#ever since i learned what away-jerseys were i was like “fuck i have to draw them again but correct”

[avocadoraisin]

I love Youppi he is friend-shaped to me

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 6)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader  / Topper x Female!Reader  

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Swearing, mild smut, fluff, angst, mentions of abuse (wow a lot) 

Part Summary: The aftermath of the bonfire is pushing you to your limit. Meanwhile, JJ is slowly losing himself in his grief. 

Masterlist

You and Topper meet your friends at the Ocean Club for lunch as arranged over text after the chaos at the Boneyard. You, Rafe, Rhett, Kelce, and Topper are all gathered around the table on the patio of the club. Despite looking put-together, you're all discombobulated in the head. All of your Kook friends are startled, to say the least by the events. More than half of them have never been close to a gun and all of them share a hatred of Pogues.��

Your brother Rhett invited his "friend" Crystal.  She's been fawning after him since their freshman year. They hooked up one time and she was practically picking out an engagement ring. She hangs around Rhett, Rafe, and all of their friends, hoping one of them would show a slight bit of interest. Her bottle black hair and bottle tan scream more New Jersey than OBX, but she throws on a Lily Politzer dress calls herself a Kook. She's always been low-key intimidated by you and envious even. She wants your title of the Princess of the OBX, but she struggles to get past being an associate. In summary, Crystal thinks acting like a stuck-up brat is how to be a Kook. She's delusional.

"Last night was unreal,” Kelce exhales deeply as he leans back in his chair. 

“You know how Pogues can be,” Topper remarks bitterly, placing his arm across your shoulders. 

"Where were you last night?" Rafe questions your brother from down the table. 

"My dad had me in Charleston on business," Rhett explains with a roll of his eyes. 

Crystal places her hand on Rhett's arm, giving it a supportive squeeze. The sight nearly makes you gag. Never in a million years will you call her your sister-in-law. 

"Lucky you," Kelce chuckles. 

"Yeah you really dodged a bullet," Rafe makes a pun. 

"Nice Rafe," Topper nods his head slowly, giving his friend a disapproving look. 

You toss around bits of lettuce around your salad, not exactly hungry. You wouldn't be here right now if Topper didn't already say you two were coming. It's not that you dislike your friends. You just don't feel like a review of last night and a Pogue roast session. Topper notices your lack of voice and interest in the group. He rubs his thumb over your shoulder, gaining your attention. You offer him a weak smile, your mind elsewhere. 

“At least Maybank has what’s coming to him. Apparently, the police are looking for him," Crystal announces to the table. 

Your fork slips from your hand accidentally, causing everyone to stare at you. “Wait, what?!" You glance between the girl and Topper to see if it's true. Topper doesn't react despite seeing your worried expression. Did Topper already know this? Did he not tell you? 

Rafe frowns at your reaction and his flicker to Topper before he answers. “Yeah, people told their parents what happened and the parents reported the incident to the police," he explains hesitantly. 

"As they should!” Crystal adds with a scoff of disgust, wearing a smug expression. “Who knows what that good-for-nothing white trash would’ve done to us if given the chance!" She justifies from across the table. 

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up, Crystal!” You snap. 

Everyone's jaws drop, astounded that such a vile sentence could come from your lips. 

“Ugh! Excuse me?!” Crystal gasps. 

You lean forward in your chair, turning your body to face the entitled girl. 

“What? Are you deaf all of a sudden?" You wear a mocking grin. "Wouldn’t be surprised with your big loud fucking mouth going constantly!” 

“What’s up your ass Whitfield?!” She fires back, drawing the attention of some other patrons. 

“Your piece of shit attitude!” You bark. 

"Ohh," Kelce drags out. 

"Wow," Rafe struggles to hide his amusement. 

Topper places a warning hand on your shoulder which you shake off. 

“Why are you defending him? He pulled a gun on Topper! On you!” Crystal reminds you in a shout. 

“I know that, Genius! Considering I was on the other side of said gun!” You hiss between your teeth. 

“Then what possible justification is there for what he did?" She huffs. "JJ Maybank is insane! A trash Pogue!” 

You slap your palms against the table, making everything raddle. “No, he’s not!” 

"Y/N!" Your brother warns. "Remember where you are!" 

You don't give a shit about where you are! If this girl continues to run her mouth, you're going to do a lot worse than yell. 

“What? What is it about him, huh?" Crystal presses with a wicked smirk. "A charity thing? Wealthy guilt? Rooting for the underdog?” 

“Crystal!” Rafe barks her name defensively. 

“What?” The girl giggles. "It's true, isn't it? She's got a thing for the bottom feeder!" 

“Back off!” Topper warns her, finally backing you up. He may agree with her, but once she starts making digs at you he doesn't hesitate to put her in her place. 

Then, a lightbulb snaps on in her head. “Oh wait... or is it that you have the hots for him? Have you officially run out of guys on this side of the island? You a Pogue whore now?” She laughs mockingly. 

Having enough of her, you impulsively pick up your full glass of white wine and toss it in her face. She gasps as the liquid covers her, her mouth in the shape of an "O." The boys' jaws hit the table as all they can do is watch you toss your drink at her white tube top. 

"Y/N!" Topper utters your name in shock. This is nothing like you. You never lose your cool. You're always the calm and put together one of your friends. 

"You bitch!" Crystal nearly cries. "This is designer!" 

You groan, tossing your head back. "Oh my God! Get over yourself!" 

“JJ Maybank should be sent to jail with his dad and if he rotted in there I doubt anyone would miss him!” Crystal remarks with a snarky smirk. 

That's it! Without a second thought, you fly up from your chair, causing it to toss backward onto the floor. You leap across the full table, reaching your arms out for the girl. Kelce and Rafe move out the way as Crystal screams. Glasses and silverware fall off the table onto the wood-paneled floor patio floor. Topper moves quickly to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you back, but not before you get a good slap across her face. 

“Woah, Woah, Woah there!” He pants, struggling to get a good hold on you. 

“Let me go!” You scream, wiggling in his arms. 

“Nope, not letting you get arrested today,” he grunts, stepping backward away from the table. 

“You crazy whore!” Crystal yells, holding her cheek. 

 “You’re calling me a whore? That’s ironic considering your name is Crystal! You were practically named for the corner, bitch!” You fire back, tossing up your middle fingers at her while Topper drags you toward the exit. 

“Damn!” Kelce laughs, covering his mouth to hide it. 

You don't care who's watching. Crystal had this coming a long time ago and she's pushed your patience to its limit the moment she touched JJ. She'll know now to never speak of him. 

“Fuck you, Y/N!” Crystal screams one last time. 

Rhett grabs her arm, quietly begging for her to stop. He's certainly pissed at your impolite actions and will likely run to tell your parents. 

“No thanks! I’m not into insecure, loudmouth, prostitutes!” You snap out one final dig before Topper gets you out the door. 

You never noticed Pope cleaning a table just yards away, you were pretty preoccupied. He watched in awe as you quite literally flew across the table and slapped a girl because she spoke wrongly about JJ. After Pope saw you with Topper, he wasn't sure what to think. He was just as confused by your relationship as JJ. The turn of events he's just witnessed sealed the deal in his mind, you're in love with JJ, whether you know it or not. 

________________________________

After his shift at the Club, Pope immediately went to John B's, knowing that's where his friends would be waiting to go out on the HMS Pogue. 

“You guys! You’ll never believe what happened at work today!” He rushes out as he jogs down the dock. 

“All the Kooks got swallowed up by the ocean?” JJ remarks bitterly in a grumble as he lounges on the front of the boat in his swim trunks

“No!” He pants as he slows to a stop. “Y/N and Crystal got into this huge fight!” 

“What?!” John B gasps. 

“What do you mean? Is she okay?!” Kiara questions as she helps Pope onto the boat. 

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine, but it was insane!" Pope laughs in amazement. 

“What about?” Sarah inquires, eager to learn more. 

“JJ!" Pope explains with the utmost enthusiasm. "Crystal was talking shit and the next thing I know Y/N throws her drink in her face and jumps at her. She slaps the hell out of her! Topper literally had to carry her out!” 

“Holy shit,” John B mutters, wide-eyed. 

“God I would’ve paid big bucks to see that,” Kiara chuckles. 

“I can’t even envision Y/N doing something like that,” Sarah shakes her head in disbelief. 

“I know, she’s usually so polite, calm, civilized," Kiara lists. 

“You should’ve seen her guys. It was so badass. Lesson learned, don’t piss of Y/N!" Pope settles down on the bench beside Kiara. 

“It was over me?” JJ finally voices quietly. 

Pope hums. “Crystal wouldn’t stop and Y/N told her to “shut the fuck up.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard Y/N swear,” Sarah admits. 

 “That’s because she rarely does,” John B adds. 

“So she’s not pissed at me?” JJ questions, his tone steady and expressionless. 

“Based on how she was going to claw a girl’s eyes out in your defense, I vote no,” Pope determines. 

JJ stands up in a rush, moving to hop down into the boat. “Well, where did she go after that? Did Topper take her home or did she-" 

“She went looking for you,” you call out from the opposite end of the dock. 

Everyone's heads snap in your direction. All of their eyes are wide with surprise. They all smile, honestly glad to see you. JJ, however, just stares blankly with an unreadable reaction. 

“Hi JJ,” you greet timidly, doing your best to smile but you fall short. 

The boy never breaks his eye contact with you as he jumps off the boat. He marches toward you and you're not sure what to expect. You haven't spoken since last night and you wouldn't exactly call that a conversation. "What do you want? Come to gloat?" He sasses. 

“Okay, that’s our cue!” John B announces, starting up the engine. 

“Yep! We'll catch you guys later!” Pope rushes out. 

“Good to see you Y/N!” Sarah adds.

The Pogues desert JJ, leaving you two to work out your problems. JJ doesn't even turn around or react in the slightest as John B hurries the boat away. An ounce of you wonders if it's because he wants to stay, to talk to you. 

Your eyes flicker down to his chest and torso. The bruises you saw last night as a tad more healed, but still, look awful. Now that his body is more exposed, you start to notice more marks and cuts all over his arms, chest, ribcage. The sight makes your heart sink. Without thought, you place your hand on JJ's stomach. "Did Top do this?" You worry. JJ's muscles clench under your touch. The feeling of your fingertips glide across his bare torso makes him go weak in the knees. 

"No, got into a fight with a bobcat. You should see the bobcat," he smirks slightly, making light of the situation. 

Your face falls as your eyes meet his. "Don't joke-" 

"Sorry!" He steps back. "Can't take you seriously when everything you say is a lie," he scoffs. 

Your brows scrunch together in confusion. "What are you even saying right now?!" 

"It was all bullshit!" He snaps. "All of it! Everything you said! You're no different than the rest of them!" He exhales deeply, taking a moment to stare at you. He immediately regrets yelling considering how guilty he felt after what he did last night. Yet, JJ's hurt and he's pent up these emotions for days now. They're driving him nuts. "You lie, cheat, you take what you want when you want it no matter the consequences or who you hurt!" 

"I never lied to you, JJ!" You defend, equally as passionate as him. "Every fucking word was true!" JJ's brows rise slightly at your use of language. It appearing so foreign coming from your mouth. You sigh, "Jesus, JJ you can be so oblivious sometimes!" You turn on your heels, marching back down the dock toward the yard. 

"At least I'm not playing both sides of the fence! I know what I want and where I belong!" JJ fires. 

You whip your head over your shoulder and stomp back toward him. "You freaking psycho!" 

"Psycho! How am I a psycho?" JJ laughs, astonished. 

"You pulled a gun!" You remind him. 

"He was drowning me, Y/N!" JJ screams, getting in your face. You swallow hard. Despite the intensity of your arguing, you can't help but feel a rush of satisfaction having JJ so close again. JJ looks to the side, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "I'm not gonna be your little plaything while you wait on Topper of all people to fuck you again," he shakes his head, meeting your gaze again. "I won't do it." 

Your lips part, not believing the words coming from him right now. "Fuck you, JJ," you hiss between your teeth before turning again to walk away. JJ stays where he is and watches you stomp away. A part of him wants to beg you to stay, the other tells himself that you deserve everything he's saying. 

You come to a slow stop as your mind races. You're Y/N Whitfield, you don't have to take this shit, especially from JJ Maybank of all people. You spin on your heels and JJ glances up as you do. "For someone so smart you're an idiot!" You clench your jaw. "Topper is my best friend, that's it!" You reason. "Whatever Sarah told you, that was before I met you! He could never be you!" 

JJ simply stares at you blankly. The silence kills you. One minute he won't shut up and the next he stands there like an idiot. 

"The way I feel when I'm with Topper..." you sigh, unsure how to describe it. You're not entirely what to call it. "It's comfortable, sure, but it's not anything glorious. There's no excitement there, just a sense of security from knowing each other for so long." You hesitate to continue, but since you'll probably never speak again, you might as well lay everything out on the table right? "You don't even have to touch me, your glance is enough to make me feel alive. When I went to bed, I thought of you. When I woke up, I thought of you. You're... you're it for me, JJ. I can't imagine there's anything better than when I'm with you. But... I guess we already fucked it up didn't we?" 

There's a pause between shots and you prepare to walk away from JJ forever. Then, something in him sets off and he starts rushing up to you. Startled, you begin to shuffle back. 

"What are you doing?" You question, placing a hesitant hand up. 

"Showing you how much of an idiot I really am," he replies swiftly as he brings his hands up to cup your face. 

He pauses for a second, looking at you with hooded eyes. You lose all capability of breathing, melting into his hands. You glance down at his parted lips, waiting for what's next. JJ smashing his lips to yours hungrily. Without hesitation, you reciprocate the action, combing your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck.

 You meant every word. Being with Topper can be great and there's so much history there. Yet, being with JJ is entirely different. It's new. It's organic. It's what keeps you awake at night in the best way. You imagine exploring every inch of his body and never letting go. 

JJ breaks from you, pressing his lips to your forehead as his eyes fall shut. "I'm so sorry, Baby, for everything!" He whispers against your cheek before planting a kiss there. 

"Me too," you reply. 

He pulls back, meeting your gaze. "I don't think you're a slut." 

You laugh, "I sure hope not!"  

"You're too good for me," he shakes his head as he still wonders if this is all in his imagination. 

"Quite the opposite actually," you debate. 

"No, don't say that." He shakes his head frantically, hating it when you speak badly about yourself. "You're everything to me!" 

You place your hands over his on your cheek and plant a kiss on his palm, making JJ totally simp for you. 

"Do you... would you maybe wanna have a little hot tub night?" The boy asks nervously, still kinda unsure of himself when it comes to you. 

"I'd love that," you smile, wanting to spend every moment with him from this day forever. 

_____________________________

Settling in the hot tub, JJ tugs at the rim of your panties, pulling you to sit across his lap. You drape your arms on his shoulders, resting your forehead against his. 

"Are you warm enough?" He whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

Hum as your eyes falls shut, pondering the closeness. 

"You're so soft and warm. You're like a human Pillow Pet," he comments with a slight snicker. 

"Excuse me?" You lift your head to look at him. 

"Minus the furry part," he elaborates. 

"You're such a goof." You laugh, placing your palm against his head and pushing it away playfully. 

"Only for you, Baby," JJ grins. 

You place a quick peck on his lips before shifting to move off of his lap. 

JJ pouts, letting out a minor whine. "Uh uh, don't leave." 

"I'm just grabbing my drink," you giggle at his childlike expression. As you take a sip from your beer, you can feel JJ watching you. You glance over your shoulder and sure enough, his eyes remain locked on your ass. "You're starring," you smirk. 

"You bet your amazing ass I am," he mumbles, reaching across the water and grabbing your ass, giving it a squeeze. 

"JJ!" You gasp, swatting his hand away. 

He tilts his head back, exposing his sharp jaw as he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you back to him. "Couldn't help myself! It was practically begging for a squeeze." 

"Right..." You nod, straddling his lap. 

As an act of retaliation, you press your palm to the center of his boxers, making the boy jolt lightly from surprise. 

"Holy shit," he swallows hard. 

"Couldn't help myself, it was practically begging for it," you smirk, repeating his words. 

"You're too good to be true," he whispers, bringing his lips closer to yours. 

"Dido," you grin, leaning in to kiss him. 

_____________________

After pondering the bliss of you and JJ finally being reunited in the hot tub, you two make dinner together in the Chateau's kitchen. You two move in sync as you prepare the oh-so-difficult meal of pizza rolls. You share a place of them while cuddling watching Goonies. During it, JJ comes up with the idea that you two should be Andy and Brand for Halloween. It makes you smile and all warm inside to hear him making plans for two months from now. It makes you fully realize how much JJ sees a future with you. Somewhere before Goonies was over, you fell asleep in JJ's lap while he was playing with your hair. The last few days have worn on you emotionally, mentally, and physically. 

The Pogues came home and when they saw you and JJ on the couch, especially you, they quietly stayed outside. Except, John B lingered, smiling at the sight of his friend doting on you. He's never seen JJ be so gentle and patient in his life. 

“You’re different with her," John B whispers not to wake you. 

JJ glances up from observing you look at his friend with a satisfied smirk. “She makes me want to be better." His fingers comb through your Y/H/C locks, utterly content. 

“I think she’s really good for you,” John B nods in agreement.  

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to change, to be worthy of being with her," JJ confesses quietly as he returns his focus to you. 

"You two deserve each other," John B assures his friend. 

"You think?" JJ wonders, still unsure of his place in your life. 

John B snickers lightly. "I mean, she did leap across a table in front of all her friends and slap a girl to defend you." 

"Yeah she did, didn't she? Pretty badass," JJ chuckles, still amazed that you did that. 

"She loves you man," John B concludes with a shrug. 

