#but know its takin every bit a self control

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

FOR THE GIVE ME A CHARACTER, CAN YOU DO TWO BIT

OFC I CAN HON!!! (ask game here!!)

Two Bit is unfortunately one of those characters I never talk about but I need you to know I have him vibratin at lightnin speeds in my brain. He's easy to misunderstand I fear. both in n out of canon which is kinda the tragedy of his character I s'ppose. he's a joke. a he's the comic relief. he knows he ain't worth nothin. his self esteem is the worst you've ever seen. he talks like he thinks he's hot shit. he drinks for courage n drinks for distance n drinks cause no one ever stops him. he thinks he's stupid. he goes to school cause that's where his friends are! n cause he don't think he could ever hold down a job. he's terrified a endin up like his dad. he wants to make his ma proud. he knows he can't. he falls victim to the same fallacy as soda. he looks fine. so no one ever asks him more.

my ships for two!! unfortunately I don't really go for any two bit ships!! I think him n marcia are cute but it don't really pique my interest enough to really explore (I'm so sorry to my marbit lovers!! I think they're sweet!! honest!!)

as far as non romantic relationships/ friendships I adore my GOD do NOT get me goin on Steve, Soda, Two trio. they are kinda. everythin to me. two's always dickin around the DX n buggin Steve n Soda when he skips! they get REAL into startin a band!! once a month two of em get overly involved on a prank on the other!! they are perhaps the most chaotic trio in tusla!! not an ounce a sense between them n the means to get into any typa trouble a person could possibly get into!! I could go on forever actually. they're so silly to me god I adore em.

my unpopular opinion about two! hmm I'm not sure!! I gotta think!! OH! well I dunno if this counts but I often feel like two as an individual character gets over looked way too often!! I see him talked about in the context of other characters real often but never much about just him. he's so much more then just a funny kid n I really wish people talked about him more!!

one thing I wish had happened I canon!! I wish real bad we had gotten to see more of two interact one on one with the other characters!! ESPECIALLY johnny!! I feel like there was so much complexity there with Johnny n Two's friendship (Two who was so used to people laughin at his jokes n never seein more n Johnny who could see right past that. Two who was clearly real protective over the kid n hated his mother for what she did to him. but calls her a 'damn drunk' n knows he really ain't that much different) That or more of his own grief after Johnny n Dallas! he lost two brothers. when does he get to grieve?

AOUGH!! TWO BIT MATHEWS MY BELOVED. I'm gonna cut it off there but know I could talk about him til the end a time.

[adenandraofvespertine]

Morning After Loving [Guzma x Reader]

This is a sweet little fic for an AU I’ve been working on for a little bit, its pretty much a modern kinda setting and you two have been travelling together for a little while after your relationship began. Pokemon are still around of course but the setting isn’t Alola. You two have just spent a sensual night together, thus the title.

Female Reader.

Warnings: NSFW of course, both of you having huge switch energy, smoking, female oral, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, safe sex (wrap it before ya tap it), biting, nipple play, passionate love making, my really exhausting theatrical way of writing sex scenes.

"Would it kill you to take your eyes off of me?" You groan, rolling over on the plush hotel bed and realizing the sheets have been kicked too far away to reach.

There is a chuckle from the window where Guzma leans, a cigarette in hand and boxers hanging loosely from his hips.

"Maybe. You're a sight to behold." He smiles, puffing the smoke out of his nose.

"Bullshit." You huff, sitting up and pulling the sheets over your naked body.

"What? You don't believe me?" He says, his tone cheeky as he snuffs out his cigarette butt and saunters over. He receives only a groan in response, a mess of (hair colour) hair huddled into the white sheets.

He hums and crawls over you on the mattress, placing a hand on your calf through the sheets and running it up along the curve of your thighs to your hip, then the slope leading down and then up to your shoulder. You suppress a shudder, then he pulls himself up next to you and presses into your back with his arm pulling you against him.

"How ya feelin?" He grumbles against your ear.

"Aight... a little nauseous but that's the booze."

"And here I thought it was me." He teases, hooking a finger under the sheets you’re tucked into and slowly dragging them down to reveal your shoulder so he may press his lips to it with a hum.

"No, you're just makin the room stink of smoke." You quip.

"I was out the window" he protests.

"Then it's just you that stinks" You smirk.

"You'll pay for that" He chuckles and gently coaxes you to face him, you playfully comply and your hands brush up his arms and raise the goosebumps he adores the feeling of. He moves the sheets away from the view and catches your lips with his, a hand moving to your face with his fingers in your hair. Are you really so unaware of your sensations? Your ability to ignite all these glittering feelings within him with only a touch?

Your arms snake up around his neck and your hand toys with his hair, enjoying it's morning messiness and helping to further untidy it as your lips move over each others in a loving exchange. Foreheads pressed together, he holds himself above you with his elbow propped beside your head and his eyes locked on your own.

"You're beautiful." He says, his voice softer and more sincere. "I won't take no for an answer."

You chuckle, there is a sadness behind it that he knows all too well.

"Alright. For you." You sigh, wiping the sleep from your eyes with one hand and pinching his cheek with the other. He chuckles and sits back, taking your thighs into his hands and pulling you atop him as he sits back. You giggle and hold onto him as your positions are changed.

"It's a little unfair that you get pants." You smirk, running your nose along his jawline before gracing it with kisses. Guzma tilts his head and groans eagerly,   "I won't need em for much longer if you keep that up." He chuckles softly and kneads your hips and thighs affectionately as you continue your trail of kisses to his neck and begin to leave loving little bites along the skin. His heartbeat spikes and his breathing becomes irregular, hitching when you suck another hickey onto him. His hands become more restless and he struggles to contain his urge to give in to desire. Your nose trails against his neck back up to his jawline and then to his ear, your lips teasing at the lobe before your canines scrape against it. 

With the shudder that it brings, his self control is broken; you are on your back in a half moment and his lips are ravaging your neck with fervent kisses and bites. The trail quickly makes it's way to your chest and his hands are already on your breasts as his tongue finds a nipple and worships it with adoration. Your hands in his hair and on his back as he loses himself in you, rolling a flushed nipple between his fingers as his teeth lovingly squeeze the other to elicit a reaction from you. A gasp and a moan is all he needed, what little clothing he had is discarded and forgotten as his mouth leaves a blazing trail of lustful kisses down your stomach and betwixt your legs.

He halts for a moment, just a moment, to look at you and ask for the go ahead. You nod eagerly, Then the taste of nicotine is overpowered by your flavour as his tongue plunges into your folds and his lips move against the slick flesh that flushes hotter at his every movement. Moans... those moans are what he has been looking for, the breathy gasps and whines as he unravels you with his hands and mouth and worships you with lustful affection. You shiver and your legs shake around his head, he relishes the feeling of your orgasm around his fingers anticipating the feeling of it around his cock as it twitches as if begging for the sensation. Your head presses back into the pillows as you reach onto the side table and pull a foil packet from the box, your eyes meeting his as you place it between your teeth and tear it with your eyes glittering lustfully.

He feels heat coarse through him at the simple gesture, finding it unbelievably erotic and his erection jumping at the sight of you delicately removing the foil’s contents. You sit up and brush your nose against his as your eyes follow your hands, they deftly apply the contraception before trailing up his stomach with featherlight patterns traced all the way to his chest. He shudders and captures your lips again, moaning as he makes a move to ease you down onto the mattress... 

Only to be interrupted by firm hands on his shoulders pushing him down instead. He is delighted as you shove him down onto the sheets and climb over him, languidly stretching out your legs as you crawl and take your throne atop him. An incredible sight to behold to his eyes, your glory unmatched as you tease at his chest with your fingertips and lean down to lovingly slip your tongue over his nipple to make him moan. His erection impatiently throbbing as you tease him and elicit sweet gasps and moans from your beloved. 

He is thrilled by the unfamiliarity of the situation, rolling his hips up into nothing as his body begs for more of your. In due time, your kisses say as they pepper his cheeks and nose. "This... You're uh... takin the reins is..." His voice is breathy as he tries to find the words for his delight. "I been thinking about this for a while now, it's empowering to take a big boy like you and make him a good boy instead."

Good god.

You know exactly what you’re doing to him and he is eagerly anticipating everything you do, your words make his jaw clench and your bite to his neck produces a gasp. He feels your hand against his needy, twitching member and he moans desperately in his need for you. His eyes begging you for relief, for the pleasure he so desires from you.

His eyelids flutter as you press the tip to your entrance and smile so lovingly down at him; His hands on your thighs, fingers twitching as his heart races. You slowly ease down onto him, your heat encapsulating him painfully slowly and both of their mouths hanging open in awe at the pleasure they feel. 

(Y/N), so full from his length and stretched by his girth and Guzma moaning with glee as he relishes your pulsing heat around him. In this moment he sits up and holds you against him, embracing you and not making a single move of his hips. He just wants to hold you in this moment and you him, your arms wrapping around him and your hot breath against one another's skin.

Lovemaking is always so very mind blowing between you, your entire beings consumed by one another to the point where the sensations are otherworldly.

Your hands find his and your fingers lace together with his as you begin to move, your hips rising and falling on him in smooth and erotic movements. You quickly lose yourself to your need for him and he is more than pleased with that, moaning deeply as you do so and his legs twitch. You use his hands to push him down again and adjust your position for effectiveness. Your sounds of ecstasy fill the room as you push one another further towards your euphoria. 

As your legs tire and begin to shake from the nerves of your womanhood being pleasured, he sits up and takes you by the hips; lifting you and placing you gently onto the bed so he may position himself and slam into you once more. You cry out in splendor as he leans over you and begins a merciless pace with his hips, panting against your shoulder and moaning to you to convey his gratitude. Your legs shake and your fingers dig into his back as you moan for him, uttering his name in such sweet tones that he feels he may cum just at the sound. 

As you push yet further up together, he hooks his arms under your legs and pulls your hips up, adrenaline roaring through his body as he watches your chest and hips bounce with his thrusts. Your face flushed and in an expression of fathomless pleasure, pride and lust mix together in a heady concoction and his pace reaches full throttle; his moans becoming more breathless and shaky. The lewd sounds of your hips impacting together mingled with the gasps, moans and cries of euphoria as you both reach your limits in a symphony of pleasured cries. He eases his hips back and forth to milk every last drop of his pleasure out, you float down from your high on his gentle movements and you embrace one another in satisfaction and bliss.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Late July

Fandom: Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Pairing: Agent Whiskey [Jack Daniels]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit explicit.

Summary: Upon hearing about you from Tequila, Jack Daniels seeks you out with a full set of emotional baggage to work through. You happily oblige, helping him craft a scene that just might grant him some peace of mind. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @wrestlingfae @cookiethewriter @culturalrebel @jackierey09 @crookedmoonsaultpunk @duker42 @agirllovespasta @nelba @pedrosbigdorkenergy @lestrange2703 @youmeanmybrain @luvley-shadow @theocatkov @miscellaneousjunkk @reluctantlyresponsibleadult @buttons-beads-lace @gooddaykate @lackofhonor

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains consensual non-consent (surrender play), light domination, roleplay, unprotected sex, frank discussion of safe words, usage of safe words, dirty talk and light bondage. Remember that fanfictions are not research and that you should never engage in any activity if you do not trust your partner. Stay safe!]

There was just something about you that put people at ease, and Ginger Ale noticed during the interview process. "You have a gift!" She had praised you, her smile unexpected and bright. "I can see why Tequila recommended you for this position."

Granted, being the 'head of first impressions' at a distillery that was actually a front for a secret intelligence agency had its ups and downs, but you enjoyed the work and (if you were honest) the exciting interactions with the Statesman agents. 

Tequila, of course, would practically drape himself across your desk as he regaled you with (hopefully) exaggerated tales of his heroics. The two of you were sexually involved but preferred to keep each other at arm's length out of the bedroom, neither party particularly keen on surrendering your freedom and committing to anything serious at this point of your lives. You admired his dedication to Statesman, and he in turn respected your desire to have a successful career. He also was blatantly mooning over a certain analyst.

Ginger Ale was quieter and sharper than Tequila, her dry humor a joy to witness. She was the one who had done your interview, and she had given you the full behind the scenes tour once your background check went through. She was beautiful, charismatic and smart as a whip. You hoped to one day be as self-assured as she was.

Champ tended to keep to himself for the most part, though you had encountered him several times in the past when he dozed off in a certain chair at the end of a sunlit hallway. The elderly man was like an old tomcat, you decided, able to prowl but more than willing to take it easy.

Whiskey was often away managing the affairs of their New York headquarters and as such, was the one that you interacted with the least. He would come breezing in at all hours, a slow smile and a wink directed your way before he would saunter past. The rare occasions that he engaged you in conversation were nerve-wracking, as you were a little starstruck due to the glowing accounts both Champ and Tequila had given of his prowess in the past.

Ginger Ale was a bit more down to earth, thankfully. "He's just a man who's lost a lot, and his reasons for wanting to change things for the better may not be entirely altruistic." She had informed you concisely when you queried about the origin of one Jack Daniels. You had picked up on the veiled sadness in his dark eyes, the age that seemed to weigh him down that wasn't entirely related to years.

So when the aforementioned Statesman agent had drunkenly expressed a certain desire to you at a company party, you couldn't hide a little spike of curiosity. Mainly because the two of you interacted so rarely. Hell, you wouldn't even call yourselves friends. Tequila must have told him about your side activities.

"Ever since I lost her, I can't fuckin' bring myself to raw anyone else." The confession had come out of left field, but you had done your best to play it off like it was normal. Lord knew you had done enough paperwork in your career at Statesman to understand that agents would just kind of…say things thoughtlessly if they believed they were in a safe environment. A hazard of the job.

"What do you mean, Mr. Daniels?" 

"Call me Jack. Jesus, I ain't that old." He had hiccupped sharply, grimacing. "I just mean I...it's like a mental block. I wanna', I'm excited about it, and everything's fine until I try to come and boom. Python shrivels up like a damn salted slug and I'm left holdin' the bag tryin' to explain myself." He stared into his glass, looking pensive. "Real mood killer."

"Any idea why this might be?" You had prompted, leaning against the bar and idly scanning the throngs of people around you. It wasn't every day that so many of the company's rank and file rubbed elbows with the higher-ups, but you had to assume these economic mixers were what had kept the company (and intelligence agency) on such an even keel. It was a grounding experience, a way to remind the suits of their humble beginnings.

He scoffed out a breath. "Oh I know exactly why. When I lost her, I...we had only learned a little while before that she was havin' a baby. We'd been havin' a rocky time and we were actually thinkin' of breakin' up, but that news…" Jack had tilted his head to glance your way, his brown eyes distant. "If I hadn't gotten her pregnant, she wouldn't have been out shoppin' that day, y'know?" A sad smile had quirked his mouth beneath his mustache. "My fault."

At the time, you had made a noise of sympathy and gone to lay a hand on his arm before you could think better of it. He, instead of shrugging off your touch, actually ended up twining his fingers through your own and giving your hand a light squeeze.

Agent Whiskey's past was a shadowy affair in the Statesman organization. Though to be fair, no one really asked anything about anyone. Ginger Ale reasoned that the less people knew, the safer they and Statesman were in the event of a security breach. 

Anything you learned from any of the agents, you tended to keep close to your heart. It was your nature to gather useful information and foster trust for a rainy day. That personality facet had served you well as you had climbed the ranks from intern to head of first impressions, and knowing that you were someone that could be counted on to hold your cards close put many people at ease.

Including one Agent Whiskey.

"Tequila said you were good at helpin'. I'd be much obliged if you'd consider takin' a crack at my sexual baggage."

...

"Alright so for your words, you've decided on 'sixth' as your 'yes I'm into this', followed by second for 'slow down but don't break character', first for 'slow down and do break character' and finally neutral for 'full stop'." You tapped the customary notepad on your lap, glancing over at the man across the table. The two of you were currently sitting in the kitchen of the vacation cabin that your parents had willed to you, the modest dwelling often your staging ground for affairs like this. The warm wooden decor tended to make your partners feel more at ease and less vulnerable. Perceived safety was, after all, incredibly important when crafting scenarios.

Jack nodded. "Gears are easy for me to remember. Simple." 

"Got it. And no kissing on the mouth. Can I kiss you in other places, or would you prefer I didn't at all?"

"Kissin's fine." Jack allowed. "Whatever you wanna' do is fine, just not on my mouth." You jotted that down. "Hey, I uh...I just wanted you to know that I really appreciate you agreein' to help. I dunno' if this will work, but…" Whiskey rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Thanks. When Tequila mentioned your...extracurriculars, I figured he was jus' bein' outta' pocket again."

You grinned at that, giggling a little. "Does he get weird a lot?"

"I mean, he's uh...well, he's got his moments." Jack replied with a smile of his own.

"So," you hummed once you had checked your notes again, "after looking over all the information we've compiled, and the ideas you gave me an outline of, I'm thinking that you may want more of a 'surrender-play' kind of experience." 

