appearance, his expression calming while his blue eyes missed not a thing. Virgil both welcomed it as a sign of his recovery and with a little bit of dread. Scott had never been entirely convinced Foster was innocent in the Hood’s theft of her identity. Virgil was of two minds himself, but everything IR could access…and that was a lot with Eos up their sleeve along with John…just proved her innocence more.

So, they treated her as innocent.

“Aunt Val, what brings you here?” Scott lay back against his pillow, his eyes tracking the people in the room.

Alan, in contrast was beginning to look tired.

When Scott and Virgil returned to the room with Kayo, the astronaut had been energetic, fuelled by his own discovery and worry. The words had literally fallen from his mouth in report to Scott. Virgil had shoved the beds together and the eldest brother had reached out to gently touch and reassure the youngest. It had been an important moment for them. Virgil hadn’t missed the tremble in his big brother’s voice or his inability to let his brother go.

Alan hadn’t minded in the slightest.

Virgil himself stood to one side listening as both Eos and Alan filled gaps in the picture. Scott’s expression hardened with each word.

Understandable.

Virgil wasn’t impressed in the slightest that someone was responsible for nearly killing two of his brothers.

Kayo went ballistic.

More security was ordered and her voice was sharp over comms. Virgil had no doubt the hospital was now tighter than Fort Knox.

“Commander, I have a report that you don’t believe the orbital explosion was an accident.” The colonel’s voice was crisp and clear.

Scott’s eyes darted to his father.

Jeff straightened just a little his expression firming up.

That blue gaze darted to John and their middle brother’s posture parroted that of their father with just a touch of defiance. The flicker of comprehension in Scott’s eyes reflected Virgil’s assessment of the situation. There was definitely an argument on simmer in the room.

Scott pushed himself up in the bed and Virgil jumped in to help. He could understand not wanting to face this lying down.

Scott grabbed at his head and closed his eyes.

“Hey, take it slow.” Virgil caught his brother’s shoulders and shot a glare at his father. Goddamnit, if this set Scott back after all the progress today, John wasn’t the only one who was going to be in an argument with his father.

“I’m okay, Virg.”

Pillows were shoved in to support Scott and the commander sat up straight, not quite high enough to look Casey in the eye, but impressive enough.

Virgil stood beside him.

“Colonel, we have only just now discovered there may be a possibility that the explosion was not an accident.”

“I need details.”

Scott’s eye darted to Foster for the barest of fractions. “I would prefer to do my own investigation of this matter. I need further information.”

“This is GDF jurisdiction, Scott.”

His brother’s lips thinned. He knew their aunt was right, but trust had been eroded after so many failures on the GDF’s part.

“There are some discrepancies in the station’s records. We suspect they have been masking their intake of both precious metals and radioactive materials.”

Her dark eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“That is what we need to find out.”

“Do you have proof?”

Scott turned to John and every eye in the room followed. The astronaut didn’t blink, his voice cool as he answered. “You will have our records shortly.”

“Thank you, John.”

John didn’t answer.

Virgil frowned.

Their father stepped forward. “Thank you, Val. Keep us in the loop?”

“Of course.”

Scott’s lips thinned further. “Colonel, I would appreciate this information being kept in confidence.”

It was Casey’s turn to straighten. “Of course, Commander.”

Scott dipped his head just slightly. “Thank you.”

There was a sudden silence in the room.

It was broken by a snore.

Virgil turned to find Alan flaked out in his bed, on his back, dead to the world. The medic flared. “I would appreciate it if my brothers were allowed to rest. It has been a long day and they are still recuperating. His glare landed on their father and the man met him eye to eye.

It was the Colonel who had the apology. “I’m sorry, Virgil, but this was important.”

“I’m aware of that, Aunt Val, but Alan was seriously injured. We came very close to losing him. So, you will need to excuse us if we are a little protective.” On the bed next to him, Scott flinched. Damn. Poor choice of words.

Virgil dropped a hand onto Scott’s forearm and squeezed gently without looking at his brother.

“I can respect that, but I will require Captain Foster to interview both Alan and Scott as part of this investigation as soon as possible.”

Virgil took a single step between his brothers and his aunt. “It will have to wait until at least tomorrow, Colonel. Both need more time.”

“You are not a doctor, Virgil.”

Of course, that set off his grandmother. “But I am, Val, and Virgil is correct. You are going to have to be patient.”

Alan snorted in his sleep. Gordon, sitting on the end of his little brother’s bed, lay a hand on Alan’s leg. There was a frown on the aquanaut’s face.

“I am trying to help you, Sal.”

“I know that, but you will have to wait. Our boys aren’t up to it yet.”

The colonel’s dark eyes turned to the eldest man in the room. “Jeff?”

Grey eyes darted from their grandmother to the sleeping Alan to the glaring blue staring from Scott’s bed.

A soft sigh. “My mother, as always, is correct, Val. We will have to wait.”

Val dipped her head in defeat. “Jeff, as soon as possible.”

“You have my word.”

With that the colonel looked to each of them, turned and left, taking Captain Foster with her.

As the door clicked closed, their father rounded on them. “What was that?”

Scott frowned. “What was what?”

“That was your aunt. Your mother’s sister. I would think you would treat her with a little more trust and respect.”

“Dad, that was Colonel Casey of the GDF. This is a professional relationship and we treat it as such. We have had difficulties with the GDF multiple times in the past. I can not afford to trust that organisation blindly. Aunt Val, yes, she means well, but she is not in control of every person in the Force. I will not trust them any more than I have to.”

“Why?”

Scott stared at his father a moment before turning to John. “Make sure Dad has the necessary mission reports as soon as possible.”

John’s FAB was very quiet.  

Their father returned Scott’s stare with equal wattage, his eyes grey stone. “I see we need to have an extended discussion.”

Scott dipped his head just slightly. “Yes, sir, we do.”

The ‘sir’ floated around the room like a harbinger. Scott hadn’t addressed his father like that in over nine years.

“Jeff, I think we should talk about this later. These boys need their rest.” As if to punctuate his grandmother’s request, Alan snorted and rolled over in his sleep. His soft whimper as he landed on his injuries had Gordon moving fast to gently prod him in the opposite direction.

Virgil winced, and realised he was still standing in defence of his eldest brother even though their Aunt had already left. A swallow and he stepped back to Scott’s side. He didn’t miss his grandmother eyeing him.

Grandma reached up and placed a hand on their father’s arm. “C’mon, Jefferson, you need rest.”

He turned to look at his mother. His shoulders sagged just a little.

Her hand travelled around his back and her touch became a one-armed hug. “You boys get some rest, too.” Blue eyes pinned both Scott and Virgil in particular.

Virgil let his head nod just once as Grandma steered her son out of the room. Their father must be really tired to allow himself to be herded like that.

But then this was Grandma.

Virgil sighed as the door closed behind them. Grabbing a plastic chair, he let himself drop into it beside Scott and for a moment just sprawled there.

“That could have gone a bit better.”

“You’re telling me.” Scott’s tone was as tired as Virgil felt. “Dad’s pissed.”

“Don’t blame him.” Gordon’s expression was sad.

It was Scott’s turn to sigh. “No…god, I’m tired.”

That perked up Virgil and, in a moment, he was standing again, fussing at his brother to lie down.

Scott glared at him, but surrendered without complaint, proof of exactly how much that little meeting had taken out of him.

“I’m sorry, Scott, but that’s not all of it.” John moved quietly closer to the bed; his expression just sad. “Dad feels we are shutting him out. That we are not including him in the decision-making process.”

That explained the tension on John’s face when he arrived.

Scott rubbed his face. “I…uh.” He let a breath out in a rush. “FAB.”

“I’ll speak to him tonight.” Virgil’s voice was rough and both Scott and John, along with Gordon in the background, turned to him.

“Virgil, are you okay?” John’s eyes were suddenly concerned.

Virgil cleared his throat and his voice came out more its usual depth. “I’m fine, why?”

His brothers’ frowns didn’t disappear, but Virgil pre-empted further discussion of his health by speaking further. “I’ll talk to him tonight. Hopefully he will have had a rest by then. We’re all tired. Tempers are guaranteed to be short.”

Scott grunted.

As if to parrot his big brother, Alan snorted again.

Gordon stifled a laugh.

Scott glared at him.

Virgil rolled his eyes and threw himself back into the chair.

Concerned turquoise eyes followed him, but Virgil ignored them.

God, he was tired. A blink. His coffee. He never got his damned coffee. Explained the tired.

He rubbed his face fit to erase it and lay back.

It could all wait a few minutes.

-o-o-o-

“Do you think he knows?”

“Of course, he knows. How could he possibly not?”

“He’s asleep. How could he know?”

“Because you never shut up about it.”

“Can it, you two, or you’ll wake him up!” The hissed whisper was closer and definitely Scott.

“I think that would be a good idea considering he is about to fall off that chair.” Gordon? Yes, Gordon.

Virgil shifted and realised he was not in a comfortable position. Not comfortable in the slightest.

He groaned as his body complained. Ow.

“Now, see that? You’ve done it. You just couldn’t shut up, could you?”

A gentle hand touched Virgil’s shoulder and he shifted again. Oh god, what had he done to himself.

“Hey, Virg, take it easy, you’re going to fall off the chair.”

Chair? Wha-? He forced his eyes open.

Just in time for whatever was under him to tip sideways.

The world tumbled into a mess of linoleum, orange and bruising hard surfaces.

Strong hands caught him though.

“Shit, Virg, you okay?”

The orange? The orange was Gordon. Virgil blinked attempting force clarity into his thoughts. His butt hurt and he had whacked a foot, but those strong arms of his little brother had caught all the important bits. A dazed stare up into eyes as brown as his own and his brain came mostly online.

“Ugh, Gordon? What the hell?”

“You fell off your chair.”

Virgil struggled to right himself and his brother helped him to sit up. He was on the floor. Scott was peering over the edge of his bed down at him, a worried frown on his face. “You okay, Virgil?”

He ran a hand over his face. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Thanks, Gords.”

“All part of the service.” As usual, Gordon’s tone was light, but Virgil didn’t miss the fact his brother hadn’t let him go yet. “You fell asleep. Did you know you snore like a frog?”

He turned to his brother. “What?”

“A genuine frog. I can even name the species. Mating call and all. I suggest you don’t fall asleep next to a pond. You may wake up with some interested, but somewhat slimy female admirers.”

Virgil stared at Gordon for a full second before giving up and shaking the man off so he could roll to his feet.

Ow, everything creaked. “How long?”

Scott’s eyes followed him as he staggered upright. “Maybe a couple of hours. You were tired.”

Still was. He rubbed his face again.

“You missed lunch.”

Huh? Food. His stomach groaned. “I’m good.”

“Bullshit, Virgil. Go home, you need food and a bed.”

He ran his hands through his hair. Ugh, sleep inertia. His brain was fog. He just needed a moment.

He grabbed his chair and righted it as his fish brother unfolded from the floor. His sore butt hit the plastic of the seat and he groaned. “I need coffee.”

Gordon snickered obviously ignoring the warning in those words.

Scott’s voice was firm. “Gordon, could you please get Virgil some coffee.”

That prompted a glare war between brothers that Virgil had no energy to umpire.

Blue must have won over brown like it usually did, because Gordon stomped off.

“You okay, Virg?” Alan’s voice came from somewhere beyond Scott.

Virgil grunted.

“Give him a minute…or sixty.” The grin in Scott’s voice was just offensive.

“Shut up.”

Gordon returned with what turned out to be a decent and wonderful and, oh god, coffee. So warm, so longed for. “Gordon, I love you.”

His brother snorted. “Figured, but I’m thinking you love the coffee more right now.”

“Mmm-hmm.” His eyes were closed and the smell. Ohhhh!

Someone was giggling but he didn’t care in the slightest.

Coffee.

It was a few reverential moments and some steaming liquid of the gods later before he surfaced enough to discover three pairs of eyes smirking at him.

Three.

“Where’s John?”

It was Scott who answered. “Lemaire threw another fit. He returned to the house to tackle it.”

“Another one? I thought John had the business secured.”

Scott sighed. “He does as far as I can see. Lemaire is just hounding the press.” Virgil narrowed his gaze at his eldest brother, suspicious. Scott rolled his eyes. “And before you ask, yes, I did fall asleep, but your snoring woke me up.”

“And me.” But Alan was grinning, obviously feeling better for his nap. “What frog was that, Gordo?”

“An African bullfrog. A big fat nasty one, just woke up from hibernation. Kinda applicable really, considering.” Gordon’s grin was fit to split his face in half.

Virgil ignored him and guzzled the dregs of his coffee.

Perhaps Scott was right. Maybe he should go home if he was disturbing his brothers.

A hand touched his arm. Scott’s voice was quiet and sincere. “Virg, go home. You’re wearing yourself out. Alan and I are fine. We will be fine. Go home.”

Virgil swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

The door to the room opened and a nurse entered. “Mr Alan Tracy, it is time for your dressings change.”

Virgil blinked. It was that late? Where the hell had the day gone?

He pushed himself to his feet. He could hang for another half hour or so.

Scott groaned softly as Virgil moved his bed out of the way so they could undock Alan’s bed. “Virg, go home.”

“I will. After Alan’s had his dressings changed.”

“Virg-“

“I’m good. Gordon, hang with Scott and sing him a lullaby. Here hold my coffee cup.” He shoved the empty mug into his gaping brother’s hand and helped push Alan’s bed out of the room.

Alan’s giggle made it worth it.

-o-o-o-

The giggle lasted until they entered the procedure room and then nothing could deny the seriousness of the situation. They left Jez and Brie at the door to give them privacy.

As Alan’s bed was docked and the protective sheets laid beside him, Virgil moved to take up a position at the head of the bed and gently rested his hand in Alan’s hair. Out of the way, but still in contact with his little brother.

During previous procedures, Virgil had moved to the other side of the bed, but this time he wanted a better view.

Maybe down the track, he would be able to help his brother through his recovery.

The nurse left for a moment and Alan looked up, his hair soft against the palm of Virgil’s hand. “Thanks for this. I know it sucks to watch, but thanks for being here, bro.”

A small smile. “Anytime, Allie.”

He could have let Gordon come in his stead, but Gordon was as much his little brother as Alan, and while they were all adults…well, almost, his fingers brushed blond locks involuntarily…every instinct still called to protect them.

If he was honest, Virgil would have to admit that his family was everything to him.

He would do anything for his brothers.

A small sigh. He must be tired. He was getting maudlin.

The nurse returned, bustling in with a hypodermic. She smiled at Alan and he forced a grin. “Got me the good drugs again?”

“Certainly, Mr Tracy. Only the best for our best patients.” Her smile was genuine and friendly.

She prodded his brother’s IV line and injected the medication. “Let’s give that a few moments to do its thing.”

Alan grinned. “Bring on the psychedelic butterflies.”

The nurse only smiled and finished up. “It will be over before you know it, Mr Tracy.”

Virgil hoped so.

The next few moments were quiet as Alan settled.

Virgil found himself gently stroking his brother’s hair.

He wasn’t sure if it was for Alan or himself. Maybe it was for both of them.

Eventually, the door opened and the same nurse from this morning entered pushing a small tray of supplies.

Alan grinned. “Joe, you’ve come back for a second round.”

The young man smiled in return. “Wouldn’t miss it. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, the good stuff is doing its stuff. Can barely feel a thing.”

The nurse stepped up to the side of the bed, giving Virgil the barest of nods. “That’s what we like to hear. Have to make sure we have a happy customer.”

“Give me a little more and I’ll be more than happy.”

The nurse snorted as he lined up his tools. “Kelly says you’ve had just the right amount, Alan. Wouldn’t want you to go loopy on us.”

“Sounds like fun. Hey, Virg, is it fun?”

Virgil blinked. “Is what fun?”

“Being high as a kite. Joe, you should see what stuff like this does to my brother.”

“Alan…”

The nurse looked up at Virgil and a small smile spread across his face. “Really? What does it do?”

Virgil groaned. “Alan-“

“He gets funny. One time he tried to walk through a wall. Another time, he proposed to Kayo, his sister.” Alan giggled. So much for not being as high as a kite.

“Alan, please.”

“It’s okay, Virg. We still love you.”

Blue eyes were looking up at him and smiling.

God, Allie.

The nurse pulled out a hypodermic needle. “Now I’m just going to put in a local anaesthetic and we’ll get started.” He began uncovering Alan’s arm.

Virgil frowned. “Why does he need a local? He has a nerve depressant in place.”

The nurse blinked at him. “This is part of the procedure.”

“No, it’s not. I’ve attended every session with Alan. He has not needed a local anaesthetic before. You didn’t give him one this morning.”

The nurse turned towards him. “He was in pain this morning. I felt this would help.” The man turned back to Alan and pulled the covers off his arm.

“Which local are you using?”

The man didn’t stop what he was doing. “Why?”

“Virg, what’s wrong?” Concerned blue eyes stared up at him from the bed.

“Just asking some questions, Allie.” He turned back to Joe. “Can you please stop a moment and explain what you are doing?”

Joe straightened and turned to Virgil, resignation on his face. “I guess I’ll have to.”

A blur of movement, a sharp pain in his neck, heat and shock as he was flung away from the bed. His head hit something hard and the world sparkled in a rain of stars.

“Virgil!”

Alan!

What the f-?!

“You had to be a smart ass, didn’t you. Couldn’t make this easy. No…bloody Tracys!”

Virgil’s brain derailed for a second. The man beside the bed doubled as he reloaded the syringe. “Two Tracys instead of one, can’t hurt, s’pose.”

“Al-lan, r-run!” He fumbled for his collar. “J..J..ez.” Where was his voice? He lurched a step. “Alan!”

His brother was responding, ever so slowly, dragging himself off the bed, his sedated body ever so heavy.

Heavy…Virgil listed to one side and struggled to right himself.

Joe had the hypodermic charged again. He turned to Alan.

No!

Virgil threw himself forward and crashed into that doubling figure.

They went down with a resounding crash. Surgical tools went flying.