"Really?" JJ narrows his eyes with curiosity at his friend. 

"Well, it's obvious isn't it?" John B laughs breathlessly with a crooked grin. 

"I thought it was all in my head," JJ confesses with a childish fall of his lips like he just learned some overwhelming news. 

"It's not," his friend shakes his head, happy to see his friend finally have some hope. "She looks at you the same way you look at her." 

JJ's brows scrunch together and he looks up at John B. "When you and Sarah said it to each other, how did you know it was the right time?" 

"You'll know. You'll feel it," he describes confidently.  

"What if I feel it now?" JJ asks softly, glancing down at you. 

"Then say it. Say it whenever you can, as often as you can," John B advises before stepping away quietly to give you two time. 

JJ sits with your head cradled in his lap. He's not eager to join his friends around the fire outside. He's content with you here with him, whether you're asleep or not. You're enough for him. You're everything to him. 

JJ leans down, planting a kiss to your temple, then gliding his lips down to your ear. "I love you, Y/N," he whispers while you sleep.  __________________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly@cc13723things@hockeybabe87 @jolomez 

[nightwingsfantasies]

may i ask for some poly relationship w larry & sal x male reader hcs?

Ah! Of course! :) Sorry I've been taking so long school is getting to me cause of finals;-;

Warnings: Noncannon compliant (their parents aren't together, no one dies, etc), NSFW (implied teen NSFW otherwise they're out of highschool), no weird cult stuff but they still ghost hunt, more modernish (?) phones and stuff

Sal x Male Reader x Larry hcs

highschool

I think that Sal and Larry would have gotten together before you got there

Like, I say gotten together but the way they started it was literally best friends that were super hornknee and decided to have sex together

They started then developing romantic feelings for each other though

And although the sex dynamic wasn't perfect (refer to my Sal x reader NSFW fic) it was good and they loved each other

It became an on and off thing until they actually worked it out

they talked about it and decided that it was better that they stay friends until they can sort out their own sexual desires and endeavors

Sal didn't even know he could do both as a switch and verse so he wanted to just re-examine his sexual self

And Larry was okay with that

So they decided to date but just without sex for a while

Then you moved to Nockfell their sophomore year

and god were you cool

Sal was the first one to see you in the hallway

It wasn't love at first sight really

He thought you were cool and he wanted to talk to you

Then that same day he told Larry about you during lunch

"I want to talk to him I just don't know how to approach him"

"Oh, well who is it?"

Ngl Larry was kinda jealous about how flustered Sal was getting at the prospect of a new friend but then Sal pointed at you and Larry was like "Oh, okay, I get it."

So Larry just approaches you

It was kinda to tease Sal about how shy he was being

Also kinda because you looked rad as fuck

So Larry approaches you sitting at a table alone

You were actually quite chill

You were happy since no one was approaching you

You guys hit it off and ended up becoming really good friends!

So for the duration of your sophomore year and the summer of your junior year, you guys were really good pals and hung out a lot

Then Larry started developing feelings first

And he was super confused since he knew he still liked Sal, no doubt about it

So he was just super confused and conflicted because he didn’t want to break up with Sal

So during, about the first half, of all of your junior year he kept this to himself and tried to keep himself from feeling for you

Sal on the other hand already accepted his feelings, he realized it later than Larry

And he read yp on what being polygamous meant

So although there was a lot of confusion at first he figured it's no different from people in love triangles

He realizes it a couple weeks after Larry and decides to bring this up to Larry during winter break

The conversation pretty much just went like Sal explaining polyamory to Larry for an hour

They end up deciding to just wait a bit and try to flirt with you individually

you know,

because they don't remember that you don't know they're attracted to you at this point

:)

So basically you think that they're both trying to cheat on each other for the week they're flirting with you

At the end of that week, you tell them to meet you together

And they don't know any better than to meet you

And then you come to them, don't let them explain, and cry because you don't want two of your best friends to cheat on each other like this even though you like them

And then they realize why you're saying this

So although this was not the time they expected to confess to you they told you what they were trying to do

So you just sat there

With these two idiots

and told them "No guys, cause I was literally having a breakdown about losing my two best friends."

And they confess to you

and everything is emotional and raw and you accept

Your guys' dynamic doesn't change because you’re dating now

The only difference is you guys make out together and show lots more pda

although you always bring up what they did when they were trying to give you hints

"We just really wanted to flirt with you okay??? Is it such a crime to want your crush to fall for you???"

"When you guys don't explain you're looking to expand your relationship, yes. Yes, it is Larry."

"He's kind of right babe-"

"SAL-"

Y'all spend a lot of time communicating with each other on stuff like that now

Your senior year goes without any bumps between all of you and you then graduate

College Dynamic

so you and the gang (except Ash, she moves to the city of course) goes and makes a college house

once you all move in together there it's a new routine

You all agreed and talked about the move together and what it would entail

And then you all finally realized how different it was from a monogamous relationship it was

But you all had your learning curves within the relationship

You find out more about their dynamic as a couple

For example, Larry and Sal never liked to fall asleep without you anymore

They had trouble sleeping without you beforehand and the first time you all slept in the same bed together it was just... so... peaceful

They'll spoon and cuddle without you individually (Sal is always the big spoon with Larry)

but they just love falling asleep next to you

They also refuse to do homework without you there

Even if it's just the simplest this they're just gonna need to have you in the room to finish it

Sal likes to make songs about you guys

He records them and edits some but he never lets you two listen to them

"It's just embarrassing if you two were to listen to it. It's like confessing my love for you guys all over again except I can't hide behind the mask."

So until he decides to release his songs online or plays those at gigs he's never going to let you listen to them

Larry likes to paint you guys

His paintings of you before the "disaster confession" were okay, it just looked like he was making a painting of a friend, except for the occasional rose

But now he paints you and draws you two whenever he can

He finds it funny how flustered you and Sal get whenever he makes suggestive paintings or sketches of you two

One time he painted a whole sex portrait of you and Sal together (A 12 by 28 specifically) hung it upright in front of the door to your rooms and didn't tell anyone

So after you and Sal got home that day you were welcomed with Larry lounging on your bed with the giant picture of you fucking Sal next to him

It was definitely beautiful though, even if it's hard to call your nudes beautiful

"Larry Johnson, this painting, as always, masterful. Beautiful craftsmanship but please-" "-we mean this in the most loving way possible Larry-" "-STOP PAINTING OUR NUDES BABE"

He put it away to be hung up in your apartment for when you all move out

Non-College Life

Once you all finish college you guys move into an apartment outside of Nockfell

The minute after you and Sal leave to get food Larry puts up all his private paintings of you guys

It's funny to him

I imagine you guys moving to a really populated city

Somewhere where it's a good place for people wanting to have creative jobs but still close to Nockfell

Maybe not back to New Jersey but probably not as far as New York or LA

you guys do all the cute stuff you never got to in Nockfell together

It's not like the majority of Nockfell was homophobic, mostly just the people who went to the church

But a lot more of them didn't think that polyamory was possible

So now it's easier

It's not like you never experience any polyphobia anymore but it's easier because you're in a more open-minded place

Sal's favorite thing is to go to concerts now

And pride

He also likes coffee house dates too

Larry gets hit on a lot though whenever you guys go out anywhere though

He finds it funny how jealous you both get

Sometimes if he wants Sal to get really mad he'll play along

But most of the time he shuts it down before it begins

Sal gets hit on a lot at concerts the most though

He gets kind of awkward about it, he's not going to edge them on but he gets uncomfortable enough to just not know how to shut them down

Usually, you and Larry will just appear behind him and whisk him away

Larry likes to use it as teasing leverage for a good rough one that night but you usually make sure he's okay with it before Larry does anything

You get hit on the most casually

Here and there but there aren't really specific places

It just sort of happens

You mostly shut them down alone

But occasionally you'll have to go to Sal and Larry if they're persistent

And they'll be mean too

One of the first times you saw Sal and Larry ever legitimately get that mean was when you got hit on in a club and they both just pulled you behind them and absolutely ripped the person a new one

You guys really like to stay at home if you guys have dates though that way everyone feels included

But when you all do go around together it's always specifically for three people you never tell anyone it's a date for dinner reservations, you always make sure you go on rides everyone wants to go on at amusement parks, and hey if worse comes to worst smoking is a group activity (if you have asthma or any other breathing condition Larry makes you edibles if you really wanna do edibles with them)

Starting jobs there are tough and all but you make it off your feet

Sal ends up booking a lot of gigs and Larry's commission request skyrocket when he moves to the city and makes a blog about his art

You all get an apartment with affordable rent and one that allows Gizmo

I hc that Gizmo is an esp but I don't know if that's real

So regardless you'll still be able to have room for him

Sal proposes to both of you

You guys talked about marriage and decided that it would be easier legally to just not get married through a court

So you guys have a friends wedding and Gizmo is the ring bearer

You guys don't get a fancy venue or anything

You guys all just have a city wedding

NSFW

So, the first time you all decide to hook up it's mostly just very communicative rules beforehand

Sal is more comfortable with being fucked than fucking someone else at most times but "It's not like I never want to stick my dick in you two" as he puts it

He also likes background music on most of the time

It's kinda weird if there isn't just a little bit of music

It isn't really bothersome, you guys keep it below 20 at most times

Sal's also super submissive

He liked it rough, make him cry out for you two

A bit of a pillow prince

Especially enjoys being tied up by you two

gags and blindfolds are on the table

Although whenever he does feel up to fucking you and Larry he'll usually end up having you two ride him because he gets to be such a mess with you two unless he's jealous or upset

Usually, when he's upset he's gonna lift you two up and fuck you against the headboard or wherever you two are if he's impatient enough

One time you were chilling with Larry in your bedroom and he was painting over his easel

Sal burst through the door where it slammed back on itself and closed itself

He then tracks his eyes on you

immediately asks you "Can I please fuck you right now"

and as soon as your safe word and consent comes out of your mouth he's holding you down on the bed and fucking into you so hard you can barely breath

Larry doesn't mind it and just continues painting with you moaning and being so pathetic in the background of his music

He kinda finds it funny because before you all got together and he and Larry would angry fuck it never worked out

Sal was just being a brat most of the time because Larry still wouldn't let him fuck him submissively

Speaking of which, Larry's more comfortable with being dominant, he'll bottom but only if he can still be dominant otherwise forget it

Larry's just a rough fucker anyway

He really likes pushing and holding you two up against walls when he fucks you guys

He likes showing off the muscles he got helping his mom with handy work and stuff like that

The first time he did this was to Sal when you were studying in your guy's room

You said you didn't really wanna participate today so they fucked like they would without you

And so they're talking back and forth, teasing each other

and Larry corners him

And just

lifts him up

It looked like he was just lifting a bag of sugar up

Sal seemed weightless as Larry just rocks into him

It was one of the hottest things you'd seen at the time so you joined them

You do that a couple more times but then it just becomes normal and you decide you need to start finishing all those assignments

Larry does that to you one on one as well without Sal but it happens to Sal a lot more spontaneously

Larry though is kinkier than Sal in some respects

He'll try anything at least once "Lisa didn't raise no bitch-"

He's really into breeding and long fucking sessions though

Like, lowkey he has omegaverse fantasies

Not because of the weird stuff just because a lot of the time..... they have breeding written in

He'll never admit to reading any of it but you know he has at least once

Super into dirty talk

And he's really good at it

He also had a praise kink and a degradation kin

He likes degrading you and you telling him thank you and how good he's treating a filthy little brat like you

"What're my filthy little brats good for other than sucking my dick so well. Taking me so well like the dirty little whores you are?"

"Yes sir-" "-we're made for your big cock-" "-thank you for fucking us like this-"

He especially likes breeding you and having Sal suck you off while he does it, he finds your crying cute

And an added bonus is rewarding Sal after for it

You guys talk about long-term consent and all that and decide that it's a good idea, you all trust and love each other so there isn't a problem

lol this kinda went to shit at the end but I still like it enough! Thanks for the Sally Face request I really like this game and the dynamic between a poly reader hc :)

-Laika

[ajbwasntwriting]

To Serve and Protect (Bucky Barnes x Police!Fem!Reader)

the twd obsession has been interrupted since I’ve started watch TFATWS and have binged bucky fics like I was 15.

Summery: - Reader is an accomplished New York officer but an old case comes back in the shape of a super soldier in need of aid.

Warnings: - Light Spoilers for TFATWS, Cursing, mentions of Human Trafficking, flirty Bucky(kind of I tried)

You had just received your second medal of honor before the blip had occurred. When you came back, you were nearly arrested for breaking into what you had known as your apartment. Luckily, the situation was under control quickly. You had family just outside the city who were willing to support you until you got back on your feet but it still felt like a kick in the gut that your home was gone and you now had to learn a bunch of new skills to do with being a cop. Most of your friends had either died during the five years or had to move out of New York, and those who remained had moved on and didn’t seem to have time for you in their lives.

At least a few of your favourite places had stayed open, including what you thought was the best pizza joint in the state. You got dinner here most nights because it hadn’t changed. The tables still wobbled, the neon sign still buzzed from overuse, and Louis the owner still kept a couple slices of your favorite pie in the back for you.

“Please tell me the back booth is free” you sighed, taking the food from Louis.

“Long day, Detective?” Louis replied.

“New partner thinks I’m an idiot.” You mumble, taking a bite from the pie and burning your tongue.

“It’s clear,” Louis said sympathetically, nodding to the far side of the restaurant.

You slid into the small booth tucked out of the way, tucking into your pizza and soda. After your first slice you noticed a carving on the table. It was your initials plus A.S. equals epic. You smiled as you remembered your previous partner Aarush Sharma. You two had been friends since you joined the force and had come to this booth almost every break hour to fill up on pizza and terrible coffee.

“Detective L/N.” A gruff voice spoke to you. Judging by the shadow he casted over you, he was a big man.

“Look if your here to buy me off or intimidate me,” you snapped, “then you can fu-” you stopped short when you looked up. You recognised the man as James Buchanen Barnes instantly. “Oh,” you sighed with relief.

“You know me?” he asked you.

“Followed the Zemo case.” you explained. He visibly tensed at the mention of Zemo. You held up your hand to calm him. “I know you’ve been pardoned.” You suddenly remembered how your conversation with the Winter Soldier had begun “wait, how do you know me?”

“I need your help,” He spoke low, just so the two of you could hear. He slid opposite you in the booth, leaning forward on the table. “Two-thousand-fifteen, August seventh you filed a report on a human trafficking ring operating out of staten island.” You began eating your second slice of pizza as he talked. “You arrested the main perpetrators, with the exception of Donnie Morris and Frank Abara. You opened an investigation on them but it went cold two months later.” You nodded along to the story. “That’s because-”

“They’re Hydra? Real names Robert Bern and Josh Smith? And the trafficking was for human experimentation?” you interrupted him. He stared at you, just about concealing his surprise. “I was a good cop.” you finished off your pizza, wiping your mouth and looking away in shame. “Was.”

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

“They threatened me.” You patted the flour off your hands and picked up your soda. “And when that didn’t work, they told my friends to stop me else their family would be hurt, so.” you slurped on your soda and stared back at him.

His piercing blue eyes were reading you like a book, pulling apart your disgust at never catching them, and trying to figure out how to use it to his advantage. He had to admit it was impressive that a normal police officer was able to get farther than he was, but you were still a normal person.

“I need to find them,” he spoke up.

“Why?” you cocked your eyebrow, soda straw still in your mouth. You had been studying his face to find any tell of malintent but the only conclusion you were drawing was that he was handsome as hell, and really good at hiding his tells.

“You don’t need to know.” he retorted. You hummed with discontent.

“See, Mr. Barnes. My job is to protect and serve. Sadly, that includes assholes.” You put down the now empty soda cup and leaned forward to match his position. “And you’ve said enough for me to arrest you under suspicion of planning to commit a crime against said assholes.” His glare hardened and his jaw tightened as he stared you down. “So please answer the question, ideally in a non-incriminating way.”

He looked and huffed, sliding back a little before fixing you with his stare again, but it wasn’t long until he was looking from his hands to the window, seemingly in defeat. “Their boss is dangerous. And I’m the one that made it so.” He forced a bitter smile finally looking back at you. “I’m trying to right as many wrongs as I can but I can’t find this guy but you.” he punctuated by pointing at you with his joined hands. You caught a glint of something metal up his sleeve that you suspect was his arm. “You came very, very close. Apparently, Closer than I thought you did.”

You mulled it over in your head for a moment before reaching into your breast pocket and pulling out your notepad. “Look, I don’t know what to tell you, Mr. Barnes” You looked over the restaurant between bouts of writing, talking all the while in case people were listening. “The case is closed and the records are public so everything you know is everything I know.” You quietly ripped off the piece of paper and pocketed the notebook, picking up your trash to disguise it. He took the hint and hid the paper by putting his hands down and sliding back in the booth, seemingly in defeat. “Good night, Mr. Barnes.” you said, and walked away, depositing your trash on your way out.

Bucky sat their a moment to give you a head start before stepping out himself, piece of paper in hand. As he walked home he opened the paper.

Tomorrow Seneca Village 23:35

Bucky stood in front of the plaque, mind too busy working through every horrible thing that could happen from this little stunt. He was about to run when he heard your voice. “Hey there.”

You walked over and stood next to him, stoically in your repose. You were wearing a pair of jeans and heeled boots with a fashionable jacket and a suitcase in hand. “I don't know which of us is stupider right now.”

“You could have picked a better meeting spot.” Bucky retorted, shifting uncomfortably.

“It’s horrifying,” you commented, putting the case down, Reading over the plaque. “Over two hundred lives ruined by a couple of assholes who wanted a park. Reminds me of another couple of assholes.”