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Dare I ask how that's different from what I already suggested?" 

"Look, you and I both know that I couldn't keep you from moving if you wanted to. Now, if we had a real working dynamic going on and I believed that you would listen and trust me implicitly so that you don't end up hurting yourself or me, then we might have something. But as we are right now, that's not gonna' happen." Whiskey inclined his head with a rueful chuckle, acknowledging the truth of your words. "So I propose that it's more of a scenario where all the agency is removed."

The agent leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "Explain."

"You need a scenario where you aren't in control and there's not even a chance of you being in control, taking any responsibility or guilt from the equation." You elaborated. "Basically, you would surrender your control so that you can indulge guilt-free. A lot of people do this coupled with a roleplay aspect in order to test new things that may be out of character for them."

"You coulda' jus' said you wanted to tie me up, sugar." Jack drawled. "I'll show you some good knots."

"You don't have any issues with being secured to...I guess a chair, probably? We'll keep you upright. If we sprawl you out on a bed that might be a little too vulnerable." You reasoned, waiting for his nod before you wrote it down. "I know it sounds contradictory, but I want you to be comfortable in what we do. Should I leave your clothes on?"

"If you can stand to, I'd appreciate it." The man answered with a cheeky wink. "Bein' naked and restrained is a little too close to the job description." He sighed after a moment, tipping the chair backwards as he laced his fingers behind his head. "Now I warn you, if I'm supposed to be an unwillin' party, I may display a little less Southern hospitality and a little more Southern history with my language, if you catch my drift."

You pursed your lips, squinting at him. "...is that your way of saying you might use a naughty word or two?"

You received a lazy finger-gun in reply, "bingo, cherry pie. You got any names you ain't a fan of bein' called?"

"Oh! I mean, I've heard just about everything in the book." You straightened up as a thought occurred to you, and then pointed back at him sternly. "No slurs."

"Ma'am," Jack sounded aghast, "I am not that breed of Southern gentleman. My lingo can verge on the spicy, but I sure as hell wouldn't stoop to that level." 

You narrowed your eyes to drive your point home. "I really hope not." The agent inclined his head once more, putting a hand over his heart in a display of sincerity.

The front legs of the chair met the floor with a soft clatter, once again putting him on stable footing. "Now, I been wrackin' my brain tryin' to drum up a good premise like you asked, but I ain't exactly big in the screenwritin' department. I figure it could be kinda' like I'd been kidnapped? Drawin' a blank on why my kidnapper would be rawdoggin' me, maybe you can come up with somethin'?" He queried hopefully. 

You furrowed your brow in thought, going silent as you carefully considered the hodgepodge of contributing factors. "Oh, I think I can manage."

...

This deck had been rigged from the start. In theory, you knew that he knew that. Still, he was certainly acting like it stung his pride a bit that he'd fallen into your 'trap' so cleanly. 

Everything was going according to plan. 

Whiskey struggled against the binds that secured him to the kitchen chair. His whip was safely confiscated. Lasso out of reach. Hat was still on his head. He had specifications, after all. 

You left him to wriggle for almost half an hour while you got yourself ready. The man was a secret agent, after all. If he hadn't been restrained for much longer than that at any given point you would be very surprised. 

You finally opened the bathroom door, sauntering out into the cabin's small kitchenette. "Miss me, love?" You crooned, committing to your role as villainous vamp stereotype number six. You had worn a plain set of underwear and an oversized white t-shirt, soft and see-through from the amount of times it had been washed. You got the feeling that if you went more elaborate, you might scare Whiskey off or make him too uncomfortable to really get into it. This scene was all about trust, and he hardly knew you. But he had sought you out for this. All you had to do was follow through.

"Was beginnin' to worry that you forgot about me, ma'am." The agent drawled back, his smile tightly sardonic and his low voice curling hot in your belly. "You fixin' to untie me yet?"

You clicked your tongue, the noise disappointed. "Whiskey, sweetheart, where's the fun in that? If I untie you, you'll just kill me."

"Can't blame a man for tryin'." Jack was absolutely in his element right now. He looked furious. 

You ambled around behind him, slinging your arms around his neck and resting your weight on him briefly. "Remember," you murmured in his ear. "If you need me to slow down, or need to stop entirely, you say…?"

"Second, first and neutral." The agent replied readily. You patted his cheek.

"Good boy." You praised. 

"Ain't my first rodeo." Whiskey's tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips and you wanted to reassure him, but you knew you had a job to do.

"Now, can I get you a light refreshment? Something to drink? Maybe some chips?" You offered, moving to the small refrigerator that you had stocked a little earlier in the day. Planning was imperative for engagements like this. "I have water, sweet tea, Coke…"

"Dammit woman, stop beatin' around the bush! Why the hell do you have me hogtied to this damn chair?!" Jack erupted. 

"So rude." You chided him, removing a water for yourself and then leaning casually against the counter. "You really want to know, Mr. Whiskey?"

"Obviously." He scowled.

"Well be a patient boy and maybe I'll tell you." You hummed, not making eye contact as you unscrewed the cap on the water bottle. "It was more than enough trouble for me to get you here in the first place, big shot. Don't rush me."

"Listen, I'll be the first to tell you that I probably ain't who you're lookin' for." He said bluntly. "I'm just a simple liquor tycoon, nothin' more."

"Mr. Whiskey, if you continue to insult my intelligence maybe I will decide I've got the wrong man. And then I'll just get rid of you." You swirled the water in the bottle, fixing him with a thoughtful look. 

"You're talkin' a mighty big game, woman." Jack grumbled. 

You sloshed some of the water on your thin white shirt as if by accident, and began daubing at the gauzy fabric aimlessly. "Whiskey-"

"It's Jack." He spat.

"Oh, we're on a first name basis? How exciting!" You teased him, laughing when he muttered angrily under his breath. He was clearly enjoying the role of 'belligerent definitely-not-a-spy'. "Alright then, Jack. I won't beat around the bush, as you so tactfully put it."

"Hallelujah, some goddamn cooperation." He replied in a sulky tone.

"So, Jack, I need you to come inside me. Strictly so I can bypass Statesman's biomechanical security systems. It's nothing personal, I just assumed you would be the easiest target, you know?" You remarked with a shrug. "The flirty cowboy with the filthy mouth." He stared at you and you raised an eyebrow, half-convinced that his reaction was legitimate. "What? You do have a reputation."

"I hate to break it to ya', but you got the wrong beverage. You're lookin' for Tequila, ma'am." Jack retorted, his voice a little raspy. "You want...what?"

"I need you to come inside me so I can use the your genetic signature to bypass the security." Granted, you were pretty certain that Statesman used exclusively fingerprints, retina scans and time locks, but Whiskey had told you to weave a good story for the setup, not necessarily an accurate one.

Jack swallowed hard. "You've got bats in your fuckin' belfry, woman. You expect me to-"

"Oh no, that's the beauty of this arrangement." You interrupted him, still smiling. "I don't expect you to do anything aside from sit there and stay still while I ride you." 

"Jesus fuck woman, you--shit, isn't there some other way to do this? I ain't keen on the prospect, but if there's literally any other way…" 

"Sorry. This is the only solution that my superiors could get behind." You sighed, feigning regret. "And we might be here a while, from what I've heard." Jack's eyes darted to yours and he flushed, working his jaw. "Don't look so glum! I'm one of the best in my field. I'm sure I'll be able to compensate for your...lack of investment."

"You touch me and I swear to God-"

"Ah ah, naughty boys get gagged." You threatened gently, walking your fingers up the side of his face to stroke them back down his jawline. Jack glared at you, his dark gaze fairly luminous with fury and maybe just a touch of poorly-veiled interest. "Be a good boy and I'll let you talk as much as you want. Maybe I'll even let you play with my tits, hmm?" You asked, cupping your breasts through your still-damp shirt. "Would you like that, love?"

"I…" Jack trailed off, then snapped his eyes back up from your chest. "No!"

You tapped his nose, winking. "Oh I think you would. Don't be so stubborn, Jack." You cocked your head to the side. "No one from Statesman even knows you're gone. No one is coming to rescue you." You informed him, all the playfulness evaporated from your voice. "You're mine now, Jack. My own personal key-card."

"You won't get away with this." Jack snarled.

"I think I already have." You knelt between his legs, running your hands over the jeans that covered his thighs. He squirmed, trying to dislodge you, but you just moved with him. You dug your nails into his thighs. "You keep wiggling and I'm going to have to tighten the ropes, Jack. Is that what you want?"

"Oh you filthy fuckin' woman, you absolute bitch, let me go!" 

"Hmm," you tapped your chin as he kept jerking and straining against the knots. "No." 

Jack froze when your fingers unbuttoned the button at the top of his fly. "Now wait, wait just a damn minute, y-you can't--" he tried to plead.

"Oh I can. And I will." You looked up at him. "As long as we're in the right gear?"

"Sixth, sixth." He affirmed, flashing you a quick smile. You nodded and seamlessly resumed your play.

The zipper of his fly opened devastatingly slow, the agent exhaling raggedly when you pulled up his shirt and palmed his groin gently through the fabric of his boxer briefs. His cock was already half-hard, and you pointed that out with a mean little smirk on your face. "Oh no, looks like someone's interested." You crooned, rubbing your index finger over the head of his still-clothed dick.

"Fuck off, you...y-you-" he swore, rolling his shoulders as if he was testing his bonds. "You little bitch."

"Temper temper." You chided, ducking your head down to mouth over the fabric of his boxers. Jack gasped out another swear over your head, his hips twitching up to meet you before he slammed them back down. "Methinks someone doth protest too much." You snorted, splaying your fingers on the newly-revealed skin of his stomach. "We could make this so much simpler if you would just give in, Jack." You didn't miss the way his skin jumped at your touch, and you smiled against his boxers.

"You'll--you'll have to do better than that." Whiskey breathed. "You think just any ol' woman can get me up?"

You stood, leaning in close and pressing your mouth to his ear. His whole body flinched when you wrapped your fingers around his cock and gave him a nice, slow stroke. "Oh, poor thing. You must believe you're really special, hmm? God's gift to mankind every time you take someone to bed." You mocked, your teeth and tongue laving over his earlobe. "We're all so lucky to have you, Jack."

"Hhn-" Jack's shoulders went stiff, the man obviously biting his tongue. 

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart. I'm going to get you hard. Then, I'm going to use your cock. And all you have to do, my lovely, handsome cowboy, is come inside me." You informed him, drawing a finger beneath his chin. "More than once, preferably."

"I'm not usually a man to voice my own shortcomin's, but I must warn you that this will be a futile-" Whiskey's words hitched in his throat when you stroked him again. "Fuck, no, don't touch me like that, you--"

"Stop playing hard to get, Jack." You murmured, slinking your free hand up the back of his neck to massage his scalp right beneath the band of his hat. "Give up."

"Never." He hissed even as his head lolled forward, granting you more access to rub his neck. 

"Pity." You settled back down between his legs and wrapped your lips around his cock. 

"No, no, dammit-" Whiskey growled, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Don't you fuckin'...no, no, don't use your tongue the-ah f-uck--" His protest died in a pitiful groan when his cock met the back of your throat. "Oh, you--fuckin'--you've got to be shittin' me woman, the whole-?" He grunted out haphazardly as you relaxed your throat and took him all the way down to the base. "You think y-you can take advantage of me jus' cuz' it's been a while since I got laid? Fuck you."

You hummed around his cock, wanting to giggle when he twitched and swore loudly. Your fingers dove past the hem of your underwear, and you moaned against him as you ran your index in slow, steady circles around your clit. 

"I ain't fuckin' you, and I sure as shit am not gonna' come in your pussy." Jack snarled. 

"Oh yes you are." You sang, rising to your feet and slipping your panties off. The white t-shirt came next, baring your breasts to the air-conditioned environment. 

Jack seemed to forget that he was supposed to be vehemently against this yet again as he just...watched while you teased your nipples. You tugged at the taut peaks, rolling them between your fingers and making a show out of the whole bit. 

"I can't wait to have you inside me, filling me up, just pumping me full of your come." You said with a smile, sauntering over until you would be in reach if his hands were free. Jack's tongue made a nervous reappearance and you tugged his chin upwards so you could see his eyes. "Are we still in gear? Or do we need to shift?" You asked. He seemed slightly dazed.

"Oh! Uh, sorry, s-sixth." He stammered. "Sixth, holy shit."

"Mm. Don't disappoint me and maybe I'll let you live." You remarked smoothly, swinging one leg over his lap and straddling him. Jack's shoulders were rigid again and you kneaded at them surreptitiously, trying your best to keep him in the scene and out of his own head.

You were well on your way to soaking wet with arousal. There was nothing better than when you had a partner that trusted you, regardless of whether you had truly earned that trust. Just the fact that they had blind faith in you to execute the endeavor that they needed...it was heady and sweet and you loved every second. 

You rutted your pussy against the underside of Jack's cock, the man snapping his teeth at the sensation. "Too good?" You taunted, laughing when he swore again.

"I can't believe that you think I'm fuckin' enjoyin' th--look, any dick perks up at heavy pet-" 

Cutting Whiskey off mid-sentence was quickly becoming a favorite pastime, you realized as you angled your hips and let the head of his cock push past your pussy lips. "In, just a little, give you a taste, sweetheart…" you sighed, rocking your hips forward and back but not allowing him to sink any deeper into you. "There, that's not so bad, is it?" You cajoled as he shuddered beneath you. "Just keep being good, my sweet cowboy, and this will all be over so much sooner." 

"No, no-" He struggled to move, to do anything, but you had made certain to tie him exactly as he had specified. "Dammit, when I get free of here, I'll--"

"Shh, you think too much." You tapped your index finger to his lips, smoothing it over the bristle of his mustache. "Focus on your job right now, and everything will be fine." 

Jack turned his face away, inadvertently presenting the thick column of his neck to you. And you, channeling your inner villain, leaped at the opportunity to lick and bite at the bared skin. He made a strange noise, a combination of a moan and a whine that had you raising an eyebrow. 

"Is someone a little sensitive there?" 

"No, I am not." He answered through gritted teeth. "I hate that you're touchin' me, that's all!"

"Hmm, it doesn't sound like you hate it." You mused, suckling gently at the spot where his jaw met his throat. You were very careful not to leave marks, as that had been another specification. Whiskey struggled underneath you again, only succeeding in pumping his cock up into you slightly.

"Don't, don't--" His voice actually cracked and you smiled, nuzzling your nose beneath his jawline and letting his dick settle deeper.

"Oh no, it seems like you do want to fuck me after all." You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning back and stroking over the base of his cock with two fingers. "Warming up to the idea of being my little fuck toy, Jack?" You teased, noting the way his knuckles whitened from his grip on the rope and his Adam's apple bobbed with the force of his convulsive swallow at your words. "I could just keep you here like this forever, you know. All tied up, helpless for me…" You squeezed the base of his cock and he gasped, trying to stifle the noise. "Soon, I'd have you trained so that you couldn't come from any other pussy aside from mine. Wouldn't that be fun?" 

Without waiting for an answer, you let the last few inches of his dick enter you. You leaned back on his thighs, feeling the muscles coil and strain beneath your touch as you reached down and grazed your clit. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, those brown eyes fixated on the motions of your fingers even as his cock split you open. You were grateful that he was secured, you weren't sure if you would have been able to take him otherwise. His cock curved thickly against your back wall, the engorged head throbbing back and forth over the area that made your whole body shudder in delight. 

Whiskey's jaw was taut, his shoulders set in a rigid line that made you ache to get him to come undone in you.

"You're so quiet." You pouted, raising your hand and brushing your wet index finger over his slack lower lip. "Aren't you having a good time?"

His chest abruptly expanded, like he had forgotten to breathe for a moment or two. "Fuck you." Whiskey seethed, making you chuckle softly. "I ain't nobody's goddamn fuck toy."

"Sweetheart," you chided as you sat up. "That's not a very nice thing to say to the person warming your cock right now." You deliberately clenched down on him and Jack swore under his breath, shaking his head. "I can make you feel so good, Whiskey, if you just give me what I want." You insisted, cupping his face and pulling halfway off of his cock. 

"N-N...No." He replied weakly.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and shaking out your shoulders. "Well, I tried." Your hands landed on his shoulders and you gripped down to steady yourself, your hips meeting his own with a wet slap! of skin. Jack's chest heaved, his eyes closed and head tilted back as you began to ride him roughly. "All I wanted was for you to come in me. I don't feel like that's asking for much!" You complained petulantly, rolling your hips against his when he was hilted in you with an agonizingly slow grind of your body.

Jack bit out a low "fuck," those tense shoulders trembling under your touch. You tucked your face into his neck to tease the sensitive area even more, your tongue tracing random patterns that made him squirm and writhe underneath you. "I don't--can't, can't, don't make me--" he tried to protest, his words fractured and pitiful. 