“Goddamnit! What does it take to shut you up?!”

Virgil wrestled with the man, but he was uncoordinated and numb. Joe slapped him across the face with an empty medical tray and everything vanished in pain for too many moments.

But he had a grip on an arm and he wasn’t going to let go.

The man struggled, fighting him, and Virgil again tried his collar comms his thick fingers fumbling. “Jez…Jeremy, please!” Not Allie, please not Allie, don’t hurt Allie.

White hot pain flared in his arm.

Not Allie.

Again, sharp, hot and burning.

Again. He whimpered.

“Get off me, you annoying piece of sh-“

Something stabbed into him and stayed there just as the room exploded with noise.

Not Allie.

“Scott, help…please…”

Everything came down to that fist and what it held.

Not Allie.

Not Allie.

Not.

Alli-

-o-o-o-

End Part Six

[blog-sliverofjade]

Of Doms & Subs 1: Can't Stop Here, This is Wolf Country

Pairing: Angus Hopper x OFC

Summary:  What's a submissive female to do when she fights her nature and goes on the run as a Lone wolf to avoid being assimilated into a pack?

Word count: 6238

Master List

           “Please, please, please let me get as far as Tacoma,” I begged the flagging gas gauge of my trusty old lime green Jeep.  Experience told me that it was wishful thinking because traffic was bound to hit before Everett.  There was undoubtedly a Seattle pack and the fewer the stops in their area, the smaller the chance of getting picked up by the local werewolves.

           A schoolbus drew parallel to me in the left lane so a giant cartoon lupine mascot filled my peripheral vision.  “Can’t stop here, this is wolf country,” I muttered.

          If I barrelled through, gas up in Tacoma, then I could avoid the dreaded I-5 parking lot in both Seattle and Portland on the Friday of a long weekend.  Even though I started out in the British Columbia Rockies my destination was the central Oregon Cascade mountains, it was faster to cut across lower British Columbia, down the I-5 corridor, and then back across the Willamette Valley.

          This route also happened to avoid the territory of the famous Adam Hauptmann and his pack.  Oh sure, he was the perfect gentleman in the media and his wolves were seemingly well-behaved, but you know what they say about things that are too good to be true.  I was submissive and had no delusions about where I’d end up in the hierarchy.  Hell, humans had taught me that long before I was Changed two weeks ago.  And female werewolves were inevitably absorbed into a pack because some old grand high poobah declared that we couldn’t fly solo.

          So why was I zigzagging all over the Pacific Northwest instead of rolling over like a good little bitch?  Having been submissive for over thirty years, I’d long ago learned avoidance is the best way to avoid conflict.  When that didn’t work, an acerbic tongue and short temper kept most people from getting too close to abuse that aspect of my personality.  Too many people think that passivity is a synonym for doormat.

          My luck, or rather fuel tank, ran out in the U District.  Red and blue lights lit up the rearview mirror just as I squeezed through a yellow light towards a gas station.  “Please don’t be for me, please don’t be for me,” I chanted as I pulled into the lot.

          “Of course not, when has everything gone your way on this godsforsaken trip.”  I lowered my window, plastered a meekly congenial if slightly vapid look on my face, and gripped my license and registration in a sweaty fist.

          “Good evening.”  The officer bent to look in the window.  We both stilled the instinct we caught the other’s scent.  I dropped my eyes immediately, partly to avoid staring at the scar that marred his face, and offered the documentation.  Please don’t ask any questions, I prayed silently.

          “Are you traveling by yourself, Ms. Jones?”  Whatever deities that haven’t been listening to me can go shove it.

          “Yessir.  I’m headin’ back home to Oregon from visitin’ family.”  Mostly the truth.  I did stop in Vancouver to visit my brother.  I put the Southern drawl on fairly heavy.  The twang and the manners to go with often smooth the way with people in uniform, even if I hadn’t lived South of the 44th parallel in fifteen years.

          “Oh, you have family here?”  Must remain calm.  Normal, even breaths will help control the heartrate.

          “Vancouver,” I smiled.  So what if it was Vancouver, Washington and not Vancouver, British Columbia?

          “BC?”

          “Yessir.”  His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the blithe lie.

          “You must be a member of the Portland pack,” he said, eyeing my ID a little too closely for comfort now.

          “Yessir.”

          “I’m just gonna go run these.”  My dad was a cop and his face would go blank like that whenever he was gathering evidence of my brother’s or my misdeeds.  This was so many flavours of not good.

          The wolf watched him walk back to his car.  She liked the way he smelled.  Familiar and right.  Like family.  If she could, she would have trotted right at his heels.  At that thought, the human half kicked in and started up the engine, slammed her into gear, and peeled back out towards the onramp.

          “Smart.  Real smart, what’re we gonna do now?” I tapped the steering wheel in a staccato rhythm with my thumbs in time to the rock blaring from the sound system.  “No license, no registration, he called your plates in before saying hi, he has your address and…”  I grabbed my phone and shut it off.  If the conspiracy theorists were right, they could track me via the phone.  Is it paranoia if they really are out to get you?

          I crossed over to the 405 and stopped in Bellevue for gas, otherwise I’d be making my getaway on foot.  I leaned against the Jeep, ignoring the damp that seeped from the cold metal through my clothing, and debated the merits of taking the really scenic route of 101.  Or would they expect me to leave I-5 and thus making it the safer choice by hiding in plain sight?  My head was starting to hurt from trying to outthink them.

          The gas fumes seared my nose so I couldn’t smell the driver of the Mazda 3 that pulled up behind me until he approached the squeegee station between us.  Studiously avoiding eye contact, I screwed the cap back on and nestled the nozzle back in its hook.  Slowly, no sudden moves.

          I slid behind the wheel and as the engine turned over a cop car blazed into the station to block me against the Mazda.  It looks cool in the movies.  Less so if you’re the one trapped.  I shut off the engine, folded my arms, and leaned back in a huff.  My license and registration slipped through the three-inch gap at the top of the window.  I snatched them up and tossed them in my purse without pausing in my attempt to mentally set his car on fire.  Unfortunately, lycanthropy didn’t come with pyrokinesis.  In the movies fiery explosions usually follow when there are confrontations in gas stations.  Too bad life wasn’t imitating art in this case.

          “I take it you know the law.”  The scarred officer was not referring to any statutes written by man.  “You can either come and meet our Alpha or I can arrest you and then you can meet him.”  There was no threat in his words.  He sounded as if he were inviting me over for dinner, which might actually be the case.  I resisted the urge to hit the steering wheel.  It would likely crumple now that I had preternatural strength.

          “Fine.  So where am I following you to meet your lord and master?”

          “Matt here will be your driver,” he gestured to the guy who’d blocked me in.  Mazda Matt leaned against his car door with his arms folded across his chest, watching the exchange with a slight smirk.  “Shane will follow in your car.”  A third man I hadn’t noticed before was mirroring Matt’s pose on the other side of the car.

          I sighed and glanced at my phone.  Even if they let me use it, who would I call?  Hi big bro, I’m being kidnapped by werewolves.  Please send in the National Guard.  Tanks work against werewolves, right?  I kicked open the door, forcing the cop to quickly sidestep.  With a snarl on my lips, I chucked the heavy mass of keys attached to a carabiner at Shane.  Damned werewolf reflexes.  If he’d been human they’d have struck his temple and probably dropped him like a stone.

          Matt came forward as if to take my elbow and escort me.  “Touch me and I break your scaphoid.  They’re a bitch to heal even with regeneration,” I snapped.  Just because my wolf was happy about getting taken to meet their leader didn’t mean I had to be.  He drew back his hand, but he did open the door for me and waited till I buckled up before shutting the door.  Why buckle up if I could survive a trip through the windshield?  It’d still hurt like hell.

          “So I heard you’re from Portland,” Matt said as we merged back onto 405 in an attempt to fill the silence that was thick with my seething.

          “Look, I’m no doubt about to get grilled on all this anyway, so let’s skip the twenty questions, ok?”  He shrugged and didn’t seem put out by my rudeness.

          Eventually he turned on the radio.  I fiddled with it until finally settling on 107 the End.  I tried to suppress a smirk at his frown.  Judging by his pre-sets he liked the music just fine.  Not so much me taking control of it.  If some strange wolf was driving my Jeep, Mazda Matt could suck it up.  He should be glad I didn’t put it on country out of sheer spite.

          Thirty minutes later, due to traffic as opposed to distance, we pulled up in front of an expansive house partially obscured by trees.  I shuddered to think of the market value for the area.  They seemed to be having a party due to the sheer number of vehicles parked beside the house.  Shane pulled up as I trailed behind Matt to the door.

          The door opened to a large mudroom with hooks for coats and cubbies for shoes.  About half of them were in use.  Curiously, there were two utilitarian shower stalls that would have looked right at home in a locker room.  I followed Matt’s and Shane’s examples and removed my shoes, tucking them into one of the shelves.

          “We’re having a barbecue on Saturday, so a bunch of us are already here to watch the game,” Shane explained from behind me as I followed Matt down the hallway.  The sounds of men cheering or jeering at a TV screen echoed up from the basement.  My human half was worried about being in a house with a bunch of strange men.  My wolf on the other hand was curious and delighted by the mixture of scents that spoke of wolves.

          How to play this?  Be a general pain in the ass and risk the consequences?  Or be a good little submissive female and not only risk being assimilated, but also subordinate to everyone else.  I always believed in playing to one’s strengths, which meant plan A was go.  Besides, I’d never been accused of having the sense God gave a squirrel.

           Matt stopped by an open doorway and gestured for me to enter.  The man standing behind the desk was certainly not what I was expecting of an Alpha.  For starters, he didn’t look like an arrogant asshole.  Secondly, he was maybe an inch taller than me, and I was considered fairly short.  Underneath his wine, or perhaps blood-red dress shirt he was thin.  The only hint to his status was the intelligence lurking behind his dark eyes, which I merely glimpsed before lowering my own.

           “Welcome, Eleanor,” he came around to shake my hand.  I didn’t know if it was proper protocol or if he somehow knew that I was recently Changed and was sticking to familiar, human customs.  His grip was firm, not crushing like some men, and not too gentle as if he was afraid of breaking me.  It was a bit startling to actually be able to shake his hand properly instead of my hand simply being engulfed by his as was the case with most men.

          “I am Angus Hopper, Alpha of the Emerald City Pack.  You’ve made good time considering you left Revelstoke early this morning.”  Oh that was neatly done, putting me in my place by hinting that he knew more than I suspected, but not exactly how much.  “Have a seat,” he leaned his backside against the desk and gestured to one of the comfortable looking chairs.  It was an order, not an invitation.  And why was I reminded of being called to the principal’s office as written in a Penthouse letter?  Shoving aside x-rated thoughts involving school uniforms and corporal punishment, I tried to look as non-threatening as possible.

          “Been sittin’ in a car so long I’d rather stand if’s all the same.”  Eyes down, properly polite, and heavy on the Southern accent to hide any attitude.

          “I imagine,” he said with a small smile.  “So tell me how you came to be living in Portland, a city currently without a pack.”  Crap on a cracker, there’s no lying my way out of this one.  How does a city that size not have a werewolf pack?

          “I was Changed two-weeks ago,” I sighed and sat in the other chair in defeat, the one he had not indicated, forcing him to shift slightly to face me.  If he didn’t want small acts of defiance, then he shouldn’t have multiple options available.  “I was solo hikin’ in Glacier National Park an’ doin’ a little boulderin’.  One slip an’ I ended up with a broken spinal column at the bottom of a ravine.  By the time John found me, it was Change or die.  Chose what I thought was the lesser o’ two evils.  Stayed with him through the full moon an’ then headed home.”

          “Does John have a last name?” Angus asked with a frown.  My wolf worried that he was displeased with us.  I worried what that might mean for us if he was.

          “He said he’s old an’ the old ones don’t like to give their last names.”  I had to consciously square my shoulders, which had subconsciously rounded under his frown.  He nodded as if the answer wasn’t a surprise to him.

          “And he was willing to let you go so soon?” he asked with an arch of an eyebrow.  It really should be illegal for such a simple gesture to lend an irresistible quality when he was already handsome.  Or that could have just been my imagination because it was hard to read expressions from peripheral vision.

          “Not as such no,” I admitted reluctantly.  “I waited till he went out huntin’ then I booked it back down the mountain.”

          “Why did you feel the need to run?” he asked softly.  Even if I was brave enough to look him in the face I doubted that it would give any clue as to what that tone was in his voice.  I wasn’t necessarily a coward, but I was never comfortable discussing my personal life, let alone with strangers.  Focusing on the rug, or the bookcase, was easier than looking at him.

          “I got a job to get back to an’ I really wasn’t fond o’ the idea o’ bein’ stuck in the backwoods with a crazy old mountain man who’s also a werewolf.”  He was silent, obviously waiting for me to continue.  “I got the feelin’ that even if I was fully in control he wouldn’t let me leave.”

          Angus folded his arms in thought.  “Do you know where John lives?”

          “There’s a map in my glove box.  I could show ya the route to the cabin we stayed at.  There’re no roads, an’ it’s a bit of a hike in.”  Despite my best intentions to the contrary, I was cooperating.  I blamed my wolf, who was eager for his approval.  The Alpha obviously did not like what he was hearing, but it was rapidly becoming apparent that I was not his quarry so I was more than happy to keep him on that trail.  He caught the attention of either Shane or Matt behind me, and a moment later a door shut.  “But I did get the feelin’ that he moves around a lot.”

          “Eleanor,” he began.

          “Ellie, please.”  Angus did frown at the interruption, but hearing my horrible legal name, which the cop must have told him, was like having my fur rubbed the wrong way.

          “Ellie, you’re not in any trouble,” he said soothingly, as if I were a startled horse that might bolt.  Perhaps that analogy wasn’t too far off the mark considering I was practically vibrating with the need to run for the Jeep.  “The manner of your Change was highly unusual, bordering even on breaking our laws.”

          “The law says that no one may be Changed without their explicit permission.  I was coherent enough to give it.”  Ha, that caught him off guard.  That’s right, the newbie knows the rules of the game.  I might not remember anything else around the accident, but things like a weird, hairy mountain man offering to save your life by turning you into a monster tends to stick in a person’s memory.

          “That is true, yes.  However, the second law is that before someone is Changed they must undergo rigorous counseling and testing to determine whether they can become stable wolves,” the Alpha explained.  I forgot for a moment and stared into his dark eyes in shock that someone would make the choice deliberately rather than out of desperation.  I quickly looked away once the surprise faded.

          “A newly Changed wolf lacks control for their first few full moons and requires supervision for the first year,” he continued as if there was no breach of protocol.  “A pack is necessary to guide new wolves.”  He sounded like he had given this speech many times before.  Luckily, he didn’t succumb to dry monotones.

          “Which’s why I was goin’ to pack up an’ move somewhere rural enough I could run off a little steam,” I countered.  “Nurses are always needed everywhere.”

          “This is not just a ‘little steam,’ pup.”  I suppressed a flinch at his growl, as well as a snarl of my own at being called ‘pup.’  He took a deep breath, whether to calm himself or to continue his lecture I didn’t know because the sound of the door opening interrupted.  Shane handed Angus the familiar map, folded in my own fashion that in no way resembled its original creases.  Those things are impossible to refold properly, anyway.  After carefully moving a few items, he unfolded the map over his desk and handed me a pencil.

          “Here’s the trail head.”  I pointed to the circle already marking the spot on Highway 1.  “He follows the main trail through this valley.”  I pointed at the trail, which was already marked from my planning before the trip from hell.  The accent softened as I talked and forgot to maintain it.  “At about here he branches off at different angles each time so that his trail, not being well worn, is hard to pick up until you’re further out and know what you’re looking for.”  I marked an X where I’d gotten lost and decided to just keep following the river down until I found either a trail, humans, or the highway.  “Follow the river up and at the very edge of the park he’s got a cabin right about here.”  I drew a paw print on the spot.  “With the climb in elevation, it would’ve taken me about two days before… before.  Downhill with a light pack, I made it in around eight hours.”

          “Does that say ‘Dogtooth Range’?” Shane asked with a hint of a wry smile.

          “Could’ve been worse.  He could’ve gone for the really obvious with either Grey Fang or Fang Rock,” I smirked and pointed out the so named peaks on the other side of the park.  He snorted a chuckle.

          “You didn’t go to the authorities.”  It was a statement, not a question.

          “And end up in a secret government facility?” I scoffed.  “No thank you.”

          “Where did you stop to rest?” asked Angus.

          “I didn’t.”

          “Fatigue can be as dangerous as alcohol,” he frowned.

          “Have caffeine, will travel,” I quipped.

          “Even though your endurance has improved, you still need rest.  Exhaustion erodes control.”  And back into lecture mode.

          “Like I said, I’m a nurse.  Pulling doubles, even triples, isn’t unusual,” I countered.

          “You passed through the territories of four different packs.”  Someone had probably pulled my credit card history to follow my route in retrospect.  That was fast work, and most definitely illegal.  “How did you avoid detection?”

          “Didn’t stop more’n absolutely necessary,” I shrugged.  “And when I did, I tried to not get out of the car.  Drive-thru, avoided pumping my own gas where I could.”

          With a few taps Angus called someone on his cellphone.  He had to swipe his fingerprint to unlock it, first.  It even had one of those heavy-duty cases, which was probably a good investment for a werewolf.  “Hello, Angus.”  It was still weird how much my hearing had improved, especially back in civilization.

          “Hello, Bran.”  Aw, son of a biscuit.  I really did not want to show up on the Marrock’s radar.  Angus gave a concise report of everything that had happened to me since the accident, as far as he knew, including the pathetic getaway attempt.  I sat back down for the uncomfortable reprise.

          “Send me the map and I’ll have Charles look into it.”  I wasn’t certain how I felt about having just signed John’s death warrant.  The old werewolf wasn’t too specific when he talked about the Grand High Poobah of North America, but he was clear that any time the Marrock sent someone blood was spilled.  “How is she getting on with your pack?”