“Yeah?” Bucky replied. You stood there a moment longer, thinking if you could still go back. You bit your tongue and decided having faith was the better bet.

“Burn it when you’re done.” you shot back and walked past him.

Bucky noticed the case just outside his line of vision. He picked it up and walked away from the plaque, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible despite the case not really matching his attire.

You didn’t hear anything for a couple weeks after the impromptu meeting, having handed over every piece of evidence that had been sitting in your self storage since 2015. Each minute was spent biting your nails with stress, hoping your actions didn’t come back to bite you in the ass. Then the news came on, publicizing that Robert Bern and Josh Smith had been arrested ‘after it was discovered they were connected to a human trafficking ring in New Jersey and a former operation in Staten Island.’

“Looks like somebody did your job for you.”

“Shut up, Louis.” you quip back at him, nursing a terrible cup of coffee. The restaurant was near empty aside from yourself, Louis, a trio of loud drunk women in the corner and a homeless man who had scraped cents together to buy a slice of pizza. The TV above the kitchen archway providing most of the ambiance.

“What’s got you in a mood?” he asked as he cleaned.

“Ever been ditched on a blind date? I get all dolled up,” you opened your coat to show a figure hugging dress with a low neckline, coupled with an elegant necklace. “And the asshole texts me when I’m already at the lounge saying he needs a fucking rain check.”

“Okay, well he’s an ass-”

“Right!” you exclaim.

“But you need to stop scowling before you scare off my customers.” Louis playfully chided.

“Oh, cause there’s so many of them.” you waved a hand out at the restaurant to emphasize your point. Still you leaned over your coffee to stew in your own misery. You couldn’t hear the door open over the women’s third rendition of ‘I’m every woman’ but you noticed someone slide onto the bar stool next to you. You turned your head to see Bucky looking back.

“Have I seen you here before?” Bucky said playfully.

You chuckled involuntarily and sat up on your stool. “You must be mistaking me with someone else.”

He swiveled on the stool to face you fully, leaning on the counter comfortably. “You sure?” he seemed to be playing with you, a sly smirk on his face. “Could’ve sworn I met this detective lady here who looked a lot like you.”

“Was she pretty?” You pressed, a smile now sneaking it’s way onto your face without you knowing.

Bucky looked in your eyes with a soft sincerity. “Incredibly,”

You laughed nervously as you looked away and into the pool of your coffee. “Was that before or after she helped you with your job.” You deflected.

“About that,” Bucky leaned onto the counter. He was still quiet good at hiding his tells but you got the impression he was nervous by the pause. “You gave me more than I needed so I was able to do better than I planned. I know how hard it can be to trust someone. I'm not sure how to thank you for that.”

“Take her on a date!” Louis yelled from the kitchen, looking at you two through the serving window. “She’s already all ‘dolled up’” Louis mocked you.

“Keep cleaning!” you shot back. “Ignore him. He’s just dripping with sympathy since I got ditched.”

“I mean,” Bucky started, you looked over and saw him staring at his hands with nerves as his thumbs tapped against each other. “I just wouldn’t know where to take you.” he admitted under his breath.

A question instantly plagued your mind and it demanded to be asked. “Have you not...since nineteen-fifty?”

Bucky nodded with pursed lips. “You can laugh.”

You smiled at the super soldier. “Right,” you announced, pushing yourself off the stool. “Come on, I know a great dive three down.”

“A dive?” Bucky asked in disbelief, but he was still smiling.

“Yep. Where they don’t give a shit who you are as long as you're buying.” You fixed your jacket with new found enthusiasm. “You are buying, right?”

“For a doll like you,” He stood up from the stool. “I’ll buy the bar.” he held the door as you both left the little pizzeria

“Oh honey, there’s nothing like me.” you said playfully as you stepped out the door.

“Then I must be the luckiest man in the world,” he flirted, offering you his arm. You slide your hand in, curling your wrist around his bicep and off you both went.

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »1

Series masterlist  » Next ▎ 18+  ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook  ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn. ▎ word count: 7.4k ▎ ch.warnings: They’re basketball boys in the school team lol, cursing, mxm, two dumb boys trying to figure their feelings, smut, anal (pls use lube irl this is fiction!), mentions of alcoholic father, some angsty feelings. Idk what else lmk, just, don’t read this if you’re sensitive to messy angsty feels, mxm smut, dumb humor & lots of cursing. A/N at the end of the post!

Taehyung didn’t know what kind of response he was expecting from Jungkook. Perhaps something like, ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, let’s forget about it.’ That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. But what he didn’t expect to read was what he received, and his body language proved that. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was locked in place. Tae ran a hand through his damp hair, repeating Kook’s words in his head. ‘But you didn’t say we should stop..’ What the fuck kind of dumbassery was that? And why wasn’t Taehyung opposed to the idea of it?

‘‘Taehyung, the hell’s wrong with you today? Get your head in the game!’’

Those same series of words kept on repeating themselves in the back of Taehyung’s busy mind, almost taunting him in a way.

Namjoon, their team captain, had made it very clear this early morning—Six o’clock, to be exact, that Taehyung was out of it, and was lazily dragging his feet across the court.

The latter knew that Joon’s only intention was to help him, but if he hadn’t bit down on his tongue, Taehyung would’ve lost his shit. 

Who the fuck thought that it was a good idea to start practice so goddamn early in the morning?

Tae was a mixture of surprise and thankful that he didn’t just fall asleep right then and there. 

Truth be told, there was a strong urge to..

Because of this, Taehyung almost regretted staying up so late into the night slashing zombies left and right, searching for ammo, yelling profanities out of anger when someone would sneak attack him—almost. He was way too invested in his gaming to truly feel any guilt.

But, much to his shock, the boy felt a sense of guilt begin to gnaw at him throughout the day, hence why he was making his way towards the familiar gym once again. This time not half-dead.

Tae knew how much this upcoming game meant to Namjoon.

As he began to get settled in, glad that he was the only one there, Taehyung casually practiced his free throws. He challenged himself to make it from different spots in the court, succeeding in most of them.

Minutes later when he was beginning to get in the groove of things, in waltzed Jeon Jungkook.

Fucking great. Just what he needed.

Tae let out a defeated sigh, meeting the other boy’s gaze for a split second before continuing with what he was doing.

“What the hell are you doing here.” It was a mumbled question, no trace of enjoyment laced in his lower tone.

Jungkook glanced at Taehyung, their eyes met for a split second as he walked in. Tae's snarky comment had Jungkook roll his tongue on the inside of his cheek with annoyance, glaring with furrowed eyebrows as he went to the opposed side of the play field. He brought his own basketball, bouncing it a few times to make sure it had enough air, "To practice, what the hell does it look like?" He scoffed before the loud echo of the basketball was the only sound coming from his end of the court.

A sour scoff originated from the back of Taehyung’s throat, whom in response to Jungkook’s presence tried to show off by shooting the basketball from a further position.

“Yeah,” The boy began, extending out his arms, “you need lots of practice, alright.”

He successfully made it into the net.

Call him childish, but the little smile tugging at the corners of his lips was getting hard to ignore..

Ever since the age of eight, when Jungkook was introduced to his group of friends, Tae enjoyed finding different ways to irk him.

From chasing him around the playground with a worm in his hand, bumping shoulders into him whenever he felt like it, to making fun of his Basketball skills.. it was amusing, he couldn’t lie.

“Hey, you.” The taller didn’t bother referring to ‘you’ by his name, “We should play against each other. You could learn a few things from me.”

Jungkook grit his teeth, dashing towards his hoop to jump up and slam dunk the basketball into the hoop, much harder than intended. He’d been working out a lot lately, and his strength was finally showing, and he couldnt wait to wipe that grin off Tae's face.

"Eat shit," he frowned, but he accepted his challenge, "Fine." He threw his ball to the side, getting ready to sprint towards him with a speed completely new to the elder. Taehyung would be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit fazed by the look of determination in Jungkook’s eyes.

This wasn’t the Jungkook he knew, who the hell was this person?

However, he wouldn’t let the younger scare him, no matter how often he tried to play the “Big Wolf”.

It was pathetic, really.

Those pretty eyes didn’t compliment that facade at all.

“Nah, I’ll pass,” Taehyung smirked, sharp eyes hooded as he studied the other’s every movement.

Tauntingly bouncing the ball in front of the younger, Tae managed to dodge the figure coming towards him and instead charged towards the opposite net. Nothing but determined to one-up Jungkook.

It was always a struggle, it didn't matter if Jungkook was stronger, Taehyung would always seem to be faster, one step ahead of the game. He quickly turned on his heels, the sole of his shoes squeaking against the floor as he sprints to catch up with Taehyung, trying his hardest to push himself to use his strength to attempt to jump in front of Tae before he'd be able to throw the ball.

Much to his dismay, Jungkook actually manages to bat the ball in a different direction midair, preventing Taehyung from scoring his shot.

Now he just feels like a dumbass..

He doesn’t stop there, though. 

Instead of backing out, Taehyung’s drive only soars through the roof. The latter wasn’t about to let Kook show him how it’s done.

He was the one in charge.

In a swift movement, after running across the court whilst dribbling the ball, Taehyung jumped up in the air and made it even.

“Back in the game, baby!” The taller cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

Time seemed to get lost the more time they spent playing against each other, and surprisingly, Taehyung didn’t seem to mind it.

Jungkooks dark curls was clinging to the sweaty skin of his face, heavy shallow breaths taken as they kept playing against one another for quite a while. It was rather fun, and it gave Jungkook the energy and drive to keep going, keep trying his best. They were both extremely skilled, so the game kept going even back and forth, the competitive tension stronger than ever--but he was getting tired.. his muscles ached, his body coated in a layer of glistening sweat.

“Getting tired already, Kook?” Taehyung playfully snarked, completely disregarding the fact that he was also drenched with sweat from running from one end to the other over and over again.

“That’s weak.” He wouldn’t admit that, though. “Come on, one last match.” The boy stated, his defined stomach on full display as he used the end of his Jersey to wipe at his face.

Not bothering waiting for an answer, Tae hoped that the challenging look in his eyes was enough to draw Jungkook in.

As he began dribbling the ball, waiting to see what the younger’s next move would be, Taehyung began charging towards the familiar net, passion evident in his face when—POW!—He tripped on his undone shoelace and fell on top of Jungkook.

“Fuck..” He hissed, feeling some minor pain emerge from his lower leg but thankfully, Kook’s body was there to act as a cushion.

After the taller managed to redeem himself (to the best of his abilities), he brought up his face from Kook’s chest to look down at the other.

Taehyung’s hands were placed on either side of Jungkook’s head, chest heaving and sweat beads streaming down his temples.

He didn’t know why, but his body wouldn’t move away from its position. It was like he was stuck there.. face so close to Jungkook’s..

Everything happened so fast that one moment Jungkook was preparing to charge towards Taehyung, and the next he was on his back on the floor, something heavy weighing him down. He opened his eyes, and they blew wide as soon as he saw the view above. Taehyung was so sweaty, and he looked... incredibly good up close. Jungkook froze, holding his breath and it felt like his heart skipped several beats, his arms laying limp above his head in such a position that had him feeling vulnerable. The tension between the two was so strong, at this point he wasn’t able to differentiate whether it was pure anger or pure lust that flowed through his entire being.

‘What the fuck is going on..?’ Taehyung asked himself, swallowing down all of his remaining questions in the shape of a strong gulp.

“Uh..” Was all he had to say, continuing to stare down at Jungkook like an intrigued weirdo, eyes skimming over the little details on the younger’s face. From the small scar on the side of his cheek, to the beauty marks perfectly placed on his skin.. Tae was infatuated.

He would never, in a million years say that out loud, but was he thinking it..

The boy wanted to say something like, “Wow, you’re even uglier up close,” but that was so far off from the truth, it would be a sin.

The heat erupting in Jungkooks body made itself known through the shade of red creeping on his cheeks, feeling himself getting flustered. Why wasn't Tae moving away? Why didnt he say something? But then again, he was completely frozen in place as well, having nothing to counter with. His lips fell open, a quiet breath escaping his lips, unable to find the words he was so desperately seeking.

Before he could tell right from wrong, Taehyung’s lips met Jungkook’s in an awkward kiss, hesitating at the start before finally gaining the courage to move them against the younger’s a little more naturally.

It was slow at first, Tae’s bigger hand cupping the side of Kook’s face, not wanting him to pull away by any means.

His thumb found itself caressing over that same scar he took notice of not too long ago, Taehyung’s own cheeks overtaken by a rosy hue.

Then, like the spell had been broken, Tae broke the kiss.

“Fuck.. uh..”

He looked like an absolute dumbass, didn’t he?

“You should use some lip balm, or something.” The boy cleared his throat, still not parting their bodies.

Something was wrong with him.

Jungkook was dumbfounded, staring at Taehyung as if he was a deer in headlights. Fuck, this was confusing. He had been struggling with how he felt towards Tae, trying so hard to suppress his feelings for him, and now feeling his lips in a kiss, his hand gently touching his cheek, it was as if all of the walls he had been building up around this enigma called Taehyung was slowly crumbling down. It was terrifying, and it clouded his thoughts, now all he could think about was the desperate need to feel those lips on his once more, "A-again..." He whispered, so quietly it was barely audible, almost hoping Taehyung wouldnt hear it.

Taehyung heard it. Clearly.

And he didn’t budge when it came to giving Jungkook what he wanted.

Tae kissed the other once more, gently sucking onto his bottom lip as if asking for entrance, for permission to take it one step further.

The older’s hand slowly traveled down to Jungkook’s waist, snaking under the boy’s Jersey, gently squeezing at the bare skin, feeling Jungkook’s sweat against the palm of his hand.

Suddenly, a drive to feel more hit Taehyung like a truck. 

Teasingly, the taller’s slender fingers brushed over Jungkook’s nipple as he stared down at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Searching for a bigger reaction, Tae squeezed on the perky bud, lightly tugging at it here and there. Meanwhile, his hooded eyes were set on studying every movement in the younger’s face.

Jungkooks parted his lips even further in a gasp, allowing the kiss to deepen. He whimpered quietly, extremely responsive under Taehyungs ministrations on his nipple. His cheeks were more than just pink now, but a shade of rosey red, his chest starting to heave up and down heavier. His entire body was aching for him to do more, anything, and he was almost ready to beg at this point, eyes pleading with tae to continue

The sight of the younger’s body reacting in such a way was enough to awaken more than just Taehyung’s inner want for more; he felt himself begin to envision what it would be like if they took it a couple steps further, Jungkook whimpering.. just like he was now, so quiet yet so loud to Tae’s ears.

By now, the tent in the latter’s shorts had made itself obvious as his fingers continued to rub over Jungkook’s nipple, pinching the tip just for the fun of it.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, hm?” The older’s already deep voice seemed to get an octave deeper. 

Taehyung finally pulled himself up from his spot on the ground, before extending out a hand for the other to take. If he wasn’t so clouded with lust, Tae would’ve been embarrassed at the fact that he had a massive boner in front of Jungkook.

But, as he led the younger downstairs, smaller hand in his, that was the least of his worries.

Jungkook nodded, eyes flickering between their joined hands and the floor as he blindly followed Taehyung to whever he'd take him. At this point, he'd go wherever for this man, his heart pounding heavily as he felt his own erection strain the fabric of his pants, lips pressed tightly together to keep his whimpers in check.

Taehyung halted in his quick steps upon reaching the familiar locker room, hand letting go of Jungkook’s as he peeked his head around, trying to make sure they were the only ones around.

Thankfully, no one else was in sight.

The older reluctantly turned back around to face Kook, hesitating on whether or not to place his hands on the latter’s waist.

At the end, he said ‘fuck it’ and needily pulled Jungkook close to him by the waist, trying so hard not to listen to the consciousnes in the back of his head..

With a bit of hesitation, Taehyung’s lips aimed for the crook of the younger’s neck, nuzzling his face into the warmth before beginning to press open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

He gently sucked on a spot, nibbling on it teasingly, wanting nothing more than to make Jungkook enjoy it just as much as he did.

“Tae...” Jungkook breathed out his name with a quiet moan, sensitive to every single touch. He places his hands palms flat on Tae’s chest, granting the man access to his neck by moving his head to the side. His needy erection grew harder, leaving little to the imagination through his basketball shorts. The aching throb between his legs was screaming for attention, however he did enjoy the slow buildup

The older, as much as he was turned on, didn’t quite know how to tackle this sudden.. urge to feel Jungkook; all of him.

Sure, he’s had sex in the past, too many times to keep track of. But he’d never gotten this close to another guy before.

It was one thing to watch gay porn, but when it actually came to showcasing what he’d seen through a screen.. it was nerve wracking.

Tae didn’t know where to begin.

The taller pulled his Jersey over his head, leaving him shirtless in front of the younger. 

He guessed that was a better start than none.

However, almost as if someone else had taken over him, Taehyung drove Jungkook’s body back against the lockers, his kissing more rough, and his leg placed in the middle of the younger’s.

Jungkooks back hit the lockers with a loud thud, a yelp drowning in his throat, muffled by Tae’s lips. His jaw fell slack, granting the man access to his mouth. His body was almost shaking, this feeling and need so overwhelming that his skin is hypersensitive to every bit of attention it receives. This was like a dream, it felt surreal, how did he end up here? What was going to happen later? His thoughts were drowned out when he felt the friction of Tae’s leg against his crotch, and he wishes so desperately to be touched, rutting subtly against his thigh.

Growing needier by the second, Taehyung pulled away from their heated kiss to undo the strings in his shorts, hands shaky as they fumbled with the fabric.

The older’s bottom lip got caught in between his teeth in concentration, overgrown fringe falling down on his eyes like a curtain; a lot of secrets hidden behind his intense gaze.