"Yes you can, and you're going to." You snapped, taking a handful of hair at the nape of his neck so you could urge his head back further, leaving his throat at your mercy. "You're coming in me, Jack! Give up!"

...

"First!" He choked out, and you immediately slowed to a crawl. Your touch on him gentled significantly, no longer demanding but cradling, caressing. 

"Easy, easy." You soothed, the unrelenting assault of your perfect hips gone to a slow and careful rhythm, back and forth like a porch swing in the summer heat. Your eyes searched his own, concern shining through.

Jack was speechless, his blind panic melting away at the sound of your regular voice. What the hell just happened? He licked his lips, only now realizing how dry they had gotten. "Sorry, I uh-"

"No apologies." You murmured. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Would you like to stop now?"

Whiskey took a long moment, running a mental check on his body. Nothing was sore, nothing seemed out of line. Everything was raring to go. 

Everything aside from his brain, that is. The damn thing wouldn't stop conjuring up scenes of you pregnant and everything going to absolute fucking shit. It didn't matter that he had zero attachment to you, it didn't matter that you were on birth control. This was how it always was. 

Every damn time things got serious with a new interest, "oh, let's start a family," Whiskey just wanted to curl up into a ball. Without fail, like clockwork, he would shut down. 

And then the accusations would start, the distrust, "How come you can do it with protection but not without?" and it was disheartening, crushing to go through again and again. Explaining didn't seem to do a lick of good, it was always just that he was stringing people along, that he was a damn selfish prick, that he didn't care about what his partner wanted.

That couldn't be further from the truth, of course, but maybe that was his own fault for not dropping the bomb before getting attached to someone. He just couldn't ever seem to justify asking a person on their second or third date, "hey so what's your thoughts on having kids?" It felt manipulative, cheap, and if he was being honest, he knew for a fact that sometimes just the idea of having children was enough to scare a potential interest off. 

You were the first person to try and help Jack really wrap his head around this whole issue. And yeah, that was the whole point in sussing you out, but…

Tequila didn't tell him that you actually gave a shit, or at least you were damn good at acting like you did. Whiskey bit his lip. "I'm okay." He said finally, trying for a smile.

"Anything chafing? Do you need some water?"

"I…" Jack trailed off. "Huh, I admit I am a bit parched. But that means you'd have to get up." He realized unhappily.

"Were you enjoying yourself?" You asked, sounding curious. 

Whiskey got the hysterical idea in his head of you pulling out some sort of satisfaction survey at the end of your engagement, the notion making him smirk slightly. "God, yeah. I...yeah." He flushed a little bit. "Dunno' if I ever got this far after…after all my mental hangups and stuff. The fact that I don't have a say in the matter seems to be helpin', though."

"Okay, don't go anywhere. I'll get you some water." You patted his thigh, cautiously settling your feet on the floor and then going to stand with a quivery little gasp that absolutely stroked his ego.

Jack couldn't help his own groan at the loss of your heat, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Damn it woman, has anyone ever told you that your pussy is fuckin' perfect?" He muttered, his usual honeyed words suddenly clumsy in his mouth. "I mean, hell."

You laughed, bending over to dig in the small fridge for another water. Whiskey felt his entire body throb at the sight of you presenting yourself to him like that, and he sucked in a breath at your obvious teasing. Even in the soft light of the kitchen, he could see the glisten of the wetness between your legs. Hell yes, he found himself thinking stupidly as you turned back around. 

"I'm just glad that you're doing alright. That's the most important part to me, after all." You assured him, unscrewing the cap on the water and tipping it to his lips.

Jack gulped greedily, feeling a few droplets escape his mouth and run down his neck to blot his collar. "I am. One hundred percent." He said firmly after he had slaked his thirst. "Let's keep goin'."

"If you're sure, absolutely." You acquiesced, smiling again. Placing the water bottle on the kitchen table, you then swung your leg over his thighs like you were vaulting back into the saddle. Jack held his breath, waiting for you to welcome his cock back into your body. And God he was so hard, he couldn't remember ever being this hard, what the hell--

But strangely, you didn't immediately resume from where you had left off. Instead, you put your arms around his neck and actually rested your forehead against his own, bumping his hat upwards. 

Jack swallowed roughly, confused. 

"Let me take this from you." You whispered. Whiskey felt pinned by your stare, he felt as if you could see every terrible thing he had ever done, every transgression laid bare under the weight of your gaze. "Let go of it. I have you. I won't let anything happen to you." 

The words washed over him, soft and sweet. Your fingers slipped up into the hair at the nape of his neck to toy with the mussed ends that lurked there. The whole exchange was oddly intimate and Jack found himself at a loss yet again, simply grating out, "sixth," when he couldn't come up with anything else to say.

You reached down and stroked his cock, rubbing the head of it against your clit. And Jesus he could feel you, the difference in heat, the slick--

"Are you gonna' take it from me, sweet girl?" He hissed through his teeth like it wounded him to ask, trying desperately to cling to the illusion that he wasn't willing. "Take everythin' I've got?"

The blur between reality and this playdate was getting messier by the second. He wanted to fuck you, wanted to bury himself in you, spend every last drop inside the hot embrace of your quivering cunt. He wanted that. Jesus Christ, this wasn't part of the bargain.

This was a pantomime, specially designed pornography that existed only to coax a very specific reaction from his confused body. So why did he wish he had met you years ago? Why was he suddenly hoping and praying that the sounds you were making were legitimate instead of exclusively for his benefit, hoping that you were also enjoying this?

You angled your hips and sank back down on his lap, your hands going to your breasts where you proceeded to fondle and tease them until your nipples looked like they ached.

Whiskey fucking ached himself to wrap his lips around one pert little peak, swirl his tongue across the tip and make you come undone, rut his dick up into you until you cried out his name and soaked him--

Whoa cowboy, he chastised himself, a little startled by how sharp the longing was. You just kept fucking yourself on his cock, that hot, wet little pussy molded perfectly to every ridge of his member and he had never been this hard, this ready in his life. Despite the air conditioning in the cabin, your skin shone with sweat from all the work you were putting in and Whiskey couldn't recall a time where he had been more appreciative of someone else accomplishing a task within his field of vision.

Your hand slipped down, down, and Jack found himself following the trajectory until it delved between your legs and you started playing with yourself. "Jack," you crooned his name and it was like a prayer, reverent and soft, tender enough to coil itself around his lungs and choke him to death without a whisper of protest. You parted your legs even wider in his lap, exposing yourself to him so he could watch his cock slide in and out of you, so he could see himself fucking you open.

"Are you gonna' come for me, sweet girl?" He gasped, craning his neck and managing to tilt his head so he could mutter into your ear, "you just gonna' wrench one out for me, beautiful?"

"Mm, no, I'm not coming until after you come." You whimpered, still moving your hand. "But I'm so close, Jack. I want to come."

Your plaintive whine had him ablaze. God, he had never wanted to please someone so damn badly in his life. "I know you do, sweet girl." He murmured huskily, exhaling hot over the shell of your ear and loving the way you quivered in his lap. "You're so good, lettin' me blow my load before you get off--gonna' pump me dry when you come, aren't you? Just keep me inside you until that little pussy is all fucked out," he growled, barely aware of the words that tumbled from his mouth. 

All he knew is that you were all a-tremble at his voice, your body as hot as late July against his chest, your eyes heavy with adoration that he did not deserve and God, he couldn't get used to that look even if it was fake. What if you stayed? he wondered absently. What if you stayed?

Oh fuck, he was about to come. Panic jabbed like the blade of a knife between his shoulder blades and Whiskey went silent, his teeth bearing down on his lower lip and his eyes slamming shut as he focused harder than he ever had in his life.

The smell of you, the sounds, the heat, the little spasms of your cunt around his cock…

Yes. Yes, God yes, he could do this-- 

"Come in me, sweetheart." Begging him, pleading, demanding, "Jack-!" You cried his name.

Whiskey groaned hoarsely, so low it was almost painful, and let go. He bucked his hips up against you as best as he could, minute little thrusts while he came harder than he had in years. "Oh," he snarled, gritting his teeth, "fuckin' Christ woman, I think you've ruined me, Jesus fuck."

Your hands threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck again and you held him, not tightly, but just enough to keep him steady, anchored. "There," you said abruptly, the snide, put-upon tone of your role contrasting wildly with the gentleness of your touch, "was that so difficult?"

Jack burst out laughing, not overly concerned with how strange of a reaction that was. Hell, was he relieved? "Jesus fuckin' Christ, you're great." He remarked breathlessly. "I don't even know what just happened."

"Oh?" You replied, raising an eyebrow. "The mess between my legs seems to allude to you possibly having an orgasm. Jury's still out though."

He grimaced apologetically, glancing down. "Sorry darlin'. It's been a while, y'know?" You rose up off of him again and he grunted as his cock slipped free from your body. Whiskey felt half-drunk, relief and release combining into a potent cocktail that left him boneless in the chair. 

You quickly put your shirt back on and then crouched at his feet, beginning the arduous process of untying him. Jack just sat there, watching you drowsily. He couldn't do much else, really. "Any numbness or chafing?" You asked quietly, stirring him momentarily from his daze.

"Nah, nothin' yet." He replied, straightening his freed left leg and rotating his ankle in his boot. "A little stiff, but I've survived worse than that." 

"And how do you feel?" You questioned, "physically and emotionally."

Jack gnawed at his lower lip, trying to force his sluggish brain past the haze of serotonin in order to give you a satisfactory answer. "...good." He said finally, scrambling to elaborate, "or uh, better, I guess. More okay than I've been in a fuckin' while." It wasn't a lie, he was surprised to discover. He hadn't actually put much stock into this endeavor, figuring it would be a fun little diversion that would end just like every other time. Of course, it didn't hurt that you were easy on the eyes, prettier than a peach if he was being honest with himself.

Your smile was bright and Jack's stomach knotted confusingly. "I'm glad."

His right leg was released and he shifted his weight in the seat, groaning happily when his hip popped. "Hey, wait." The agent belatedly realized, "you didn't-?"

"We were here for you." You reminded him. "Not me."

"Whoa now, that don't seem fair at all!" Whiskey protested, taken aback by your nonchalance. "You just put in all the work!"

Your laugh tripped down his spine like an aftershock. "Don't get bent out of shape! It's standard policy, Mr. Whiskey. Once the desired result of the scene has been acquired, the scene ends and I start with aftercare."

"B-But--you didn't get to get off though!" 

"Me 'getting off' wasn't specified in our planning." 

"I needed to specify that shit?! I figured you'd just kinda'..." His right arm was free now and Jack seized the opportunity to make a certain gesture, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, I was at your mercy!" He continued, bewildered. "You totally coulda' just kept goin'-"

"Yes, and that's exactly why when the desired result has been achieved, the scene ends." You interjected firmly. "Because you trusted me enough to let me take control, and I'm not about to break that trust by doing something selfish on a whim."

Jack exhaled hard, scooting his hat a little further back on his head so he could study you. You didn't look disappointed, or annoyed with him. He wondered how many times you had fielded ignorant questions like his own and he cringed at himself. "I'm...shit, I'm sorry. I don't have any right to be all shitty about it." He apologized as you moved out of his field of view to untie the rope securing him to the back of the chair. "I just feel like you worked so hard an' got nothin' out of your end of the bargain."

"It's sweet of you to be concerned about that, but don't take it personally, okay?" You assured him, "I do this because I enjoy it. The whole experience, not just the finale." The ropes around his chest sagged and Jack slid forward a bit in the seat, relaxing. 

"Can I get that water again? Christ, I need a cigarette and a tumbler of the strong stuff after all that." He joked, clumsily tucking his cock back into his boxers. You pressed the bottle to his hands and he nearly dropped it, chuckling self-consciously. "Whups, sorry. I had my fists all bunched up so my fingers are stiff." Jack proceeded to down the rest of the bottle, wiping his mouth and mustache with the back of his hand after the fact. "So...what exactly is it you do for Tequila?" He queried nosily.

You laughed at him and God, God he loved the sound of your laugh. "That, Mr. Whiskey, is on a need-to-know basis. Just like this little soiree between the two of us." You chided, your eyes bright with good humor. "I would never violate a partner's trust in me."

Jack tipped the bottle in your direction, as if making a toast. "I'll drink to that, partner. What's next on the menu?"

"We'll talk out the scene and wind back down. Get cleaned up. I'll probably…" you paused, squinting at the clock over the sink. "You want some pizza? There's a joint not far from here that serves pies and chicken wings until midnight."

Jack groaned appreciatively, "I knew you were my kinda' gal. Lead the way to the debrief, ma'am."

It didn't really matter in the long run, he supposed. You obviously weren't interested in anything serious (if only because he figured that your flings with the stereotypical 'bad boy' Tequila would have become more regular in spite of the younger man's painful crush on Ginger Ale), and he could respect that. Still though, he couldn't help feeling a touch morose over the possibility of never engaging with you again. 

He toyed with the idea of asking you for another 'appointment', but dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it arrived. Better to quit while he was ahead.

Or rather, he amended ruefully as he settled down across from you in the diner booth, his hair still damp and curling slightly beneath his hat from the quick wash he had indulged in at your cabin, better to quit now before I make even more of a fool of myself.

Part Two

[anon-e-miss]

How does Jazz handle finding out 1. his bitlet is injured and 2. his second bitty is on the way once he gets back in contact?

Prowl floated in a murky soup. Distantly he heard mechanisms talking around him but he could not understand the glyphs. Slowly he sedatives bled from his systems and one by one the different components of his processor powered up, and slowly Prowl’s awareness return. He was laying on his back. There was a steady beep of a monitor from somewhere near his helm. It beeped in time with his spark. The thought confused him; Prowl was disoriented. A single voice broke through the static and the slag in his processor. After a struggle, Prowl onlined his optics.

“That’s it, Prowler,” Jazz crooned at him. Through fuzzy optics Prowl saw Jazz clasping both servos around his own. He felt the brush of his mate’s lipplates over his knuckles. “Ya back with me, Lover?”

“You are home,” Prowl said. His voice was ugly rasp. “So quickly.”

“No so quickly,” Jazz replied. “Two mega-cycles ‘n it felt like an orn. Do ya remember what happened?”

No. Yes. Prowl’s optics dimmed as he turned inward. The generals, Trailbreaker, a thump, Two Bit’s howl. Two Bit’s howl. Bluestreak was hurt. He was purging. He had a cranial leak. They had taken him away before Prowl had been able to kiss him goodbye. The beeping of the monitor came faster and faster, and someone rushed in, they took his arm.

“Stop,” Jazz ordered. “Ya can’t just keep dopin’m up. Let’m think.”

“Bluestreak,” Prowl whined. Jazz stroked his feverish helm and soothed him.

“Bluestreak’s doin’ great. He came outta surgery wit flyin’ colours. He’s mostly rechargin’ as the repairs integrate. He’s been askin’ for ya.”

“Thank Primus,” Prowl sighed. Ratchet’s harsh question suddenly flashed across Prowl’s memory banks, and he brought his servo to his chassis. It hurt! Prowl hissed as his palm found fresh welds. A nanoklik later the realization struck him, his protoform was flat. “Jazz!”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jazz crooned. “Y’re okay. He’s okay. Ya went into preterm emergence. Do ya remember?”

“I crashed.”

“That’s right. Y're battle computer popped a few circuits. That’s why y’re feelin’ so fuzzy. Y’re forge ruptured durin’ the crash, Prowler. Ratchet tried to patch it ‘n restore your  fluid levels but they kept droppin’. He performed a surgical evacuation to save the bitty.”

“You said he is okay.”

“Yeah, sweetspark, he’s perfect. They got’m in a lil CR chamber to help’m finish growing but he’s perfect. He cried somethin’ awful when Ratchet unfurled ‘m. He’s got a healthy set of intakes.”

“I messed up,” Prowl whined as tears blinded him. “I did not hear Bluestreak stacking those chairs.”

“He wanted to give Two Bit a treat, ‘n he’s really sorry for scarin’ ya. Lover we can’t watch’m every nanoklik o’ the cycle. It would be torture for ‘m, accidents happen.”

“He almost died.”

“He didn’t, cause ya kept yer helm ‘n got’em to the medbay.”

“I didn’t keep them safe.”

“Not yer fault, Prowl,” Jazz said and he kissed Prowl’s chevron, and then his tear streaked cheeks. “Just an accident, ‘n  crash. Ya can’t control any o’ that.”

“I need to see them,” Prowl said. “I need my dog.”

“Two Bit’ll be right back. Hound’s just walkin’m for us.”

“I left him. They did not want him crowding the ambulance. You brought me my dog.”

“We ran into each other while I was raising to the medbay. He ate the damn front door ‘n came lookin’ for ya.”

“Oh no.”

“Mirage is takin’ care o’ it.”

“Oof!”