          “She’s a touch overwhelmed so I thought it best to wait before introducing them en masse.”  I glared at Angus from under lowered lashes, which is harder to do than you would think without looking coy or drunk.

          “If she chooses, escort her to Eugene.  Otherwise I will send someone to fetch her here until she decides where to settle,” Bran said.  My scowl deepened and I opened my mouth to tell them exactly what I thought of their plans.  Shane shook his head almost imperceptibly in warning, though there was more empathy than condemnation in the movement.

          “Please give my greetings to Anna and Charles.”

          “I will.”  The call abruptly ended from the other end.  Our King of the Werewolves was not one for drawn out goodbyes.  Angus took a couple of pictures of the map and sent them off with thumbs flying across the screen fast enough to make a teenager jealous.  Then he did the most supernatural act I’d seen out of a werewolf yet: he carefully folded the map along the original fold lines before handing it back to me.

          I doubled it over and shoved it in my back pocket as I stood.  “If you’ll excuse me, I would like to make it home in time for my shift tomorrow night.”  Although I kept my eyes on the bookshelf, I could feel his stare boring through me till my knees threatened to turn to Jell-O.  Locking one’s knees is a surefire way to eventually pass out, but is effective in the short term.

          “I’m afraid that you will have to change careers.  Even old wolves can have problems around so much blood and the vulnerable.”  The bastard actually managed to sound regretful.

          “I have neither the money nor the inclination to go back to school.  Not to mention I’m a little old for that.”  Must not growl at the Alpha, I mentally chanted for the benefit of my human half.

          “Loans can be arranged, and I’ve known werewolves who were alive when the Magna Carta was signed and earned their doctorate two or three times over.”  He sounded so cool and collected as if we weren’t discussing what was the beginning of what was theoretically to be my extremely long life.  “The more immediate issue is how much control you have.”

          “If I don’t get my act together by this time next year I’m put down.”  Don’t know why I spared him when it would have been so much more fun to watch him squirm.

          “Not only that, but you must be able to shift form and back at will.”  People go through that much pain willingly?  “New wolves need a pack to teach them control and to prevent unnecessary bloodshed when the wolf takes over until control is regained.  We cannot afford one mistake lest we all disappear into secret government facilities at best, or hunted down and exterminated at worst.”  Angus’ voice achieved a deeper timbre that coiled through the room like some living thing as he seemed to be losing patience.  “You will stay the night here.  In the morning Shane and Matt will escort you to Eugene to be presented to the pack there.”  Ooh, presented like a gift.  Who could resist such a command?  Oddly enough, my wolf did not like this plan either, but not because of the authoritarianism.

          “And if I don’t want to join a pack?”  It’s difficult to arch an eyebrow effectively while avoiding eye contact.  But not impossible.

          “That is not an option,” he shook his head.  “Even if you were not so new, our females are so rare they not allowed to become lone wolves.”  That’s what John had said, but I hoped that it was a lie to keep me from leaving.  The whole damn lot of them were so possessive it’s a wonder they even realized they were in the 21st century.  And I didn’t belong to anyone.  Not any more.

          “Fine.  But I’ve driven from here to Eugene many times so I think we can dispense with the escort.”  I waved vaguely over my shoulder to where Shane still lurked by the door.

          “That is non-negotiable.  As a dominant male and even more so as an Alpha I have a responsibility to see a submissive female delivered safely to another pack.”  Oh bloody hell.  John was right.  They could tell from one’s energy, no matter how much I tried to hide behind my sass.  “Not all dominants that you might meet along the way would be as tolerant of your attitude as I am.”

          “More arbitrary rules from on high,” I said flatly and folded my arms.  “Tell me, is His Furriness one of those at the signing of the Magna Carta?  No wonder ya’ll’s thinking’s so medieval.”

          Angus grabbed me by the back of the neck and snarled in my face.  Reflexively, I stiffened and closed my eyes to avoid looking at him.  His grip was tight, but not painful.  One quick twist and he could snap my neck.  I was pretty sure that was one injury from which there was no recovery.

          “The Marrock set down our laws for reasons you cannot yet comprehend.  You don’t have to understand our ways yet, but before God you will show respect,” he snarled.  There wasn’t anything I could say to that, so with an involuntary shudder I went limp in his grasp as my wolf temporarily took over.  Well, there were things I could say, but self-preservation and my wolf stayed my tongue.  After a minute, he released me, stepped away, and turned his back.  The strength I had just experienced first hand was evident in the taut lines of his wiry shoulders.

          My heart pounded in my throat while in the back of my head my wolf howled her anguish at having been chastised.  As a result, my self-preservation went right out the window.  “My respect is earned, not freely given.  If I’d realized that my choices consisted of which pack I was going to be the lowest bitch in, I’d have told John to bugger off.”  At least he’d have made sure that it was quick and clean.

          The Alpha breathed deeply and was quiet for exactly ten seconds.  Basic relaxation techniques to manage the beast within?  And they thought they could teach me something in that area?  When he was done, but not noticeably calmer, he turned around to lean against the desk again.  “We have a rigorous screening process to avoid situations like this.  Dominant lone wolves are the last people who should be teaching pack structure to a submissive female.”

          “Please stop using that term.”

          “‘Female’?”

          “Used as an adjective, it refers to a person.  As a noun, it denotes something less than human.  An animal.”  Like breeding pairs.  Good thing I never wanted to procreate anyway.

          “Get used to the terminology.”  If he were human, he’d have developed a new frown line from this conversation alone.  “In the constant struggles for dominance, females and submissives are the center of a pack since they do not rise in rank, except for when their mate does in the case of females.”  If I didn’t like ‘female,’ I despised ‘mate,’ which seemed a ridiculous term for a species that couldn’t bear children.  “With submissives, dominants don’t have to constantly watch their back.  And the pack will unite to protect these weaker members.”  Oh if he thought I was weak, he had another thing coming.  “Female submissives are so valued that any pack would welcome you.”  ‘Submissive’ as a noun was definitely not an improvement.  “But none would tolerate your disrespect for long.”

          “That’s exactly why I should just be on my merry way,” I said brightly.  “I’m really more trouble than I’m worth.”

          “Nice try,” he smirked.  “Dinner is in thirty minutes.  You’ll want to freshen up.”  True to my nature I wanted to deny hunger despite not having eaten since well before the border crossing.  I’d worn the same clothes for the past twenty-four hours straight, which included a frantic run down a mountain through unfamiliar woods, and my hands still smelled like gasoline.

          I was still noticing just how many interesting smells I was covered in when a tall, perky blonde swept through the door.  She must have practically been listening down the hallway, not that, that was necessary.  Everyone in the house had probably heard me mouthing off.  I’d forgotten about that.  Great first impression.

          “Please show Ellie to the guest suite.”  Mickayla gave a sloppy salute, earning a scowl from her fearless leader, then cocked her head in silent invitation to follow her.

          “You’re up on the second floor,” she said as she led me upstairs.  “Hopefully you’re not afraid of heights after your accident,” she grinned.

          “Are you kidding?  I’ve always wanted to try free climbing, but was too scared.  Now I totally want to,” I said.

          “Don’t mention that to any of the guys or they’ll have kittens.”  Her golden laugh bounced through the stairway.

          “Now I’m picturing a bunch of them at the base of a cliff with a giant trampoline like in cartoons when there’s a fire,” I chuckled and she joined me.

          “This is you,” she waved a welcoming arm through an open doorway.  “Matt already brought your backpack and duffel up.”  My bags were indeed sitting on a low, wide dresser against the nearest wall.  The queen bed with its elegant down comforter faced the door.  A door on the right led to a bathroom, although I had no idea how I was going to be able to do my business in a house full of people who could hear through walls.

          “Thanks.”

          “No worries.  You need anything you just give a shout.  Wait, you’re new.  No actual shouting necessary, just a sort of ‘hey’ so we know you’re not talking to yourself,” she winked.

          “Um, Mickayla?”  She turned back to me.  “What’s it like being in a pack?”

          She stepped into the room with a small smile and shut the door behind her, for all the good that would do.  “I don’t know this John, but sometimes wolves go lone because they can’t handle being in a pack.”

          “Yeah, he did seem more than a little biased.”  I dug out the Ziploc of toiletries and the bundle that was the last clean outfit I’d originally saved for the last day of the drive home, but didn’t dare stop long enough along the way to change.

          “Think of a healthy pack more as one big family.”  Mickayla flopped onto the bed with one leg tucked up under her, yet kept her voice low enough to not carry.  “Complete with the usual amount of dysfunction and bickering.  They’re really like a bunch of brothers, uncles, and cousins who are all trying to protect the little sister.”

          As she talked, I leaned against the bathroom doorway and started to brush my teeth.  They had fuzzy sweaters from the energy drinks I’d downed to stay awake.  “But then again, I’m married,” she continued.  “If you’re single then the unmated ones will all come sniffing around.  It’s not that bad!” she laughed at my expression of dawning horror.  “Even if any of them would push their luck and call down the wrath of their Alpha, the closest dom would thrash them, or if they couldn’t, tag someone in who could.  Mind you, I’m only talking about the Emerald City Pack.  I was Changed two years ago because my mate, Matt, was already a wolf.  Before that there were no other girls for I don’t know how long.”

          “They weren’t kidding when they said that women are rare,” I said around the toothbrush and foam that probably made me look rabid.  She laughed again, although it was hard to tell whether it was at my surprise or the toothpaste.

          “We’re more functional than not here.  But there are some stories out there of Alphas who went bad.  I don’t know much about the Eugene pack, but I haven’t heard any horror stories either,” she shrugged.  “You know, it’s funny, women are supposed to be huge gossips, but most werewolves are men and we all gossip worse than any housewife.”  I laughed and promptly choked, so I shut the bathroom door and started the shower as I finished brushing.

          “You’re going to need to get over that modesty.”  Mickayla’s voice was easily heard through the door and over the running water.

          “Oh?” I asked archly.  She couldn’t see the glare through the door as I undressed.

          “It’s incredibly painful to shift while wearing clothes.  So pack runs, full moons…”

          “I’ve just been told I have to switch careers, move to a new city, am no longer allowed to leave town without a babysitter, and when it comes to my place in a pack my only option is which one do I want to be at the bottom of the pecking order in.  Oh, and all the single guys will be eyeing me like a juicy steak.  Now you’re telling me I have to become an exhibitionist?  No thank you, I’m going to maintain whatever little control over my life I have left.”  It took all my willpower to not punch something.  If I had to move and look for work there was no way I could afford to replace anything in this bathroom, too.

          “If the pack’s good, you’ll be on a pedestal, more or less, not the low man on the totem pole.”

          “Great, I always wanted to be Princess Peach stuck in the castle,” I muttered sarcastically.  “I’ll see you downstairs.”

          “Ellie, I promise that it’s not as bad as it seems,” she said before leaving.

          I stood lost in thought in my office for some time after she left, bathed in the complex layers of smells that confirmed her story.  Mountain air, evergreens, sweat both old and nervous, gasoline, fast food, and no small amount of stress.  Amidst the melange was a thread of fear.  If it was any stronger, I would have called Alan, the pack’s only submissive, to come and help calm her before everyone got riled up trying to fix whatever upset her.  But under the circumstances, her fear was to be expected.  And he was working tonight.

          Tension had been running high in the pack ever since we went public.  Another submissive to ease the strain would be a boon, and a second medic would not go amiss.  Her presence would stir up a rash of dominance fights among the unmated males until she starting seeing someone.  That is, if she could be housebroken.  Time would show whether her defiance was born of ignorance or emotional pressure.  Her knowledge of our primary laws would suggest the latter, though I preferred to avoid premature conclusions.

          A younger wolf, or one who wasn’t as high in the hierarchy, might find such calculations cold, especially in regards to a submissive female whose Change had been particularly traumatic.  But you don’t get to be an old Alpha without assessing the strengths and weaknesses of your pack members and determining how they can best be used for the betterment of the whole.

          As much as I was loath to let her leave, even if the Marrock hadn’t mandated, protocol and courtesy demanded that the Eugene pack have right of first refusal.  Appropriate that Eugene was also referred to as the Emerald City, but we had claimed the name before the Portland pack had relocated there.  Ordinarily I would have my second, Tom, call to arrange things with the other pack, but the unique situation and the fact that he was on duty called for a personal touch, even if my third, Shane, wasn’t preparing for the trip.  Besides, their Alpha, Colin, would be pissed if I dropped this grenade, no matter how attractive or useful she was, in his lap without warning.  No, not a bomb.  Panicked ferret, maybe.  Still not pleasant, but not as disastrous.  And they could be cute, when they weren’t baring their teeth.

          Stifling a sigh, I found Colin’s cell number in my phone and called him up.

Notes: This was written two years ago and was my first fan fiction and my first attempt at writing over 10 years.

Matt and Shane live in Redmond, thus why they were able to carpool so quickly. It was sheer luck that they spotted the lime green, mud-splattered Jeep as they headed down the 405 after Tom asked them to try and track her while he covered I-5 South. Of course, Ellie didn't know that, nor does she think it's lucky at all.

Ellie was hiking along the easterly side of Glacier National Park of Canada in BC, not too far from Revelstoke, which has some great hot springs, by the way.

[anna-mator]

How to Draw a Toon - (In-Progress) Fandom: Warner Bros, Looney Tunes, Disney, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Rating: M Categories: M/M  Relationships: (eventual) Bugs/Daffy  Warnings: Language, moderate violence, cartoon violence, racism, Additional tags: friends to lovers, mystery, adventure

Somewhere in Toon Town, a rabbit sat uncomfortably in the only library in town. He was pouring over autobiographies of other Toons. Each chapter of every book began the same: humble beginnings with a chance of stardom. Most were poor, some were sheltered… every single one was literally drawn into their lives. Their family, their class, their religion, their politics; it seemed to be all predetermined. Whether it was intentional from the creator, or heavily influenced, he still wasn’t sure. 

“Bugs?” A small voice spoke.

Bugs Bunny jolted, placing his hands over the piles of books he collected on instinct. He quickly regained his posture and settled his eyes on a soft-colored and familiar face. “Belle?” He asked, shocked.

Belle was hovering over him slightly with a few books in hand. “It is you… Did you need any help, Bugs?” She asked politely. 

“Oh ehh… nah.” Bugs said, trying to keep some of the books from her view. “I’m all good here. Say ehhh… shouldn’t you be at like…. Disneyland or somethin’?” he asked.

At that, Belle laughed slightly. “Oh Bugs… just because I’m a Disney princess doesn’t mean they keep us all holed up in their theme parks. Plus, with all of the royalty checks, I don’t really need a job. I volunteer here.”

“Ah. I see. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Not at all…” Belle said, then looked curiously at Bugs’ pile of books. “It looks like you’re about to check out the entirety of the Autobiography section.” She chuckled.

“Ahaha… just about.” Bugs said, suddenly feeling slightly nervous about her nosiness.

 “All of them are Toons, too…” 

Just then, Bugs had an idea. “Ah!” He exclaimed before he stood up and gently turned her away from his pile of books, “Actually, I’ve been watchin’ some kids recently and wouldn’t ya know it, I can hardly put ‘em to bed. If you could find me the very best fairy-tale book you can think of, I would be foreva in your debt.” 

“Uh, sure.” Belle said with a weary tone. 

Bugs didn’t like the sound of her voice. Once he believed Belle was out of earshot, he scrambled to gather his haphazard notes and supplies. “I gotta get outta here.” He said from under his strained breath. 

When Bugs placed things away, he turned tail to find the closest exit. The rabbit managed to slip through a back door completely unnoticed. He found his car and sped off in a hurry. This kind of prodding had consequences. He had heard rumors of Toons going missing over stuff like this. Luckily, Bugs was smarter than that. 

In truth, Bugs trusted no Toon nor Human with the kind of information he was gathering. It was starting to weigh on his conscience, and even take a blow to his general health. Typically, when a Toon became stressed it visibly showed. Bugs was no exception.

Which was why an hour later, with no one else to turn to, Steven Spielberg took a look at Bugs and simply said, “God you’re a mess.” He commented once he approached the Toon rabbit.

“Thanks, Doc.” Bugs said with a slight roll to his eyes. “You looked in the mirror lately, yourself?” He japed, commenting on the distracting and ugly anti-paparazzi gear Steven had on.

Deciding to ignore the comment, “Please tell me it’s not…” Steven asked, as he brought his shades onto the brim of his baseball hat.

“It’s not the kids. I can take care of ‘em jus’ fine.” Bugs shot Steven down immediately. 

They walked down the sunny L.A. street, headed towards Griffith Park. They were both well aware it was the entrance to Toon Town. Still, the park itself was the only place that provided Bugs with any comfort. 

“So… what did you bring me out here for?” Steven asked. 

It took every ounce of energy Bugs had not to just start spouting out every tiny piece of information he had been gathering for the past six months. Instead, he took a breath and exhaled softly. “I’m over eighty years-old, mac. I’ve been repainted a dozen times and there’s no end in sight.”

Immediately, Steven knew exactly what Bugs was dealing with. It was obviously some kind of mid-life crisis, but a Toon equivalent. “Go on…” He prompted.

“So a few months ago, I got ta thinkin’... What else am I gonna do with my life? I can’t be slingin’ dynamite foreva. I already toured the world when I was younger… but I never learned anything!” Bugs cried out, “Sure the occasional script had some kind of historical tidbit, or a line from another language, but I still felt… uneducated.” 

Steven was already connecting certain dots in his head, leading up to what Bugs wanted to say. Because of it, a small smile was beginning to inch onto his face. However, he continued to let the Toon speak.

“Then I realized… what if it ain’t just me? And as it turns out--” 

“Eighty-seven percent of Toons are uneducated.” Steven finished and the smile vanished, ”And the number keeps growing every year. There isn’t a single school in Toon Town. If Toons want an education, they acquire it themselves or through scholarships the studios award.”

Bugs and Steven stopped and looked at one another. “I came to you nearly a decade ago... “ Steven started, feeling slightly irritated at Bugs.