Once he was left standing in just his boxers, Taehyung’s hands now tugged at Kook’s clothing, wanting to make it even.

In the heat of the moment, a little chuckle slipped past the older’s lips, “What the fuck kind of boxers are you wearing..?”

His eyes amusingly skimmed over the patterns engraved in the soft fabric, holding back his laughter.

Jungkook frowned, his cheeks on fire as he averted Taehyungs eyes, “fuck you...” he hissed, but his voice came out weaker than he wished it did. It cracked at the end into a whine, only causing his embarrassment to grow further. He was so vulnerable like this, exposed to the man that he’s been pining for, the very man he’s been trying to suppress his emotions for, trying to hate him. But he couldn’t. His hands were clawing at Tae’s shoulders, pressing his back against the wall to get some room to breathe within the thick intensity of the moment.

If he wasn’t such at a loss for words, Tae would’ve taken this opportunity to make fun of Jungkook, but it seemed like his mouth was too dry to even utter a letter.

His gaze traveled from the younger’s dorky boxers to his small waist, then to his abs.. his chest, neck, and lastly to his face.

Suddenly, Taehyung got the confidence to speak at the sight.

“You shy, Kook?” He smirked, not failing to take notice of the splash of red dusted on his cheeks.

He looked so.. vulnerable. Taehyung wanted to jump at the chance to corrupt him.

The older parted their distance, looking down at Jungkook with so much hunger in his eyes before swiftly turning him around, pressing his bulge against the younger’s ass.

Tae’s lips hovered above the other’s shoulders, pressing more kisses onto the side of his neck as he teasingly grinded his hips into Jungkook, getting that desperate friction he needed.

''N-no, a-ah...!'' He gave up on trying to argue him, another small noise drowning in his throat when he gets turned around, placing his palms flat against the lockers, his chest pressing against the cold surface. He whimpers when he feels Tae's lips on his neck, shivers running down his spine, goosebumps appearing on his skin. If anybody saw him in this state, his whole image as a jocked bad boy would be completely ruined. But at this moment, nothing mattered. Nothing mattered more than the greedy desperation he feels for Taehyung, he couldn't be physically satiated until he got everything. Jungkook bit his lower lip to prevent more whimpers from escaping, but to no avail, his pathetic noises muffled as his hips press back against Taehyung, his plump ass rubbing against the large bulge pressing on his behind.

Even Taehyung struggled to hold back his noises of pleasure as he stared down at the way Jungkook’s ass moved against him.. 

“Fuck..” The older grunted, increasing his pace as he continued to grind against Kook, but, that wasn’t enough.

He needed more.

In one swift movement, the boy’s underwear found itself down to his ankles, his cock springing up to slap against one of Jungkook’s cheek.

Now that various of thoughts rushed into his head, 90% of them were questions.

Had the younger even been fucked by a guy before?

Was he okay with this?

Shit—Taehyung didn’t want to think about that.

So, he settled for dismissing all of his thoughts and worries. How much more different could it be?

In a hurry, Tae soon tugged at Jungkook’s boxers as well, now leaving them both naked to the eye.

Fuck, Jungkook had a nice ass.

After gulping at the view in front of him, Taehyung brought two fingers up to his mouth, coating them with his warm saliva before aligning them to the smaller’s hole.

Without thinking twice about it, the older’s digits pushed past the initial rim of muscle.

He began curl and uncurl his fingers inside of Kook, making scissoring motions as well.

“You like that?” Taehyung leaned in to breathe onto the nape of his neck, the squelching noises of his fingers now pumping in and out of Jungkook bouncing off the walls of the locker room.

Jungkook held his breath at first, his body tensing up, but as he felt the wet digits against his ass he took deep, slow breaths to relax. Slowly, as Tae thankfully worked him gently, his wet fingers warm and thick, it wasn't uncomfortable. He wasn't unfamiliar with the sensation of fingers, as he's done it to himself countless of times, but Taehyung's fingers were larger, and with the obvious fact that they weren’t his own, they reached so much farther than his own ever could. Jungkook pressed his cheek against the cold surface of the locker, whispering out 'yes' to the question thrown at him, lips fallen apart as he no longer can remain silent, a sudden high pitched whimper rolling off his lips when Tae reached a certain spot inside of him. Jungkook was surprised by himself, not aware he could even make such a lewd noise.

As a response to Jungkook’s unexpected whimper, Taehyung’s fingers only worked faster than before. He pressed them further into him, wanting to reach Kook’s deepest places in hopes of hearing more of his moans.

The younger was so fucking tight; his cock couldn’t wait to get a taste of it.

After a few more minutes of Taehyung stretching him out, adding in an extra finger or two.. massaging Jungkook’s warm walls, he decided it was time to climb up the ladder.

Without any proper lube in sight, Tae opted for spitting onto the palm of his hand before beginning to jerk himself off, wanting to ensure all of his length was covered.

Taehyung might hate Jungkook’s guts, but he didn’t wish to hurt him.

Resting one hand on the younger’s shoulder, Tae used the other to direct his throbbing cock into the smaller’s entrance.

He could only get the tip in at first, as Kook was that tight.

“Shit.” The boy cursed, having to re-align himself before using some force to hopefully fit all of the remaining inches.

“A-ah.. fuck yeah..” Taehyung breathed out, biting down on his lip as he gradually planted himself deeper into the younger.

This felt.. new.

He was overtaken by a sudden blanket of warmth as he slowly began to move his hips, sinking his nails into Jungkook’s shoulder.

''Oh my g-- f-fuuck....'' Jungkook cried out as Taehyung moved inside of him, the feeling so overwhelming, he felt so full. His hands curled into fists against the locker, the urge to almost punch into the metal surface because he didn't know what to do with every feeling that was overtaking him. It hurt a little, and the whines he makes were a mix of pain and pleasure, but with every slow stroke against his insides, the pleasure overtook the pain, and his breathing turned into needy, shallow gasps.

When seeing Jungkook begin to visibly relax in front of him, the older’s thrusting gradually increased in speed. The hand that wasn’t holding onto Kook’s shoulder sneaked it’s way to the latter’s heaving chest, freely roaming around the soft skin before stopping at its desired destination.

With a harsh slap of Taehyung’s pelvis on Jungkook’s cheeks, the sound of their skin clashing against one another became more audible as Tae picked up his harshness. 

“So tight..”

He hastily licked over his index finger before placing it back on the other’s nipple, multitasking while quickly flicking the perky bud and ramming into Jungkook’s hole.

Tae found himself holding back a bit, not using all of his strength just yet. 

Just from the way the younger’s body had reacted to his fingers, Taehyung could tell this was new for Jungkook as well.

“So fucking good,” He hissed, hiding his sweaty face in the crook of the smaller’s neck whilst continuing to pound him from the back.

Jungkook's moans gradually became louder and breathier with every few thrusts, his hips starting to move on their own to meet Taehyung's advancing hips, sweat dripping from his face down his neck, his dark curls clinging to his skin, ''T-taehyu--ung..'' He cried out, glancing down to see the sinful sight of his nipple being played with, then down to his untouched cock, swollen and needy for friction. But even if he didn't receive any attention on there, he feels like he could still cum from the way his insides were abused either way, and it was an amazing feeling, he never wanted it to end, ''H-harder, harder, please...s-shit...'' His words were barely coherent, his voice higher in pitch, his legs starting to shake in bliss.

“Harder, huh?”

He repeatedly rubbed against Jungkook’s prostate, not sparing the latter any mercy as Taehyung began to unwind; he was letting down his defenses.

If Kook was ready for more, then he was going to give it to him.

The taller’s broad chest heaved from exhaustion, but he pushed through it nonetheless.

He wanted to catch a glimpse of Jungkook’s expression as he came, knowing it was bound to come soon.

Taehyung’s hand traveled down to the dip in the other’s back, pressing down on it so that Kook’s ass could press further against him. 

The taller took notice of how Jungkook’s peach had taken on the color red, the corner of his lip inching upwards proudly.

“Ah.. fuuck,” Taehyung cursed out, feeling a familiar pooling of warmth begin to settle in his lower stomach the more his hips snapped against Kook.

Jungkook turned his head to the side, leaning his cheek against his arms that now served as protection from having his head repeatedly jolting against the lockers. His knees were growing weak, but it got easier when he had his back arched, however it changed the way Tae's cock was angled, and he felt himself being brought closer to the edge with every snap of their hips. His cock was desperate, aching and dripping with precum, it was more than ready to explode. When he couldn't take it anymore, he reached down with one of his hands to squeeze his shaft firmly, easing the painful aching by just a tad bit, ''I'm g-gonna.... '' His voice cracked into a sob, being so on edge but not quite able to get over the hurdle just yet was such a powerful feeling.

Taehyung’s cock snapped harder and deeper into Jungkook, feeling his energy falter, his thrusts lazy and out of rhythm.

The taller was close to his peak, and it was clear by the way his eyebrows were pinched together, lips slightly agape as heavy puffs of air slipped past them. 

Every inch of Taehyung’s body was enjoying this.

“Are you..?” Before he was given the chance to finish his question, Kook’s broken voice was his answer.

Wanting to drive the both of them to ejaculation, Taehyung didn’t hold himself back. Not one bit.

After many curses, grunts, and moans later, the older’s cock twitched inside of Jungkook like a volcano before breaking loose, some of his cum seen trickling down the boy’s entrance.

“Fuck..” Tae whispered, having trouble regaining his breath.

Still panting, Taehyung pulled himself out of Jungkook before leaning his sweaty back against one of the lockers, thankful for the cool touch on his skin.

Jungkook came hard, his insides filled with cum and the floor beneath him stained with a pool of his own flowed, his cock twitching heavily in his hand as he jerks himself dry, a loud, drawn out cry echoing in the room. His voice was hoarse from all the moaning. Jungkook gasped quietly, breaths shallow and quick when he feels Tae withdraw himself, pulling out from his ass. The wet, thick sensation of Tae's seed dribbles down on the back of his thigh, and he could no longer hold his body up as he dropped to his knees within the mess of their cum, holding on to the bench. He didn't dare to look back, not yet. The way he had acted, and spoken was completely new. He didn't know how much he enjoyed being the subsmissive in this scenario, and now it'd just be another thing Taehyung would bully him for. Unless... Maybe, this was a changing point. Jungkook glanced back at the taller man, still working on catching his breath.

The second Taehyung had been caught sneaking a glimpse towards Jungkook’s direction, he quickly snapped his head the other way, jaw clenched.

“Uh, I um..” He didn’t know where to begin. 

Should he begin at the kiss they shared on the dirty gymnasium floor?

..At the way he nipped at Jungkook’s skin?

When he toyed with the younger’s nipples..?

Just where the hell should he start?

“I’m gonna go.” Taehyung cleared his throat, not sparing the other another glance, suddenly feeling disgusted with what he’d done.

He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing back the strands that once stuck to his forehead when he began to dress himself, not wanting to spend another second naked in front of him..

‘What the fuck did I do?’ 

Taehyung repeated to himself, his back facing Jungkook as he struggled to make sense of his actions.

Without another word, he left Kook in the empty locker room, eyes trained ahead as Tae only had one motive: To get the fuck out of there.

Jungkook quietly watched as Tae left him, naked and alone in the locker room. He felt disgusting, used. On wobbly legs, he got up, groaning quietly at the wetness between his cheeks. He decided to take a quick shower, using the one by the locker room, turning the heat up so high that steam filled the room, letting the water boil at his skin, ''Fuck...'' He hissed, still unable to focus as all his mind keeps going back to, is the way Taehyung sounded while ramming into him, the rough but delicate ministrations of his hips, ''Get out of my head.. Fucker, fucker..'' Jungkook turned the water ice cold, numbing himself from thinking, freezing seemed to help better. After a long while, he got out, dried himself and got dressed in his normal clothes, packing his basketball outfit into the backpack he'd brought and exited the locker room. How was he ever gonna face Tae again? Were they a thing? Did they still hate eachother? Jungkook himself wasn't sure, but he never did hate him. He needed to find this out eventually, or it'd gnaw at his mind.

When Taehyung made his way to the school’s parking lot— about to angrily throw his backpack onto the backseat of his crappy car, he was met by Namjoon as he pulled up into the spot next to him.

“Yo, Taehyung!” Joon’s voice rang, stepping out of his car when he was met by a harsh welcome.

“Listen, if you’re gonna continue to bitch at me about this morning, I’m not in the fucking mood, alright? I already stayed after to practice.”

The younger drifted off, failing to catch the look of confusion attached to Namjoon’s face as he focused on remaining his cool, hands unconsciously balled up into fists at his sides.

“Tae.. I was just gonna say hey?”

The older’s brows furrowed, internally questioning why Taehyung’s panties were in such a twist.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, “You okay?”

He hoped that if he asked enough questions, it would be enough for Taehyung to give in.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

Apparently Joon forgot he was talking to the Kim Taehyung, he should’ve never expected Tae to open up to him.

The only time the younger actually told him something somewhat personal was in fourth grade, when he admitted he, “needed to go poop.”

Not believing him for one second, Namjoon struggled to drop the subject. But, he noticed how much Taehyung looked like he wanted to get out of there, so he let it go.

“Well.. fine. Just know you can always talk to me, alright?” Joon said as he watched him get in his car, meeting Taehyung’s dimmed eyes for a split second before the latter drove away, far too fast for a school zone.

With a sigh, Namjoon brushed off their encounter for the moment being and made his way into the familiar doors. He’d forgotten his basketball uniform in his locker, and it was safe to say, it was time for a deep cleaning.

Just as he was about to make his way downstairs, he took notice of Jungkook.

“Kook!” He called out, waiting to meet him at the top.

“What are you doing here?” Namjoon didn’t fail to notice Jungkook’s small limp, hesitating whether or not to ask him about it.

“I saw Tae leaving as well, he was pissed off— wait a minute,” The Captain’s eyes widened, “you guys didn’t get into a fight, right? Is that why you’re limping?”

Nine times out of ten, Joon was the one who broke off their stupid arguments. It wouldn’t surprise him if things had actually gotten out of hand this time around.

Jungkook tensed, looking up at Namjoon with surprise. He quickly straightened his posture, ''Hi, I uh...'' He's never been a good liar, but he knows he couldn't tell anybody about this. Could he? Should he? No fucking way, Taehyung would literally strangle him to death. Jungkook's eyes flickered between Namjoon's before nodding hurriedly, ''Yeah, we got into a fight, it was nothing,'' He bounced on his leg a little, gritting his teeth to endure the small pain jolting through him, pretending his body is fine, ''I'm fine. I uh, I have to go now, so.. '' He shifted his weight between his feet, muscles in his legs aching as he just wanted to get away, starting to walk past Namjoon as he grips the strap of his backpack harder.

Namjoon let out one of his ‘shocked, but not surprised’ sighs, “Just ignore each other, how hard can it be?”

He mumbled, rubbing at his temples in utter frustration.

Joon wanted to say more, but Jungkook insisted he had to go.

So, he pressed his lips together, knowing he tended to overstep in people’s personal problems. It was a little flaw of his, but really he just wanted to help.

“Alright well.. see you tomorrow.” Namjoon waved the younger off, waiting until Kook was out of sight to do all of his pondering.

With a light shrug of his shoulders, Namjoon stayed put for one more second before making his way downstairs.

He just needed to remind himself to talk to Taehyung and Jungkook tomorrow morning, more like scold them.

Joon couldn’t have two of his best players take their anger out on each other, not when a big game was near.

Plus, they were his friends, so part of him worried about their own safety.

Jungkook was exhausted, and he had no car, so he sighed loudly as he opted to simply walk towards his place. It wasn't terribly far, but a good 20 minute walk. Actually, with a limp, make it 30...

As he finally made it home, he threw the backpack on the floor, and laid down on his stomach on the bed with a grunt. He had no energy left, but yet his mind went on to think about Taehyung. Where was he now? What was he up to? Did he think about him too? What the fuck is going to happen from now on... 

Namjoon on the other hand, had gone through the lockers to grab his forgotten clothes, but also making sure nobody forgot anything. As he made his way towards the door to get out of there, he almost slipped, catching himself last second, ''What the hell..''

Joon looked down on his feet, a sticky mess stuck to the sole of his shoe, smeared along the floor in a small puddle. He crouched down, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He took off his shoe to wash it, and before putting it under the tap water he smelled it and scrunched his nose, making a face, ''What the fuck is thi-'' His eyes widen when he realized exactly what it is, it's fucking cum. He washes it off, luckily he's got a very strong stomach, not easily disgusted by the liquid itself. However, he was wondering why the hell it was there in the first place. He pondered for a long while as he cleaned it up, being the way he is, and took his things and started leaving. His mind would rewind to when he met Taehyung earlier, he had just left the practice hall... Just moments before Jungkook, ''No way...''

He countered himself, but before he knew it, he had connected the dots for a possible scenario. So, Taehyung did not want to talk about something he was upset over, and Jungkook was limping, obviously in a hurry to leave... And then there was cum on the floor. Namjoon felt dizzy, rubbing his neck as he blinked several times, ''So they weren't fighting?''

Taehyung dreaded going home; he despised stepping into an environment that, in fact, didn’t feel like home at all. But, the more he drove further away from the school, the anger in his mind not having quite evaporated into nothingness yet, Tae figured ‘home’ was his only option.

He just prayed his deadbeat of a father wasn’t there, or if he was, that he wasn’t drowning his liver with one alcoholic beverage after the other.

It was a long shot, but the boy could hope.

After countless road rage moments later, Taehyung managed to pull up to his driveway without a single scratch.

Considering what happened last time, this was great news. 

That reminded Tae, he needed to get his left view mirror replaced. It’s been a couple of days that he’d driven without it.