Two Bit announced his arrival and ran up to the medberth. Jazz caught him mid leap, more of a struggle now because the ungainly pup had indeed turned into a massive cyber-dog. Prowl stroked Two Bit’s big helm as Jazz carefully helped the beast onto the berth beside Prowl. He licked Prowl’s cheek and nosed at his chin. The presence of the cyber-dog helped stabilize Prowl’s psyche. Maybe if he had had Two Bit with him, Prowl might have been able to prevent the crash, and Smokescreen might still be in his forge and not a CR chamber.

“No brooding,” Jazz said, and he took Prowl’s servo and squeezed it. “Ya put Blue first, like ya always do. Ya put his life first. Ya couldn’t o’ known a crash could ‘cause a rupture. ‘M gonna get Ratchet to bring in Blue, then find a wheelchair so we can all go ‘n see Smokey.”

Ratchet might have been psychic or he might have had bugs planted throughout his medbay. Before Jazz could leave Prowl’s berthside, Ratchet appeared, pushing another large medberth into the private medbay room. Bluestreak was sitting upright. He stretched out his arms as he saw his originator watching him. Prowl could not stop himself from crying, damn his haywire emotional cortex, the relief and joy was too much to contain, and he held his arms out to his first emerged.

“Remember what I said, Bluestreak,” Ratchet said as he lifted Bluestreak from his medberth. “Be careful of Ori’s belly.”

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Bluestreak said. He sprawled out over Prowl’s broad chassis and buried his face in Prowl’s neck. “Ori, ori. I’m sorry I was naughty.”

“I am so glad you are alright,” Prowl said as he hugged his creation. “You scared me, brightspark, so much.”

“I’m sorry, Ori.”

“I know, Bluestreak. I am not angry. I am so glad you are alright.I am so glad. I love you so much, Bluestreak.”

“I love you, Ori.”

“Bluestreak’s last scans were good. He can go home with Jazz this cycle,” Ratchet said. “Prowl, you’ll need to stay until your battle computer’s integrated the repairs, and comes back online. Probably another four mega-cycles or so.”

“Can we see Smokescreen?” Prowl asked.

“I’ll get a chair.”

Prowl pushed the wheelchair as Bluestreak rode along, sitting in Prowl’s lap. Ratchet walked with him. Hound had taken Two Bit again to keep him from eating any of the medical equipment. In time he would meet Smokescreen but the newling was too small and too delicate in too many ways for the cyber dog to come along for the introduction. Though the CR chamber would support the newling’s frame’s continued growth, energon from Prowl’s well was the best thing to support his immature self-repair systems. Plating on plating contact was also vital for bonding between procreators and creation. Jazz had already spent time with Bluestreak while Prowl had still been in stasis. It did not anger Prowl that Jazz had held their creation first. He was only grateful Jazz had come home and had been the rock their creations had needed after he had collapsed.

From the outside it was a normal looking CR chamber, but a special incubation pod had been installed inside of it. Ratchet opened it up, and gently lifted Smokescreen from it. He was so small, so so small. Node doted his protoform, allowing the pod to keep constant track of his frame’s readings. Jazz lifted Bluestreak into his arms and snuggled him close so that Prowl was able to securely hold their premature creation. Prowl felt pressure behind his armour as his fuel lines began to fill. Smokescreen rooted against his chassis, the hatch over Prowl’s well slid aside.

“I have an adapter for your fuel line,” Ratchet said. “His mouth isn’t quite big enough to comfortably latch on your nozzle.”

The medic slid the adapter over the nozzle of Prowl’s right most fuel line. Its narrower tip slid easily into Bluestreak’s mouth and the newling suck. Prowl smiled through his tears. Jazz knelt with Bluestreak so their elder creation could watch his brother. This was not how Prowl had imagined them meeting for the first time, but his life had never followed  the path he had imagined for himself. Had it followed that path, Prowl would not have bonded to Jazz. He would not have kindled with him. His path had taken turns and twists he had never ever considered. This was just another twist.

“He is perfect,” Prowl said as he held his tiny newling.

“He’s so tiny,” Bluestreak said, anxiously.

“He’ll grow,” Jazz replied. “His beautiful, ain’t he Bluestreak? Just like ya ‘n Ori.”

"Yeah.”

[janexeu]

     though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, JANE MÁRQUEZ is actually a descendent of HYPNOS. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-SIX year old DEMIGOD ELEMENTARY EDUCATION MAJOR from NEW ORLEANS, USA has taken after HER godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite SACRIFICIAL & STUBBORN.

( she’s b-b-b-back on her bs : katya ! tis uhm ,,,, a lil bit of a chonk of an intro but ill try 2 b cute w it. any time u wanna yeet jus peep the gif again & forgive me bc Look At Her ! )

POWERS ( more info here )

hypnokinesis  — p much made her a glorified babysitter w lynch-esque wacko dreams. it got stronger naturally as she got older, but jus w herself n eventually the ppl shes real close w. its also gotten a lot better since comin to eonia 

seeing gods in dreams  — she doesnt hang out w em every fridays at tgifs but like ,,, if she had Pertinent Questions she cud smhw make it happen. found out abt her being a demigod at age 10 when she met hypnos

memory retrieval — shes got great memry of her own but bc she knows it can help w grief n all that, shes been learnin in eonia how to do it 4 others if they mayb wanted it

BIO POINTS 

her single ma died during childbirth so jane's been in the foster care system since 5ever. attempts at reunification nvr worked out but thankfully she got real lucky w her group home and foster families. twas stable enough to not emotionally scar her even further but the instability of it all was fosho a big ol’ lot and has influenced her rigidness in sum aspects of her life

she lived p much as a mortal even tho her powers r a lil freaky. never went to camp but it worked out bc all her abilities r internal and cannot be Perceived by others. she had a talk w hypnos abt what 2 do n he mentioned camps but also gave sum monster avoidance tips ( like rarely use ur powers, maybe learn self defense, yada yada ) n she jus ,,, did that so she cud continue livin real normal w the mortals. logistics of camp stressed her out esp bc shes livin w non-family n stuff yk it was All Too Much, miss her w the added demigod stress tyvm

got married at 23 to her childhood sweetums luis, but he ,,, died abt a yr later fr a car accident. coma for 2 weeks n jane p much slept the entire time in his hospital room, visitin his dreams n talkin to him. twas a life support sitch so they eventually decided to pull da plug whch was real sad but like she's processed it 2 da best of her abilities. her powers helped a lot in the coping too n she visits memories of him in her dreams smtms when it gets real sad then shes ok again bc life goes on n life is pretty uwu

bc of her bg round kids of all kinds, shes always been passionate abt em. always takin babysittin/tutor gigs and went to community college so she cud teach n then worked as an elem teacher. only started considerin goin 2 eonia 4 postgrad when she had a student who showed signs n strugglez of bein a demigod. she eventually got to talk to their godly parent 2 confirm n she was shocked pikachu meme, real concerned for all those youngins who hav no clue what to do ! or how to cope ! bc they cant facetime w the olympians lyk she can ! so cue her discussin eonia w luis a lot then a year after the accident, broke out the pro-con list again. took abt *checks watch* another yr til she finally decided to zoom 2 athens but then whoosh she did !

PERSONALITY

yearning ? idk her — shes can be a bit of a take it as is typa chick. can be a lil literal jsksj not dumb but like ,,, def doesnt read into things enuff to pine n long n year yk. some things might def fly over her head. she says Yes To Serotonin in this house. she dk the the mitskis n the sikens n the carsons ; its all mary oliver up in this joint. we just tryna luv life n be grateful folkz

le freak, say chic ! — control freak, that is. growin up in an unstable envi meant shed cling 2 stability n independence, wrvr she cud get it. so when it comes 2 the way she does things, she can be real a heel digger. also bc she has 2 deal w kids yk so it can b A Lot n shes v stern lyk dat. ofc she wont infantilize the eonians .,,,. or will she ? big sis vibes outta control. she means well tho always always means well. itll also b v hard to get her 2 giv up on sum1 bc life ? she luvs it n knows u can too

changes by david bowie — is decidedly skipped on the playlist. she doesnt like change !!! i mean she knows its inevitable but still not entire unavoidable. ever since she got out of the system, shes had a partner n her own way of doing things n its been workin out so why change it yk ? she says time may change me but jokes on u i can sorta trace time 

rip but im different — this goes out to all em whores in this house. she respectz ur hustle but like ,,,, not her thang. girl doesnt even get drunk when she drinks bc she doesnt rlly drink sksjsk doesnt like the taste of it, big baby ! but like she's Lived, its more like. ok tried it, not for me. thanks tho. also for all the meanies in the house, y’all perplex her. shes empathetic n wont show the judgement but smtms shes lowkey lyk .,., ur how old n u had all this goin 4 u n ur still so rotten ? how u actin like a 7yo w a trantrum ? scratch head, make it make sense

at least u tried — dad jokes, bad puns, tries to be big jokester but isn't funny. she's pretty tho so she gets away with it. idk wht else 2 say ur honor. shes the type thatll embarrass u w affection

well that was Awkward — probably sum1 abt her if  they see her actin a Fool bc shes in a foreign sitch or topic. when shes a fish outta water then she can be so ! easily ! flustered ! which is p much her in eonia. shes not new new but theres way 2 much godly shennanigans for her to wrap her head ‘round n sis has never gone to camp so its ice bucket challenge level shock from time to time still w da magics n lore

til death do us part — yknow when death cab for cutie said i knew that u wer a truth i wud rather lose than 2 hav nvr lain beside at all ? how abt when they wrecked me by rudely sayin love is watching sum1 die ? yes ? no ? nywy thats jane 4 ya. if she loves then shes in and if shes in then she is all in, luke danes stylez

was that a vivid enough picture or did i just word vom the same things agen n agen sjksjs jus know shes cute n sweet if a lil frustrating n annoying bc shes stubbornpants mcgee. may or may not have a slight compulsion to help fix other ppl ..,,.. someone set her str8 n tell her fix u by coldplay isnt it !!!  

OTHER INFO 

5′9″ born 4 october 1994, virgo sun n moon

not a freshie ! idk how long her program is but like ,,, lets ignore that 4 now ok jus kno that she been here a while

yogi & boxing enthusiast back at home. hc her mans got real into the martial arts w her when hypnos told her she gotta learn how 2 defend so that was one of their things : bonding by workouts so jane cud protecc herself if need be

her maiden name’s jane fulton. got her mommas surname but the name jane ? thats some jane doe bs some rando picked out for her which she hated at first but then seeing tarzan made her go hmmm, ok bet !

lgbtq+ alliance president ! identifies as pan

she met her late hubbie when they were abt 7ish, real friends 2 lovers cuteness. jane was there for him throughout his entire coming out & transition ergo her passion for the community esp queer kids bc she was That Cis Ally for her mans. wears her ring as a real lowkey necklace now

shes also real passionate abt sleep. will ask u how did u sleep last night p much every day u see her bc ppl spend like half their lives asleep catherine ofc shes gonna ask

her fave thing abt eonia ?  the whole siblings bit. shes had 2 make do w what she got n build a family from scratch so this ? she luvs it a lot let her give u kithes hypnos babies

shes p well versed in the greek thingies but only thru the knowledge mortals gets + dream info. after her realizin who she is, all things ancient greek jus sorta became her niche interest ykwim ? shes not like Super Learned abt it more like ,,, ok i gotta at least make Sum sense outta all this, gotta learn what i can. imagin how embarrassin it wud b 2 see a god in ur dream n then go : sorry to this man. nope. not jane, not her, nuh-uh 

luv languages : words, acts of service, physical touch !

useless hcs but she loves disney sfm ok. smtms dresses up as princess tiana for bday parties n shit bc shell do nythin 2 put a smile on the kids n babs faces

ya like jazz ? bc jane surely does ! adores motown & 60s music. nina simone owns her. no one drag peggy lee from 101 dalmatians ! not an important hc but i jus wanted to quote my bubble butt winged bee lover barry

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

children ! infants ! babies !

demigods that make her scratch head damn u live like this ? but also wud knife emoji to protect n care for. shes not the oldest on campus but shes been livin independently p much her entire life so she finks shes got a tight grasp on the myth that is Adulting  

srsly tho the Big Sis vibes is off the charts w this one. shell perserve u dumdums

baddie influencies !

convince her 2 get drunk at a party ! bc she never does. convince her to maybe try drugs ! or go hook up ! do smths impulsive idk jus smth new !

gl tho bc shes not rlly ,,, easily influenced But she can b reasoned w ! in general i fink its just gonna be a fun dynamic if y/m knows how to coax sum wildness outta her or w/e bc thotty yummy theyre hotty yolo rzning jus wont do w this gal. will most likely get argumentative like a big ol momma hen but if u win then ur winning big

Sleep Now or forever hold ur peace !

idk sum1 she helps w their messy sleep ? shes def not super public w it, surely knows her other siblings r Better at it but if  y’all are close, she probs enjoys doin it 4 ya. she runs her hair thru fingers a lot when she does it. like a lot a lot unless u tell her to get lost

lover boi, lover gorl, lover enby !

she can be a lil traditional when it comes to how she views rels. she wants all that meetcute courting bs ! no gender roles tho n u best be sure shes not constantly comparin w her late hubbie ,,, but she jus wants smth magical n 2 be wooed again yk ?

so yea ,,, crushers mayhaps ? sum1 who is tryin 2 woo her ? sum1 she had a meetcute w and now janes got lowkey heart eyes for em ? idk lotsa possiblities but pls keep in mind she is not good at the flirtings so hav mercy on her 

eonia tour guide !

or jus friends who like ,,, constnatly fill her in w all the godly stuff n whatnot. years of not goin 2 camps mean u miss out on a lot ! explore ruins w her n get her info her mortal educ didnt make her privy 2 yk 

head real empty atm i will think of sum n let y’all know when i do, but give us all the conekshunz. friends, enemies, the usual bit, lgbtq alliance peeps, lmk whats up whats done whats cookin we want it all

( shes p much a new muse n da result of me tryna bring in an emotionally healthy kid to this sad sad university. janes in a v good well-adjusted place rn n is my therapy muse bc that other bitch m** is a messy handful. but wbk life aint linear so mayhaps shit’ll hit da fan or one of y/m will ruin her lmfao press f pls ! but also color me eyes emoji bc we love to see it )

[formless-monkeys]

1 So Otto being autistic is something I've accepted as canon (haha yeah sorry Ciro, no takin' that from me now) and you've made me kind of fond of Antauri being autistic too. MAY I PRESENT, HOWEVER: Mandarin being somewhere on the spectrum, too.

2 This is potentially why he considered Otto HIS "closest ally," but Otto didn't consider him to be his. Mandy could've felt Otto was the only person he didn't have to stifle himself around (since Otto clearly wouldn't have been taught to do so like I suspect Mandy and Tauri were by the Verans, and would never judge him anyway), whereas Otto just saw him as another pal.

3 ALSO, some of Skelemandarin's behavior when he was really happy in I, Chiro could almost be taken as like. Monkey-flapping. (This entire idea is 100% your fault by the way; your post describing your antics when you cosplayed Skelemandy made me THINK, the nerve of you.)

Haha. Haha.

May have thought about this during class.

Mandarin would've spent a good chunk of his time trying to live up to neurotypical standards. Knowing him, he might have taken "I shouldn't act/think like this" down to the core. He'd have to brute force his way through training, repeating lessons not made for people who think like him until he eventually got it. He had to be perfect or else he wasn't good enough for the Verons. He'd come out of training a master of the power primate, with perfect form and perfect precision... but all that repression would lead to a lot of but up energy. He wouldn't allow himself to stim to get rid of it, he wouldn't leave stressful situations because 'normal monkeys can put up with this', so he'd attempt to bottle up the feelings, or use then during battle. It would likely manifest in lashing out at others and a need for control.

Antauri was probably already quiet, so would probably have less trouble conforming to the standards. He wouldn't need to take the conformity to heart, so he would take the lessons and reinterpret them in a way he could understand. He would still be a master of the power primate, but his form would be of his own creation. Using your hands to manipulate the power could've been seen as a sign of someone lesser skilled, but in reality, he was equally matched with Mandarin. He was still raised in an environment where his behaviors were discouraged, so he likely had shame associated with his stims, only allowing himself to do it in private. You cant be reprimanded if they dont see you doing it. Meditation would be the best way for him to recharge from all the sensory hell that he has to deal with every day. He was quiet before, and might've been encouraged to speak more, so he began using quotes from the readings of the Verons. He thinks they make him sound wise (and they do). One must show their best selves to the world, but your best self isnt what the world wants. You put together scripts and predetermined responses to make a best self to show the world what they want. (Aka how I've survived 16 years, haha fake it till you make it!)

Mandarin and Antauri could be on opposite ends of the 'empathy' part of the autism spectrum. Mandarin may need to work hard to read other people's feelings, and may make assumptions that aren't true, "I brute force my way through new sensations, Nova can do that too, by being in the elements to learn to face them!" "Surely the rest of the team thinks we should have more control over everything, right?" "Otto doesn't mind some of the things I'm incredibly shameful about, we must be BESTIES" he probably comes across as rude, when really he just has no idea the impact of what he's saying, it just sounds really cool.