Immediately Bugs cringed, “I know, I know!” he shouted, starting to move away from him. While he wanted to tell Steven more about his findings about Toon education, he decided to keep his mouth shut. Paranoia struck him again.

Still, Steven gave a small chase. “I asked repeatedly if you wanted to make Acme Loo into a real school, and you said there was no need. I gave you my pitch all those years ago, now give me yours.” He said in a harsh tone.

Bugs tugged on his ears before looking at Steven in the eyes again. “People love me, Toons idolize me… but for what? Bein’ the lucky one? Always comin’ out on top? What good is that when you can’t protect the ones you care about? I just… I want to give somethin’ back’.” 

After hearing that, Steven was more than pleased. He gave a nod to Bugs, “Alright, I’ll help you. We’ll make Acme Loo.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” There was still so much on Bugs’ mind, but he tucked it away for later. Right now, he allowed himself to relax and feel good about these life-changing decisions. 

A year passes, and somewhere along the coast of Central America there was a lowly island on the horizon. With a closer look, anyone could see the stark-white mansion that stood nearly three stories tall.

Even as a young Toon, Daffy Duck had pictured his retirement from his acting career very vividly. He dreamed about being alone on a private island, with an enormous mansion and every luxury he could possibly think of. And wouldn’t you know it, after nearly a decade of work, few movies and a couple of reboots, Daffy had that private island. Staying there continued to be a blessing for many, many years. With the royalty checks and occasional paychecks from public appearances rolling in, he was able to upkeep the mansion very well. 

Daffy’s desire for attention was somewhat satiated by social media. He had a big presence online and made sure everyone knew it. From when he woke up to when he was preparing for bed, he would cross post about every detail onto every feed. People ate it up, as they were fascinated by his lifestyle. While he wasn’t the richest duck in the world, he was certainly one of the most popular. At least, he was in his mind. 

As Daffy was tweeting about his incredible breakfast one morning, he noticed one of his butlers carrying in some mail. “What’s the big idea? Checks go straight to my financial adviser, and fan mail without any valuables inside are shredded! You all know the deal!” Daffy barked. To his knowledge, he hadn’t been expecting anything either. Still, the butler came to his side and silently handed him a letter. 

Before he could protest further, the Butler turned away. Daffy simply huffed to himself and opened the letter. He took his time to read it, just to make sure he was reading it correctly. Once he had finished he slammed the letter onto the counter top, and ran up the stairs towards his room in seconds flat. 

He pressed his help buzzer multiple times and shouted into the speaker, “I need to pack, now! Book me a flight to L.A.! Let’s go people!”

It was time to move back to Los Angeles. 

The next day, Bugs Bunny got out of his Oober (Toon Town’s Uber equivalent), adjusting his suit as he looked on towards his greatest accomplishment. A stairway from the curb stood Acme Looniversity. Despite seeing the building many times over the course of its production, Bugs still couldn’t help but feel his chest swell with pride at the sight of the finished school. 

And there, in front of the entrance, he saw a huge crowd gather. This wasn’t even taking into account for all of the cameras and people lined up along the sidewalk. Not even the Toons who were celebrating in the streets. The crowd split like a wave as Bugs approached the doorway of the school, finding it partially blocked by a stage with a ceremonial ribbon. Bugs could tell it was painted because of how large and neat the bow in the middle of it looked. 

As he approached he saw the only human at the event (besides a few brave reporters) Steven Spielberg, sitting beside the podium on stage next to three empty seats. Bugs’ felt slightly saddened by the sight of the empty chairs, still Bugs shared a smile with Steven before he approached the podium. A deafening silence went over the crowd, with all eyes on the Toon rabbit.

“My fellow Toons,” Bugs began, “For too long, we’ve been deprived of our own education. More than 87% of Toons have never stepped foot in a school that wasn’t a painted set. After learnin’ that, we decided that wasn’t fair.”

The crowd cheered and clapped for Bugs. Over the crowd he continued, “Our newcomers should know our history! They should know our culture!” He paused slightly to wait for the crowd’s enthusiasm to die down, “And they should know their limits.” 

Bugs felt his stomach twist, “Too many Toons have been lost simply because they didn’t know how to survive their next fall durin’ a stunt. We owe it to them to inform newcomers of the risks. No one on Earth can do what we do, and we need to learn to do it right.” 

Gesturing to the building behind him, “Now, thanks to Warner Brothers studios and Steven Spielberg, Acme Looniversity ain’t just a fantasy we all saw on TV all those years ago. It’s here for everyone!” 

The crowd once again burst into applause and cheers. Bugs looked out into the crowd, noticing a slight disturbance that was making its way to the stage. He wasn’t the least bit surprised when Daffy Duck emerged from the crowd and began to crawl his way onto the stage, rather than using the stairs on the side.

Immediately, Daffy wormed his way in front of Bugs in order to speak into the microphone. “Helloooo, Toon Town!!” He shouted. The only sound he was met with was the sound of crickets. “As the Master of Deception, I just wanted to say what an honor it is to have been recruited by my longtime co-Star, Bugs, to teach at this wonderful place of edumication.” 

Bugs saw the shifty eyes from the crowd when Daffy had mentioned his unofficial title. “Eeeh… We’re still workin’ on the curriculum.” He said, addressing the crowd. Then he turned to Daffy, knowing exactly how to derail him from hogging the spotlight. “Hey Daff, ol’ pal, wouldja wanna join me in the honors of cuttin’ the ribbon?” 

Daffy’s head whirled around as he gave out a gasp, “Really? You’d let me cut the ribbon?” He asked. 

“Togetha, yeah. It feels only right.” Bugs said, just to butter him up even more. 

The two of them were approached by a Toon who held out comically huge a pair of golden scissors. They took the scissors, holding them open above the ribbon for a little longer so photos could be taken. After a minute, they looked at each other and cut the ceremonial ribbon. Daffy and Bugs posed briefly with the scissors that were nearly the same height as them. 

Once they were done posing, Daffy turned to look for the first camera he could find. For Bugs, he turned to Steven and gave him his hand. “Thank you… So much. For everything.” 

Steven shook his hand, “Anytime, Bugs. I have a lot of faith in you.” Then he gave a slight nod towards Daffy, “You sure about hiring Daffy, though?” He asked. 

Bugs looked over and watched as Daffy chatted up the remaining reporters. “If there’s anything I’ve learned in the years we've worked together, it’s that I know how he ticks.” 

“Well, it’s your call. It is your school, after all.” Steven said with a shrug. 

“I’m gonna go check on ‘im. I’ll be seein’ ya, Steven.” Bugs said before slipping away. 

Bugs hovered over Daffy’s shoulder while he spoke to a reporter. “And that’s when I told my buddy Bugs, the only way we’re going to reach today's Toon youth is through education! And what better teachers than the oldest Toons out there?” He said. 

When he heard that, Bugs rolled his eyes. Of course Daffy would lie and make this his idea. Bugs decided to butt in. “We’re opening our gates to humans, as well.” He told them. 

At that, more reporters surrounded them. A chorus of questions were being launched at Daffy and Bugs. While Daffy shied away, Bugs lifted his hands to quiet the small crowd. “I wanna stress this; Acme Loo is gonna be the only school to focus on the importance of learning about Toons. As citizens and as a species. So we ain’t gonna turn away humans who wanna learn more about us.” Bugs said. 

A reporter’s voice spoke up, “Who else do you have in place as teachers? Any word about Mickey Mouse?” they asked.

“That hack—?” Daffy said before Bugs pinched his beak. 

“Mickey sent us his best wishes, but regrettably makes no plans of joinin’ the staff.” Bugs said with a shrug.

Daffy rolled his eyes when he felt Bugs let go of his beak. 

“As for the rest of the staff, we’re still lookin’. So if any Toon wants to come forward and apply, they’re free to do so on our website.”

“When does class begin? And what’s the class size going to look like?” The same reporter asked.

“We’re startin’ in the next coupla months, just in time for the school year. Dependin’ on how many teachers we get, we’re gonna be expecting anywhere between 500 to 900. Applications for students will also be online.”

“900?!” Daffy exclaimed. Just how was he going to teach to a class of 900? 

Bugs sighed a little, knowing Daffy had misinterpreted his information. He turned to talk to him, “900 altogetha, Daff. We’re lookin’ at a class of 40 for each homeroom.” 

“Oh.” Daffy said softly. 

Then Bugs turned to the cameras, “No more questions now. Thank you!” He said and waved them away. 

Disappointed, Daffy watched the reporters shuffle along and pack away their equipment. He had truly missed being in the limelight. Then a tap on his shoulder brought him out of his daydream-like state. “Huh?” He asked as he turned towards Bugs again.

“Ehh… Daff?”

“Yeah?” 

Bugs sat there like he was fighting to say something. “I’ll uh… I’ll see you later. We’ll have to look over that curriculum of yours, before school starts.” He finally said.

“...Yeah sure.” Daffy said. After looking at Bugs more he noticed something was off, “You should get yourself a new paint job. You look awful.” 

Bugs deflated angrily at the comment before rolling his eyes and turning away. He knew that, in Daffy’s twisted way, that he was concerned for his health. So he let the comment slide off of his back. The truth was, Bugs had never let go of his Toon research; and the paranoia had set in so much that it was starting to alter his appearance. He hoped that the success of Acme Loo would be both a distraction and a resource at his own disposal. 

Later, after numerous phone calls and even a couple of live interviews, Bugs managed to find his way home. He paid and tipped his Oober as much as he was allotted, due to the fact that they had to travel out of Toon Town during rush hour. As Bugs approached the steps of his white porch, he loosened his bow tie and unlocked the door. 

Bugs threw his keys on a stand next to the door, just before closing and locking it behind himself. Just as he was about to call out for someone, his long ears perked at the sound of rattling glass and plastic coming from the kitchen. Immediately, Bugs’ eyes darted towards a lowly baseball bat sitting in his umbrella holder in the foyer. 

Quickly and quietly, Bugs’ removed his black blazer and rolled up his dress shirt sleeves. All the while his mind was racing: Where had he slipped up? Who was onto him? What kind of force would be pitted against him? All these questions burned inside him while he picked up the bat and held it tight and high. With as much stealth as possible, he rounded the kitchen corner. As he suspected, the figure hidden partially inside of his fridge wasn’t any of the kids. 

The fridge began to close and the figure swerved around to meet Bugs. Several plastic containers dropped to the kitchen floor as they exclaimed, “Bugs?!”

Bugs brought down the bat, stopping it only inches away from Daffy’s beak. “Daffy?!” He exclaimed. 

“What the hell, Bugs? Is that any way to welcome an old friend into your household?” Daffy barked while pushing the bat away from his face. 

Only a few seconds later, Bugs and Daffy heard a stampede of footsteps coming from upstairs. Settling on the staircase, three Toons looked down on Bugs and Daffy. “Well what’d ya know, the old Duck has decided to grace us with his presence.” The tallest smiled. 

“Daffy, darling!! We had no idea you were in town.” The smallest chimed with an obnoxious accent of some kind.

“Really? I mean, he tweeted out his entire trip…” The middle one said in a thick Liverpool accent. 

Daffy looked on in surprise and awe. “The Warner’s?! What are you three hooligans doing here?” He asked with a wide smile. 

Bugs put down the bat, leaning it against the staircase, and turned towards Daffy. “They’re stayin’ with me.” He said simply. 

Sure enough, the three siblings of undetermined origins ran down the steps and gave Daffy a group hug. “You three look a little different than I remember…” he said, looking over Yakko, Wakko and Dot. 

Yakko peeled away first, “Haven’t ya heard? We got a reboot comin’ in! Two whole seasons, so far.” 

“You don’t say? An’ they gave you a repaint jus’ for that? Your designs were fine before.” Daffy said, a little confused. 

“It’s standard now. Nothin’ we could really do about it.” Wakko said as he pulled away with a slight shrug.

Dot continued to cling to Daffy, looking up at him with her glossy black eyes. “You don’t think we look ugly, do you?” She asked, her lips trembling. 

“Ugly?! Nonsense!!” Daffy exclaimed, picking up Dot into his arms and holding her tight. “You three are the sharpest lookin’ Toons I know. Anyone who says otherwise is blind.” 

Bugs looked curiously at the way Daffy was interacting with the three. He didn’t remember them being particularly close, but he assumed that was simply the effect the three had on adults and Toons alike. Still, he was certainly enjoying seeing this other side of Daffy.  

“Alright, you three.” Bugs finally interrupted, “How’s about givin’ Daff and I some space?” He asked. 

“Yeah yeah…” Yakko said before turning back up the stairs. 

“See ya later, Daffy!” Wakko waved and followed the oldest. 

“Always nice to see you, Daff.” Dot said when Daffy put her down so she could follow her siblings. 

Once the three were out of sight Daffy turned to Bugs, “Now, I know it might not be the most convenient thing for you at this time…” He explained, “But I’m certainly not the richest Duck in the world. I had to sell all eight of my estates to get that private island.” 

Bugs move towards the kitchen and began to clean up Daffy’s initial mess. He already knew what Daffy was about to ask, and he already knew his answer. Still, he let his friend speak. 

“Each estate had to go, including the two I had in L.A.! Honestly, the price for rent in this forsaken city is so damn high, I really don’t know how you do it!”

“You can stay.” 

Daffy gasped and looked deeply offended, “You would throw out your own flesh and blood onto the street? I thought I knew you better, Bugs Bunny!” 

“Ehh… we ain’t related, but you can still stay wit us.” He tried again. 

Daffy started to walk towards the door with a dramatic flair, “Fine! I know when I’m not wanted—” He stopped as soon as he draped himself on the corner of the closest wall, “Wait… what? You’ll let me stay?” He asked, bewildered. 

“Of course I will, Daff. We’ll be able to look over your curriculum togetha, you’ll be able to do some shoppin’ for the house, maybe a few chores and you’ll be able to watch the kids…” Bugs said, closing the fridge door to get a better look at Daffy.

At that, Daffy looked even more surprised. “Watch those kids? Chores? Me?” He asked.

“Well yeah! What? You’d think I’d let you stay out of the goodness of my heart?” Bugs asked, leaning on the island counter.

“Well… Yeah!” Daffy exclaimed, manhandling the other side of the counter. Here he thought he could take advantage of Bugs’ feelings of existentialism and sudden generosity to fully weasel his way into staying with Bugs with zero obligations. But apparently this rabbit had other plans for him.

Bugs simply laughed in Daffy’s face. “Ahaha, oh that’s rich, Duck.” he laughed. Then there was a slight pause,  “When are you gonna realize, we ain’t so different? You and I…”

Daffy and Bugs sat in silence for a little bit. Something about Bugs’ smug look made Daffy’s face feel warmer than usual underneath his feathers. He shook his head wildly. “Nope. I don’t see it.”

At that, Bugs simply rolled his eyes. “We can split chores in the mornin’... right now I just want to hit da hay.” He said, peeling himself off of the counter and moving to unbutton his dress shirt.

While Bugs navigated past the living room, Daffy gave a slight chase. “Wait, wait. I just gotta know one more thing,” then a slight pause, “okay a couple of things.” 

A small sigh came from Bugs, then he decided to plop down onto the living room sofa. “Alright. A coupla questions.” He said, putting his feet up.

Daffy sat in a recliner adjacent to Bugs. “How’d you end up with the Warners?” He asked, his voice a little hushed in case they were being heard. 

“...I was visiting the new set last year.” Bugs began to explain, “Steven told me that he was concerned about rumors that the Warners were livin’ in their trailer. No one was allowed to go near it. They even wrote up a contract about it, saying they’d leave the show if anyone on staff visited it. Because I wasn’t in the show, I could see the trailer for myself.” 

The memory was still vivid in Bugs’ mind. A little more than a year ago, Bugs shared a weary glance with Steven before he slipped off the set. With the Warners busy in a scene, Bugs was able to make it to the trailer. And with a copy of the trailer key given to him by Steven, he pried it open. 

The mess the three had accumulated was even taller than Bugs’ ears. He honestly didn’t know how anyone could navigate the trailer, let alone three Toons. Even as he was inside, he made an attempt to clean what he could. Still, it was a horrible mess. 

After doing what he could, Bugs waited outside the trailer until the Warners began to approach it. Yakko was the first to catch eyes with Bugs, before rolling them. “God damn it…” Yakko groaned, seeing the look of disapproval spread across the rabbit’s face. 

“Y’all really live in dere?” Bugs asked.

It was Wakko’s turn to be angry, “Yeah! What’s it to ya?” he barked.

“Guys, I’m jus’ concerned. A lot of the staff are concerned. Steven was even worried!” Bugs exclaimed, watching them weave around him and head into the trailer.

“Yeah? Well we don’t need your pity.” Dot snapped.

Bugs stopped the door from being slammed in his face with full force. The trailer door swung open and Bugs stepped inside once more. “Fine then. Lemme give you a place to stay. Eva since you were created, I’ve always told you guys you were welcome at my house!” He said. 

“We’ve been fine on our own, Bugs. Didn’t need your help then, don’t need it now.” Yakko said. “Any day now, the show will air, we’ll get another wave of royalty checks and we’ll be livin’ it up in a mansion down the street from yours.” 

“Those checks will only stretch so far. You already know this.” Bugs warned. 

“Blah blah blah I learned my lesson. Like I said, I don’t need to stay at yours. I’m comfortable here.” To make his point, Yakko cleared off some space on the couch (which also acted as their bed) in the trailer and found his ideal position. 

Immediately Bugs read this type of prideful attitude. He also knew where Yakko’s weak points were. “If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for your siblings.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Bugs saw Dot and Wakko perk up and look over at Yakko silently. Yakko sat up from the couch slowly and looked at Bugs with a hardened expression. “You’ve got a whole lotta nerve, rabbit.”

“And you’ve got a whole lotta attitude, kid.” Bugs snapped back. 