His heartbeat began to pound wildly against his ribcage after stepping foot into the medium-sized house, asking himself if he was the only one home. 

Well, Taehyung guessed there was only one way to find out. Shutting the door behind him and carelessly letting his bag drop to the ground, the latter’s sharp eyes carefully raked around the living room, glad to see it was left untouched.

Then, for the biggest test of all, he opened up the refrigerator door.

Yes. The pack of beers were still in tact.

Without thinking twice about it, Taehyung reached for a bottle. He /needed/ some alcohol, having grown tired of thinking too much into things. Maybe this way he’ll learn to loosen up, his head hurt like a bitch.

For the remaining of time, Tae spent it up in his room, mindlessly browsing through his social media while occasionally downing the cold beer in his hand. 

Sooner than he expected, the day’s light no longer peaked through the curtain cracks, and Taehyung couldn’t tell if it was because of the light alcohol in his system, or his inner fear of what could happen, but his finger found itself hovering above Jungkook’s contact.

Being a part of the basketball team, everyone was told to exchange numbers on the first day. 

Namjoon made him and Kook cooperate, and now Taehyung might actually have an excuse to use it.

[Taehyung]: JK, don’t tell anyone about what happened, got it?...Use some panthenol on your butt, I read somewhere it should help with the pain or whatever.

Taehyung hesitated whether or not to include the last part, but he couldn’t be bothered to question himself anymore, so he pressed ‘send’.

Jungkook was laying in his bed when the phone chimed, groaning lightly as he stretched out to reach for the device laying on the floor next to his bed. When he saw the contact name, he coughed as he almost choked on his own breath, and out of reflex he threw the phone across the room, “Oh fuck...” 

He was anxious, not knowing what this text would contain. It could be anything! What if he told him to never fucking come back to practice? Or that he’s going to kill him!... or.. something else?

Jungkook sighed as he got up off the bed, slowly walking over to fish his phone back into his hands that were shaking as he unlocked the screen. 

“Don’t tell anyone about what happened...” he read it out loud to himself, and he felt like his chest tightened. Of course he’d say that. But, he didn’t say it couldn’t happen again.. he didn’t say to fuck off out of his life forever.

He read the ending of the text and almost felt like his lips were twitching into a dumb smile, because it was so unlike Taehyung to sound like he almost cared about him. Or at least his ass.

Jungkook hovered over the texting pad before he started to tap at the screen, 

[JK]: Got it. But you didn’t say we should stop.. p.s thx for the butt tip.

Jungkook cringed at his own text, but was too tired at this point to overthink it as he tapped the send button. He had to know, or his soul would disintegrate. He already wanted more, and he hated himself for it. Why would he fall in love with the most emotionally blocked person on earth! Jungkook sighed with a frustrated groan following before throwing his head into a pillow to scream out his overwhelming feelings.

With a towel loosely wrapped around his waist, and toothbrush still in his mouth, Taehyung had just gotten out of the shower when he heard his phone’s familiar chime on the bedside table. Unable to put off his curiosity for after he was done getting ready for bed, Tae carelessly jumped onto his mattress, reaching over for the device before taking a look at who it was.

‘JK’

He felt that all knowing sensation of tightness in his chest, anxiety piercing through his veins. But, deciding that he wasn’t a pussy, Taehyung quickly tapped on the younger’s message.

After reading over it multiple times, he found himself still at a loss for words.

Honestly, Taehyung didn’t know what kind of response he was expecting from Jungkook.

Perhaps something like, ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone, let’s forget about it.’ 

That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less.

But what he didn’t expect to read was what he received, and his body language proved that. His shoulders were tense, and his jaw was locked in place.

Tae ran a hand through his damp hair, repeating Kook’s words in his head.

‘But you didn’t say we should stop..’

What the fuck kind of dumbassery was that? And why wasn’t Taehyung opposed to the idea of it?

..Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it ever since he got home?

It got to the point where every time he looked down at his dick, he would be reminded of Jungkook.

God, his whimpers..

Taehyung was definitely out of it, surely the beer had something to do with it.

“Fuck.” He groaned out loud, closing his eyes for a moment. 

He should just forget about it, pretend it never happened..

But something told him that was easier said than done.

Throwing his phone to the side, Taehyung decided he’d thought enough for one day, mind starting to blank every few seconds because of it.

He needed to sleep it off, and hopefully by tomorrow morning, everything would just blow off.

Shit, he was already dreading having to face Jungkook at practice, but it was a given.

Jungkook kept glancing over at his phone from time to time, sighing when he realizes that Tae wasn't going to answer him. He wasn't surprised though, why would he? This was a lot, he should've just said something else, anything, that wasn't putting their entire dynamic on the table. But he had to do it. He couldn't not do it... After a while, Jungkook's eyes felt heavy, burying his face into his pillow until he fell asleep, still replaying the way Tae's skin felt on his.

A/N: Surprise! This is part one of a series co-written with @velvetwicebang​, (whom also made the banner!) this is a DM rp we’ve had going on for a while and I really wanted to share it(and keep it for myself to re read) because their writing is just too amazing!

Also, this is NOT Yandere! This is vastly different from my other content, but I hope many of you will love it either way.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 30)

“It’s gonna be a great day.” 

Daryl turns his head from the robin, sitting on the ridge of a roof, further away and that he’s been fixing his gaze on for the past half an hour and observes Rick. His friend lets down his shoulders and relaxes his spine, takes a deep breath and lets himself take in the silent calmness of the morning surrounding them. He’s right. It’s gonna be a beautiful day. 

The breeze hasn’t even bothered to wake up today. It’s the two of them, the robin, who sings his morning song, to announce that a new day has begun, and the walkers. 

“Yeah.” 

“Gotta continue working on the wall.” Rick proclaims, as if to create a to-do list in his head of today’s chores. “Check blueprints, find materials. Gotta go on a run.”

“Great.” Daryl replies and nods at Rick. He’ll get to go, he knows it, and he doesn’t mind. As if he were a tame fox, who no matter how domestic it may seem, constantly needs a certain degree of freedom and nature. But he doesn’t mind returning back here either. Not anymore. “I’ll go.” He continues. “Just tell me whatcha’ need.”

“Yep.” Rick takes another deep breath. “What a day.” 

His sudden discovery of nature, the surroundings and an overbearing serenity hasn’t sprung from nothing. He watched by Carl’s side for days. Didn’t sleep, didn’t eat properly, not until Carl sat up in bed and ate himself. The eye was completely destroyed and had to be removed. Thanks to Denise, Rosita, Tara and Mila, who, thanks to her previous profession as a dental nurse, knew how to sterilize scalpels and tools, as well as use sedatives and anesthetics. Thanks to their care, Carl got better, as did Rick. 

“What time is it?” Rick says. “Seven, or eight?”

“Prolly.” Daryl looks at the sun. He watched it rise, heard the birds wake up. Rick joined him shortly after. “Early.” 

“Ya’ wanna go back to the house?” Rick asks. “Get some rest?” 

“Nah.” 

Rick fixates him with his gaze, very ‘nice cop’-like, yet friendly and somewhat cheeky. 

“When I first met Lori-” Rick says, then smiles faintly, chuckles. “Boy, I was- Couldn’t eat properly. Couldn’t sleep. Like I went around in a haze and just thought ‘bout her.”

Daryl nods a little, smiles very faintly, but inside of his chest, his heart takes a skip. 

Has it been two days, forty-eight hours ago he went downstairs holding hands with Jersey when everyone was eating breakfast at the big table? 

After their escapade in the shower, resulting in soaking clothes that had to sundry at the porch roof, they stayed in the bedroom for the entire day. Juri wasn’t in bed when they came out from the bathroom, holding their soaking wet clothes. The smell of breakfast toasts was enough for Mila to understand that Juri was downstairs. Daryl left late in the afternoon, to join a group that has started to create a temporary barricade at the broken wall. Carol brought a late dinner to the working group. 

“How strange, I think I saw these particular clothes sunbathing on the porch roof earlier.” She said cheekily and bumped his hip, while he took a bite of a sandwich.

“Shut up.” Daryl scoffed softly. 

“Pookie.” Carol grinned and shook her head.

He returned late and when he entered the bedroom again, both Mila and Juri were asleep, spooning each other on the bed surrounded by books, soft toys and cassette tapes. He sat down in the comfortable chair, didn’t feel like waking ‘em up by laying down next to them, where he fell asleep. 

Their presence downstairs the morning after that was a silent, visual proclamation that yeah, it was the two of ‘em now’. Or the three of them, including the kid wedged at Mila’s hip in his pajamas, barely awake, but determined to not skip breakfast. Daryl’s heart pounded harder than ever in his chest as they settled on the ground floor, next to each other in front of the entire Atlanta group at the table. Harder than when he stood in the yard as a child and saw the house, his home, burn down to the ground with his mother in it. But it was different. As if his chest was flooded with a warm, deep sense of pride, a sense of belonging. The group hadn’t, thankfully, made a big scene of the silent announcement, which was as big of a deal to him as if he’d announced he’d become the president of the whole damn united states of whatever. It was clear to him, when they sat down at the table, set with pancakes and toast, that the others had already put two and two together. Was it Carol who blabbed, or was it by any chance Rick? Anyway they took it without any fuss. Thankfully. He’d never pull through such a questioning. 

But Rick’s right, to some extent. He’s been in a constant haze for awhile now. He can’t put his finger on when the haze was inevitable, must’ve been during their walk to the gas station, but might just as well be earlier. She had a special impact on him from the start. Those blue, piercing eyes looking at him over the barrel of the gun after they’d saved him and Aaron. He can’t get enough of ‘em. 

“Guess ya’ right.” He therefore says. Why would he lie? Apparently they’re the talk of the town now anyway. Jeez. As if the townies don’t have else to talk about? 

“That hurricane of- I dunno, feelings. They’re good. Validation that everything’s just- perfect.” Rick says and by doing so, puts his finger on something Daryl have felt some kind of guilt for, not always, fuck no. 

But it’s a feeling he struggles with from time to time, if just for a second or a minute. He’s not good for her, or more correctly; not good enough. But that feeling’s swept away as soon as he notices her looking at him. The blue eyes smiling at him, as a lagoon of homeliness and deep affection. 

“Never done this before.” Daryl says husky. 

“No one has.” Rick replies while looking at the robin. “There’s a first for everyone. Ya’ just- gets a hang of your own mind. The rest goes by itself.” He makes a movement, and gets up from the boards. “I’ll go get some water.” He announces. 

Rick climbs down the ladder and Daryl looks after him as he strides over to the store. He smiles faintly to himself, lets his experienced gaze wander slow and steady over the closest surroundings at the other side of the makeshift wall. A few walkers have miraculously managed to remain on the site since they made a raid and eliminated most, after the great battle. One of them seems to have ended up in a loop; over and over again it crashes into the hood of an abandoned pickup, whose tires have almost grown stuck in the asphalt, which has been taken over, slow and steady, by mother nature. 

A soft tapping on wood gets his attention. He turns his head, and happens to see something at the lower end of the ladder.  

“Mornin’.” He greets Juri, who’s small, soft hands squeezes the second step of the hard, wooden ladder. “Wanna come up, kiddo?”

Without hesitating, Juri climbs the tall ladder, with the walkman in his pocket and the headphones around his neck. The big blue eyes are determined, curious. Almost at the top of the ladder, Daryl grabs the boy by his armpits and lifts him up to the platform. The three and a half year old is an early riser and has managed to dress himself this morning too, except the shoes that Juri wiggles in front of Daryl, to tie for him.

“Ya’ gotta learn to do this on ye’re own someday, kiddo.” Daryl says and ties the tiny Chuck Taylors.

A small index finger is pointed right at him. Juri looks at him with a clever grin, as to say: ‘Well, until then, you’re doing it for me’. Yeah, that’s probably true. Daryl lets out a faint chuckle. Being bossed around by a kid is something new. 

“Ya’ mom’s asleep?”

Juri nods. Daryl smiles. Before he left the night before to join Abraham at the watchtower he checked in on Mila and Juri. Juri was tucked in for bed and Mila had curled up next to him, supported by at least four pillows, with two books about bunnies in her lap; The Velveteen Rabbit and The Naughty Bunny. 

“See ya’ in the mornin’.” Daryl said, stroking Mila’s hair. “Night, kiddo.”

The smile he received from Juri, all wrapped up under the covers with his soft toys was priceless and also followed by a thrown, open-palm kiss.  

Juri settles down next to him on the platform. He’s dressed in a pair of rust colored dungarees with a black jumper underneath. On top he wears a flannel to shield himself from the still awakening sunlight, looking very proper. The blonde hair looks half combed, as if he got tired with trying and decided to leave it be. He fiddles on the walkman, while peering out over the wall with squinting eyes.  

“Ya’ had breakfast?” Daryl asks. 

Juri doesn’t answer, obviously, but he puts his hand in the front chest pocket of the dungarees and pulls something from it. A pack of two Reese’s cups. Daryl grins. 

“Ya’ mom won’t like that.” He says, but gets an authoritarian index finger in front of the mouth, followed by a ‘shhh’ from the boy; ‘I won’t tell if you don’t tell’. “Go ahead, kiddo.” Daryl therefore says.

He watches as Juri peels the packaging open and takes out a peanut butter cup and hands it to him. They eat the chocolate-peanutty-goodies under silence. He’s amazed at the little boy, who seems to have the intellect and the ability to think like a child who is twice as old. Mila hasn’t coddled him, except smothered him with infinite amounts of motherly love, no doubt ‘bout that, but he can dress himself, make decisions on his own. He’s curious rather than scared and calculating rather than impulsive. He likes to collect stones, feathers and sticks, picks flowers, investigates bugs and likes to draw and listen to music while jumping on the bed or running around in the streets. And Daryl adores him. He’s a great kid. 

“Whatcha’ listen to?” Daryl nods at the walkman between the small hands. 

Juri removes the headphones from around his neck. He holds them up in his right hand as he pushes the ‘play’-button and turns the small ‘plus’-volume button on the side of the device, increasing the volume, leaking an old rock song. 

“Sounds great.” 

Juri gesticulates with his hands. It makes him feel both dumb and sad over the fact that he actually can’t understand the kid. Not that it stops Juri from trying, but he can’t understand no matter how many times he repeats his gestures.

“Sorry kiddo.”

The kiddo ain’t let down that easily. He opens the walkman, takes out the tape and shows him. Daryl reads ‘Boston - Boston, 1979’, written in black marker at the thin line on the orange paper label at the black plastic tape. 

“Okay, here we go-” Rick appears at the edge of the platform, but pauses and bursts into a wide grin at the sight of Juri. “Hey, little guy.”

Juri waves at Rick as he climbs up and sits down at his left side. 

“Here-” Rick hands Daryl the bottled water and then looks at Juri. “You’re up early.”

The blonde boy nods proudly, as to say ‘yup, before my mom’. Daryl unscrews the cap from the plastic bottle and offers it to Juri. He takes it and takes two small sips, before handing it back and continuing to look out over the wall. But soon the little nose begins to search in the air. Daryl and Rick can smell it too; breakfast. Toasts and waffles.

“Ya hungry?” Rick asks Juri. Juri turns and peers up at Daryl, as if he had an answer for it. He then turns back to Rick, and shakes his head. “We’ll be replaced soon. Then we’ll eat.” Rick says, very dad-like. Authoritarian but still nice. 

Juri nods and returns to his walkman, puts the headphones over his blonde hair and disappears into his own world of Boston, 1979. Daryl looks down at the toddler sitting between him and Rick, nodding his head to the beat of the music, so carefree and at ease. He looks so much like Mila, except the blonde hair. But his constant cool is something else, a hybrid between Mila and whoever the man who biologically is his father. Mila’s a hothead by blood, with impressive self-control. Like the calmest water which in an instant can blow up into a raging storm. Juri, on the other hand, is calmness personified whatever the situation. Maybe because he relies on Mila entirely. He never has to be scared or worried.  

“Now, that’s a sight for sore eyes.” 

Daryl’s interrupted in his thoughts. He turns and looks over his left shoulder. Carol is standing on the ground, shielding her eyes from the sun, smiling up at the three of them. Juri waves happily down at her with a proud smile on his lips. He’s with the big boys now.  

“Hi, darling.” Carol waves at him before turning her eyes to Daryl. “Ya’ boys hungry?” Juri sniffs in the air and nods. “There’s honey and waffles for you, darling.” Carol smiles at the blonde boy. “What about you two?” 

“Sounds great.” Rick says. “We’ll be replaced soon.”

“Great.” Carol replies. “You’ve been up there all night.” She continues. “We’re planning a barbeque tonight. Why don’t you get some venison later?” 

I’ll be damn Carol, Daryl thinks to himself with a faint, but thankful smile. More things to do today, except collecting materials for the wall. 

“Sure.” He calls back at her. 

“I’ll thank you later, when you’re back with some meat.” She replies in a cheeky smile. “I’ll bring you three something to eat before you leave if you’d like?”

“Set up three more plates.” Rick says. “We’re done here soon.”

Carol nods smilingly, turns and starts walking back towards the houses. Daryl and Rick look at each other. Huh, a barbecue.  

“Could be fun.” Rick says. “Gotta chop some wood then. You wanna help?” He looks at Juri, who nods eagerly with the headphones around his neck again, excited to help out with grown-up stuff. “Great. We’ll start right away, after we’d had something to eat.”

Juri nods and looks at the two men on each side of him, rubbing his tummy, showing them that now he’s hungry. Especially when there’s waffles. He then gets up on his knees and, without warning, climbs into Daryl’s lap. The small hands start to fiddle with his vest, then with the cord of the headphones. Daryl doesn’t tense, but he becomes instantly aware of his body, as if a baby deer had climbed into his lap; he can’t scare him away. But Juri’s calm and relaxed. In the corner of his eye, Daryl sees Rick smile. 