Wheras Antauri seems to be good at reading people, and follows the extreme empath person trend of "I must become therapist/parent figure/support to make them feel better, even if it hurts me." Bottling up your feelings isn't healthy my dude.

Otto, on the COMPLETE other end of things, was just bound by Gibson and Sprx. He could flap his hands and climb around and use his feet for stuff and the other two monkeys would just be like "aight, sure". The worst he'd get is a bit of dismissal if they think he's being annoying... which. It kinda sounds like he's gotten from Gibson, even during the show. (Kinda blanking on if Sparx did this, and I could probably make a whole other post on just Otto). He thinks along the same logic as Mandarin and Antauri, but without the shame being drilled into him. He's a perfect engineer, finding creative solutions and quickly too!

He's probably SUPER empathetic, but not the best at showing it. He makes gadgets and gifts for his friends but really doesnt know how to help on the emotional side of things. He cares just as much but shows it a little differently.

After training with the Verons and working with the team, Mandarin would've latched onto Otto like a fly to sugar. He would've been drowning in shame and self-hatred and Otto would've been the closest thing to a life raft. (Even though antauri would understand just as much. Mandarin might not trust him to not judge because they both had the same training and Antauri doesn't display as openly as otto. Or maybe he misinterpreted something Antauri said as 'oh, he hates these tendencies too!') He was probably so starved for positive affirmation, that he latched on to every source of it he could. (Probably a reason the Chiro clones were Like That to Mandarin) Otto naturally wants to help him, but Mandarin's issues are a giant pile of dirt and Otto has a spoon. If he was more open and honest with the team, they couldve helped him, or worked with him... but he wasn't. He kept as much of it inside as he could, until it manifested in into trying to medicate the feeling of being out of crlontrol. With trying to control the entire city...

Fun thing about certain types of autism, is that being kept in one place, not allowed to move, not allowed to speak, with only your mind to occupy you. It's hell. It is actually hell. Understimulation is a special type of hell.

So glad that after the Verons were destroyed Skelemandarin was able to stim during I, Chiro. Probably was the best moment of his life before being thrown into the OTHER type of sensory hell, overstimulation. The walls are 29394 neon colors and the floor is sticky and squishy and you're actually starving and you're alone and its loud and you keep getting attacked by sticky squirmy monsters.

I'm so glad my cosplaying shenanigans sparked this. This headcanon is... v important to me.

Also, based on this massive ramble; Otto loves mint and Antauri hates mint.

[buckyhoneyno]

A Dumbasses Guide To Saving The World (Chapter 5)

Just two girls with stupid dumb luck

Read along as two girls are thrown into the supernatural world when they are mistaken for hunters and decided that they fake it till they make it.

Updating every Saturday because Saturdays are for the boys

Sam x reader

Dean x reader

masterlist

Chapter 5 \\ On The Job Training \\

The factory was in sight as the girls turned down the deserted road that paved the way to the front entrance. Over grown trees bordered the road with hanging branches that scrapped by the car. The road itself or you could even consider it that was covered in over grown plants and rocks.

“We’re gonna die,” Charlotte whispered as she stared at the dark building in front of them. To the left of the road sat Bobby’s car, abandoned with the keys still in the ignition. Parking next to it, the two girls got out. Leaning into the car Charlotte turned it off before deciding to open up the trunk. 

“What are you doing?” Maddie whispered as she got out of the car. The make shift weapon in her hand ready to be lit at any moment.

“I’m banking on Bobby having a couple of real weapons in here,” Charlotte stated as she dug into a bag that was in the back. “Jack pot,”

“What did you find?” Charlottes only reply was to turn around with a large shot gun in her hand. Maddie’s eyes widened as she looked at the gun. “Char do you know how to use that?”

“Nope,” She said before holding it out to the red head. “But you do,”

“My dad’s takin me hunting about 2 times in my life, that doesn’t mean I’m a gun expert!”

“Yes, but he made you take that gun safety class so you are one step ahead of me,”

“Fine, trade,” Maddie said with a sigh as she held out the bottle. Charlotte took it from her hands while letting her get a grip on the gun. Leaning back in the car she found a few more shot gun shells and decided to throw them in her bag just in case things got dicey.

“You can’t throw for shit any ways,” Charlotte teased as she turned to walk towards the factory. In her free hand, she held her phone using the flash light on it. The light only showing about 4 feet in front of them. “Note to self, next time we try to pull a rescue mission in the middle of the night, bring flash lights.”

“With any luck, there won’t have to be a next time and everything is all right,” Maddie muttered as she followed the taller girl. The door to the factory was rusty but half open, letting them slip through without making any noise. A chill covered them both as they made eye contact. The girls walk side by side neither really wanting to take the lead on this one. Turning a corner, they came to the largest room in the factory and found it deserted. Though the smell of something rotten filled every corner of the place.

“Maddie,” Charlotte whispered shakily as she shined her flash light in the corner of the room. Her hands shaking as she tried to keep a hold of the bottle that wanted to fall out of her grasp.

“What?” Maddie asked before looking in the direction the other girl was looking. What looked to be blood was splattered across the broken window. They couldn’t tell how old it was but there wasn’t any question on what the substance was. Turning the light, they noticed that its wasn’t the only surface in the room covered in red.

“We need to find Bobby,” Maddie said quickly. Charlotte gave a nod as they began to walk again but quickly stuttered to a stop when they heard an ear-piercing screech echo through the building. “What the fuck was that,”

“I don’t know, but I’m not dyin here,” Charlotte said as she grabbed her lighter out of her purse getting it ready. Another scream had the girls jump, this time it sounded like a person in pain. The girls looked at each other before nodding. Running towards the scream they turned a few corners till they came to a set of stairs that ran to what must be a basement.

“Oh, come on,” Maddie whispered. “A basement, really!” with a frown she cocked the gun and started down the stairs behind her friend. As they came to the bottom of the stairs they slowly looked around the corner. Maddie let her hand fly to her own mouth to hold in the scream that desperately wanted to leave her mouth when she looked at the creator that stood in front of them.

Charlotte leaned her head against the wall as she tried to get her breath under control, a panic attack was sneaking up on her and she knew she did not have time for that. Taking a deep breath, she looked back around the corner again. In the corner she noticed Bobby sat, he seemed to be waking up and wasn’t dead at least. She couldn’t say the same for the woman that the Wendigo was holding at the moment, or at least what was left of her. Bodies were piled around the room in pieces, making the girl have to hold back throwing up her dinner.

“Now or never,” Charlotte whispered to the other girl before striking the lighter. Holding it to the fabric for a moment till it caught fire. Stepping around the corner she saw Bobby raised his head to see the girls. Taking the bottle in her hand she threw it with all her strength and watched as it shattered on the Wendigo. It let out a deafening shriek as it turned to face the girls. Its whole body erupted into flames as it moved towards them.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Charlotte muttered over and over as it came closer her feet moving her backwards quickly. Maddie raised the shot gun quickly and stepped forward shooting it in the head twice. It seemed to be the extra kick that was needed as it collapsed on the ground. The two girls stood frozen as they stared at each other.

“Glad you two could make it,” Bobby coughed out as he tried to stand. “But it aint over,”

“What?” Maddie questioned as she broke out of the trance she seemed to be under. “We killed it, how is it not over?” 

“Its what I was trying to tell you on the phone, there’s two,”

“Then where is the second one?” no one got a chance to reply when they heard the scream. “Never mind,”

“That my gun?” He squinted at the shot gun and then at the girls who looked a bit sheepish. Maddie held it out to him awkwardly.

“Yeah, we don’t have one so we didn’t think you would mind us borrowing,”

“How do you two not have one gun?” His face said it all, ‘how the hell are you dumbasses alive’ practically screamed from the look he gave them. 

“I told you, we’re new,” Charlotte said with a shrug. “Really new,” she heard Maddie say.

“Don’t happen to have another one of those make shift bombs on ya?” Bobby asked as they heard another shriek but this time it sounded as if it came from the top of the stairs. Charlotte dug in her purse for a moment before pulling out the hair spray.

“Nope but this will have to do,” She replied while tossing it to Maddie who held her hand out, the lighter followed after that. “You’re going to have to get close,” 

“I know,” She said shakily. Charlotte gave them both another glance before taking out two large knives from her purse. Looking back inside she snagged the few shot gun shells she found and held them out to Bobby who gave her a nod in thanks. The sound of something large was coming down the stairs making them all tense. Time stood still for a moment as they watched the tall figure come into view. Its deep-set eyes seemed to shrink more as it stared at the fire before snapping around to see the trio. Letting out a scream all hell broke loose. Bobby didn’t hesitate for a second as he started firing off into the Wendigo. It didn’t seem to do much other then make it angrier. The girls ran to opposite sides of the room as they watched the creator lunge forward and hit Bobby, the man flew across the room like a rag doll much to the girl’s horror. He groaned letting them know he wasn’t dead at least.

Maddie stepped back and tripped over the body of what looked to be an elderly man. The sound of her fall had the Wendigo focus in on her. Bearing its teeth, it moved to advance on her but froze when Charlotte yelled at it.

“Hey! Right here ugly!” She shouted trying to distract it so that Maddie could get off the ground and light it up. The red head seemed to catch the same idea as she scrambled off the floor. The lighter in her hand seemed to hate her as it refused to catch. Her desperation had her hands shaking as she listened to Charlotte continue to taunt the beast.

Turning her head, she watched as it ran at the Blond who seemed to throw herself out of the way at the last minute. The wendigo’s momentum sent it head first into the cement wall stunning it from the shear force.

“Maddie any day now,” She said as the Wendigo turned back to her with a new rage. Taking her knives, she threw a medium side one and watched as it sunk into its chest with surprising accuracy. Though the celebration was short lived as it didn’t stop in its pursuit. This time she didn’t have time to dodge it and found its hand wrapped around her neck. It lifted her off the ground and growled in her face. Its mouth opened to reviled large teeth ready to literally bite her head off.

Though she didn’t have time to fear for her life when a click of a lighter sounded through the room. She watched with wide eyes as the Wendigo was suddenly up in flames. Its grip loosened and she thankfully slipped out as it flailed around. She watched as it let out on last scream and then collapse on the ground revealing Maddie who stood behind it. The can of hair spray still in her hand.

“Damn,” Charlotte mumbled while rubbing her more than likely bruised neck. “that was close,”

The girls both let out little laughs before throwing themselves at the other in a tight hug. The adrenaline still running in their system was making it hard to process what all was happening in that moment but they were just happy that they were both still alive.

“You girls wanna help an old man up,” Bobby groaned from the floor across the room. They both let the other go and rushed to his side, each taking a hand to hoist him up. 

“You ok to walk?” Maddie asked concerned. Bobby grunted a ‘ya’ while picking up his gun. Looking at the now piles of ash on the floor he kicked some of it around and retrieved the knife Charlotte had thrown before as well. Whipping it on his jacket he handed it back to the girl.

“Can’t be leavin evidence around,” He muttered while stifling walking towards the stairs. The two woman followed him outside and towards their cars in silence. They were having a difficult time processing everything that was happening at the moment and weren’t sure where to go from there.

“You two did good,” Bobby stated quickly, his tone made it seem as if he didn’t often give out praise. “Would have been dinner for those things if you hadn’t shown up,” 

“I think you can thank us by sending us those hunters journals we talk about,” Maddie replied nonchalantly but Charlotte noticed the slight desperation in her tone. She was so used to facts that this sudden unknown had her grasping for straws. The journals might help give her piece of mind to say the very least.

“Will do,” He nodded before walking to his car door. “If you two every need anything…well you got my number,” the girls gave him smiles before waving good bye as he pulled out and drove off.

“It’s all real,” Maddie stated as she leaned against the back of her car. “All the monsters and creatures that are joked about. It’s all real!” 

“I know,” Charlotte mumbled back as she let her head lean against the car. “He better overnight ship those journals,” she joked quietly. Maddie gave a dry laugh before moving to get in the car.

“That was pretty badass,” Charlotte turned her head surprised at the red heads statement. “I mean you threw a knife like some kind of ninja straight out of a movie!”

“Yeah but it didn’t do anything to it,” she stated with a shake of her head. “Don’t sell yourself short though. You shot that thing in the head…twice! Only been hunting two times my ass.” She scoffed at the end in a teasing tone.

“Yeah that was kinda cool,” sighing she shrugged. “I would have been dead if you hadn’t distracted it though,” Maddie seemed to sober up for a moment as she remembered how clumsy she was in that moment

“Well you also lit him up when he had me by the throat so you can call us even. Plus, you’re my best friend Mads, I can’t let some evil monster eat you. Who else would live with me then,”

“Your right; you would be lonely without me,” the girls laughed together but were then left silent as they started the drive home, both trying to digest what had just happened.

“Should we be more freaked out right now,” Charlotte asked after a few more minutes of silence.

“probably,”

“I don’t know for some reason I just feel…I don’t know. Never mind its stupid, I’m probably just crazy,” the blonde shook her head as if dismissing the idea that came to her.

“We just found out supernatural creatures exist, how much crazier could it get,”

“true,” she sighed before talking again. “it just feels right, like this was something we were meant to be doing. Don’t get me wrong I’m not a big fan of the whole almost dying thing that happened back there but…it felt good being able to save someone,”

Maddie spared her a glance before focusing back on the road. “yeah,” she said softly. “I know what you mean,” the girls went back to sitting in silence to think about what their next move would be. The rest of the drive had no words spoken until they were walking into their shared apartment. 

“I think for now we just stick to what we know,” Maddie stated as they set their keys down. Charlotte went to the knife drawer and started emptying her purse. The three that she used went into the sink to be aggressively deep cleaned. “At least until Bobby sends us the journals,”

The girls separated to their rooms wanting to shower and calm down a bit on their own. The adrenaline was wearing off and the night was taking its toll. A knock on Maddie’s door caught her attention before Charlotte poked her head in.  

“What’s up?”

“Can I sleep in here tonight,” She said softly not really looking at the other girl. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“Sure,” Maddie replied with a reassuring smile, she was actually happy to share her bed tonight. She was sure she would have been knocking on the other girls door later if she hadn’t come to her first.

Charlotte whispered ‘thanks’ while carrying in her comforter, Jackie trotting happily behind her. Without much effort they both found themselves knocked out under blankets with their pets curled up near them. Luckily with no monsters hiding under the bed that night.

See you next Saturday my dudes

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

taglist

@deanismygodwiththatwhistle @real-demon-huntress @beckywiththatgooddean @periodottea91 @this-glitter-pussay @takenbymyfandoms @oneshoeshort @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @getnaildbyme @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl @musiclovinchic93 @lolabean1998 @kramabitchy @myinconnelly1 @bunnybaby121115 @of-sebstan-and-chrisevans @dammitsammy @wingedcatninja @darkswanordie @ellen-reincarnated1967 @salt-n-burn-em-all @supernxturxl @drkeyed-dreamer @were-not-the-losechesters @ashrey95 @alwaysthefangirl @arbitranox @shotgunshutstheircakehole1967 @fellowmaya @jmb959 @capsiclesbeard @hoesforshows @gabriels-trix @healojane @cross-roads-blues @lolimeverywherebitch @yllwtaxi @happy-sunny-flowers

[mae-gi-writes]

Wrong Number (Baekhyun x OC) Part 5 : Final

Synopsis: In which Hwang Jinae insistently leaves voice messages to her boyfriend every night since he's gone to Veterinary College, only to discover that she has been confessing all her struggles and hardships to the wrong number. More specifically; to his roommate Byun Baekhyun. 

Part: One | Two | Three | Four | Five 

The flowers smell odd. 

That’s what Jinae thinks as she puts them to her nose, inhaling shakily before leaning down to set them onto the gravestone. Brushing off some of the dirt that is tainting the concrete, she leans back on her heels and for a moment, a silence engulfs her being, wraps her in a small bubble of condolence. 

Tears brimm at the corner of her eyes once they sweep over the engraved letters that make up a name that breaks her heart in two. A year ago, she’d been angry at Taehyung for ditching her and using long distance as his excuse to evade her calls. 

And now, there’s nothing but regret left. 

She’s suddenly jolted out of her misery when her phone starts ringing.

Her pale fingers reach for her bag and fishes for the device, pressing the green call button, ‘Hello?’ 

‘Hey.’ 

It’s Baekhyun. A faint smile etches its way across her lips at the sound of his voice. With all the things that have happened this past month, it is more than comforting to hear a familiar sound for once. 

She settles herself more comfortably on the grass, not really caring whether her pants are getting stained with dirt, ‘What’s up?’ 

‘I’m guessing you’re still there?’ 

She nods before realizing he can’t see her, ‘Yeah.’ 

‘Want to rant?’ 