And with that, Bugs took them in. Presently, he looked at Daffy across the way and gave a slight shrug. “I’ve always seen a lot of myself in Yakko. Scrappy, independent and plenty mature for his age. It took him the longest to adjust here and for me to adjust to him, honestly. That boy doesn’t let me lift a finger for ‘im. His siblings? Sure. When it comes to him? No way, no how.” 

“Interesting.” Daffy finally said.

Feeling exhausted, “Any otha questions?” Bugs asked.

“Yes! Where do I sleep?” 

Bugs got up from the couch and beckoned Daffy to follow him. Down the hall there were three doors. On the left side there was a white door with a gold star labeled Bugs Bunny in black lettering. Though, something told Daffy that it wasn’t his original master bedroom. The middle door was left open, so Bugs pushed in further and flipped on a light to reveal a bathroom. “Here’s the bathroom…” he announced, then pushed open the door on the right side of the hallway. “And here’s your room. G’night, Daff…” 

Before Daffy could say anything else, Bugs slipped away into his bedroom and shut the door. “Night.” Daffy said more to himself. He maneuvered himself inside the bedroom and pulled out a suitcase from his Toon space. He flicked on the light and looked around, the decor was still predominantly white with the same hardwood floor that echoed through the house.

Daffy placed his suitcase on a chair sitting across from the bed and launched himself directly onto the comfortable mattress. It was something akin to a bed from a five-star hotel: soft as a cloud. It didn’t take long for Daffy to fall into a deep sleep.

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NEXT CHAPTER >>

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! It was a struggle but I’m happy with it and I can’t wait to continue. <3333

[shxrirogers]

When Love Falls- Tom Holland x Reader (Repost)

Summary: A mutual visit to the same park in New York City resulted in Tom fantasizing about being in a relationship with you. The only problem? He saw you, but you didn’t see him and you left before he worked up the courage to introduce himself. Now, Tom is faced with a particularly troubling dilemma: How is he supposed to find you again in a city of eight million people when he doesn’t even know your name?

Word Count: 2,719

Warnings/Triggers: None, just lots of fluff!

Author’s Note: Hi, everyone! After nearly a year of taking a fanfiction writing hiatus to focus on school and learning more about the craft of writing overall (I’m a creative writing major in school), I finally decided to revisit and edit my old fics using the new tools I’ve gathered in my classes. I plan on doing this for all of my writing to produce and publish the best art I can for you guys, so be on the lookout for some more pieces here soon! But, in the meantime, I have to thank @bicaptain​ for proofreading and providing constructive criticism for all four drafts of this fic that I had. I appreciate you, L!

Most normal relationships nowadays begin with a simple “hello” while standing in line to check out at the grocery store or liking a post on someone’s Instagram page. A dinner and movie date might ensue, or a long thread of DM conversations before a “going steady” label or a change in one’s social media bio to “in a relationship.” It’s the twenty-first century for Pete's sake; for a relationship to begin any other way would be peculiar and out of sorts.

But, to be fair, when had Tom Holland, or his life, ever been normal?

For him, your relationship began the moment he first laid eyes on you. He was filming a project in New York City for a couple of months during the summer and rented an apartment on the south side of the island, just a train ride away from the apartment was a dog park he discovered and frequented with Tessa, his Bull Terrier. The grass in the park was emerald green and well fertilized; oak trees that had to have been planted more than one hundred years ago spanned the perimeter of the park, extending up and into the open air, cutting jagged edges out of the atmosphere, begging to be climbed and explored. 

Which is exactly what Tom decided to do.

\What compelled him to perform such a task, he would never figure out, but he decided to blame it on a combination of his amateur parkour abilities and his boyish nature that was always poking at him to explore new places, no matter the risk or cost. On the first day he had a break from filming, he left Tessa at home so he could place his complete focus on the tree-climbing; he threw the hood of his sweatshirt up on his head and hopped aboard the subway for the short ride.

It was only natural of Tom to choose the tallest, most fruitful tree in the park to begin scaling once he got there. It probably should have proven more difficult than it was to get to the spot he decided he was going to make his own, but his early-twenty-something stature swung him up and about rather easily. The spot that he chose had multiple sturdy branches that sprouted out in all directions and provided the perfect nook to lay his blanket down and settle in with the book he brought, a book that certainly challenged his dyslexia but was too thrilling not to try and work through it. All was well for a couple of hours, what with the light breeze caressing his face and the warm sun shining through the leaves onto his skin, and he felt invisible, invincible, and at peace. He would have almost gone as far to say he was untouchable, even, like the anxiety of his career and the constant pressure of having to be something for someone all the time had completely disappeared. Tom was about thirty-seven pages into the mystery plot, thirty-seven pages into his blissful isolation, when the soft humming of an old Blink-182 song by a strong voice floated up into earshot. 

That’s when he peered down and saw you.

You were making yourself comfortable with your own blanket and book at the bottom of the trunk. Your golden retriever, Winston, was laying contently beside you. That damn Blink-182 song had been stuck in your head for days ever since you walked past a hole-in-the-wall bar that was hosting their annual emo night, and no matter how much you sang it, some notes on the pitch, others off-key, you couldn’t let it go. So, it followed you here as you settled under the very tree Tom was nestled in to get a head start on an assignment for school and allow for Winston to get out and enjoy the fresh air, but because of the overgrown branches and monstrous-sized leaves, you didn’t know he was there. You sat contently for a time combing through your work as Tom’s mouth grew increasingly more dry while looking at you. He knew he shouldn’t have been doing that, watching you while you were completely ignorant to his presence, but he was drawn to your aura, the radiating confidence, and gentleness that simultaneously oozed from your pores. He’d never experienced anyone like you before, and certainly not under these bizarre circumstances, either. 

How long his attention was gauged on you, he didn’t know, but when he snapped out of his lovestruck daze that had drool falling from the corner of his mouth, he realized he was watching you pack your bag and untie Winston from the tree to go on your way. Tom should have done something, damn it, but the thought of making himself known to you shrunk his confidence down to minuscule size and caused him to freeze. What in the world could he have possibly said: Hi, I’ve been watching you from up in this tree for hours and I think you are the loveliest girl I’ve ever seen, and I mean this in the least creepy way possible? Piss off. He could never. You wandered down the park trail and out of his sight and Tom’s heart fell at the realization that he’d never see you again.

If someone stuck a probe in Tom’s brain and used a projector to cast his thoughts on a loop, that person would only see you. You began to invade every aspect of his life: Tom closed his eyes in the shower to shampoo his hair, and there you were behind his eyelids. He passed an extra on set with a hair color similar to yours and his vision suddenly blurred. He heard your Blink-182 song in his dreams and woke up to believe you were right next to him in bed, curled up and sleeping soundly. It was the spaces between moments where you came to fruition-- sat next to him on the subway as someone else left the car, working behind the counter at the Starbucks on 8th Avenue right as walked out of the door with his coffee, passing him on the staircase as he made the climb to the floor of his apartment. You were there until you weren’t. A moment in time Tom couldn’t hold onto, a figment of his imagination that flashed before him and dissipated before he could resonate that he wasn’t actually looking at anything at all.

“You’ve got it bad, bro,” Harry stated over FaceTime one evening after twisting Tom’s arm behind his back to get him to explain why he couldn’t hold a proper conversation with his younger brother. “You saw that girl one time and you’re so preoccupied with her that you can’t even talk to me for more than thirty seconds before trailing off and drooling on yourself.”

“I am not drooling!” Tom protested although he couldn’t be sure, so he turned away from the camera to swipe at his chin just in case. No drool. A bastard, Harry was.

“You might as well be. You talk about her like she put the constellations in the sky herself.”

“C’mon, dude, you’ve got to give me a little bit more credit than that.”

Harry began fiddling with the cord of the headphones he was using to talk to Tom. “Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing to feel this way about someone, man. I just think you need to learn a bit more about her to ensure those feelings are constituted. Maybe you should, like, make yourself known to her first and say hello. Don’t keep looming over her head and ogling at her like a fucking weirdo.”

“Just how do you expect me to do that, Mr. “I Know Everything About Love?”

“Well, for starters, have you considered going back to the park to find her? She may be a frequent flyer.”

Tom sat silently, his eyes wandered off his phone screen in embarrassment.

“Ok,” Harry sighed, feigning annoyance. “Let’s start there. You should head to the park on the same day and time as before and make yourself comfortable near where you first saw her. I mean, this is a total shot in the dark and you really might never see her again and end up alone forever--”

“Dude!”

“--Or, you might just get lucky and see her again. But bro, a bit of advice: If you do see her, the only way you’re going to form any kind of relationship with her is by making sure she knows you exist. Say something to her if you see her.”

And somehow, by some crazy twist of fate, when Tom followed Harry’s advice and settled himself in his same spot in the same tree on another day of rest from filming, you showed up shortly after to settle in your same spot under the same tree. Tom couldn’t believe it. He was genuinely at a loss for words. The sound of your familiar humming of the same Blink-182 song gave your presence away before the sight of you did, and just like last time, he froze in his spot, eyes fixed on you, mouth slightly agape. To hell with the novel he was reading; you were far more pleasurable a sight to lay his eyes on than any story could have ever been, and he immediately began to wrestle with the incredibly creepy task he was performing. He just needed to go down there and say hello, to introduce himself as Harry said, but because fear was coursing through his veins, he simply watched you again for as long you were down there. This time, you were on the phone with your mother, and through this Tom was able to gather a shocking amount of information about you, including your mother’s name, your middle name, the latest summer classes you were taking at Columbia, and the fact that you have three younger brothers, just like Tom has, who seem to be knee-deep in their fair share of shenanigans, just like Tom’s brothers would be. The similarities between your two families made him smile, but before he was ready to see you go, you were up and on your way again with Winston, the connection Tom felt a fleeting moment he wished he could make tangible and wrap his fingers around forever.

For the next few weeks, Tom stayed up in the safety of his tree where he knew you wouldn’t find him. Every other Tuesday seemed to be the day was when his filming schedule opened up and allowed him to find you at the park by the tree. Every other Tuesday, for the next couple of weeks, Tom would fight to work up the courage to talk to you, and every other Tuesday for the next few weeks, he would lose. This was how he came to practice calling you his own.

However, for you, the relationship began a bit differently.

You’d been coming to the dog park with Winston on a bi-weekly basis whenever you didn’t have to be in summer classes or at work. You would have liked to have visited more often; a one bedroom apartment on campus wasn’t conducive with the lifestyle of an energetic five-year-old golden, but you made do with the free time you had and Winston wasn’t the type to protest. There was a particular tree you’d grown fond of (no pun intended) in the park for its sturdy trunk and strong frame, as well as the sweet shade it provided on humid New York summer afternoons, and you made it your temporary squatting place on the days you could make it out there.

On a Tuesday in mid-June, you settled down in your usual spot with a blanket to rest on and a bowl of water for Winston to lap up when he needed. The moment your back fell against the tree, you huffed, livid and nearly sick over the prospect of failing the physics test you took earlier that day. Science was never your thing to begin with, and why the hell did a liberal arts university require so many science classes of you to graduate, anyway?

It was a particularly windy day, so the constant rustling of the trees didn’t seem out of place against the bright blue sky, but it was about forty-five minutes into mindlessly scrolling on social media to distract yourself from your troubling emotions that you realized something was off: A shadow that was shaped oddly like a man was stretching across the grass in front of you. You peered over the top of your phone to look for the source of the shadow that was accompanied by the feeling of eyes blazing into your skin, but before you could stand up to search for the person that was causing your hair to stand on end, you felt a sharp object clip your shoulder while it fell to the ground. 

“Ow!” You shouted, your hand immediately crossing over your body to cover your already-bruising skin. The object bounced a couple of feet away before flopping inanimately, and it took you a couple of glances to register what had just come down on you.

“A book? What the-”

“Oh my goodness, sweetheart, I’m so sorry!”

A boyish voice with an English accent coming from above interrupted the expletive that almost rolled off your tongue, and you looked up to see that it belonged to a man scurrying frantically down the tree. You started to stand while the man’s sneaker-covered feet landed on the grass. He began dusting off his jeans until he realized you were cradling yourself in pain, and within that moment he came to your rescue, apologizing profusely.

“I was up in the tree reading and my leg began to fall asleep, so I shifted my bum and the book slid off my lap and fell onto you before I had a chance to catch it! Please forgive me, miss, it was a sincere accident.” That boy was telling lies and you knew by the way his pupils dilated with every inhale of breath he took between his long-winded sentences. Even so, though, his dilated pupils were swimming in golden brown irises, and as his palms grazed the bare skin on your arms to offer some kind of assistance for your injury, you felt your skin warm at the touch and the adrenaline in your bloodstream settle.

“Were you…” you paused, trying to process the fact that the shadow that had been observing you moments ago substantiated into someone rather handsome and quirky, “Were you up there watching me the whole time I’ve been here?”

“I, uh...See, well, I, uh--” 

So that’s a yes. “Have you been watching me the entire time I’ve been coming here?”

“No! Absolutely not. You see, I, uh, I heard that Blink-182 song you were humming and I… uh… I rather like that song, and so I, well, I…uh--”

“You’re a really bad liar, you know.”

The boy stopped stammering and sighed. “I know how incredibly creepy that sounds, but I promise I wasn’t stalking you. Every time you left the park, I didn’t follow; I had no idea where you were heading home to. I only observed you when you were under this tree because I was so enamored by you… Oh my gosh, this sounds so awful. Jesus…”

You giggled and felt your cheeks blush. “Is that slightly creepy? Yes. Absolutely. But is it also oddly endearing? You bet.”

The boy’s shoulders dropped in relief at the sound of your laughter as he extended his hand out to you. “Anyway, my name is Tom. I should have told you that the first time I saw you here. I apologize for the scare and for the bruised shoulder.”

You took his hand and gave it a firm shake, the warmth radiating through you again. 

“Y/N.”

“‘Y/N,’” Tom repeated. “Nice to officially meet you.”

“Likewise-- Er, uh, sorta.”

You both laughed and took a seat on your blanket.

“So, Tom, have you always had a knack for climbing trees? You seem to be pretty good at it, seeing as how you got so far up I couldn’t see you.”

He broke out into a grin. “Oh, love, you don’t even know the half of it.”

Xx.

If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting my plan to go to grad school and earn my MFA in creative writing by donating to my Ko-Fi here! All of the money will go toward graduate school expenses.

[choiceslife]

When Worlds Collide: Part Four (Limited Series)

  Disclaimer: Based upon characters in Choices - Endless Summer, It Lives in the Woods, The Royal Romance, #LoveHacks, Home for the Holidays, and The Elementalists series. All characters presented are the property of Pixelberry Studios. I claim no ownership. This story is purely the work of the poster as fanfiction. Overall Series Rating: 18+ Warnings: Adult Language, Adult Content, Sexual Discussions. Future chapters may contain SMUT and Gratuitous Sexual Descriptions Overall Series Summary: The sisters are together again and Ava Cunningham believes only they can help her. Author’s Note: This Limited Series is a companion/sequel to Divided By Circumstance. I suggest you at least read that series in order to understand this one. As with most of my stories, this is a crossover and is part of my interconnected Chromatic AU. My MC’s are as follows: Carrissa Monroe (TRR), Abby Bennett (#LH), Scarlett Joy (HFTH), Taylor Reed (ES), and Donovan Bailey (TE). Previous Chapters can be found in my Master List located in my header. Tag List: @cinnamonroll-duffy @darley1101 @brightpinkpeppercorn @debramcg1106 @regrettingnathan @katurrade @teamtomsato @luxurylives @akrenich @riseandshinelittleblossom @ladynonsense @kinkykingliam @jlouise88   @littlecrookedheart @i-choose-liam@tmarie82 @bobasheebaby @boneandfur @europeanguy @walkerismychoice @pixieferry @sstee1 @endlessly-searching-for-you @eileendannie @imogen-wescott

*** Westchester, Oregon - Many Years Ago Not many people came to visit the old lady in the woods. Just the way Cora Pritchard preferred. The last time she had company, her visitor had traveled from relatively nearby Pine Springs for some advice. But that was some time ago. The new guest she was expecting would be coming from much further away and would be in a much more dire situation.