“What?” 

“Nothin’.” Rick says and blinks. “Just, everything’s kinda fine, right?”

Daryl turns his gaze from Rick and looks down at Juri, who meets his gaze and smiles sunny, then out over the area on the other side of the safe-zone, contemplating his friend’s words. Yeah, he thinks. Things are actually kinda perfect. Fuckin’ hell, he feels great. Everything’s calm. No breaches and no herd of walkers approaching. There’s a three and a half-year old in his lap that looks at him like- yeah Daryl can’t figure that one out. But he seems happy. And there’s Mila, probably half awake by now, back at the house. Holy shit, he’s got his shit together at last. 

“Guess ya’ right.” Daryl replies.

“Yep.” Rick says, also turning his head out over the surroundings. “I’m happy for ya’.” He sighs. “It’ll be fun. Barbecue. Bonfire. The only thing’s missing is a harmonica, or a guitar.” Rick turns his head to look at him. “Ya’ play?”

“What? Guitar?” Daryl shakes his head. “Nah.”

But a faint smile spreads upon Daryl’s lips as an idea forms inside his head, accompanied by the muffled sound from Juri’s headphones, which leaks a guitar solo. Nah, he ain’t playing. But he knows someone who might. Inside his head, he adds another task to his mental to do-list.

Taglist: @lonewolf471 @twdeadfanfic

[lumosinlove]

Sweater Weather

part iii

Remus didn’t always have too much time for it, but there was nothing he liked more than sitting on the bench and watching Gryffindor City’s Hogwarts Stadium fill up with red and gold. The waves of chatter got louder and the seats filled, and it was a nice balance to the energy in the locker room as he walked back down the tunnel and through the doors, leaning against the wall with Moody. There, in case they were needed, but out of the way.

Even more than watching the fans, he liked watching the boys get ready. Kasey was down on all fours in a butterfly squat, full-pads making his body look huge and his head look tiny. Leo was down the hall some, throwing two balls against the wall and catching them quickly. Remus’ eyes blurred after watching for a minute and he looked away. Which turned out to be a mistake in itself.

Sirius was sitting in his stall, shirtless and knees spread to accommodate the stick he was taping between them. He didn’t have any of his pads on yet, typical Sirius, who always had to get ready at the last minute because he spent so much time on his stretches and sticks. He was just in his underarmour, the tight material leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. He had a Lions’ hat on backwards and stray strands of hair were sticking out of the front, casting shadows on his cheeks. He stuck his tongue out and wound the tape carefully around the blade of his stick, checking for wrinkles and creases every other turn. James was saying something to him with broad hand gestures, probably a play he wanted to get perfect tonight.

They all wanted to get everything perfect tonight. It was the home opener. The crowd would be wild, and the pressure would be on. Remus loved every second of it and he knew the boys did, too.

James let out a loud whoop then, clapping his hands together and and throwing his helmet on even though his pads were still hanging in his stall. “Let’s fucking go, tonight, eh boys? Durmstrang fuckers won’t know what hit them.”

He was met with a series answering shouts of approval, all of which amplified when Coach Weasley appeared through the locker room doors with the large lion on it. He grinned and held up a little slip of paper, tonight’s line up.

“Pots, since you’re already standing, why don’t you do the honors?” Arthur said, handing James the paper.

James hit his helmet on his head. “Alright, let’s see. Starting tonight,” the boys yelled and James dropped down a little, knees bent and voice low like the commentators, “in the cage,” there was another round of shouts and James wound up his arm and then bounded over to Kasey, “we have the man named for the sport of hockey itself, Kasey Winter.”

There were a series of “Yeah, Kase!” and “Be the fucking blizzard!” before James could continue.

“Next we have…on your left, Harzy!”

Harzy looked up from where he was lacing his skates with a little salute to the cheers.

“On your right,” James smiled around at them all, so wide that Remus could see where one of his outer bottom teeth was still missing, just out of sight. He pressed a hand to his own chest, “yours truly.”

“Alright, Potty-mouth!” Kasey shouted the nickname James had earned himself for his relentless chirping on the ice, name-calling and poking fun until the refs eventually had to call him on it.

“Your favorite D-man pairing, Kaner and our resident Finland-man, Olli!”

Timmy Kane and Olli Halla did some strange, complicated handshake.

“And your center tonight…the man, the myth, the one who holds the record for most marriage proposals by teenage girls at the glass,” Remus laughed at that and James ran back over to Sirius, pretending to take his stick just to see him flinch back, and taking his hat instead and placing it on top of his own helmet, “oh captain, my captain, Sirius mother-fucking Black!”

Everyone clapped a little, Arthur shaking his head fondly and Moody letting James run over and touch his leg for good luck, per tradition, and then it was really business time. There was some calmer chatter as everyone got into their gear and laced up, getting into the right headspace for a game.

Remus rifled through his own inventory in his head, making sure he would be prepared on the bench. He had extra blades for everyone, laces, sterile gauze, and a little box for teeth which he’d learned to keep the hard way (Olli Halla spitting a few directly into his open palm). He took one last look around the locker room before heading back to the mouth of the tunnel at the bench where the guys would pass on their way out for their lap-around introductions under the lights and warm ups. He could see some of the Durmstrang equipment guys over on their bench, and they exchanged nods that were friendly enough. Eagles games were always odd, not just for the competition—they had nothing compared to Lion and Snake games—but because their colors were nearly identical, and so the away-team always had to wear their more solid colored third-jerseys. Remus was glad they were on home-ice, so the Eagles would be the ones stuck in their nearly all goldish-yellow uniform, not the Lions.

Remus looked up at the stands, figuring his parents were out there somewhere, trying to keep Julian at bay, who was no doubt in his BLACK jersey and bouncing out of his shoes with excitement. At nine years old, Remus sometimes wondered if his little brother was a bigger Lions fan than even him, despite living halfway across the country from them.

He had a sudden fantasy of bringing Jules back to the locker room and Sirius being there, maybe James, too, and Sirius would give Jules a hockey stick maybe, and then smile at Remus—

“What’s with the face?”

Remus started, looking at Moody who had brought out the fresh bottles of gatorade and water.

“What? What face? Nothing.” Remus reached forward and started to help him line the bench with them. “I wasn’t making a face.”

“Alright, at ease.” Moody laughed a little. “Jeez, Lupin.”

Remus desperately tried to change the subject, “How’s the lucky leg?”

Moody scoffed, giving it a stomp. “It’s been kissed by Harzy, that’s what. Fucking crazy-ass.”

Remus laughed and sat down on the bench, looking up towards the jumbo-screen where they were showing a video of a few of the guys saying what they did that summer. James was on, giving a typically sarcastic answer. Something about hamburgers. When Sirius’ faces came on next there was a positive roar from the crowd and Remus felt flushed with their enthusiasm. Gryffindor loved their Captain, and they were just as eager to avenge him as the team was. It was pretty fucking thrilling to sit and watch it all, but if he could, Remus would be out there on the ice, fighting to get Sirius ever goal and point he could. He pushed that thought down just as the lights shut off and the music stopped, signaling the beginning of the Lions’ entry onto the ice, their first of the season. Remus’ heart pounded.

“Gryffindor!” boomed Frank Longbottom’s voice, one of their beloved announcer. Frank came with the team on the road, along with Marlene McKinnon. Butts and Kinzy were well loved by the team, and, maybe unfortunately for them, the subjects of many pranks, but Remus was sure they loved the boys’ attention as much as he himself did. The crowed boomed back in response and then the jumbo-screen bloomed to life, along with the lights and the lasers that streaked across the crowd and ice.

“Are you ready?” Frank asked the stadium, and then the jumbo-screen started counting down from ten with loud booms that quickly developed into a bass-heavy song.

“Ten…nine…” Remus found himself smiling, mumbling the numbers under his breath.

“Your Gryffindor Lions!” Frank drew out the words and the lights went crazy as the boys appeared down the tunnel.

Kasey came first, goalie mask propped on top of his head as he skated out onto the ice. Then Timmy, Finn, Leo…Olli, Brady, Evgeni, Kris, Tyler…

They all looped around the rink, warming up and pounding on the glass, laughing when the crowd pounded back. Remus liked watching the rookies the most, their eyes alight with the attention and praise.

And finally James, always second to last, and then Sirius, always last. Remus watched him come all the way down the tunnel, just in time for his name to be read out by Frank. Sirius raised his glove and knocked it into a few of the kid’s fists who had made it down by the glass, before scampering back up to their parents, delighted with having received a fist-bump.

Remus didn’t expect Sirius to look back at him, but for the split second between him being beside the bench and him being on the ice, their eyes met. And Sirius dropped a wink. And he was gliding away, dropping to one knee as he went and raising his stick a little, drawing screams from the crowd. They were happy to have him back. Sirius was cocky, and Remus didn’t like to admit that he loved that, but he did.

Sirius belonged on the ice, that much had always been clear, and when he wasn’t there, something was out of gear. Everything felt settled now, ready.

The lights came up after a bit and then Eagles filtered on, too, taking shots at their goalie. Victor Krum crossed center ice and met Sirius where he was talking to James, offering a somewhat stiff hand. Sirius smiled, so Remus guessed he had welcomed him back. The Eagles were good like the Snakes, but they weren’t assholes like they were. Remus watched Sirius pluck at Krum’s shoulder, no doubt chirping him for the bright yellow color, and Krum laughed, nudging him back and skating away.

Kasey was busy nesting his goal, scraping up the crease with his long goalie skate blades and catching the boys’ practice shots. Remus watched him for a minute, always enjoying how specific and protective Kasey was of his goal (he patted his posts whenever a puck got knocked askew by one, for god’s sake), but soon his attention was—predictably—dragged away by Sirius. Sirius had a routine, a strict routine, and there was few things Remus loved more than watching him go through it. Remus wasn’t sure he even knew about all of it, but he wanted to. He knew Sirius had to tape his own sticks, do specific stretches in a specific order, had to put his left skate on first, and during warm-ups he had to trace the Lions logo with a puck. He knew Sirius liked to have two pieces of toast with butter and honey an hour before games. Remus wished he knew more, secretly. He wanted to know how long Sirius’ pre-game nap was and what he looked like when he woke up from it—

“Earth to Remus Lupin.”

Remus’ slowly spiraling fantasy was abruptly cut off by James waving a glove in his face.

“What?” Remus stood up. “Sorry, what’s up, what do you need? James, face-off’s in like two seconds, you’re on first shift.”

“I just want some gatorade and it’s all red.” James practically pouted.

Remus huffed out a laugh and handed him a blue, shifting to the side as the other team members shuffled down the bench, coach Weasley slapping a few of them on the back. “There, now go!”

James whooped and skated off to take his position. Sirius was at center ice, eye to eye with Krum, the ref between them with the puck. They crouched, eyes on the puck, and Remus said a soft prayer to whatever god anyone could believe in.

The ref dropped the puck, and the game began.

Remus was on his feet the entire time. He was meant to be watching for any trip-ups, any hard hits, anything that might need to be looked at. Instead, he kept catching himself just enjoying the game, standing behind the bench. Sirius came careening over the boards, tapping Brady’s butt as he jumped onto the ice to replace him, and sat down heavily in front of Remus. He turned, sweat dripping down his temples.

“iPad,” he said, and one of the assistant coaches held it out to him. Sirius stayed turned, brow intense as he watched a replay of his latest shift, and so Remus got to study his profile. He loved Sirius in the heat of a game, loved how fast he talked. He leaned over to explain something to Olli, who leaned in like if he didn’t catch every word, he’d parish. Everyone on the team tended to listen to Sirius like that, like he was their leader through thick and thin.

“How’m I doing?” Sirius said as he handed the iPad back. Remus assumed he was talking to the coaches until Sirius’ eyes fell on him.

“Me?” Remus asked—stupidly.

Sirius smiled, “You.”

“You look great out there. You know you look great out there.”

James laughed, whacking Remus lightly in the stomach with his glove. “Way to call him on it, Loops.” Then the whole bench leaned back as Brady shoved an Eagles player nearly over the boards and into the bench. The crowd loved it, and James banged his stick on the boards after them. “Way to go, Shady-Brady!”

They were gone shortly after that, Coach calling for short shifts for the end of the first period.

“Keep ‘em coming boys, keep this lead!” he was shouting.

The Lions were up 3-1, and the atmosphere was electric. Remus loved this. It was the closest thing to being on top of the world there was, he thought. Suddenly, Sirius was on a breakaway up the ice off of a clean pass from Harzy. He skirted around number 16, number 3, with hard edges, and then he was nearly at the net—

Krum came out of nowhere, slamming Sirius into the boards.

Remus was on his feet in a second, pressing up behind Tyler and Evgeni on the bench.

It was a clean hit, but it felt like ages before Sirius got up. Remus didn’t even watch Krum take the puck, didn’t watch Kasey miss it, didn’t watch their goal-horn light up, didn’t watch the scoreboard change to read 3-2. He didn’t watch the Eagles celebrate.

He watched Sirius skate towards the bench. It was just for a shift change, but Remus looked over every part of him, checking for a limp, a wince, anything. He looked okay. James was on him in a second, skating shoulder to shoulder and talking to him. Sirius was nodded, even smiling a little, but Remus could tell he was shaken. To have something like that happen in the first game, and when he’d just gotten back…

The stadium filled with booing that felt like it shook the walls.

Sirius took his seat on the bench, but before Remus could get through his teammates and to him, the buzzer signaling the end of the first period was sounding and everyone was filing off the ice and back into the locker room. Good, Remus thought. He’d ask to see Sirius, he’d check him out fully, just to be safe.

Marlene was waiting for Coach at the end of the tunnel.

“Hey Arthur, who can we have for media?” she asked.

“Not Black,” Remus stepped in, “I want to check that hit.”

Coach nodded, “right. You can have Pots, or Kasey, I think.”

Marlene nodded and shot Remus a smile, which he returned tightly as he pushed between them and into the locker room. Sirius looked up at him almost immediately, like he had been waiting.

Remus only had to jerk his head towards the quiet and training rooms, before Sirius was getting up and following him. Remus held the door open to the quiet room. It was technically for concussion testing and protocol, and Remus hadn’t seen Sirius hit his head, but better safe than sorry. Sirius stepped inside and Remus closed the door.

“How do you feel?” Remus asked, then pointed to the padded observation table. “Sit there. I’m going to check your ankle and your head.”

“Loops—”

“Does anything else hurt?”

“Remus.”

Remus looked up.

Sirius loomed over him anyway, but he practically towered over him while wearing skates. Remus nearly had to crane his neck.

“What?” Remus asked, a little breathlessly.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t a bad hit.”

“I know. But given your recent history I want to make sure everything’s fine.”

Sirius sat down on the bench and took his helmet off, laying it to the side along with his gloves while Remus bent to start unlacing his skates. Remus’ heart was still pounding, and Sirius’ gray desperate eyes filled his head. He wouldn’t be helpless this time. He’d fixed Sirius’ broken bone, and he wouldn’t let anything go amiss, not now.

“Durmstrang’s always a tough one to call, eh? Sometimes they’re brilliant and sometimes they’re…”

“Angry?” Remus supplied, carefully sliding Sirius’ skates off of his feet before rising.

Sirius laughed a little, “Yeah. For sure, yeah.”

“Look here.” Remus held up a small flashlight and a finger. Sirius looked, but right at Remus, not his finger. A small smile was still lingering on his face. “My finger, Black.”

Sirius laughed again but obeyed this time.

“When’s your birthday?”

“November third.” Sirius supplied easily.

“When is Pots’ birthday?”

“March twenty-seventh. When’s your birthday, Re?”

Remus chest fluttered a little. He clicked off the flashlight, satisfied. “March tenth.”

“Hey, you and James are birthday-buddies.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Raise your arms. Touch your—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Sirius obediently brought his fingers to his nose and back out again a few times, then, without prompt, got up and walked in a straight line, toe to heel, and turned and looked at Remus expectantly.

Remus narrowed his eyes at him. “And your ankle? Tell me the truth.”

“Fine.” Sirius smiled and sat down in one of the chairs in the room to start getting his skates back on. “Really, Loops, I’m alright. It probably looked worse than it was.”

“It took you a bit to get up.”

Sirius shrugged down at his laces, digging his heel in to pull them tight, “I’ll admit, I was a little surprised. It’s the first real time I got hit since…you know. Since Snape. But you said it yourself,” He looked up at Remus then, sweat damp hair falling into his eyes a little, cheeks flushed, “can’t let the fear get to me, can I?”

Remus swallowed dryly. “Right. Yeah.” He watched Sirius until he was standing again and pulling his gloves back on, tucking his helmet beneath his arm. “Right, right. Sorry.” He opened the door, “Have a good second period, okay?”

Sirius paused beside him in the doorway, tall as ever with his skates back on and looking down at Remus. “Hey.”

Remus looked up at him. Sirius had a funny expression on his face, something soft and determined.

“Don’t ever say sorry for helping me,” Sirius’ voice was low when he said the words.

Remus caught one last glimpse of the odd expression, and then Sirius was gone, enveloped back into the energetic mass of the team.

They won 5-3, Sirius with three points, two goals and one assist, in the second and third period.

The locker room was ecstatic afterwards, and Remus was kneeling to tape up Kasey’s thigh for him when Arthur came out with the lion head. The lion head was this seasons team token, of sorts, an object that got past around the locker room after every game, depending on who played best that night. For the first game of the season, Coach was the one who handed it out. After that it would go from player to player. This year, the object looked like an overly-furry lion-mane and nose, maybe from some poor, cotton stuffed animal, sewed onto a baseball cap. Remus grimaced just looking at it. He didn’t want to think about how sweaty and disgusting that thing was going to become by the end of the season.