Her lips twitch at the familiarity of the memory. This is how it has all started after all, ever since they started talking through the phone. As far as she knows, Baekhyun has been the pillar of support that she needed every time whether it had been to cry or to laugh or to share her happiness with. After Taehyung’s surgery had failed, he’d held her in his arms and hadn’t said anything, only let her cry in the silence and comfort, only gave her the security of his presence as she told him about how unfair this all was, about how the world was playing tricks on her, that Taehyung wasn’t supposed to depart so soon because they’d planned so many other things to do.

She’d blubbered on and on, unsure how much time had passed before he’d reluctantly dragged her back to his flat. She’d stayed over for the night and had been surprised at how gentle Baekhyun had been with her. He’d cook her breakfast and managed to sort out all the things that had to be sorted out due to the suddenness of the situation, and Jinae had gladly let him take the lead. They had attended his funeral together and met his parents. Taehyung’s mother had bawled into her shoulder, thanked her for spending the last moments with her baby boy, while her father had instructed her to contact their family whenever she needed it. After all, Jinae had been introduced and had been quite close to the other family members ever since they’d started dating in high school.

Twelve months have passed ever since and though time has given Jinae the space and the ability to heal from her boyfriend’s sudden departure, there are still many things that remind her of him wherever she goes; whether it’s from a familiar song they used to sing together or the flavour of a food that he had cooked once upon a time claiming that his food wasn’t all that bad. It still brings tears to her eyes to think about it, but without Baekhyun, Jinae admits it would’ve probably been worse.

The said young man calls every night, practically taking over most of her time whenever she’s alone and meddling with her own thoughts. At first she had been annoyed, not wanting to talk to him because he reminds her too much of the deceased man. But Baekhyun’s insistent nature finally drove through her ice cold walls and soon enough she’d find this natural to call him after her classes, whether it’s while cooking or just chatting amiably before going to bed. The more she gets to know him, the more she can see the resemblance between him and Taehyung. The way they talk, the intonations in their voices, even the stupid jokes they both crack are somewhat reminiscent of each other, and while Jinae’s heart is slowly opening up to another man, the guilt is just as prominent and causing her to watch her behaviour, reel in her emotions. 

‘I don’t know. I guess I was expecting to feel better sooner rather than later.’ Jinae tries not to let her emotions show through, but her voice cracks anyway, ‘That was stupid of me.’

‘It’s only been year,’ Baekhyun soothes gently, ‘it’s okay to hurt.’

She wipes at a few stray tears escaping the corner of her lips, ‘I know.’ She mumbles as she feels her lips tremble from the self-restraint, ‘I know it’s okay. Taehyung wouldn’t be too happy about it, though. He’d probably tell me to stop moping.’

‘I bet he would.’ Baekhyun laughs, ‘and he’d probably tell you that you look ugly when you cry.’

‘Yeah, I don’t think he’d like it very much.’

When the young man speaks again, she hears his voice through the phone as well as behind her. Jinae turns in surprise.

‘Then, stop crying.’

Baekhyun’s gaze is soft and warm when they land on her own red-rimmed orbs. He holds his phone pressed against his ear and his expression is one of sympathy and concern.

Ending the call, he puts the phone back in his pocket before extending his hand out to her.

‘Come on.’ He murmurs softly, ‘let’s go home.’

Jinae doesn’t hesitate to let her fingers entwine with his own before he pulls her up next to him. He feels strong and solid and there, and somehow her heart flutters despite her attempts to restrain herself. She can’t help but notice that he keeps a firm hold of her hand in his as they walk back to Jinae’s flat. 

‘Why did you come?’ She finally asks as hey weave their way through the gravestones. She hasn’t expected him to come all the way to her part of the city just to see Taehyung, and it’s not like they’ve been close enough for Baekhyun to be deemed as a friend. But it’s true that the last weeks during Taehyung’s last fight with his own body, Baekhyun had been more than persistent in being of help. The genuinity had been there and Jinae really likes that about him: his sincerity. 

One more thing that he shares with Taehyung. 

“I was on the way back from my mom’s place,’ Baekhyun shrugs as if to tell her that it’s no problem, although Jinae isn’t sure whether he’s just ying to make her feel better, ‘So I decided to stop by. Good thing I did.’ 

He pointedly looks at her, to which she flushes in embarassment, ‘I would’ve been fine alone.’ 

‘Yeah right,’ he jokingly flicks at her forehead and Jinae can’t help the heat that creeps up at the back of her neck at the undeniable flutters that start to vibrate through her heartstrings, causing her to look away in attempts of controlling her emotions.

The girl persists that Baekhyun stays for the night when they reach her flat, and he agrees on the condition that they order takeout that he gets to pay. She grudgingly agrees and a thirty minutes later, they’re sitting in the living room watching a stupid korean sitcom while slurping up their bowls of fried noodles. 

‘Taehyung used to hate fried noodles,’ Jinae says to him as they sit in companionable silence, ‘He used to beg me not to eat those in front of me.’ 

‘Why?’ Baekhyun laughs, lips licking the remnants of the sauce from his lips. Jinae can’t help but stare, only to avert her eyes before he notices.

‘I think he didn’t like the taste. He had a bad memory of fried noodles, something about it falling on his face when he tripped.’ she shrugs, ‘There were a lot of things Taehyung didn’t like to eat, now that I think about it.’ 

Baekhyun is about to tease back that not everyone can be as perfect as her when his brown orbs suddenly fall on one of the shelves. He frowns, and Jinae follows his gaze to what is now a space void of memories. 

The only picture she’s kept of Taehyung is the one by her bedside. All the other pictures they had together hurt too much to look at. 

‘You removed them.’ Those three words slice a bit of her heart in two. She gulps. Yes, indeed she has. 

And he’s noticed it too. 

She feels the young man shifting beside her, his gze open, curious, wallowing with a thousand questions that he doesn’t voice out and instead keeps to himself. But she can still see them, see everything he wants to say but leaves unsaid for fear of going over a boundary, crossing a line he isn’t supposed to cross. 

When he speaks again, his voice is soft, almost shaky: ‘Why?’ 

Jinae lowers her bowl, the noodles now forgotten in her lap, ‘Why can’t I?” 

She realizes a little too late that her voice might have come out too harshly for his liking, for she notices how the said man winces slightly at her tone. She softens, wanting to hit herself for being so cruel to someone that’s been nothing but supportive of her all these months that she’s had to depend on him. 

Except that she doesn’t want to depend on him.  She doesn’t want to be that person. For god’s sake, he’s Taehyung’s roommate and what’s more, he reminds her so much of the said man that it’s hard to know whether her source of her attraction is due to Baekhyun himself or due to the fact that he makes her think of Taehyung the more time they spend together. 

‘I didn’t mean to pry, just--’ he clears his throat, ‘You’ve never done that before.’ 

----------

Baekhyun has tried his best. 

He has tried so hard to keep his promise to his roommate ever since the day that the horrible news had been announced. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, hadn’t wanted to come to terms with the fact that in a way, Taehyung had been right. He’d been right all along about his kidney failure and yet, even as he had stood next to his grave, he hadn’t wanted to shake hands with the realization that death had taken the young man away and had left him with a broken hearted girl and a responsibility upon his shoulders. 

It isn’t that he hates the idea of taking care of JInae and making sure that it’s alright. He’d been doing it ever since they met anyway, it doesn’t really affect him or change his lifestyle. On the contrary, he really genuinely enjoys Jinae’s company, wishes that every moment takes longer than it should, wishes that time would freeze long enough for him to savour every second of it. But he’d really hoped to meet her under different circumstances. 

With his promise to Taehyung and with his responsibility and sense of duty towards his girlfriend, Baekhyun has become more of a big brother than a friend (cough) potential dating partner (cough). 

He doesn’t even allow himself to think of such a thing, for fear that it would just ruin the relationship he’s built with the latter. 

Every night, Baekhyun tosses and turns in his bed, staring forlornly up at the ceiling in hopes that somehow, by crazy chance, he can rewrite their history and start all over again. 

Because how can he love a girl that another man has loved as deeply? And how can he love a girl who’s been entrusted in his care, when that love may destroy their relationship? 

And the guilt. He can’t bear the guilt. Just looking at her makes him remember of the last words Taehyung had said to him, the soft smile that had etched across his lips when he’d asked him to keep Jinae safe. 

And of course, Baekhyun will. That’s the least he could do. 

So when he notices that the pictures of the said couple are missing on the bookshelf that now seems a little too big and a little too void for his liking, his brain can’t help but muster up a flock of questions that open up a series of possibilities that Baekhyun has to restrain and reel back in, in hopes of keeping his thoughts sane and to himself. 

‘I thought it was about time.’ Jinae murmurs in response to his startled surprise, ‘They hurt too much to look at.’ 

She plays around with noodles, looking for anything to do to distract her from the suddenly awkward atmosphere. Baekhyun’s throat runs dry as his brain skips to the concluding fact: She’s still very much haunted from the memory of her said past boyfriend, and though Baekhyun wants to scream in frustration because it just hurts too much to be in the same room as her, let alone see her face everyday and hold himself back from the flood of emotions that swarm through him every time he thinks of her. And yet, he can’t find it in himself to be mad, for he emphasizes and sympathizes. He understands how it feels somehow, knows that she’s having a hard time coping even though it has been a year. 

But a year isn’t that long, now that he thinks about it. 

So he does the only thing he can. He winds an arm around her shoulder before bringing her closser, tucking her tense body under his arm, under his warmth. 

Grabbing her bowl from her lap, he puts it on the coffee table while the girl finds refuge in the space between his neck and shoulder. He can feel her breaths hitting onto his skin, goosebumps forming at the sensation, and dismisses it. 

‘Sorry,’ she manages to mumble as sobs slowly crawl up the back of her throat, scratching at her voice box. 

Baekhyun shakes his head, ‘You don’t have to be sorry for hurting, Jinae.’ He brings her even closer and pillows his head on top of hers. His hand starts stroking along the back of her head in comfort, and Jinae unknowingly burrows even closer if possible. 

‘No, you deserve it.’ she mumbles, her voice merely above a whisper, ‘I don’t know how you do it.’ 

‘I don’t know how I do it either,’ he jokingly teases, and the girl nudges his arm playfully. A grin forms on his face. 

‘Do you regret it?’ 

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrow, kissing at the center when he looks down at her, at the light falling across the planes of her face. He can’t help but think how fragile she looks, how innocent she appears. It makes him want to put her in a box and hold her as close as he possibly can, to keep her away from all the bad things that can hurt her.

‘Regret what?’ his voice comes out muffled against the side of her head. 

‘Regret picking up the phone.’

A pause ensues. ‘You mean, when I called you back that first time?’ 

Jinae nods. 

He feels like laughing because it is absolutely the most ridiculous question she has ever asked him. ‘What?’ he leans away before shaking his head at her, noticing how confusion sweeps across her features at his reaction, ‘Are you serious? Why would I regret it?’ 

‘You wouldn’t be here, then.’ Jinae responds, ‘Maybe your life would’ve been much easier. You wouldn’t even know about your roommate’s kidney, just that one day he moved out for an unknown reason.’ Her brown orbs suddenly flutter up to his and they locks gazes. Baekhyun’s throat runs dry at the intensity swimming in those swirls of maroon that seem to pin him down with the truth, the reality of the situation.

‘You’re right,’ Baekhyun murmurs, tone soft and eyes gentle, ‘Things might’ve been different. But I don’t regret it. Not one bit.’

Her head lifts up so suddenly that it startles him, causing him to draw back as their eyes found each other. It’s hard to figure out what is going on in that head of hers, but Baekhyun is sure that his own emotions are shining right through his chest, as transparent and as apparent as he makes them out to be. He traces her features, outlines the shape of her nose and traces her lips, fingers tingling at the desire to feel their softness. 

Gulping, he looks away. ‘Do you regret it?’ he throws back the question at her, not really keen to find out the answer to that question.

‘Of course not.’ Jinae replies instantly, ‘you were practically being my mom after--’ she swallows, continues after a brief pause, ‘after Taehyung passed.’ 

Baekhyun stifles a chuckle, ‘Well I couldn’t just leave you like that. You looked like you just crawled out of a morgue.’ 

‘Hey, I went through a lot.’ 

His hand reaches out, smoothing down the side of her head in affection. He smiles crookedly, ‘I know you did.’ 

Silence falls between them, as comfortable as the sun on one’s skin after months of winter. There’s something that flickers in Jinae’s eyes, something that he can’t quite decipher and yet, guesses that it’s something which looks like tenderness. There’s an intimacy in the way they sit, with their knees touching and her shoulder practically on his chest. Baekhyun can feel the warmth from her body, the scent of her skin washing over his nostrils, and he hasn’t realized that his hand had gone up to stroke the side of her cheek until Jinae stutters out a: 

‘B-Baek, what are you doing?’ 

He blinks, arm jolting away as though he’s been electrocuted. The girl’s eyes are wide with surprise. 

‘Nothing,’ he mumbles out. The sudden closeness has shocked him and he is horrified at the lack of self-restraint he has over his body.  He jolts up from the couch, ‘I should probably take a shower.’ he mumbles out while moving towards the bathroom, ‘I won’t be long.’ 

It takes all of Baekhyun’s power not to collapse right then and there, making it as quickly as he can to the bathroom before shutting the door and sitting on the floor in a sprawled out fashion, wondering how he can go on both  protecting his heart and protecting the girl he loves when they are both so out of his reach and out of his control. 

--------

‘How have you been, then?’ 

Jinae’s fingers are wrapped around her tea mug, wound so tight she fears the porcelain might break under her grasp. An elder lady sits opposite her, probably in her mid-fifties, her posture straight and her features-- though giving away to age-- reminiscent of her beauty in her younger years. Taehyung’s mother is a refined and beautiful woman, both in heart and soul. Though Mrs.Kim has been raised in a family where rank and social class were tossed around like jean tags, her heart had been captured by a farmer’s boy -- Mr.Kim-- for whom she’d give the world. Jinae remembers the amount of time she’s spent in Taehyung’s house because her parents’ was too far away for her to go back during the weekends off. She remembers all the family dinner conversations whereby her and Mrs.Kim would make fun of Taehyung, the time when the said older woman had invited her over for Christmas and had given her a woolen, hand-knitted sweater that Jinae still has kept safe and sound all these years. 

After Taehyung’s death, she has made sure to visit Mrs.Kim more often than not, always bringing back treats or small gifts to the Kim household. While Taehyung’s mother would always be full of protests while telling her that it isn’t necessary for such extravagancies, Jinae manages to reassure her that it comes from her own pocket money and that it’s the least she can do for everything that the older woman has done for her. Mrs.Kim had turned out to be her second mother and this kind of kindness is something that Jinae will forever be grateful for. 

‘I’ve been alright.’ Jinae takes a huge gulp of her tea to mask her lie, but coughs as the hot liquid burns her tongue. 

Mrs.Kim hands her a tissue, tutting sympathetically and murmuring about waiting for the tea to cool down.

‘I’m fine,’ Jinae waves away her concern, ‘nothing I can’t handle.’ 

‘You’re still so clumsy, as always.’ Mrs.Kim smiles, ‘You remind me a lot of my husband.’ 

‘Is that supposed to be a compliment?’ Jinae jokes as she decides to blow on her tea instead. The older lady lets out a small snort of laughter, ‘I don’t know myself. I mean, he was always getting himself mixed up in trouble. Yet, I guess that was his charm.’ She smiles fondly, as if she recalling a memory that is left unknown to Jinae. But then, her expression turns to one of concern, ‘But Jinae, are you sure everything’s alright?’ 

JInae nods, ‘Everything’s fine.’ 

‘So,’ Mrs.Kim leans forward with an expectant look on her face, ‘are you still hanging out with Baekhyun often? How is he doing? You should’ve brought him along.’ 

‘He’s doing fine.’ Jinae hopes that Taehyung’s mother misses out on the dryness of her tone. 

‘He reminds me a lot of Taehyung, don’t you think?’ 

The younger woman laughs rather awkwardly, unsure of how to respond, ‘I don’t know about that.’ 

‘They’re both so bright. Baekhyun’s studying Psychology isn’t he? Isn’t that brilliant?’ Mrs.Kim continues. It’s obvious that she has a soft spot for the said young man and yet, Jinae’s heartstrings can’t help but clench in guilt at the thought that Baekhyun is somehow someone just there to replace Taehyung. 

Of course, Baekhyun is definitely not Taehyung. And she knows that. 

And yet sometimes, she isn’t sure whether her attraction to him is because of their striking resemblance.

Which is why Jinae prefers playing it safe. Nothing can happen with him. 

Nothing. 

‘And they’re both so quirky. Whenever I talk to Baekhyun, I feel like I’m talking to my own son. They just have this glow about them, don’t they?’ Mrs.Kim gushes, ‘They even look alike sometimes, though Baekhyun looks more like a soft pup. Don’t you think so?’ 

She can feel her throat closing up, choking her words. 

‘I-I don’t know,’ Jinae finally answers. 