The young, and very pregnant, brunette arrived at Cora’s door late one night, knowing the elderly woman was the only person that could help keep her unborn daughters stay safe. She knew after her first trimester that something was different about the pregnancy. Her coven wasn’t sure what to make of her complications, so she made her way across the country to find Cora. Members of her coven had always held Cora in high regard as one of the most powerful witches in the country. If anyone could help, it would be Cora Pritchard. As the last few months of Anastasia Freeman’s pregnancy progressed, Cora tended to her needs as best as an old woman could, especially with limited resources. Anastasia appreciated it all. She knew Cora had modest means, but her willingness to help a stranger be as comfortable as possible during the final days of her life was truly a blessing. “Cora,” Anastasia called with shallow breath. “It’s almost time.” Cora gripped the young woman’s hand tightly. “Are you sure this is what you want my dear? There is still time to get to a hospital.” “No. We can’t. They’ll ask questions. It will get back to my children’s father and he can never know they exist.” Anastasia cried out as her contractions began to intensify. “He’s hell-bent on power and if he knew that his mistress bore children with such gifts; he’d exploit them. I want my daughters to grow up with a normal childhood Cora. Promise me you’ll do as we discussed. Promise me that Adam Vega will never know of his daughters.” “I promise you Anastasia. Your secret is safe with me. Your daughters will never end up under Vega’s control.” Years had long passed since Cora performed a binding spell, but back then it was to reign in a rebellious young witch who didn’t realize the honor it was to possess such magical powers. This binding spell was much different; much stronger. The three infant subjects had no idea their birth was a once in a millennia event that could unleash a power struggle between good and evil that would decimate the planet. Cora intended to keep their births unknown per Anastasia’s final wish. There would be groups on both sides searching for the trio of sisters, but Cora would do everything in her power to keep them protected from harm. Cora successfully bound the powers the infants possessed, but the massive spell drained most of her energy. Recuperation took several days, yet she still managed to tend to the trio of babies left to her charge. After a few day of caring for the newborns and a private burial ceremony for Anastasia, Cora prepared the sisters to be taken to their new homes. The incantation she used would allow her to always know their locations should the need ever arise where Cora had to undo the spell and unleash the sisters’ powers. For most of their childhoods, things went smoothly for Abby and Scarlett. They were both raised in loving family units. Carissa’s situation, however, was unexpected. The young couple Cora had selected to raise Carissa ended up divorcing a few weeks after the she was placed with them. Rather than contacting Cora, the couple abandoned the baby at a local hospital. Cora debated finding baby Carissa a new home, but didn’t want to raise suspicions with any entities or groups seeking the power of the sisters. So she left the baby in the care of the state. As the years passed, Cora monitored from afar. Only once did she have to interact in the lives of all three to avert the sister’s discovering each other. The trio had all been drawn to New York City in their early 20’s. For Cora, it made her realize just how strong their bonds were to one another. The three unknown sisters lived within a few blocks of one another and it would only be a matter of time until fate brought them together. Until Cora changed all that from happening. San Francisco, California “We are never going to find a writer worthy of what we’ve established here.” Martin thrust his fists against the glass conference table, tired and annoyed at looking through countless résumés. “ClickIt is at the top of its game TJ and we can’t just accept anyone. We need someone with quality and a thirst to get ahead of the trends.” “You’re so right bro. They should also be hot.” Before TJ could continue, a knock at the conference room door interrupted his train of thought, which no doubt would have continued down the path of wanting a writer for their physical attributes. “What?” The elderly secretary from the Temp Agency shuffled her way inside. She was friendly enough, but something in her scared TJ to his core. “I’m sorry to interrupt gentlemen,” she began, “it seems that this one résumé was previously misplaced.” She dropped the document off in front of Martin before making her way back to the door. “I think you’ll agree that this woman would be the best candidate for the company.” Martin quickly glanced through the woman’s qualifications and liked what he saw. “Thank you Cora,” he said, but she was already gone. It would be the last time Martin or TJ ever saw the elderly woman. “Abby Bennett huh?” TJ remarked after snatching the résumé from Martin’s hands. “She is definitely qualified. And she sounds like a hottie. Let’s hire her and be done with this nonsense.” New York City, New York Three dates with the reclusive billionaire and Abby couldn’t believe just how wrong she had been about him. She had imagined that Adrian Raines was like every other rich guy she ever met: Arrogant. Selfish. Philanderer. After getting to know him, however, Abby realized Adrian was nothing like the others. As an interview subject, he was rather boring; but the dates were a very different story. Abby snuggled her back close to Adrian’s firm chest as he wrapped his strong arms around her midsection. She was absolutely floored at how ridiculously muscular Adrian was beneath his expensive Italian suit, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. And the sex - goodness was the sex incredible. Abby couldn’t believe that someone so young could perform as if he had a lifetime of experience. Adrian brushed a strand of hair from Abby’s neck as he placed a gentle kiss to her collarbone. “I can’t believe that just happened. I usually don’t move to intimacy so quickly, but something about you Abby just drew me into your grasp.” “Squats. I do squats like you wouldn’t believe. Never underestimate the power of a nice booty,” Abby joked as she turned into Adrian’s embrace. She ran her fingers up his washboard abs, eliciting a soft moan from her lover. “You clearly know the benefits of going to the gym as well.” Abby pressed her lips to Adrian’s while pushing him onto his back. She straddled his waist, raking her fingers down his taut chest, ready to go for another round when her cell phone blared with an incoming call. She glanced at the number, immediately recognizing the San Francisco area code, and promptly rolled off Adrian. “Sorry. I’ve been expecting this call and need to take it.” Several minutes passed and Adrian propped his body up on his elbow while still lying in bed as he watched Abby pace his penthouse master bedroom. Adrian could tell she was excited, but was actively working to contain that emotion from coming through in her voice. “Seems like you’ve got some good news,” he commented when she hung up her phone. “I’ve been offered a position as a Featured Contributor with ClickIt in San Francisco,” Abby squealed as she jumped back onto Adrian’s bed. She shoved him onto his back once again and re-straddled his lap. “I’ve wanted this job for months. I can finally work at a place that is solely focused on digital media, unlike the frickin’ Manhattan Daily which keeps stifling my attempts to expand their digital footprint with an app.” “San Francisco huh? I’m happy for you, but I won’t lie. I was hoping to get to know you better.” “Oh Adrian. I’m sorry. I wasn’t really looking for anything serious. I figured we were just having some fun.” Abby pressed her hips down tightly on Adrian’s waist, slightly gyrating until she felt his manhood respond. “You’re a fantastic guy and one day you’ll make some lucky lady very happy.” Abby kept grinding into Adrian as she leaned forward and kissed his soft lips once again. “Until then, we’ve got the rest of tonight to have a good time and I think you should give me a proper send off.” Adrian rolled Abby over and positioned himself above her. “With pleasure,” he whispered as he slowly pressed inside Abby’s core for the second time that night. ___ “I wish you didn’t have to go through with this Liam. Just tell Leo to take it back.” Drake nudged his head tighter into the crook of Liam’s shoulder. His hand draped across his best friend’s bare chest. Drake lightly massaged one of Liam’s nipples into a hardened peak as his mind came to the realization that this could very well be the last time he got to cuddle in his lover’s arms. “I hate him for doing this to you. To us.” Liam understood Drake’s pain. For as long as he knew what it meant to love, Liam always believed that he would be with Drake. However, all of that changed when Leo abdicated the throne. As progressive a country Cordonia was, Liam knew that his time with Drake was over. While the people of his kingdom may accept a Prince Consort, the laws were still deeply archaic and required him to produce a natural-born heir to the throne lest the reign of the Rys family come to an end. Liam knew he had to put his country before his own needs. “You don’t hate him Drake. As much as it pains me that I can no longer be with you, we both know that this is what is best for Cordonia. I love Leo, but can you imagine him running a country?” Drake chuckled at the thought before rolling on top of Liam, pressing his chest tightly to his best friend’s firm body. “All I want to think about his going down on you one last time.” Drake slipped beneath the covers, about to pleasure Liam, when the bedroom door flew open. He felt his best friend immediately tense up at the intrusion and once he heard the voice, he knew why. “What are you still doing in bed Liam? I have a night of fun planned. Tariq and I are downstairs waiting,” Maxwell said with ferocious energy as he plopped himself down on the bed beside Liam. “Do you know where Drake is? He wasn’t in his room. I checked.” “Not a clue. How did you get in here? The door was locked.” Liam made sure not to pull the covers too tight so Drake would not be revealed hiding beneath. “I had keys made to everyone’s room. How else am I to give my patented Beaumont morning greetings?” Maxwell sprung from the bed and was back by the door in an instant. “Anyway Liam, hurry up and get dressed. I’m gonna search for Drake. See you downstairs.” The energetic young Beaumont disappeared as quickly as he arrived. Liam peeled back the covers to reveal a startled Drake looking up at him. “Well that kinda killed the mood.” “Yup.” Downstairs, Maxwell found Tariq waiting in the lobby without Drake. Lord Beaumont had checked his room a second time after leaving Liam’s, but it was still empty. “Still no sign of him Tariq.” Maxwell was simply met with a knowing smirk from the nobleman. “He’s gonna miss out on all the fun.” Maxwell began to rattle off all of the places he planned for the group to experience tonight, when a gentle hand tapped him on the shoulder. “Yes?” He questioned spinning around to see a frail looking old woman. “I’m sorry to interrupt young man, but I couldn’t help overhearing your plans for the evening. With your exciting agenda, you’re going to work up quite the appetite. There is a quaint bar not too far from here that has the best burgers in the city. Ones that will change your life.” “Ooooooh. That sounds yummy!” “Indeed they are. And if you go, I hope that you get Carissa as your server. She is a bright flower in this concrete jungle waiting to bloom.” “Like a little blossom?” Maxwell questioned. “Exactly my dear.” “This is awesome. Thank you Miss...?” “Cora.” “Thank you Miss Cora.” Maxwell took the elderly woman’s hand and kissed it gently, when he spotted Liam and Drake step off the elevator and into the lobby. He excused himself from his new friend to greet the King-to-be and Drake. “It’s about time! We are gonna have so much fun. And this sweet old woman just gave me a lead on a fantastic place for burgers later.” “What old woman?” Drake questioned. Maxwell turned to see that Cora was no longer where he left her. “But she was just...?” A look of confusion crossed his face as he craned his neck around the lobby to no avail. “Tariq? You saw her right?” Tariq shook his head not even looking up from his phone, no doubt swiping to find a hook-up for the night. “Right. Well shall we go?” Liam asked ready to get the group focused on having a good time for his bachelor party. “I’m looking forward to having a great night out with friends. And we will definitely be going to grab those burgers later because I’ve been craving one ever since we landed in America.” ___ The following morning, Cora Pritchard found herself sitting on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs situated on either side of the worn brown door belonging to the office of Damien Nazario, Private Investigator. The building was rather rundown, borderline squalor, but no more decrepit than the shack she called home. Several moments passed before the attractive former police officer arrived. His dark hair was matted to his head and his body covered in a fine layer of sweat. If Cora had to venture a guess, she must have caught him after his morning run, before he went for his usual morning coffee with his friend Kyle. “Good morning ma’am,” Damien said with a smile as he grabbed his office key from his pocket to unlock the door. It was quite unusual for him to have someone waiting for him so early in the morning since he tended not to open for business until well after 10am. Hell, even then it was unusual for him to have a walk-in client. Most of his business operated on referrals. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long. I usually don’t open for another three hours.” “Oh that’s quite alright Mr. Nazario,” Cora said with a grandmotherly smile as she followed the fit investigator into his office. The place was an average size and, much to Cora’s surprise, was fairly well organized. Several pictures of him with a pair of people, who appeared related, adorned the walls. More pictures with the same people were in frames on Damien’s desk. “I won’t take up much of your time.” Cora took a seat across from where Damien usually sat when meeting with clients, nonchalantly swiping the closet framed photo to take a look. “A Ms. Scarlett Joy had applied for a Junior Editor position with Piquant Press recently and we wanted to schedule an interview for her with the Editor-in-Chief, Mr. Peralta. I’m afraid the phone number she provided is incorrect, so we weren’t able to reach her. She listed your office as the most recent place of employment so I thought I’d stop by to set up the interview.” A brief look of disappointment washed over Damien. He was looking forward to catching another case since he could use the money. “Oh I see,” he replied fumbling around his office looking for a spare shirt to cover himself. Unable to locate one quickly, Damien took a seat across from Cora. “I’m sorry ma’am. I don’t usually have conversations with people dressed like this,” he said motioning to himself. “Or undressed like this,” Cora joked. “But it’s quite alright Mr. Nazario. I’ve seen plenty of shirtless men in my time, although few as remarkable looking as you.” A chuckle escaped Damien’s throat as his face blushed slightly. “Well, thank you,” he replied caught off guard by the old woman’s remark. Cora could sense he was a little flustered by her comment. “I’m old Mr. Nazario. Not dead,” she laughed. “Your boyfriend here is a lucky man.” Cora placed the picture of Damien with his arm wrapped around a young man’s shoulder, both smiling brightly, back onto his desk. “Who? Kyle?” Damien stammered. “No, no. Kyle is my best friend. He and his cousin, Nadia, are in fact. I’m actually dating Scarlett.” “My apologies Mr. Nazario,” Cora said as she stood from her seat. “Well if you could have Ms. Joy call Mr. Peralta’s office so that her interview can be scheduled, it would be greatly appreciated.” “Not a problem.” “Thank you for your time. And again, I’m sorry for my confusion.” “It’s quite alright,” Damien said standing behind his desk as Cora made her way towards the door. “Can I ask you a quick question though?” Cora stopped and looked back towards the investigator. “Why did you think Kyle was my boyfriend?” “All of the pictures in your office feature you and him. You both look very happy together in them.” Cora watched as Damien glanced around looking at all of the photos. She could tell that he was taking in her words. “Life is short Mr. Nazario. Don’t be afraid to follow your heart or chase your dreams. I hope that you’ll encourage Ms. Joy to follow her dreams as well. I have a very strong feeling that she will do well on this interview. Piquant Press would be fortunate to have a woman with her talents.” With a final nod to Damien, Cora exited the office. Westchester, Oregon Minutes after speaking with Damien, Cora collapsed down into an overstuffed chair in her living room. Her body wasn’t used to astral projection, let alone doing it three times in repeating days. She needed time to rest and recover, but she hoped that her efforts to keep the sisters apart and safe proved fruitful. *** (To be continued)

[coolandspice]

Affirmation

Saeran Choi Week 2018 7th Day : Birthday || Reunion

Summary:  On the morning after Mint Eye’s arrest, Saeran is unexpectedly reunited with MC when he saves her from danger, again. 

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15328704

Setting:  Ray Route Bad Relationship End 2

A/N: Here’s the long overdue Part 2 to my fic, It All Comes Back - MC’s side of the story. This one is both a parallel and a sequel to the first fic. Tagging @saeranchoiweek again as this is still an entry to Saeran Week 2018.

A real-time footage of the façade of an apartment complex is currently playing on the computer screen. There’s nothing to show except for a lady tenant entering her unit. Saeran watches the feed a minute more before deciding to get back to his work on consolidating evidences against Mint Eye.

“Go talk to her.”                                                                        

Saeran sighs as he turns away from the computer to face his older twin who enters the computer room with a pack of Honey Butter chips on hand. “You know I can’t.”

“Sure you can.” Saeyoung insists. “You just don’t want to, despite stalking her for months already.”

The younger twin pouts at the insinuation. “I’m just checking on her occasionally.”

Saeyoung stops stuffing his face with this favorite chips. He slowly licks his lips and flashes a shit-eating grin on Saeran. “If ‘occasionally’ means having hacked and reprogrammed the street CCTV camera positioned across her apartment building to send real-time footages to your computer every 8AM and 6PM, then sure, you only check on her,” he makes air-quotation marks with his fingers, “occasionally.”

“I-wha-how did you know that?” Saeran sputters, a raging blush creeps up on his cheeks. His skin is almost as red as their natural hair color now.

Saeyoung laughs out loud, thoroughly amused at Saeran’s indignation. “Well, this is my house and that,” he points at Saeran’s computer, “is my old computer. You can’t keep secrets from me when you’re using my old gadgets, Bro.”

The younger twin narrows his eyes at his brother. “You’re unbelievable.”

Saeyoung laughs again then ends it with a sigh, his face turning serious. “Go back to her, Saeran. I only got to talk to her in the chatroom but I know she’s a good girl. You shouldn’t make her worry for this long.”

“She’s an angel.” Saeran whispers wistfully. “But she’s better off without me. I…” he sighs, “I did despicable things to her. I don’t deserve to see her anymore.”

“Funny, that’s also how I used to think before I got kidnapped and thought I was gonna die without seeing my twin again.” Saeyoung smiles as he looks directly at his brother. “Thank God I was rescued by the exact person I wanted to see the most.”

Saeran shakes his head. “It’s not the same. You left because you thought it’s what’s good for us back then. You entered the Agency so Father can’t trace you and you trusted V and Rika that they will take care of me.” He says. “I left her behind because I can’t take the guilt anymore. I’ve hurt her, Hyung.”

“I think you’ve more than made up to her by getting her out of Mint Eye.” says Saeyoung.

“I got her out because I brought her there in the first place.” Saeran counters.

“Why are you so stubborn about this?” Saeyoung sighs again. “From what I remember from the chats, she likes you a lot – No, she loves you.  She purposely hid the fact that she was with you, the hacker back then, to protect you.”

“That was before I hurt her.” Saeran sighs. “She must hate me now.”

“Well, you would know.” Saeyoung lifts his glasses and massages the bridge of his nose. “You hated me when you thought I abandoned you. So now you think she hates you because you left her without an explanation.”

“That’s not true!” Saeran protests but Saeyoung looks at him sternly.

The younger twin averts his eyes. “Well, yeah, I did. I let Mint Eye make me hate you for leaving me behind.”

Saeyoung takes in a deep breath, readying himself for a long talk. “Saeran, don’t be like me. I left you without telling you why. I never checked how you were. I deluded myself that you’re doing okay with Rika because of the pictures she showed me. I know I should have at least checked on you personally, even just once. I kept telling myself that secret agents can’t have ties so I’m not allowed to see you. But in fact, I was afraid that if I see you, I’ll never be able to leave you again. I was a coward, Saeran.”

“Hyung, stop.” Saeran pleads. “We’ve talked about this before. We’ve decided to move on from that. No more blaming.”

“Then stop blaming yourself as well, Saeran.” Saeyoung follows up. “I’m thankful that you have forgiven me, but you have to forgive yourself too. You were not in total control when you were in Mint Eye. You know that, right?”

Saeran raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

The look on Saeyoung’s face is skeptical but he decides to drop the subject for now. He simply nods at his brother and leaves the room, probably to get a can of Doctor Pepper.

Saeran returns to his work, pulling up multiple media websites in search of more news that may relate to Magenta and Mint Eye.

Days passed in the Choi Bunker quietly, both twins working on the Mint Eye plan as per instructed by V and Jumin. The other RFA members are doing their best to help out too, with the exception of Yoosung who still has to come into terms with the truth about Rika. It was a hard pill to swallow so it was implicitly agreed on that they will give him the time and space he needs to sort his feelings.

V keeps in touch with the twins this time, making sure that they are both safe. He does not fail to remind them that he’d already lost them at two separate occasions. He and Saeran worked hard to recover Saeyoung from their father’s clutches and get the twins to reunite. V will be damned if it they get separated again. That’s why the guy calls the twins alternately every night. V never misses, not even on the day RFA exposed Mint Eye to the media.