“Great game, boys. Great start to the beginning of the season.” There were some cheering and Arthur smiled, waving his hand, “As you know, it is my pride and joy making our season tokens.”

“What section of the wall is last year’s going on?” James said, making everyone laugh. Arthur’s creation last year had been a monstrous blend between a gladiator helmet that had a yarn lion tale glued to the back of it.

“Front and center, thanks for asking.” Coach said. “This year, we have…”

Kasey started a drumroll which the entire locker room eventually joined in on.

“Lion-cap. Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Arthur held it up. “And tonight…I’ve got to give it to the captain, don’t I?”

“Yeah you do!” James pounded the wall of his stall with his fist.

“Quite a hit, and beauties of goals. Sirius.”

Sirius laughed as he walked forward, just his underarmour on again, and put the hat on, crouching into a ridiculous pose so that James could take a picture. He looked hilarious in it, the mane fluffing out around his ears and the nose resting on the brim.

“Thanks, Coach.” He said, and then handed it off to Remus for safe keeping, per tradition. Remus was always put in charge of bring the token on roadies, and keeping track of who got it when.

Remus felt his phone buzz in his pocket and was pulled abruptly from the bubble of the team when he saw his mom’s name flash up. He slapped a hand to Kasey’s shoulder, telling him he was done, and slipped out of the locker room to answer.

“Hey, mum.”

“Hi, baby. Great game!”

“It was,” Remus smiled. “I’ll be right out to get you guys and we can get ice cream or something. I just have to—”

“Remus?”

Remus pressed the phone to his shoulder, turning on his heel back to the locker room. Sirius was standing there, head poking out and smiling a smile that looked almost—shy.

“Yeah? Hold on, mum—Sorry, can I help?”

“Bring them back,” Sirius said.

“Huh?”

Sirius rolled his eyes, “Your family. Bring them back, show them the locker room and stuff.”

“Oh.” Remus’ heart beat. He would love that. Julian would freak out. “Oh, I don’t want—”

“C’mon, the boys would love it. We can sign a jersey and stuff, or a stick.”

Remus’ mouth hung open for a minute before he heard himself say, “okay,” and Sirius grinned before retreating. Remus didn’t move until he heard his mom’s voice in his ear. He blinked a few times and raised his phone back up. “Hey, mum, do you want to…would you guys want to come back to the locker room?”

And so here Remus was, his parents and Jules in toe, walking down the all too familiar hallway.

Julian bounced up beside Remus, both hands around his arm. “Are we going to meet Sirius?”

Remus smiled, “probably.”

“Are we going to meet Pots?”

“Yep, him too.”

“Blizzard?”

Remus laughed, “I think you could meet Kasey, sure.”

“Can I take a picture with them?”

“If you say please,” Remus said, because it was definitely what his mom would say. Once they reach the locker room doors, he looked back at his parents. Both were wearing BLACK jerseys, which Remus found unbearably endearing and also slightly embarrassing now that Sirius knew how Remus felt about him as a hockey player. There was no doubt he was going to think Remus had had sway over his parents’ jersey choice. His dad was clutching his phone excitedly to his chest, and Remus couldn’t think why he hadn’t asked to do this sooner. He was glad Sirius had said something, and he’d make sure to tell him thank you later.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Ready, ready, open the doors!” Julian whisper-yelled.

The sound wave once Remus did hit them like a wall, and Remus heard Jules quiet down a little, maybe with nerves as the reality that this was actually happening set in, and Remus turned around to put a comforting hand on his back. He could see that the media was just leaving out the press door, which Remus was thankful for because it meant that none of the players would be surrounded by cameras. He didn’t want this to look like a photo-op.

He made eye contact with Sirius almost immediately, and tried to smile in a way that didn’t look like he expected Sirius to come over or anything. Sirius had a routine, and that included winding down. He looked like he was about to leave for his twenty minute cool down on one of the stationary bikes, and Remus didn’t want to interrupt that. But then Sirius was grinning and motioning them over.

“Oh.” Julian said softly from beside Remus, and Remus patted his head softly and motioned for his parents to follow him over to Sirius’ stall.

Sirius stood when they got there, grinning warmly.

“Who’s this?” Sirius asked, holding his fist out for a dumbstruck Julian to bump.

“These are my parents, Hope and Lyall, and this is Julian, my brother.” Remus said, smiling a little at Jules’ expression. His heart was pounding. “Say hi, Jules.”

“Hi Padfoot. I mean—” Julian flushed.

Sirius laughed. “You can call me Padfoot if I can call you Jules. You play hockey, bud?”

Julian nodded frantically, “yeah, I’m a center, too.”

“Nice.” Sirius raised his eyes briefly to Remus’ parents and held out his hand for them to shake, “Hi, I’m Sirius.” As if they didn’t know, as if they weren’t wearing his last name on their backs, “Did you all enjoy the game?”

“That was such a nasty hit on you.” Julian said, eyes going from Sirius’ face to his locker to his pads to his stick.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, we hope you’re alright.” Hope said with a very motherly disapproving frown.

Sirius nodded and, to Remus’ surprise, threw an arm around Remus’ shoulder. “Your son took care of me. Remus takes the best care of us, right James?”

James had come over with a protein bar hanging out of his mouth, but took a bite and chewed quickly when he put together who he was speaking to.

“Jesus f—” He looked at Julian whose eyes were practically hearts. “Hi,” James said again, laughing a little at himself, “you must be Loops’ parents.” James looked down at Julian again, “And older brother, I presume? What’s up, man? Here to try out?”

“Yeah.” Julian said softly, clearly barely able to think, and they all laughed.

Remus, on the other hand, was much to pre-occupied with Sirius’ arm which, having slid away from his shoulders, was now briefly a warm, pressing weight between his shoulder blades, before it disappeared completely as he slapped the seat of his stall.

“Well I’m certainly not going to have a spot on this team if you’re playing, so you might as well take a seat. Let’s see, what will he need to be a Lion, Pots?”

James crossed his arms, pretending to think hard. “Jersey, definitely.”

“Oh, two, I’d say.” Sirius added, “And a couple sticks, don’t you think?”

Julian, now seated snuggly in Sirius’ stall, was red-cheeked with happiness.

“On it.” James said, and winked at Remus as he left to get a few of his and Sirius’ jerseys and sticks to sign.

Sirius on the other hand, crouched down to Julian’s level. “Hey, Jules, do you know how awesome your brother is?”

Julian grinned up at Remus, then back at Sirius. “Yeah.”

Sirius nodded back, “He does practically everything for us. Gets us new skate blades, makes sure we have what we need on the road, keeps us healthy.” Then Sirius looked at him with a similarly fond and happy expression that Julian was wearing, and Remus felt a little like he might cry which would be completely and utterly embarrassing. “He’s pretty great.”

Remus felt his own cheeks flush. “Okay, okay, thanks.”

Hope laughed from beside him, squeezing him in a one armed hug. “Never could take a compliment, could you, Re?”

“That was a lot of compliments.” Remus laughed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t stop looking at Sirius and Sirius wasn’t looking away.

Remus felt like he was back in Sirius’ car, unsure what it all meant.

“Hey, did you know I’m your brother’s favorite player?” Sirius asked Jules.

“You’re mine, too! We both have your jersey!”

Remus flushed and had to look away from Sirius and his raised eyebrows then, pretending to watch James come back across the locker room with the gear. He didn’t want to hear what Sirius had to say about that.

James and Sirius were both at Julian’s level for a good fifteen minutes, signing things, taking pictures, and talking hockey. Kasey even came over before leaving to sign the jerseys and offer one of his own sticks. Remus didn’t know how Julian was going to carry it all.

His parents eventually left for their hotel with promises to meet him for breakfast the next morning and their favorite pancake spot—really everyone’s favorite pancake spot—in Gryffindor. Remus watched them walk back to their car until they turned out of view, smiling to himself at Jules’ insistence that he carry all three sticks and wear both jerseys at once.

Remus stopped by the exercise room on his way back to lock up the office for the night and, as expected, Sirius was there. He looked fresh off the bike and was on one of the mats, stressing his fingers towards his toes. Remus knocked lightly.

“Hey,” Sirius said with a grin.

“Hi.” Remus walked in a few more paces and leaned against one of the treadmills, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the floor softly. “I don’t want to interrupt you or anything, but I just wanted to thank you. For earlier. You—You really made my little brother’s life, there. He loves you guys.”

Sirius stood, dusting off his leggings and picked up his water bottle from the floor. “I hope he’s not the only one.”

Remus bit back a smile, and his heart clenched. If only Sirius knew what he was saying.

“Of course,” was all Remus could think of to reply.

“You’re family seems great, Re. Really.”

“They are,” Remus replied before he thought about what that statement probably meant, coming from Sirius. Sirius who didn’t have a family like that. Remus felt guilt and the want to strangle anyone who didn’t love Sirius properly swirl in his chest. Sirius deserved so much. Look what he would do for just one kid who he never even met, for Remus, who he barely knew outside of his work.

“I’m headed out soon.” Sirius said. “Do you need a ride?”

Remus shook his head, “Moody said he’d drive me.”

Even though everything in him was screaming at him to lie and say yes, he didn’t want to explain that to Moody.

“Ah.” Sirius said, nodding. He looked, if not disappointed, something like it. “Okay. Well, let me know, eh? Any time.”

“Thanks, Sirius.” Remus was aware of how soft his voice sounded, but there wasn’t much he could do about it with Sirius’ gray eyes on him.

Sirius smiled, a soft and lopsided thing, and Remus’ heart flipped in his chest. As Sirius left for the showers, Remus got back to his desk. On it, was a hat.

It was a Lions hat, red with gold piping and the gold lion. On the bill, in the gold sharpie that the team used for signing, was a messily scrawled message and a signature. Sirius’ signature, complete with the number twelve.

I’m glad I’m your favorite, it read.

(A/N: Ah, slowly but surely....:)

[mychemicalficrecs]

could i get a rec list of long (30k+) frank-centric any pairing fics? (preferably not in first person, and if there's smut with bottom frank)…weirdly specific but at least i know what i like?

Being specific is totally fine! Depending on what it is you’re looking for, it can even be super helpful :) I originally thought this would be difficult, but it turns out I already had all of these in my bookmarks. It didn’t specifically check for bottom!Frank though (sorry).

Frank-centric Longfic

Gerard Way's (Vampire) Detective Agency by jjtaylor, Pennyplainknits, mainly Frank/Gerard, 164k, Mature. Pete, in Decaydance Mansion, with a yarrow stake. Frank and Gerard, in the greenhouse, with a plant of questionable origin. Bob, everywhere you look, with a gang of assassins for justice. Vampires, valets, pamphlets, haunted furniture, dub-thrall, disembodied voices, zombie couriers, and sinister rituals.

Nightswimming by waxjism, Frank/Gerard, 141k, Not Rated. My Teenage Romance

Unholyverse by Bexless, Frank/Gerard, Ray/Mikey, 187k, Mature, Explicit. Religion! Horror! Exorcisms! Piercings! And Gerard is a priest.

Illyria (King and Country) by tabulaxrasa, Frank/Gerard, 57k, Explicit. Today, they'd woken up and Gerard was King of Illyria. Frank hasn't really been a stable boy since he ended up in the archduke's bed, but now Gerard's exile is over and he's king. Frank has to survive court, politics, and scheming nobles to figure out exactly what he is now.

Stunning Someone by morbid_beauty, Frank/Gerard, 82k, Explicit. Frankie, a tattoo artist living in Brooklyn, has basically everything ze wants...except, like, someone to cuddle with at night. As lame as that sounds. Gerard, an art student living in Manhattan, meets someone of questionable gender and starts a friendship with an unrequited crush. (Or: the one where Frankie is genderfluid, Gerard is kind of ignorant to much of the queer community, and sometimes you just fall for a stunning someone.)

Envision the Magic by innocent_wolves, Frank/Gerard, 69k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard is a talented magician, responsible for much of the success of the famous Envision Destiny cruise ship. He's also one of those people. You know, one of those people who just seem to take up all the space they come across with their arrogance and confidence. You wouldn't wanna touch their personality with a 10-foot pole, but still people admire them. That is beyond Frank. Working behind the cruise ship bars and seeing Gerard pretty much every day, he can't understand what's so great about him. Besides, everybody else doesn't have to deal with his snide remarks and rude comments. Because if there's one thing Gerard seems to love, it's the act of constantly pestering Frank.

Truths That He Learned by gala_apples, Frank/Mikey, Patrick/Mikey/Pete, Ashlee/Patrick/Pete, 37k, Explicit. It's Frank's senior year, and it seems like he's constantly having new experiences, at least half of which come as a complete surprise to him. He falls in love, comes out, and has sex, not necessarily in that order.

Fit to be tied by maryangel, Frank/Gerard, 56k, Explicit. Frank is a bartender. Gerard is an alcoholic. They were clearly made for each other. Also, Frank is a werewolf.

Only Going One Way by ataratah, jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, 73k, Mature. Crossover with due South. Constable Gerard Way of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and Detective Frank Iero of the Chicago PD team up find Mikey Way in a city where bowling alley score cards hide secret codes, where the good guys are either lying or undercover (and sometimes lying about being undercover), and where criminal bakers make drug-laced frosting.

James Cameron Got It Wrong by ladyfoxxx, Frank/Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, 57k, Explicit. In which 2005!Frank and Fun Ghoul get it on. Then Frank accidentally winds up in 2019.

Rock and Roll Never Looked so Beautiful by corruptedkid, Frank/Gerard, 58k, Explicit. Gerard Way is a rising solo artist, set to become the next big thing in the alternative scene. Frank Iero is a trashy punk with a reputation of his own as the frontman of Pencey Prep. When their paths cross, a love story is born, only to come crashing down when Gerard hits it big. As Gerard ascends to the A-list, Frank adjusts to life on his own. He almost manages it - until two years later, when fate puts him face to face with Gerard once more. Everything has changed, but the connection between them is still there. Their story has ended once before, but if they're lucky, they just might make a new one.

I never told you what I do for a living. by not0-fuckin-kay, Frank/Gerard, 60k+, PG-13 to NC-17. Frank Iero, male nurse at Pete Wentz's private hospital and possibly more to one new patient he can't keep his eyes off of. When a new pateint is brought in with amnesia, just days before Christmas, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange drawing, it's left to Frank to find out who he is and what happened to him. When he does, it changes Frank's life forever, as he's thrust into love and health scares he never thought would complicate his life. This is the story of how he tries to make it through, juggling his job and his love-life and just trying to make things better. With Patrick the doctor, Bob the ward supervisor, Travis the unlikely therapist, and Mikey, the sometimes wannabe homicidal geek.

and me here on the ground by ohnoktcsk, Frank/Gerard, 32k, Explicit. Frank's worked hard to build a life for himself in the city of Jersey, where dragons swoop and dive over the river, and every day is divided by the ringing of the city bells. He knows the streets of the city like he knows the the tattoos on the backs of his hands, and he's content with what he has: a job as a bike courier, friends who love to give him shit, and a crush on a professor of art history at the local university. But he's also got a secret—one he's been running from for a long time. But all it takes is one delivery to a mysterious, quite-probably-magical bookshop to show Frank that there are some things you can’t outrun. Especially since he’s finally found a place that he doesn’t want to leave.

Companion by onceuponamoon, Frank/Gerard, 34k, Explicit. A workplace AU. There’s a dude sitting in one of the high-backed chairs opposite the reception desk. Mostly obscured by a fake ficus plant between them, the guy probably wouldn’t have been noticeable save for the lazy sprawl of his legs, the Chucks contrasting against the floral rug.

Your Heart The Only Place That I Call Home by dear_monday, Frank/Gerard, 30k, Explicit. When Frank and his crew of morally ambiguous ethernauts (pirates, as Imperial law would have it, but that's such an ugly word) fetch up on the doorstep of the fabled Sanctuary, they aren't expecting to find much - least of all a long-lost brother, a garden in a box and the key to an ancient riddle.

Give Me a Reason by mistresscurvy, Lindsey/Frank/Jamia/Gerard and most variants thereof, 38k, Explicit. July 2007. Frank is fucking stoked for the next tour. This one will be the best ever, because his wife's gonna be with him the entire time. They've been married for less than six months, and he still can't fucking believe he got to marry her. This summer is going to rock. But life never happens as he plans.

In Repair by autoschediastic, Frank/Gerard, 33k, Explicit. "Shit," Frank mutters, and shoves both hands through his hair. He looks around the kitchen like he's gonna find what he should do scratched into the old linoleum, then looks back at the bot. He gnaws on his lip. Fuck it. He already knows what he's gonna do. He's just gotta do it. Getting down on his knees, he braces a hand on the edge of the crate and leans over the bot. It's dressed in a plain white tee and matching drawstring pants like an escaped mental patient. Frank rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, shaking the ache out of them before carefully laying his palm against its cheek. He's pretty sure his voice is steady when he says, "Activate." Nothing happens. Fucking shitty packaging-- the thing's busted. But Frank keeps his hand where it is, jumping a little when he feels the surge of energy beneath it. The robot's skin goes from room temperature to lukewarm, then warm. Frank watches it open its eyes, the light behind them adjusting until they're a pale sort of brown. It looks at him and asks, "Am I dead?"

Promises, Promises by silentdescant, Frank/Gerard, 31k, Explicit. "Sources on our investigative team say this was a bank robbery gone wrong, and that, when faced with a police task force surrounding the building, the suspect grabbed the nearest person and is now holding that young man at gunpoint as he makes his getaway."