But Mrs.Kim doesn’t seem to notice her discomfort. She leans even closer while lowering her teacup. There’s some kind of mischievous glint in her eyes, ‘Jinae,’ she says, giggling softly like a middle schoolgirl, ‘What do you think of Baekhyun?’ 

And that’s when Jinae’s mind goes blank. 

She blinks at Taehyung’s mother, unaware that pain and confusion and guilt are playing across her face. Her expression is as transparent as glass and she doesn’t have to say anything, the flush creeping through her two cheeks are enough to speak out the truth she cannot face herself. 

‘Do you like this boy?’ Mrs.Kim’s tone softens into one of motherly concern when she finally gets a glimpse of the turmoil of feelings that Jinae has been keeping inside her for so long. 

The said girl averts her gaze, embarrassed that she’s been caught shamelessly advertising her own heart. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs.Kim.’ she answers in what she hopes is a diplomatic, almost dismissive voice. 

‘Darling girl,’ Mrs.Kim lets out a sigh, before moving forward and -- to Jinae’s surprise-- grasping her forearms lightly in a motherly gesture. Her face is tired, full of wrinkles. Jinae hasn’t noticed that before. She seems to have aged a lot since Taehyung’s death, and the younger woman understands, considering that she’s the only one living in a huge house alone. 

When Mrs.Kim starts speaking again, her tone is firm, yet gentle and laced with worry that Jinae can’t ignore, ‘It’s okay to love again, Jinae. You can’t run away from it forever.’ Peering down at her eyes, the older woman lets out a soft smile, ‘Don’t be like me. I didn’t want anyone after Taehyung’s dad left, and look where that got me.’ she chuckles, though its weighed down with remorse, ‘Taehyung wouldn’t want you to be this way. Do you think he’d like it, seeing you miss out on life just because of him?’ 

Jinae’s head lowers. There are tears burning at the corner of her eyes but no matter how much she tells herself to stop crying, it’s like a dam has broken inside of her and suddenly, all the water comes gushing out like a damn tsunami. 

Arms wrap around her body. Her head comes to a rest on a soft bosom, Mrs.Kim’s. It’s comforting, gives her incentive to continue crying. And so she does. 

She cries for all the times she’s felt lonely. She cries for the pain and the sorrow that’s been weighing heavily on her heart since the day Taehyung has left. It’s like a wound has been opened up again, raw and new and fresh to the touch, leaving her out to bleed and calling for help that will never come. But Jinae cries most of all, for all the times she held herself back because of the guilt that wallowed in her heart every time she’d do something without him, like a child being caught stealing. She hadn’t wanted to put him through so much pain and the fact that she’d though he’d been cheating when he’d been sick all alone hadn’t helped matters in her moving on. 

And finally, finally, she feels released and free from that cage that’s been holding her back for so long. Here in Mrs.Kim’s arms, she can almost smell Taehyung’s warmth as he envelopes them in his strong arms, his comforting embrace. She hasn’t realized that the tears trickling down her shoulder aren’t her own but are of Taehyung’s mother, and both women sit there crying for a son, for a lover that isn’t going to make its way back, for the realization that life does goes on, with or without the main placeholders of their hearts. 

----------

Baekhyun knows he’s screwed. 

His hand, his goddamn fucking hand. He feels like chopping it off, burning it, incarcerating it until he forgets the memory of her hair sliding between his fingers, of the dewy skin that is so gentle underneath the roughness of his palm. 

Maybe if he’d actually listened to his brain telling him to get the hell away from her, he wouldn’t have found himself in such a predicament. Now he isn’t sure whether he can still be redeemable as Jinae’s friend, or whether she’s been disgusted at his attitude. In truth, he’s seen the way she looks at him, can identify traces of affection. It’s almost like he gets the message, except not quite. The fleeting glimpses of her emotions flash by like flickering lights in darkness, leaving Baekhyun confused and lost as to what to do with himself. 

After that weird encounter during his weekend stay, he decides to go back to his own campus and doesn’t bother talking about whatever has happened between them. Trying to keep his voice as light and as casual as possible, he notices the slight traces of uncomfortableness that has made its way through Jinae’s voice ever since. Before he knows it, communication is exchanged less and less, they grow apart and it’s no surprise that Baekhyun’s heart feels uneasy because of it. 

He is so used to having her voice at his ear like a soothing lullaby that the first day he doesn’t call, he feels like something is missing. But then again, she doesn’t call either so that gives him enough of an indication of where he stands. 

It’s a clear sign that she wants him to bugger off, that boundaries are boundaries. 

And Baekhyun is sure not to make that mistake again. 

The week crawls by, one day at a time and Baekhyun does everything to distract himself from the sudden gaping hole that tore through his life. He busies himself with work and tries new recipes, skype calls his friends from other cities and makes sure to go out at night with peers, even if the company isn’t one he genuinely enjoys. And still, there is nothing from her. No contact, no call. 

Not even a simple message to ask him if he’s doing okay. 

Part of him-- the selfish part -- wishes that everything could go back to normal, to how it had been before that weekend. He wishes he hasn’t done anything and actually restrained himself. It would’ve been the proper thing to do, especially when a girl is so vulnerable. His lack of self-restraint has now caused an impasse to lodge in the space between their friendship and he isn’t sure how to mend it back without confessing the whole truth. 

Because the truth is that he likes her.

He sees her, not as friend, but as someone that he wants to share his life with.  Someone that means just so much more.

And deep down in the bottomless pit he calls his heart, he knows that she wants him to, except that she can’t. 

Because it’s too early. 

Because of the circumstances. 

Because it’s Taehyung. 

It had always been Taehyung. 

And Baekhyun hates many things, but the one thing he cannot stand for is to be a replacement for someone who’s already dead. 

As he unlocks the door to his empty flat and lets himself inside, he throws his jacket on one of the hangers, not caring that it slides right down to the floor, as he practically launches himself on the couch. He lets out a heavy sigh, the day’s tiredness sweeping right through his muscles as he forces himself to take a breather and relax. His mind is buzzing with too much; too much information and too much of the said girl that captured his heart. 

There are so many tasks left undone. He spots the pile of dishes in the sink, the dirty pile of clothes in the corner, and shakes his head. Why had he let it come to this? He’s usually a neat freak, a clean guy with basic principles so as not to live like an animal. 

And plus, his final thesis has been stressing him out for a while. It is taking more time than expected and Baekhyun isn’t sure in which direction he is actually going. He has tried asking his profs for any guidance but they’re not of much help, always being too vague or abstract about the information he actually has to provide. That’s the thing with profs, you never know whether you can rely on them or not. Then again, he thinks sourly to himself, you can’t really rely on anyone but yourself in this world. 

Especially not the ones that are closest to your heart. The small knot in the space where his heart should be pinches inside his chest. Though Baekhyun merely shows it, he does feel it still. 

He isn’t a goddamn robot. 

Oh well. With a soft groan and hearing his body’s protests at his movements, he forces himself up from the couch to make a start on the household chores. He walks towards his sink, only to pause upon hearing the sound of the doorbell echo throughout the flat. 

He frowns. 

Nobody’s usually looking for him, especially not at -- he throws a glance at the clock-- shy past eleven. 

The doorbell rings twice more, the sound piercing through like an insistent alarm. Whoever is standing on the other side must probably be one of Baekhyun’s neighbours, for they’re always complaining about something. It’s probably a broken light that he has to fix, he thinks to himself while wearily moving to the door. 

He opens it while saying, ‘I’m sorry, it’s kind of late--’ 

Air is knocked out of his chest when someone jumps onto him. Automatically, his hands go around to grab onto the person’s waist, stumbling back and trying to ground his heel to avoid himself from falling. Surprise turns into shock, which turns into utter confusion as his mind scrambles to put two and two together. Baekhyun is prepared to push the individual away, when realization dawns. 

He recognizes that figure, knows the scent wafting through his nostrils, the warmth that’s traveling from her body to his. 

Slowly, as if fearing that this is all a dream, Baekhyun leans back. 

‘Jinae.’ he breathes. 

‘I’m sorry,’ she looks back at him, breathless and going off like a steam train, ‘I’m sorry, Baekhyun. I was scared after what happened and didn’t know what to do because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship nor did I want to make you feel like you were being compared with Taehyung or were fighting for his place, but I talked with his mom and then it just clicked, and I’m just so sorry for not--’ 

‘Jinae,’ his hands grasp the back of her elbows, thumbs brushing gently against her skin, ‘It’s alright. Calm down. Breathe.’ 

‘I just--’ her eyes suddenly fill with tears, ‘I shouldn’t have ignored you like that when you were always there, I’m sorry--’ 

‘Jinae,’ Baekhyun murmurs, ‘take a deep breath, and start again.’ 

Her hands, initially at his waist, impulsively bunch in the material of his shirt, not that she notices. 

‘What happened last weekend,’ she says, biting her lip and eyes averting to the ground, ‘I felt it, too.’ taking a deep breath, Jinae continues with a shaky voice, ‘I didn’t mean to become so cold. I knew that there was something going on but I didn’t want to admit it, because I felt guilty.’ 

‘Because of Taehyung?’ 

She nods, ‘I didn’t want you to think that I was using you. To be honest, I wasn’t sure myself. I didn’t want you to be Taehyung’s replacement, because you’re not. But then I talked to Taehyung’s mother.’ 

Her brown orbs flutter up to lock with his own. He sees the tremor, the mixed feeling of guilt and remorse etched across her features, and suddenly understands that while he’d been busy fighting his own battle, she in turn has had it just as hard. 

‘I realized that I was being stupid. All this time, I had just been running away from you and it’s not fair,’ the corner of her eyes fill with tears and as if on instinct, Baekhyun’s thumb wipes away at the crystal trails, ‘I had to let him go, I had to realize who was actually here with me. And you were, you’ve always been.’ 

Jinae’s head then bows, as if she’s ashamed of what she’s done, ‘I’m sorry for not calling you, I-- I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to hurt you--’

‘Hey hey,’ he shushes her gently, tugging her closer so that she’s breaths away from him, ‘I know, it’s been hard. Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay? I think Taehyung would be proud of you.’ 

Soft sniffles start erupting from the girl’s nose, causing a chuckle to erupt from Baekhyun’s chest. He pulls her closer, murmuring a soft, ‘Come here.’ Enveloping her in his arms, he relishes in the way her curves seem to fit right into his frame, the way her jaw fits right into the crook of his neck. He breathes in her scent, light-headed with her scent. 

‘I’m proud of you,’ he murmurs with his lips moving against the side of her head. 

It takes a few seconds for her to reciprocate the motion and Baekhyun is about to pull away in slight embarrassment at having been too forward, when her arms suddenly circle his middle, hugging him back. 

----------

Jinae can’t believe it. 

He’s hugging her. He’s so close, she can smell the hint of his deodorant mixed with that natural manly smell that reminds her of pinewood and nature and how leaves smell after the rain. It’s sharp and soft at the same time, velvety and clean. 

Taehyung felt like warmth and sunlight. Baekhyun feels more like the coolness of water, a relaxation of her limbs. 

Taehyung felt like sunflowers and open fields and great vastness of the sky. Baekhyun is an ocean that she can spend years swimming in, lost, he feels like the drop of rain on her nose and of mellow evenings at twilight. 

And Jinae realizes that the more she thinks of them both, the more the difference shows. 

She hugs him tighter when a sudden burst of happiness hits her chest. The overwhelming feeling of warmth fills up her stomach with butterflies and for a minute, she feels like giggling like a shy middle school girl. Jinae feels Baekhyun’s breaths hitting against the top of her head, and right here, she feels safe and secure in his arms, as if there’s nothing that can touch her, as if everything will be alright because he’s right here. 

----------

His fingertips gently flutter over her face, cradling her cheek in the palm of his hand when she looks up at him through her eyelashes. Has her eyes always been so brown and open with so many feelings? He isn’t sure whether he’s used to seeing her from this angle, up so close, but he decides that he likes it better. 

The air suddenly feels charged with electricity when he nudges her closer still, his other arm finding purchase around her waist only to pull her close and press him to his chest. Baekhyun hears the girl’s breath hitch inside her throat as his eyes roam over her features, before glancing down at her lips. 

Time seems to have stopped, the world coming to a pause as they gaze into each other’s eyes with the unsaid question lingering at the edge of their lips. 

And then Baekhyun can’t wait. He leans down, voice almost choked with self-restraint when he asks: 

‘Can I?’ 

The girl’s orbs widen slightly. A giggle suddenly erupts from her throat. 

Baekhyun blinks at her, eyebrows furrowed, ‘What?’ 

‘Nothing,’ she tries to restrain the giggles as her eyes crinkle in amusement, ‘I’ve never been asked that kind of question before. It’s kinda cute.’ 

He scowls, ‘shut up.’ 

And before she can say something back, his lips flutter over hers before claiming them completely. Mouth moving over her own with a sinuous rhythm, he feels Jinae’s response through the kiss, tilting her head for better access. He isn’t sure whether he’s tasted something as beautiful, as sweet and as innocent. 

Biting down lightly on her bottom lip, Baekhyun stifles a smile when he hears a slight whimper die at the back of her throat, proceeding to kiss her even deeper, longer, slower. He’s asking her to a dance, a dance that she can only answer with kisses of her own. They move with a rhythm, lips searching each other like magnetic fields conjoined in a single embrace, and it isn’t until Jinae’s back suddenly meets with the cold surface of the countertop that she realizes how far they’ve moved. 

They part for breath, breathing in each other, taking in every single detail, every single second they are spending together. It feels like a miracle, something that she fears will disappear and fly away the moment she blinks. But when she reaches up to cradle his face in her palm, Jinae is reassured by his mocha coloured orbs swirling with affection, with a fragile kind of tenderness that makes her heart pound inside her chest. 

She feels like she can’t breathe, as if her legs are like jelly. Right now, she’s thankful of the tight grip he has on her waist. 

She can’t help but smile despite herself. He catches her full in the act.

‘What?’ Baekhyun’s lips curve up into a playful smile, can’t helping himself. He feels high from the happiness. 

‘Thank you,’ Jinae murmurs, ‘I think it’s long overdue.’ 

He hums, pulling her closer and nuding his nose with hers, ‘It’s alright. I already got my reward.’ 

‘Oh shut up,’ she lets out a small laugh, hand absentmindedly fondling the hair at the base of his scalp. 

Baekhyun looks back at her, and she looks back at him. There is just so much there, so many possibilities and opportunities that have opened up the world for the two individuals in love staring into each other’s eyes. 

And though he’s not one to butt into other people’s business, he can’t help but be thankful that he butted into hers. 

----------

A/N: And voila! This is officially the end for Wrong Number! I hope you all enjoyed reading this short story even though there was a lot that went on. I have to say even I was impressed by the amount of ideas that came up as I kept writing. But hey, inspiration is always welcome ;) 

Anyway, just wanted to thank all of you for having read and for those who enjoyed reading this story. I know that many of you weren't expecting the big dramatic drop at the end of chapter 3, but I hope you enjoyed the ride nevertheless and were satisfied with the ending. 

I guess the take-home message of this story is that no matter how hard you find life, there's always going to be someone who understands your situation, whether it's a stranger, a friend, your brother... we're all struggling and we all have different kinds of problems, from little to big. But just like Jinae, we have to forgive ourselves and not wallow too much in the guilt that our mistakes have brought upon us. 

Once again, thank you all for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it and have a wonderful rest of the day/night :) xx 

love y'all, 

-nutmeggu 

[shamelessly4shameless-blog]

130lb Ukrainian Courage pt.19 - Bachelor party cont.

Mandy and Svet are God damn pros. Mandy somehow finds a free booth and whilst Svet slides through the crowd to get to the bar, neither of them missing a beat.

“Right. Hold this booth, do not let anyone steal it.”

Mandy orders her big brother’s, shouting to be heard over the music.

They both nod and sit on either side of the glitter covered table. It is something of a shame that no one in the Milkovich family ever took an interest in football because they would have made incredible defence linesmen. No one would get past them and the few people that try and gesture to the empty seats in the booth they have claimed are quickly dispersed. Iggy lounges back in his chair and gives Mickey a considering look that instantly makes Mickey squirm.

“What?”

“When did you know you were gay?”

It’s an unexpected question and Mickey sucks his lower lip, wondering how best to answer and whether to answer at all. Ordinarily he’d tell Iggy to mind his own fuckin’ business but he’s in an unusually good mood and his brother coming to a club like this … well, Mickey is a little touched by the gesture. Especially after everything that has happened lately.

“I didn’t. Not til Ian.”

“Seriously? You never looked at any other dude and thought ‘Fuck yeah I’d hit that … whoah! I’m a fag!”  

“Fuck off!”

Mickey shakes his head grinning, middle finger raised to his brother’s face.

“Nah man, I tried hard not to look at anyone or anything. Figured if I ignored it, it’d go away, you know?”