It was a hectic day, with the RFA on the forefront, naming politicians, businessmen and other influential people involved in Mint Eye’s activities. The invited Media personnel at the press conference had a field day, asking questions left and right. Thankfully, ZEN, RFA’s elected spokesperson, did a wonderful job of delivering RFA’s stance on the issue. Given that he’s an actor, he will also be benefitting from the exposure. This is, of course, included in Saeyoung’s calculations. As it was immediately decided that the Choi twins will not be involved in RFA’s press con due to their family situation, Saeyoung and Saeran worked hard on the preparation aspect, crunching data that would benefit RFA’s cause before and during the conference. They also prepared multiple contingencies for several scenarios as requested by Jumin and Jaehee.

As the day comes to a close, Saeran’s phone rings right on cue. It was time for V’s call. Saeran shows the caller id to Saeyoung and signals that he will be going out of the computer room for a while to answer V.

Saeran sits on the couch as he picks up the call. “Hello, V.”

“I’d like to thank you again, Saeran.” V says on the phone. “We wouldn’t get this far without you and Saeyoung. By now, all of Korea already knows about Mint Eye and the evil it brought to its believers.”

“Are you sure about this, V?” Saeran asks him. “The Savior – I mean, Rika will be arrested too.”

V doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he sighs over the mic.

“I know it’s my ego talking, but I feel it’s my responsibility to stop Rika as her ex-lover. At first, I thought I can save her but when I learned of what she’s done to you and the other believers… what she’s done to her…” V sighs again, his tone regretful, “I knew it was too late. She needs to be stopped.”

Saeran stiffens, the memory of the night in the dungeons coming back to him. It’s been months since her cleansing but he has never forgotten that moment. He knew he hurt her more than the elixir’s damage to her physical body. When she realized he had forced her to take the sleeping pill through a kiss, she looked so betrayed and disappointed. It broke his heart to see her like that. He only wished she finds happiness outside of Magenta. He still hates himself for making her cry that time.

“Saeran?” V asks when he noticed that Saeran is not replying to him. “Is everything okay?”

Saeran closes his eyes and massages the bridge of his nose. “I’m fine, just tired I think… I need to go.”

“Then I’ll hang up now so you can rest.” V says. “Thank you for your hard work, Saeran.”  

“Yeah.” Saeran says weakly as he hangs up. He closes his eyes again, trying to not be bothered by his headache. He walks slowly walks back to the computer room. He sees Saeyoung talking on the phone. His brother mouths “V” as he points at his phone. Saeran nods. He whispers “I’ll take a break for now.”

Saeyoung gives him a look, silently asking how he’s feeling. “I’m fine.” Saeran assures him as he leaves.

He walks to his room and as he enters it, he feels slightly better already.

His room doesn’t have much: a single bed, a closet and a computer table. The growing potted succulent by his bedside table is the lone décor.  Saeyoung offered to get him more things but he refused, knowing he will be more comfortable to stay and rest in a simple room.

He opens his closet and changes into a loose shirt and shorts. He then settles on his bed and dims the light. The night is still young but the dull throbbing in his head will only be gone with sleep so decides to just sleep early for the night.

Hours passed as the night turns to day. Saeran wakes up with a start, panting from the recurring dream of his last moments with MC before he brought her out of Mint Eye and left her at Rika’s apartment. The betrayed look of MC’s face torments him as he recalls his dream again.

“I’m sorry.” he says as his heart continues to drum against his chest. “I’m so sorry, MC.”

The guilt weighs heavily on his mind until he couldn’t take it anymore. He scrambles out of his bed and heads to the computer. He turns it on and opens the application for the video feed. The still video of the apartment façade helps him calm down until eventually his heart rate returns to normal. Just seeing the building where he knows MC is in comforts him.

He was about to close the video feed when he sees MC coming out of the gates. She looks decent at first glance but he could see the disheveled state she is in. Saeran could tell she isn’t going out for work as she’s only got a small bag with her instead of the usual backpack she brings with her.

Instinct tells Saeran that something is not right. He sees her in the video feed, swiping and tapping anxiously at her phone then looking left and right, as if waiting for something. Then a black taxi arrives and she gets inside.

Saeran can’t shake the feeling she is getting herself into trouble again. He’s reminded of the time she willingly got in a car blindfolded just because a voice on the phone told her to. She’s too trusting and kind for her own good. Granted, it’s one of the things he loves about her, but it’s also the one filling his heart with dread and anxiety now.

As if on autopilot, Saeran’s fingers immediately start typing away on the keyboard. The search begins with the taxi’s plate number. In less than five minutes, he has the car’s destination, the driver’s bio and the car’s ownership history all printed on a letter-sized paper.

He commits all the information to his mind as he strips out of his sleepwear and slips on a black zip-up jacket over a red tank top, pants and boots. He runs out of his room fast and heads straight to the garage. Thankfully, Saeyoung’s garage door is an automatic roll-up so he just flips the switch. It’s fully opened by the time he gets on the gray Maserati and drives out of the house. He almost wants to floor the gas and break the city speed limits just catch up on MC’s cab

Not too long after, Saeyoung calls him. Saeran slips on his Bluetooth headset and answers the call.

“Where are you going?” Saeyoung asks. “Don’t tell me you’re eating take-outs for breakfast now.”

“Police station.” Saeran answers curtly. “It’s important.”

Saeyoung is quiet on his side for a few beats. “Just be careful, okay? Take care of yourself and MC.”

“I am not gonna ask anymore how you know I’m on my way to MC.”

“We’re twins, remember? We are always connected, Saeran.”

Saeran’s lips curl into a semblance of a smile. “Yeah. I’m glad we never lost it, Hyung.”

Saeyoung sputters on the phone then there’s a loud ‘bam’ that sounded like he dropped his phone and the call ended. Saeran couldn’t help chuckling at his twin’s misfortune. He hopes the phone wasn’t cracked or damaged.

He rechecks the GPS on the Maserati as he turns his full attention on the road again. According to his search on the cab’s company files, its destination is the City Police Station investigating the Mint Eye case. He is now terribly worried for MC as the place will be full of media personnel on the lookout for the latest scoop on the scandal. The V, Jumin and Jaehee will be there for questioning regarding the evidences they presented the other day.

“Please, don’t let her get caught up in this again.” He prays in his heart.

As expected, the police station is packed with people. He parks the car far a little bit far away from the crowd, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention onto it.

After making sure that the car is secured, he runs into the police station’s parking area, looking for MC.

He looks around for that familiar figure, hoping that she is safe. His heart almost stops when he sees her by the sidewalk, talking to a man whom he recognizes as one of Mint Eye’s believers. She looks distraught, slowly stepping back from the man. When the man seizes her arm and pulls, Saeran saw red and ran towards them.

“Sir, you’re hurting me. Let me go,” she says as she pulls back her arm.

Saeran’s jaw clenched as he tries to rein the anger inside him. It’s been a while since he felt anger as extreme as this. He could almost hear the dark voice inside him coming back. He slows his breathing to calm himself. He knows there are ways other than anger to handle the situation. When he feels relatively less angry, he calls out to the man.

“Let the lady go.”

Both the man and MC freeze up. He can tell the believer recognizes him as the guy drops MC’s arm and steps backwards. “Mr. Saeran.” he says fearfully. He turns and runs away from MC.

Meanwhile, MC is rooted on her place, her back stiff on her small frame. From their distance, Saeran could already tell that MC has lost some weight since he last saw her. Her arms and waist are slimmer than what he can remember.

“You really need to be more careful, Miss. Your guard is too low.” He tells her.

When MC turns around, it was like a slow-motion video. The way her breath hitches, her hair swaying, up to how she her face lights up when she recognizes him, Saeran saw everything. She is as beautiful as he can remember, if not more.

“Saeran.” she says.

Her voice is as how he remembers it too: as sweet as ice cream.

Suddenly feeling shy, he manages a small, awkward smile at her. “Hello, MC.”

MC crosses the distance between them, almost tackling him when she hugged him. Thankfully, he catches her quick and managed to keep them both standing. MC buries her face on his chest and he’s slightly worried that she will hear how loud his heart is currently beating.

“You’re real.” MC says as she pulls away slightly to face him. She reaches up to him and touches his cheek. “Saeran.”

“How are you?” He asks her. “Did that man hurt you?”

MC shakes her head. “I’m fine now.”

He panics when a tear suddenly drops from MC’s eyes. “MC!? You’re crying?”

She retracts her hand and touches her own cheek. “I-I’m crying. Oh gosh, this is embarrassing.”

Before he knew it, Saeran is already wiping her tears with his finger as he touches her cheek. “I made you cry again.”

MC leans on his hand and closes her eyes. “I missed you a lot.” She says softly. “But you’re here now, that’s what matters.”

Saeran’s heart flutters as she opens her eyes again and looks at him with very loving eyes. His heart is instantly filled with love and affection for her, he’s sure it will burst soon.

Driven by instinct, they both lean in towards the other and finally… finally he’s kissing her again. The memory of her lips from long ago preciously archived in his heart is renewed. Her nose lightly bumping against his and her soft lips making sweet, sweet whimpers as he dives in deeper into their kiss; everything about her in his memories is renewed. Her hands wrap around his neck and pull him even closer. He wraps his arms around her in response, settling them on the curves of her hips. Her body, warm and pliant, fits perfectly against him.

He missed her so much that he that the feelings inside him is overwhelming him. He’s drowning in her presence but he doesn’t want to let go. If time would stop right then and there, he will not have any regrets. They are together again and that’s all that matters to him right now.

Eventually, Saeran breaks their kiss to allow her to breathe. He goes for other places in the meantime: her forehead, her cheeks, her nose and even her neck. When he lightly bites, sucks and licks in a particular spot on the junction between her neck and shoulder, her stifled moan blazed a stronger desire within him to claim her.

“S-Saeran.” she whimpers, hands clutched at his shoulders. “W-wait.”

Saeran stills when he hears her. Guilt crashed on him like a bucket of iced water as he is immediately reminded of that time he acted this way in Magenta.

“I’m sorry.” He feels ashamed for losing control. He kisses her quick on the lips to apologize.

“Don’t apologize. I-I liked it.” She whispers. “Just that ---“

MC’s knees folded under her, unable to take in the stimulation anymore. Thankfully, Saeran was quick to catch her. She looks up to him sheepishly, a raging blush creeping from her cheeks to her chest. “T-thank you.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asks her. He helps her stand straight again but she keeps wobbling as her knees refuse to support her.

“The strength left my legs.” she answers, still breathless.

Her embarrassment is so apparent that Saeran feels a little bad for thinking how cute she is at the moment. He also can’t help the little pride blooming in his chest for affecting her so much just by kissing. Still, Saeran tries to maintain a neutral face as he asks her. “Do you want to sit down?”

MC nods, holding tighter on him. “Please.”

He looks around the parking lot for a bench or some place they could use but there isn’t one in sight.

Saeran thinks fast for an alternative. As much as he likes the way MC is holding on to him at the moment, he still wants MC to be able to relax.

“There’s no bench in here.” He tells her. “But I brought a car. Do you want to rest in there?”

MC nods again, her face buried on his chest.

Judging that she’s in no shape to walk, he scoops her up in his arms and carried her to the car, bridal style. As he walks to the Maserati, he sneaks a peak at her form and finds her utterly adorable with the way she’s clinging onto him and muttering about how embarrassed she is.

He sets her down by the passenger seat then placed a kiss on her forehead. “How are you now?”

MC takes a moment to massage her knees to check. “I think they’re fine now.”

The tension he didn’t know was there left his body. “That’s great.”

He gently closed the door and circles around the car. He opens the driver’s seat and got inside. Once settled, he looks at her briefly, taking in her profile view. “Should I take you home?”

“No!” MC blurted, surprising both herself and Saeran. “I mean, “she tries again, “no, don’t take me home yet. I want to stay with you longer, Saeran.” She takes his left hand and laced her fingers with his. “I really missed you. I wanna be with you.”

Saeran’s heart flutters as MC looks at him with loving eyes again. “I missed you too, MC.” He tells her back, immediately feeling the inadequacy of the expression to describe how he felt being away from her all those months. He leans into the passenger seat and shared a quick kiss with her again.

“So where do we go?” he asks her as he pulls away from her.

“Have you eaten? How about we go for a quick breakfast?” MC suggests. “My favorite café has a great breakfast menu plus their coffee is divine.”

By the way she lights up so beautifully in the prospect of having breakfast with him, she could have asked him to bring her to the skies and he will bring her there by all means. He may not have totally forgiven himself yet for what he did to her in the past, but if being with him makes her happy, he will do it. So he returns the sunny smile she gave him and holds her hand tighter.

“Breakfast sounds great.”

[rfsak2]

Cactus, Part X

I hope you like this next installment guys! Also I’m so freakin’ obsessed with the Paolo Sebastian SS Couture collection. Couldn’t help myself!

Also to be clear. I have nothing against Taylor Swift and made an effort to be fair in this rendition of her. I hope no one is offended!

Cactus, Part X Summary: Permanence Harry/Jamie Warnings: None!

“I’m goin’ to get another drink, love. D’ye want another?”

“Just water, I think.”

She ran a hand over the gunmetal grey jacquard of his smoking jacket. He looked good tonight, not that it was unusual, but there was just something about a man in evening wear. Though he had stubbornly refused to wear a tie, to the absolute consternation of Gucci’s atelier, opting for a black silk shirt open underneath the jacket.

“It’s black tie, Mr. Styles!”

He looked good and worse, he knew it. He pressed a soft kiss to her rouged lips, careful not to smudge. “Can y’spare me a second, monster? Or should I find us somewhere more private?”

She grinned and pinched him. “Cheeky.”

He fluffed her embroidered tulle skirt. “You look like a princess.”

She twisted her hips and her skirt swished about her calves like a dream. “I feel like one.”

Kissing her cheek, he grinned and took a couple backward steps. “Be right back.”

“Don’t be long. I only agreed to spare you a second.”

He winked. “Yeh keep lookin’ at me like tha’, love, and we’re gonna miss a good party.”

She smiled innocently, enjoying watching his eyes drift down to her lips. She blew him a kiss. “Hurry.”

He rushed off, glancing back at her and running his fingers over his bottom lip as he reached the bar.

She waved, before looking down and adjusting the sleeves of her dress. She really did feel like a princess, but the kind of princess that Harry hadn’t taken his eyes off all night. The corset pressed her breasts up against the neckline of the dress, in a way that harkened to barmaids and tavern wenches, but the sheer chiffon that covered her shoulders and arms made her feel demure, almost modest and definitely not over-exposed. Paolo Sebastian’s atelier had said that the sheer fabric over her tattoos made a sweet dress look coy and sexy.

She felt that.

“You look very pretty.”

Jamie jumped, but didn’t need to look to know who was speaking to her. Her eyes skipped to where Harry was now frowning, eyes worried.

She smiled and mouthed ‘it’s fine,’ waving her hand in a half-hearted wave. She took a deep breath and turned to the tall, statuesque woman at her side. “Thank you. You wear red really well. You look beautiful.”

Taylor smiled, an awkward little twist of the lips that made her feel instantly more comfortable. She nodded. “Thanks. He.. uh, he looks happy.”

Jamie hummed and smiled through the crowd at Harry, whose eyes were trained on the two women. “Yeah, he does.”

“I heard you’re a guitarist?” Taylor drummed her thumbs on her clutch. “That you worked on his album?”

She nodded, vaguely wary, she wouldn’t judge someone that she didn’t know but it didn’t do to navigate a minefield with her eyes closed. “Yes. That’s how we met.”

“The album is fantastic. Good work.”

“Thanks.” Jamie smiled. “Thank you. He worked really hard,” she glanced back at Harry and saw him moving toward them. “He’ll be pleased to know you liked it.”

“I’ve heard you’re one of Columbia’s hidden talents.”

Jamie chuckled. “Not so hidden anymore, I guess… Thank you for that though.”

“The paparazzi have been rough, yeah?”

Jamie nodded. “I expected it but still…”

“It doesn’t get any easier.”

The taller woman was eyeing her with something close to pity and Jamie sighed. “No I don’t expect it will… but he’s worth it.”

Taylor smiled. “You love him.”

“So much.” Jamie found Harry in the crowd.

It got quiet and Jamie sighed… what next? “I quite liked the feel of your album. It’s edgier.” Probably shouldn’t have been that. Shit.

Taylor snorted. “Did you really?”

Jamie shuffled, uncomfortable. “Yes. I did.”

“You didn’t mind that one of my songs is supposed to be about your boyfriend… or that one of his songs is supposed to be about me?” Taylor trained hard eyes on her but Jamie could swear she saw vulnerability there as well.

She shrugged. “I don’t listen to rumors… or pick apart other people’s music. I’ve worked in the industry too long to take anything at face value. Especially if I wasn’t involved in the situation.”

“He’s never talked about me?”

Jamie sighed. “We’ve talked about it, of course we have.”

“And you don’t hate me?” Taylor stared her down. “Wouldn’t blame you.”

“I don’t hate anyone.” Shrugging, she looked down at her clutch. “Look I won’t lie and tell you that I approve or agree to everything you’ve ever done, not that you need or want my approval anyways…” 

She sighed. “But I love Harry… so much. I don’t like seeing him hurt. So yeah some of it bothers me. But what bothers me is what I’ve heard from Harry’s mouth, what he has told me. I trust that and it bothers me because I know that it bothered him. I don’t care what the media says one way or another. I try to take people on their own merits.”

“That’s good of you.”

Harry was getting closer and Jamie wasn’t sure if that last statement was sarcastic or not. She fidgeted. “Thanks?”

“He looks really worried.”

Jamie nodded and opted for silence, smiling at Harry as he pushed through the last little group of people in his way. He looked between the two of them and then his eyes caught hers, silently asking if she was okay.

She nodded slightly and accepted her water from him.

“Taylor.” His now free hand cupped her waist, his thumb rubbing soothingly at the chiffon-covered skin just above her corset. “How are yeh?”

Taylor smiled. “I’m fine. Thank you. You?”

Harry nodded. “Good.. Good.”

Taylor’s thumbs tapped on her clutch again. “Your album was fantastic.”

He smiled. “Thanks. Your’s as well.”

“Thanks.” She smiled awkwardly. “I’ve been talking with your girl here. She’s quite smitten with you.”

Harry made a face. “A year and a half almost and all I get is smitten?”

Jamie chuckled. “Well you do hog the bed.”

Kissing her forehead, he pulled her yet closer. “Always tellin’ all my secrets.”

Taylor sighed. “So I’m gonna go… I have some people to talk to.”

“It was nice to meet you.” Jamie extended her hand.

“You’re very sweet. It was nice to meet you as well.” Taylor chuckled and shook Jamie’s hand almost ironically. “She really is perfect for you, H.”

Harry smiled. “I’m aware.”

When Taylor had left, Jamie turned to Harry and breathed deep. “I feel like I just ran a marathon. Hell.”

“Yeh did well though, monster.” He smiled down at her. “Was she rude or anything?”

Jaime shrugged. “I don’t think she was trying to be mean or anything. I think she wanted to know if you were angry… over the album.”

He nodded. “What did you tell her?” 

“That I didn’t believe rumors.” Jamie shrugged. “It’s whatever, I guess.”

Harry pulled her in closer and laid a kiss on her cheek. “The Dunkirk boys are over there. They want to meet you.”

She nodded. “Lead the way, mi corazón.”

He led her to a small group of boys around their age and held his arms out to them. “Boys!”

The group of men turned and each one smiled. “Harry!”

A tall blonde man drew him into a hug and then stuck his hand out to her. “‘Ello, ye must be th’lass he was texting all the bloody time. Jack Lowden. This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell lies, mate.”

“He isn’t. You did text me all the time and then you’d call at the weirdest times. ‘Hey… just wanted to make sure yeh were still thinkin’ about Jamaica.’ ‘Hey… what are yer opinions on platypi?’ ‘Hey… Yeh liked my photo on instagram… I know yer awake.’ Don’t worry though… it was cute.”

Harry pouted at her and she stuck her tongue out at him, before shaking Jack’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Traitor.”

**

So I want a new tattoo, Freddy...

Yeah? What do you want?

A lantern… like a super traditional one.

That I can do. Color? Don’t answer that… stupid question. :P

I wish there was a middle finger emoji

Well, then. Fuck right off and find a new tattoo artist

Love ya, Frederico! Eres mi favorito hermano. Te amo más.

Yeah.. yeah. Kiss my ass some other time. Where is this lantern going?

Right forearm. Inside.

All of your forearm?

Sure why the hell not?

That’s sound tattoo logic there…

:P Also one last thing…

Yep?

…

Tell me if this is weird or not…

Spill it, chiquita.

I want Harry’s initials in there somewhere.

First, middle and last? What’s his middle name?

Uh… yes. Edward.

This isn’t weird?

Like I’m not rushing it?

…

Freddy!!

I need some fuckin’ reassurance, big bro!

Jesucristo. Calm down and give me a second to reply.

Okay

If you’re worried. Then don’t get it. That’s the rule.

Right

HOWEVER… you’ve been with the kid for a year plus now?

A year and eight months…

…

But who’s countin’ amiright?

You are going to marry that kid. I hope you see that.

And I hope you see that he’s as serious about this as you are.

You told me once that you were all-in from that first all night conversation. Has that changed?

Of course not.

Then stop stressing about it. I knew Angus was the one like five minutes into the first conversation. When you know you know.

You’re right.

I know. So no, none of this is weird, none of this is too fast. You live with the kid and you love him. 

Also you survived touring with him for what ten months? If something what going to happen, if you were going to find out something that would change your mind, it would’ve happened then. 

This is normal.

Okay.

You still want to get it?

Definitely.

You coming to SA soon then?

In early August. Harry and I will be spending about a week after tour.

Okay. I’ll start working on designs then I’ll dig around and see if I still have that tracing of your forearm from when we did your sleeve.

Perfect. Thanks. I love you.

Love you too, princess.

**

“Hey kid. What’s up?”

Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “Hey… I was hoping you would have time-”

“Kid, you’re part of the family now. You don’t have to be nervous to talk to me. I’m not Leo. I don’t plan on threatening you for shits and giggles. Now what’s up?”

He smiled. This is why Freddy was his favorite. “We’re goin’ t’be in town in August. I was wondering if I could get a tattoo then.”

“Yeah! I could definitely do that, bro. What’re you thinkin’?”

Harry swallowed. “An…” Deep Breath. “An angel.”

There was a pause on the other side of the line and then a noise like a muffled chuckle. “Sorry, coughed. Do you mind me asking why? Just for my own personal gratification?”

Harry squirmed. “I’m sure that yeh know that-”

“That you wrote a song about my sister being a devil in the sheets… Yeah I know that.” There was another muffled ‘cough’. “Sorry, bro. Somethin’ stuck in my teeth.”

Harry let his head hang loose. “Yes, tha’.”

“Relax, kid. It’s fine. I don’t think my sister is a virgin. It’s fine. Though we haven’t let my dad listen to it… You’re still his hero for writing a song called ‘Only Angel’ for his princess. I think he’s convinced it’s a ballad. Mom’s heard it… she laughed. I think she likes it.”

“That’s good. I don’t wan’ yer dad te hate me.”

“He wouldn’t hate you, bro. Just be very confused.” Freddy laughed. “I’m pretty sure that if you ever get her pregnant, Dad will assume it was immaculate conception.”

Harry laughed. “That’s good.”

“So an angel for my sister. I’m guessing black and grey?”

“Yeah. Traditional as far as artwork goes.”

“Traditional is my forte, no worries there. Where at?”

“Inside of my right bicep.”

“Sounds good. We’ll see you guys at the Dallas show. I’ll get a tracing then yeah? I’ll send you some artwork.”

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” Harry smiled. “See yeh then. Who all is comin’?”

“Mom, Dad, and all of the brothers and spouses.I think it’s gonna be a bit of a date night. Dante’s said he’s gonna bring a girl too.”

“Very cool. I’ll sort out backstage passes.”

“That’d be great. Thanks, bro. Talk to ya later? My next client is in.”

“Yeah. Talk to yeh later. Thanks again.”

**

She’d been gone when he returned to her parents’ house, arm held out so the raw skin didn’t touch his shirt. He frowned at Dante, sat on the couch watching soaps.

“Where’s Jamie?”

He shrugged, taking another bite of cereal. “Went out just a bit ago. Took my car. You probably passed her on the road.”

Harry nodded and sat on the couch next to him. Dante grabbed the remote and fast-forwarded through the commercials. “What’ve you been up to?” He glanced at Harry, who winced, trying to get comfortable and settled for just lifting his arm over his head.

Dante grinned at the paper towel taped to his bicep. “New tattoo?”

Harry chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Went to Freddy?”

“‘Course.”

Dante smirked. “What did y’get?”

Harry shifted. “An angel.”

Dante grinned widely. “You got tattooed for my sister.”

Harry blushed and nodded, Dante looked at the TV. “Good. I like knowing that you’re serious about her, bro. You’re good for her and the family loves you.”

Harry smiled.

“Does she know?”

Harry shook his head. “Nope.”

Dante chuckled. “That’s why you’re so nervous. Don’t worry, she’ll like it.”

Three hours and only a handful of texts later and Harry was legitimately starting to worry.

He had assumed that she’d gone for a bit of shopping, so he’d sent a text.

Where did you go, love?

Sorry, baby. My hands are too small to text with one hand. :P I’m at an appointment. Talk to you later. Love you!

An appointment? An appointment for what? And why did she only have one hand?

The alarm system chirped and the front door opened.

“I’m home.” He could hear her set Dante’s keys on the table in the foyer. “It’s fuckin’ roastin’ out there.”

She rounded the corner into the living room, smiling, one arm around her back. She perched herself on the arm of the couch next to Harry, folding her hands in her lap. “What ha-”

Harry’s eyes were on her paper-towel-wrapped forearm. “You were getting a new tattoo. That makes sense.”

She smiled and nodded. “Yep.”

Dante suddenly threw his head back and laughed. “You two are truly a matched set, aren’t you?”

Jamie made a face. “What?”

Harry blushed and lifted his arm, revealing the very fresh, recently washed tattoo. She gasped and slid into his lap, gently pulling the sleeve of his t-shirt up. “That’s what you were doing this morning!” She studied the angel, fingers just barely not touching the still sensitive skin and smiled.

He nodded.

She looked at him, eyes maybe a little watery. “Baby, it’s an angel… for me?”

He smiled. “Yeah it is.”

She leaned forward and kissed him. Dante made a gagging noise. “I’m going for a run if you’re doing this here.”

She pulled away from Harry. “Bye, hermano querido.”

Dante flicked her off. “Bye, lovebirds.”

He smiled at her. “So you like it, then?”

“I love it.”

He pointed at her arm, pinned awkwardly between them. “Can I see?”

“Don’t tell Freddy I pulled the bandage off early.” She smiled and pulled gingerly at the tape, revealing the lantern in brilliant color etched forever into her skin. The removal of the last bit of tape revealed the small banner at the bottom of the tattoo.

HES

He grinned and kissed her. “For me huh?”

She nodded. “We really are a matched set.”

“Why a lantern, love?”

She grinned. “Baby, you light up my world like nobody else.”

Part IX Up Next: Part XI

[illbefinealonereads]

Blog tour! I’m offering you information and an excerpt from Out Now by Saundra Mitchell.

Out Now: Queer We Go Again! By Saundra Mitchell On Sale: May 26, 2020 Inkyard Press YOUNG ADULT FICTION/Diversity & Multicultural | YOUNG ADULT FICTION/Romance/LGBT 9781335018267; 1335018263 $18.99 USD 416 pages

A follow-up to the critically acclaimed All Out anthology, Out Now features seventeen new short stories from amazing queer YA authors. Vampires crash prom…aliens run from the government…a president’s daughter comes into her own…a true romantic tries to soften the heart of a cynical social media influencer…a selkie and the sea call out to a lost soul. Teapots and barbershops…skateboards and VW vans…Street Fighter and Ares’s sword: Out Now has a story for every reader and surprises with each turn of the page! This essential and beautifully written modern-day collection features an intersectional and inclusive slate of authors and stories.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Out-Now-Queer-We-Again/dp/1335018263 Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/out-now-saundra-mitchell/1133810272 IndieBound: https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781335018267 Books-A-Million: https://www.booksamillion.com/p/Out-Now/Saundra-Mitchell/9781335018267?id=4861510030088 AppleBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/out-now/id1481649552 Google Play: https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Saundra_Mitchell_Out_Now?id=0SeyDwAAQBAJ

Saundra Mitchell has been a phone psychic, a car salesperson, a denture deliverer and a layout waxer. She's dodged trains, endured basic training and hitchhiked from Montana to California. She teaches herself languages, raises children and makes paper for fun. She is the author of Shadowed Summer and The Vespertine series, the upcoming novelization of The Prom musical, and the editor of Defy the Dark. She always picks truth; dare is too easy. Visit her online at www.saundramitchell.com.

Author website: wwww.saundramitchell.com Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Saundra-Mitchell/164136390442617 Twitter: @saundramitchell Instagram: @smitchellbooks Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/52172088-out-now

Excerpt:

KICK. PUSH. COAST. By Candice Montgomery

Excerpted from OUT NOW: Queer We Go Again! Edited by Saundra Mitchell, used with permission by Inkyard Press, © 2020 by Inkyard Press.

 Every day, same time, same place, she appears and doesn’t say a word.

Well, she doesn’t just appear. She takes a bus. You know she takes a bus because you see her get off the bus right in front of 56th Street, just in front of the park where you skate.

You know she takes a bus and gets off right in front of the park at 56th Street because you are always at the park, wait-ing to catch a glance of her.

She—her appearance—is a constant. Unlike your sexuality, all bendy like the way your bones got after yesterday’s failed backside carve.

Bisexualpansexualdemisexualpanromanticenby all bleeding bleeding-bleeding…into one another.

That drum of an organ inside your chest tells you to just be patient. But now, here you are and there she is and you can’t help yourself.

She’s beautiful.

And so far out of your league.

You’re not even sure what she does here every day, but you probably shouldn’t continue to watch her while trying to nail a Caballerial for the first time. Losing focus there is the kind of thing that lends itself to unforgiving injuries, like that time you broke your leg in six places on the half-pipe or the time you bit clean through your bottom lip trying to take down a 360 Pop Shove It.

You’re still tasting blood to this very day. So’s your skate-board. That one got split clean in half.

She looks up at you from underneath light brown lashes that seem too long to be real. She reminds you of a Heelflip. You don’t know her well but you imagine that, at first, she’s a pretty complicated girl, before you get good enough to really know her. You assume this just given the way her hair hangs down her back in a thick, beachy plait, the way yours never could.

Not since you chopped it all off.

That’s not a look for a lady, your mom says repeatedly. But you’ve never been very femme and a few extra inches of hair plus that pink dress Mom bought you won’t change that.

You hate that dress. That dress makes you look like fondant. Someone nails a Laserflip right near where you’re standing and almost wipes out.

Stop staring. You could just go introduce yourself to her.

But what would you say?

Hi, I’m Dustyn and I really want to kiss you but I’m so confused about who I am and how am I supposed to introduce myself to you if I can’t even get my label right, oh, and also, you make me forget my own name.

And in a perfect world, she would make eyes at you. She’d make those eyes at you and melt your entire fucking world in the way only girls ever can.

Hi, Dustyn, I’m in love with you. Eyelashes. All batting eye-lashes.

No. No, the conversation probably wouldn’t go that way. Be nice if it did though. Be nice if anything at all could go your way when it comes to romance.

You push into a 360 ollie while riding fakie and biff it so bad, you wish you possessed whatever brain cells are the ones that tell you when to quit.

If that conversation did go your way, on a realistic scale, she’d watch you right back. You would nail that Caballerial.

Take a break. Breathe. Breathe breathe breathe. Try some-thing else for a sec.

Varial Heelflip. Wipe out.

Inward Heelflip. Gnarly spill.

Backside 180 Heelflip. Game, set, match—you’re finished. That third fail happens right in front of her and you play it off cool. Get up. Don’t even give a second thought to your battle wounds. You’re at the skate park on 56th Street because there’s more to get into. Which means, you’re not the only idiot limping with a little drug called determination giving you momentum.

Falling is the point. Failing is the point. Getting better and changing your game as a skater is the point. Change.

But what if things were on your side? What if you’d stuck with that first label? What if Bisexual felt like a good fit and never changed?

Well, then you’d probably be landing all these 180s.

If bisexual just fit, you’d probably have been able to hold on to your spot in that Walk-In Closet. But it doesn’t fit. It doesn’t fit which kind of sucks because at Thanksgiving din-ner two years ago, your cousin Damita just had to open her big mouth and tell the family you “mess with girls.” Just had to tell the family, a forkful of homemade mac and cheese headed into said mouth, that you are “half a gay.”

That went over well. Grams wouldn’t let you sit on her plastic-lined couches for the rest of the night. Your great-uncle Damian told her gay is contagious. She took it to heart.

No offense, baby. Can’t have all that on my good couches. You glance up and across the park, memories knocking

things through your head like a good stiff wind, and you find her taking a seat.

Oh.

Oh, she never does this. She never gets comfortable. She’s changing things up. You’re not the only one.

Maybe she plans to stay a while.

You love that she’s changing things up. You think it feels like a sign. It’s like she’s riding Goofy-Foot today. Riding with her right foot as dominant.

The first time you changed things up that way, you ended up behind the bleachers, teeth checking with a trans boy named Aaron. It felt so right that you needed to give it a name.

Google called it pansexual. That one stuck. You didn’t bother to explain that one to the family, though. They were just starting to learn bisexual didn’t mean you were gay for only half the year.

You pop your board and give the Caballerial another go.

It does not want you. You don’t stick this one either.

If pansexual had stuck, you’d introduce yourself to the beautiful girl with a smaller apology on your tongue. Hi, I’m Dustyn, I’ve only changed my label the one time, just slightly, but I’m still me and I’d really love to take you out.

And the beautiful girl would glance at your scraped elbows and the bruised-up skin showing through the knee holes in your ripped black skinny jeans. She’d see you and say, Hi, small, slight changes are my favorite. And then she’d lace her bubble-gum-nail-polished hand with yours.

But you changed your label after that, too. It was fine for a while. Your best friend, Hollis, talked you through the symp-toms of demisexuality.

No wonder holding the beautiful girl’s hand seems so much more heart-palpitating than anything else. A handhold. So simple. Just like an ollie.

You take a fast running start, throwing your board down, and end up on a vert skate, all empty bowl-shaped pools that are so smooth, your wheels only make a small whisper against them.

A whisper is what you got that first time you realized sex was not for you. Not with just anyone. This was…mmm, probably your biggest revelation.

It was like you’d been feeding your body Big Macs three times a day and suddenly—a vegetable!

Tic-tacking is when you use your entire body to turn the board from one side to the other. It’s a game of lower body strength, but also a game of knowing your weight and know-ing your board. You are not a tic-tac kind of girl.

You are not a girl at all. You are just…you.

That.

That one’s sticking forever. You know it all the way through to your gut.

You make one more attempt, which probably isn’t super wise because you are so close to the spot where she’s sitting that not only will she see you bite the dust, but she’ll hear that nasty grunt you make when you meet the ground.

You coast by.

The friction vibrates up through your bearings and you know you’re going too fast because you start to feel a little bit of a speed-wobble, that lovely, untimely, oscillatory behavior that means bro, you are about to lose control.

And you hate that word. Control. You hate that word be-cause it is so very rare that you have any. Over your life, your sexuality, your gender, your pronouns, your heartbeat when you’re around your beautiful girl.

But then you do.

You gain control. And you nail that Caballerial.

And the three guys who’ve been watching you make an ass of yourself all afternoon pop their boards up, hold them over their heads and let out wolf shouts.

And you’re smiling so hard. You get like that when you nail a particularly difficult one. You’re smiling so hard you don’t notice the someone standing behind you.

Beautiful girl. You don’t even want to control your smile here.

“You did it,” she says.