Iggy nods, accepting this as just another odd quirk about his little bro. Iggy isn’t someone who thinks about things too deeply. Not because he can’t, it’s just that he prefers not to. Some people, like Mickey, seem to over think every little thing and get worried about shit easily. Iggy doesn’t get that sort of concern. He often wants to shake his brother and say ‘Man, who the fuck even cares?’. Looking over at him now, Iggy realises that his question has sparked off one of those weird thought spirals Mickey gets and decides to cut it short.

“Hey, Mick?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever look at my dick?”

“Ew! Fuck you!”

Mickey laughs, rolling his eyes and wishing Mandy and Svet would hurry up. Mission accomplished, Iggy grins and waits for his beer to show up.

*

On the other side of the room Ian is waiting for his own beer. Debbie went ages ago and Fiona’s hip flask is running dangerously low. Kev and V haven’t touched theirs yet but at this rate they’re going to be buying all their drinks before midnight.

“What’s with the frown?”

Fi leans over and kisses the crease between Ian’s brows.

“Nothing, just … thirsty!”

Ian winces as the word leaves his lips, it is one of many, many words which earn him shots. Thirsty, hung, ball, wood … the list is pretty endless and sure enough Fi, V and Lip start drum rolling on the table as Kev lines him up a sly shot glass of smuggled vodka.

“Fuck! Guys, I’m never gonna make it through the night.”

Ian shuddered as the alcohol coursed through his system. His head felt light and the bright lights of the club seemed to pulse in time with the music, which there was a damn good chance they were. Everything felt too close, not in a bad way, but he’d have felt better if Mickey was there. Lip wasn’t wrong when he teased that Mickey was like a guard dog when it came to Ian, he had been for years really. Since the early days when Ian started working at the White Swallow, Mickey always showed up and watched for trouble. He guarded Ian with a loyalty that Ian had never known from anyone else and now, without Mickey there, the club feels too big, too loud.

“I need to dance!”

He declared suddenly and stood up. He was not going to act like a needy little bitch on his own bachelor party. Mickey was probably out at a dive bar having a great time and Ian would do the same.

Fiona grabbed his left hand, V grabbed his right and together they swayed drunkenly onto the dance floor. Ian felt better as soon as he began to move. It was like poetry, his body responded to the music and took him along with it and his anxieties began to vanish into the rhythms.

“Oh fuck!”

Fiona laughs and Ian grins hazily at her

“What?”

“Your fiance is here!”

“Mickey?”

Ian can’t help the hopeful note that enters his voice and V gives him a curious look

“You got more than one?”

Ian shoves her arm playfully and his eyes follow Fiona’s discreet point. Sure enough, there is a little  gaggle of Milkovich’s at a booth on the other side of the dance floor.

“Challenge them to a dance off?”

“Oh shit! West Side Story rumble!”

Fiona screams excitedly

“Bitch, you crazy? I ain’t takin’ on no damn Milkovich in a knife fight! Little fuckers were probably born cradlin’ a blade!”

V shrieks and then flaps an apologetic hand at the wide eyed look Ian gives her

“You know what I mean!”

“Mhmm.”

Ian gives her one more disapproving glance and then looks back to Mickey’s table with a little smile. He had no idea that Mandy was going to bring him to a Gay bar and the fact that Iggy is here too will mean a lot to Mickey, even  if he isn’t letting on.

“You want to go say hi?”

“No.”

Ian shakes his head, he isn’t being conceited but he knows that Mickey will gravitate towards him once he knows they are both in the same club. He won’t be able to help himself. Ian knows this because it is exactly what he is feeling at this moment and he thinks of all the times Mickey has watched him in clubs and smiles at the thought of quietly watching over Mickey for a change.

*

Mandy and Svetlana disappear off to the ladies room and Iggy disappears into the cloud of dry ice. Mickey sighs in contentment at the moment of solitude. He checks his phone and sees a message from Ian.

I: Have a great night Sexy.

Mickey smirks and types back quickly

M:U too. Missing ur ass.

Three little dots signifying Ian typing back appear almost immediately and Mickey smiles to himself, pleased that Ian is wanting to talk to him, even on his big night out.

I: Miss urs more. What u doing?

M: Waiting 4 drinks. In Boystown w/ Iggy!!!!

I: No way!? Thats cool of him! Having fun?

M: Yeah. Better if you were here.

I: <3

Mickey hesitates, glances over his shoulder self-consciously and then sends back

M: <3 <3

He puts his phone back in his pocket and drums his fingers on the table top. His earlier level of drunkenness is creeping back up and he realises that he’s got a raging boner pressing against his zipper just at the thought of his fiance.

“Jesus Christ.”

Mickey mutters, spreading his legs, letting his hand casually hang down to cover himself and tries to think of things to distract his stupid dick from its hopeless mission. Looking around he sees a couple of redhead lovers making out and hastily squeezes his eyes shut tight. That ain’t gonna help. Mickey studies his hands for a moment and glances up hoping to see Mandy coming back with more beers, instead he sees Svetlana making out with some chick with a buzz cut and a short leather skirt. Svetlana is grinding up against the woman and rocking her hips suggestively in time with the music.

“Oh thank fuck!”

Mickey sighs in relief and watches them kiss until his body is completely back under his control. He wonders how pissed Svetlana would be to know that he just used her to lose an erection he didn’t want. The thought makes him grin and he practically cackles in delight at the thought of telling her next time she annoys him. Tonight is awesome!  

Iggy reappears a few minutes later with glow sticks, a tub of florescent body paint and missing his shirt. At Mickey’s questioning frown, Iggy waves the tub at him happily

“Traded it for this! Paint me up, bro!”

Mickey takes the little tub of pink paint and curls his lip disdainfully as Iggy puffs out his chest, hands on hips.

“You traded a shirt for this shit?”

“Everyone’s wearing it! Do me, then do you.”

“Pink ain’t my colour man.”

Mickey shakes his head and dips his finger into the paint.

“Yeah well it’s gonna be mine! Make it all trippy and shit, like swirls and stuff ...”

“Uh huh…”

Mickey nods and helps Iggy do a few swirls and dots. The stuff does actually look pretty fricken’ sweet when it dries. Iggy dips his index fingers into the tub and swipes the paint in two high stripes beneath his eyes.

“Do my back!”

Iggy orders and Mickey tongues his lip impatiently. He dabs a few more swirls onto Iggy’s broad back and then gets bored.

“I can feel you slowing down! Just do something fuckin’ big and stop being a bitch.”

Iggy grins over his shoulder and Mickey’s eyebrows touch his hairline and he is about to shove the paint back into Iggy’s hands and tell him to paint his sweaty, gross back himself when he gets a better idea.

“Okay, done.”

Mickey nods and claps Iggy’s shoulder

“Cool! Okay I’m gonna go score us some more coke. Back in a bit.”

Mickey nods and watches Iggy navigate through the crowd, a giant, glowing pink cock running up his spine and erupting in a shower of swirling pink jizz at the base of his neck.

*

Mandy does a double take as Iggy weaves past her. Laughing, she wonders who the hell did that to him until she sees Mickey using his front camera to dab awkwardly at his face with the same paint.

“Hey! Picasso! Iggy’s gonna kill you!”

She yells, putting down the drinks. Mickey answers her with a wide cheeky grin and hands her the paint pot.

“Can you do me?”

“Cock or no cock?”

“Bitch, if you paint a dick on me ...”

Mandy waves off the last of the unfinished threat with a giggle and gestures for Mickey to sit.

“Check you out getting into your party!”

“Yeah. Thanks by the way.”

“No problem.”

Mandy is utterly relieved that Mickey is having a good time. Neither of them have ever had a birthday party or anything like this before and she just wanted it to be right for him.

“Have you seen Svet?”

“Muff diving a skin head.”

Mandy rolls her eyes but it doesn’t really matter. Mickey and Svetlana get on okay but she knows Mickey isn’t really going to care whether she actually hangs out with them or not. It’s enough that she came.

“Iggy’s getting some coke.”

“Cool! I’ll stick with my version!”

Mandy lifts her cola bottle and winks at her brother who grimaces

“Sure you don’t want me to find the fucker who knocked you up and knock his teeth out?”

He yells over the music and Mandy scrunches his hair in mock annoyance before smoothing it back.

“I’m getting you a dance!”

“What?”

“I’m getting you a DANCE!”

“No … Hey! Mand … Fuck!”

Mickey watches her go with mounting horror. He’s pretty fucking trashed but he’s not that trashed, not even close and Mickey realises that the only way to avoid having some Twinks junk shoved in his face is to disappear. He can see the tip of a familiar fluorescent penis a few paces away and lunges, grabbing Iggy’s arm and dragging him into the booth.

“You’re getting a dance! Don’t fuckin’ move!”

“Right on! I want a Bear! Get me a big guy!”

Iggy spreads his arms welcomingly and Mickey takes his opportunity to run.

*

Ian watches as Mickey darts into the crowd and tried to follow his movements but the smaller man is quickly swallowed in the throbbing mass of dancers. He wants to follow but Lip is pulling at his sleeve and Ian allows his eyes to turn reluctantly to his brother.

“Your present is here!”

“My what?”

“Your present! Your stripper!”

“Oh fuck!”

Ian rolls his eyes but grins lopsidedly as Lip and Kev push and pull him back onto a couch. Ian looks around for the college kid trying to earn some extra cash. All of a sudden, two powerful thighs are straddling Ian’s lap and he looks up at the beautifully built man above him.

“Hey babe. I’m Steve!”

“Ian!”

Lip answers for his brother who is struck momentarily speechless. The guy is built like a boxer, maybe thirty-five years old, with dark eyes and a shock of jet black hair swept back. He has tattoos up his arms and when he turns around, there is another peeking out of the sequin trunks. Ian closes his eyes and tries to guess what the illustration on the perfect, muscular ass might be.

V, Fiona and Debbie are all cheering and Kev is watching with a calculating fascination but all Ian can do is grip the faux leather seat pat beneath his thighs and pray that he doesn’t humiliate himself entirely.

“You can touch if you want to, beautiful.”

Steve’s voice is soft, but not South Side – not even Chicago. He sounds Southern or certainly heading towards that way. Ian shakes his head softly

“It’s my bachelor party.”

Steve gives him a nod of understanding and Ian settles back to watch him, feeling better about the whole thing. Once upon a time he would have loved this, but at best all he can say is that he doesn’t really mind it. Maybe it is all the horrible shit that has gone down the last few weeks, maybe it is just that he is truly committed to Mickey and their relationship now, but whatever it is, Ian doesn’t really want anything that Steve has to offer. Yes, he is gorgeous (Ian had heard Lip say something about being ‘like a tonk version of Mickey’) but he wasn’t Mickey and so Ian just didn’t have that much interest.

All the same, he tips heavily and grins lasciviously at all around him as if he has just had the treat of his life.

“Wanna ride the bull next?”

Lip asks, nodding toward one of the back rooms and Ian shrugs. He’s heard of the famous mechanical bull of boys town, a way to show off your wears all in the name of ‘good fun’ and most who ride it are looking for something more than a round of applause. On the other hand, it’s his party and Steve has hashed his buzz a little, so Ian figures he could do with livening up and he’s pretty sure he’ll look hot as Hell on it and if Mickey happens to see then maybe they can sneak off after ...

“Sure! Why not?”

He grins and hops on Lip’s back pointing dramatically onward

“Let’s go!”

He glances around for Mickey as he makes his way through the crowd and at one point swears he sees a guy wearing Mickey’s shirt but tells himself not to be ridiculous – plenty of guys wear button downs like that, it doesn’t mean it’s Mickeys.

“Holy fuck!”

Lip stops so suddenly Ian walks into the back of him with a soft thud. He is about to ask what is going on when he sees what it was that caused Lip’s freeze.

Beneath the pulsing blue and white lights, hips writhing and hands locked behind his head, Mickey Milkovich is riding the bull.

He isn’t just riding it.

He. Is. Riding. IT.

Ian feels his dick leap in his pants, so startling in it’s immediacy that it actually makes him gasp. He has never seen his boyfriend look so fucking sexy.

His teeth are set in his lip in concentration and his eyes are closed, biceps bulging out of a sleeveless Hawaiian shirt that he definitely did not own when the night started.

“What is it with him and those shirts?”

Lip yells over the music and although it is a question Ian would also like an answer too, his mouth is far too dry to try and speak. Mickey’s got body paint across his face, chest and arms in a series of neat patterns that make it look like his is glowing from within and in a way, that is exactly what he is doing.

Ian’s eyes trail down Mickey’s body, to his hips which are moving in ways that make Ian swear that first thing in the morning he is buying a full length mirror for their room and setting it up next to the bed. And further down, to his thighs, each thick with muscle gripping the plastic sides of the bull with a force that has several nearby men palming their pants and looking very, very fucking interested in just how much static force those isometrics can create. Even Lip is looking grudgingly impressed.

“I can see why you look so happy sometimes.”

He yells up at Ian who thumps him playfully on the arm.

Ian is about to say something back when a movement catches his eyes and a tall, built, red-head dashes across the padded area around the bull and leap frogs up behind Mickey, wrapping his hands around is waist and moving in perfect rhythm.

“Oh fuck!”

Ian looks round wildly for a bouncer, Mickey is having an amazing night and some asshole is about to ruin it by pissing him off and getting the shit kicked out of his grabby ass.

“Lip, do something! Mickey’s gonna fuckin’ kill that prick!”

Ian cries but Lip shakes his head and nods back to the bull.

“Seems okay to me.”

Ian whirls back to face the bull and jealousy floods his mind. Mickey is not beating the shit out of the guy, he’s leaning back into him, a small smirk on his lips and letting the guy bend him forward slightly …

Ian is moving before he has fully realised what he is about to do. He yanks the redhead off and his fist connects with fashionably stubbled jaw sending him sprawling backwards. He is dimly aware of Mickey calling his name, Lip pulling at his arms and the leap-frogger trying to crawl away but more than anything, Ian is aware that someone was trying to violate what is his.

“IAN!”

Tattooed fingers grip the fabric of his shirt and push him backwards, Ian’s heel catches on one of the safety mats and they crash over backwards together. Mickey lands on Ian’s chest with a soft ‘OOF!’ and Ian wraps his arms around him tightly.

“You’re okay. You’re okay Mick.”

He mumbles into the dark hair beneath his lips, squeezing Mickey’s arms as he slowly comes back into himself and the room around him.

“I know I am! What the fuck you playing at?”

Mickey pushes himself upright and runs a hand through his hair, looking around them. No one is staring, fights are not uncommon, and Lip seems to be smoothing things over with the security guard. The would-be suitor seems to have dragged himself away to lick his wounds or find someone to lick them for him and even the bull is still.

“What the fuck was that?”

“He was touching you and then he bent you forward like ...”

Ian shakes his head and presses his lips together.

“Hey. Hey fuck it man, it’s okay. I wasn’t in any trouble but its nice to know you got my back.”

Mickey lifts his lips in a small smirk and ruffles Ian’s hair.

“I’m sorry I spoiled it for you. Jesus. You looked really hot too.”

“What?”

“You looked really …”

The music swells as Ian wrinkles his nose in annoyance.

“BATHROOM?”

He bellows and Mickey nods, offering him a hand up.

*

The bathroom wasn’t much quieter but once Ian had them walled inside one of the tiny cubicles, the outside world felt at least a little muffled.

“You okay?”

Mickey asks as soon and Ian sits down on the toilet seat and pulls Mickey onto his lap, burying his head in the shorter man’s chest. He laughs a little at the question. So typical of Mickey to worry about Ian first.

“Yeah. Fuck. I’m so sorry, Mick.”

“Don’t worry about it. He had about two inches left of wandering hands before I did it myself.”

Mickey grins and kisses the top of Ian’s head.

“Did you enjoy your dance from that gorilla guy?”

“You saw that?”

Mickey raises an eyebrow

“I saw the beginning of it but uh … I’m kind of jealous. Figured it’d be best if I didn’t stick around.”

Ian laughs and rolls his eyes

“Turns out I’m a jealous fucker too.”

“Comes from a good place, man. You sure you’re okay?”

Ian nods. He doesn’t want to get into the weird feeling that crept over him so suddenly when that guy was manhandling Mickey but somehow he knows that Mickey gets it. Even calling it a good place, when they both know there was probably a lot of dark shit at play. That’s the thing with Mickey and Ian, when one of them is lost, the other one always gets it.

“You wanna go dance?” “You serious? Mickey Milkovich asking me to dance in a club?”

“Alright. Fuck you, go dance by yourself...”

Mickey pretends to get up and Ian tugs him down with a noise of distress.

“Hang on! First you need to tell me where you got that shirt.”

Mickey grins cheekily and thumbs his bottom lip

“Arm wrestled for it.”

“Why?”

Ian laughs

“Cause it’s sexy and I like the colours.”

“Fuckin’ weirdo.”

Ian kisses Mickey, both of them smiling into the warmth of it.

After a minute Mickey gets off Ian’s lap, dropping to his knees and working at the belt buckle holding up Ian’s pants.

“Fuck dancing. I can think of something better to do ...”