Cover To Cover by silentdescant, Frank/Gerard, 32k, Explicit. You've Got Mail AU. Frank owns The Shop Around The Corner, which specializes in classic and rare books, and Gerard is opening up a large branch of Way Books & Café down the street. They meet online and fall in love.

Love: The Package Deal by jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, Lindsey/Frank/Jamia/Gerard, 30k, Mature. Gerard gets a special kind of amnesia. Frank gets to reexamine his idea of acceptable relationship structures. Lots of people fail to communicate effectively, but they all sure remember how to kiss.

Let The Darkness Lead You Home by rivers_bend, Frank/Gerard, 49k, Explicit. Vampires are in charge and most of the humans on earth are prey, so Frank Iero's parents have him train as a cyber tech to protect him. Leaving the family he's born into may have saved his life, but his parents never could have expected the lengths he'd go to in order to find a new family to call home.

Gross roomies by turps, Frank/Mikey, 36k, Explicit. Frank loves living with Mikey. Sure, the apartment is a mess, the kitchen's a toxic wasteland, and there's something growing in the refrigerator that's just a day or two away from becoming sentient, but other than those minor inconveniences, it's all cool. Or it is until Mikey decides to embark on a journey of sexual discovery and adventure and Frank's left at home with nothing but the fridge monster for company. To make matters worse, Mikey insists on telling Frank everything he does with his new kinky friends, right down to the tiniest detail. And now suddenly Frank is best friends with his right hand and he can't stop thinking about Mikey in ways he never has before. The really big problem, other than suddenly being in lust with his best friend, is that Frank isn't sure why.

Of All The Hidden Corners by moneyes, Frank/Gerard, ~44k, PG-13. An epic, adventurous tale filled with alternate universes, lords, mischief, magical powers, snark, boyfriends, and luck of the bad kind.

Church of Hot Addiction by spleenjournal, 0nlymemories, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Mikey, 36k, Adult. When Gerard Way gets transferred to Our Lady of Peace in Arlington a few weeks into his Senior year, he thinks it's his chance to be cool. Too bad his idea of "cool" is no cooler than it was in 3rd grade, even if there aren't any green tights.

Paradox 'verse by stoplightglow, Frank/Gerard, 42k, Mature. You know the saying. The best part about hitting rock bottom is that you get to meet a hot psychic.

[kyliwrites]

the exit's the other way

ship: davekat (no quadrant/all quadrants; established relationship)

prompt: "you know what!? fuck you. i'm out of here."

"*name.*"

"WHAT?!"

"the exit's the other way."

setting: earth c (canon universe/post-canon, no epilogues)

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are just the absolute god damned best at riling loud, insufferable aliens up to the brink of delirious rage. Because the way their gray cheeks flush and their eyes darken is so perfectly entertaining, you take it upon yourself to annoy them into paradox space and back.

Karkat, for example. All it takes is the bare minimum of poking and prodding at his favorite romcom actor and SHABAM. Little guy's all fuming and everything; you can see the puffs of smoke coming out his ears and the attractive way his fangs slide out over his lips. He's glaring in that wide-eyed furious way of his, anger hot enough to brand you right on the asscheek like a motherfucking cow. Moo, bitch.

You hardly insulted him, but Karkat's like that: hypersensitive, petty, an asshole, totally adorable when he's mad. He's got his flaws (who doesn't?), but with you, he doesn't try so hard to cover them up. You love him all the more for that.

Presently, he's ranting about the flaws and inaccuracies of some human film you alchemized into existence for him, and he's been doing so for approximately four minutes and twenty-seven seconds. You haven't been paying much attention, if you're being honest, because you've been too busy mentally recounting everything else about those four minutes and twenty-seven seconds. Why? Narrative reasons, yo.

You tune in at the last second and catch his metaphorical hands instead of the hilariously unironic picking apart of whichever movie you picked for him (you can't even remember at this point; you've spent all three years since the game ended finding progressively shittier films, if only so you can experience the pleasure that is Karkat's ranting).

"-and are you even FUCKING listening, douchenozzle!?" Comes Karkat's infuriated, raspy interjection. It throws you bodily from your thoughts, and you blink from behind your shades in an effort to clear your head.

"Nah," you answer honestly once you've regained your bearing. "Shit got more boring than watching American football with the boys on a rainy Saturday night. Dude goes in for a tackle and skids across the field tragically. Eight jocks in a row go flying and it's like a god damn bowling alley up in this bitch. The boys start swearing like some motherfuckers, but you, a renowned Football Connoisseur, shake your head solemnly rather than go batshit insane over the slip-n-slide conga line like, you know, a normal person. Football people, bro. No humor. No sense of irony."

"I understood approximately FUCKALL OF THAT, asshole. Speak English or Alternian, thanks a whole fucking lot. What gog damn language was that!?" Karkat looks you up and down with a scrunched up expression, as if deciding where to maim you first. You straighten involuntarily underneath his gaze.

"...S'called Texan, m'dude."

He recoils melodramatically. "Texan!? Is that a joke or some bullshit? Some kind of dead language you somehow learned? Where the fuck is the TEXAN and who came up with a name that hideous and disgusting?"

"No, Karks," you wheeze. "Texas. The people from Texas are Texans."

"Why do I care about your overcomplicated alien linguistics!? Answer my question, Strider," he demands, crossing his arms. His nails, bitten down yet still sharp and threatening, dig into his sweater.

"I'm from Texas, dude. You know how there were, like, different dialects on y'all's murderplanet? English is kind of like that. Texans have huge accents and are famous for being racists, people from Jersey are famous for being the shittiest people, Alabamians marry their relatives, etcetera etcetera."

After a moment of thought, Karkat nods seriously and says, "That explains why you're such a xenophobe."

You choke. Of all the things you'd been expecting him to say, it definitely wasn't that. You reply eloquently:

"W-what!?"

"You heard me. You fucking space racist."

"Oh my jesus shit, rude," you protest vehemently. "I am not space racist." Not anymore, at least.

Karkat flashes a rare fanged grin at you, his eyebrows lifted, and you realize he's only joking. The smile is gone as soon as it came, one of those blink-and-you-miss-it gifts. "Space racist." He nudges you with one elbow. You nudge him back.

"Dude," you say, "don't make this a thing."

He pushes you forcefully, hard enough for you to have to grip the arm of the sofa you're sitting atop to remain seated, in response. Oh, it is on.

You tackle him and he lets out a paralyzed squawk when you roll off the couch and into the floor. He lands on his back with an "oof," and you pin him down by the shoulders. He bares his teeth, but the smile breaking out over his face ruins the effect.

"Get off me, asshat, I'll fucking kneecap you," he barks, still grinning like an idiot.

"You won't." You're grinning like an idiot, too, to be fair, except yours is more fond than shit-eating. Dave Strider, maximum sap. Whod've thunk.

He surges forward suddenly, without warning, and uses his legs to flip you onto your back; it knocks all the air out of you, but you manage a cackle and a "fuck you" anyway. He pins your arms above your head and sits on your chest.

"Say fucking uncle, Strider."

"That's not how that game works!" You wheeze. "You don't even know what an uncle is!" He smirks—the sight makes your heart flutter like the cat getting showered in affection meme. The thought distracts you and you briefly ponder making a Karkat version, but you aren't given the reins to think very long because he flicks your nose.

"Ow! Dickhead, that hurt—"

"Dickhead yourself! Your fucking bony ribs are digging into my ass!" He wrinkles his nose and shifts, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit.

"What ass?" You demand in jest, which is the worst thing someone pinned beneath the person they are making fun of could possibly say. He narrows his eyes and you manage a "shit wait no" before he snatches his hands away.

You've lived together for all of three years, four months, and seventeen days. He knows your weaknesses as well as he knows his own, your fears, your discomforts. He knows what you like, love, and hate. He knows when to push and when not to push. He gets you better than anyone, even your own psychoanalytic twin sister (you'll have to blame that one on the fact that she and her wife don't leave their house unless they're going to the alien procreation cave).

So, that's why he decides to tickle you. Because he knows you throw an absolute shitfit when it comes to being tickled.

You hunch your shoulders when his hands descend upon you and try to roll yourself into a tight, impenetrable ball to escape his fingers, but he's fucking relentless. He knows how sensitive you are; it's the perfect revenge.

In between your wheezing laughs, you can barely manage words, but you cough out a "dude," "bro," and "dudebro," then, finally, "Karkat," before he pauses, rasps, "You did this to yourself," and raises his hands threateningly again.

You blurt, "Uncle! I'll say uncle just don't do it please dude I have never done anything wrong ever you know this right? I—"

He leans forward, silencing you. "Take that bullshit you said first back, Strider, or your plea to your human familial figure is null."

"Fine! Fine, I take it back. Listen, bro. You definitely don't not have an ass. Like, in fact, that ass is so ripe I can't believe anyone would ever accuse you of not having one. That's so fucking disrespectful. How dare those blind motherfuckers? I'm waving my fists at them right now. I will singlehandedly smite all Karkat's assphobes, my man. I'll raise my assphobe smiting trident and pulverize all these thotass sons of bitches right here, right now. I'll do it, I will. I'm no coward. I'll protect that magnificent rear with everything I have, dude. Those glorious buns. The assnihilator—"

"Shut the fuck up oh my gog I can't believe I fucking brought this upon myself." Karkat rolls off of you and clutches said glorious buns. Apparently your ribs really did hurt his ass. Huh.

"You did bring it upon yourself," you agree. And then, because you still aren't done pushing his buttons and want to be an insufferable piece of shit, "So, you didn't say what you thought of the movie."

He opens his mouth, clamps it shut hard enough for his teeth to clank together, repeats the motion a couple of times. "I—Dave—You fucking—No. You know what? Fuck you. I'm out of here."

You burst into the horrid laughter of a hyena when he scrambles to his feet in one furious motion; he's back to grumpy scowling and cussing you out in the amount of time it takes for the underpaid McDonald's employee working the back of the store to flip a shitty one hundred percent not-beef burger patty.

He stomps heavily away—in the direction of the kitchen, you note, which only makes you cackle harder when you realize he didn't do it on purpose.

"Oh my fucking jesus god. Karkat!"

"WHAT!?" He yells without facing you.

"The exit's the other way."

He comes to an abrupt halt, slowly turns around, and begins marching back, in the right direction this time.

You're too busy flailing on the couch (you can't even remember pulling yourself back onto it) to give a shit when he throws himself down beside you. You do, however, give tons of shits when he pulls you into a very exasperated smooch that simply screams "shut the FUCK up you absolute godless heathen of a space monkey."

You are not opposed to "shut the FUCK up you absolute godless heathen of a space monkey" smooches.

He draws back and rolls his eyes. "Are you done yet, bulgemuncher?"

You are, as established many times, an insufferable piece of shit, so you say, "Dunno. Do I get to kiss you again?"

"Not with that attitude you don't."

You kiss him anyway, because god dammit he's your boyfriend and you demand kissing rights. He doesn't protest; instead, he wraps his arms around your neck and relaxes, just a little.

You could stay in his arms forever, you think.

[docholligay]

Endings And Beginnings

Another Patreon release for my 12 Favorite Fics post coming up! Built off this fucking prompt from geeky:  "When someone leaves your life, those exits are not made equal. Some are beautiful and poetic and satisfying. Others are abrupt and unfair. But most are just unremarkable, unintentional, and clumsy.” -Griffin McElroy; The Adventure Zone  1900 words. 

It wasn’t fair. It just really wasn’t fair.

Usagi knew that these things happened to everyone eventually, but it still wasn’t supposed to happen to her. If it did have to happen, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be slow and dramatic, like a heroine with tuberculosis, or quick and tragic, like a heroine who fell off a horse and broke her neck. It wasn’t supposed to be a few days of feeling bad, a brief collapse, a terrible decision, and a goodbye.

She’d read a lot of stories, and that wasn’t how it happened. That’s not how people died.

Rei tried to be helpful, but even after losing Mina (In a quick and tragic way) she was still Rei, and still applied the same amount of force to a bowling ball as she did an egg, however good her intentions, and however tight her hugs.

“You have to come over to dinner with me and Michiru,” Rei had barked, Usagi in her widow’s haze not even thinking to question whether MIchiru had invited her or not, “At our apartment. I know Seiya’s dead,” Usagi had winced, and for as little as Rei could see, she must have sensed it, for her voice softened, “But you need to live, Usagi. Let us...let us help you.”

It still didn’t seem real. How could it be? It couldn’t be. She couldn’t really be gone, because her hamper of clothes was still on the bedroom floor. Usagi had bought her some ginger soda, and it was still in the fridge. It was kind of expensive, and Seiya wouldn’t just let it go to waste. What about ramen thursdays, and who would read her romance novels as they sat in the tub together?

She couldn’t be gone, because she loved Usagi. She wouldn’t leave her like this.

Seiya knew how much she loved stories. She wouldn’t leave her with an ending like this.

Even though she couldn’t be gone, Usagi could still remember her funeral. Even though she couldn’t be gone, her side of the bed was still cold. Even though she couldn’t be gone, Usagi still felt her wedding ring in her pocket.

Even though she couldn’t be gone, Michiru had still sent a car to the house, and Usagi was still riding toward Michiru’s apartment.

Michiru had lived in the elegant high-rise ever since her own love story had its (slow and dramatic) ending. It seemed to fit her, glistening but not gaudy, well-appointed and expensive, but in the quiet way Usagi used to never notice, until she learned what to look for.

Usagi was underdressed. She had a simple jersey dress that fit like a nightgown, Seiya’s hoodie, which she was certainly coming back for, zipped over the top of it. The doorman looked at her askance as she shuffled through the front door, mumbling Rei’s name, and stopped her as she paged the apartment.

He’d seen her before, she and Seiya had been here to have dinner with the two of them a dozen times, to attend parties and little teas. But maybe he didn’t recognize her without Seiya. Maybe no one would ever recognize her again.

Usagi Kou nee Tsukino burst into hysterical tears as the man picked up the phone.

He waved his hands and asked her to stop, but she couldn’t hear him, couldn’t hear anything but the last thing she had said to Seiya, wishing it had been better or more poetic or beautiful, wishing she had given Seiya a pretty end instead of the one she got in some horrible ICU.

Usagi wasn’t sure how long she was crying, but it was long enough for Rei to come down and collect her by hand.

“She’s on the list!” Rei snapped impatiently at the doorman.

“So sorry, ma’--”

“Her wife is dead!” Rei continued, and Usagi cried louder, cried because it was true, and that was the end she got to her love story, and because Rei was being mean to the doorman, and because she was hungry but she never wanted to eat again, and because she hadn’t changed clothes in days, and because the world was a terrible and unfair place.

Rei held her tight, not sparing a moment to consider her own lack of delicacy, and took her into the elevator.

Usagi loved Rei, because Rei didn’t let go of her. Rei held her and hugged her all the way up to Michiru’s floor, and she muttered angrily about the doorman but didn’t tell Usagi to stop crying, not once, and Usagi kept crying because Rei was being so nice to her, and because she loved Rei, and because she was afraid of her how and Rei’s story would end, too.

Rei shuttled her carefully into the apartment, where Michiru had laid the table with a tablecloth and all of the finest, least exquisite noodle dishes Tokyo had to offer. There were fried shrimp, and curry rice, and all of the terrible things that Usagi loved so well.

Michiru smiled kindly, and if Usagi would have had the strength to cry again, she would have.

“I insist you eat something.” She sat down at the table, and indicated to a spot for Usagi, where a bright soda sat waiting. “And if you do not, you will have to hear REi’s insistence, and I believe you will find it much less polite than my own.”

Rei scowled at her, and Usagi almost laughed, somewhere in the back of her soul.

She sat at the table, and was relieved that little was expected of her. Michiru continued in her patter to Rei, and seemed to draw Rei’s loving scrutiny away from her, allowing to simply eat noodles and fried shrimp under a cloud, offering her nibbles of small cakes from an elegant selection on a silver platter.

Her stomach filled, Usagi felt slightly more human. She looked out over the lights of Tokyo and imagined heading back to that dark and lonely house, that too-large and cold bed, and nearly began to cry all over again.

“I should go…” she said, voice wavering, trying to remain strong.

“Usagi…” Rei drew an arm around her, “Remember when we were young and...do you want to have a sleepover with me?”

She offered it with warmth, trying to sell the idea with a smile, as if she were speaking to the Usagi of a month ago, and not worrying over the Usagi of now, who couldn’t even properly feed herself, the least Usagi concern of most of Rei’s life.

“Is Michiru…?” She said softly, knowing that, though she and Michiru were friends, they were hardly close, and Michiru protective of her time.

“Of course,” Michiru said, returning from the kitchen where she had taken the dishes, “But you must do me one favor.”

Rei bristled protectively, and Usagi’s shoulders fell.

“I insist you take a bath. We have a deep tub, and a wide selection of bubbles. I have a nightgown you might have, it is nothing terribly fancy, but it is warm, and soft, and will suffice.”

Usagi nodded, unable to speak, as the lights of Tokyo twinkled, unknowing that the stories of the stars in the sky were lies.

___

Usagi slipped under the flower-scented bubbles, the warm water embracing her as closely as she imagined Seiya would, if she were here. Tears ran down her face again, thinking of how she and Seiya sat at home like this, Seiya reading to her and dramatizing the most romantic parts, Usagi shaving her legs and washing her hair, tangled up in each other, laughing.

The door opened, and she sniffled deeply. She didn’t want Rei to see her like this. Rei worried enough.

“My apologies,” It was Michiru, and Usagi whipped around a moment in surprise, “I neglected to give you a towel.” She laid a thick, plush bath sheet on the side table, still warm from where she must have popped it into the dryer.

“Michiru?” Usagi said, as she turned to leave. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Michiru stopped for a moment. “I like to think I do have the barest sense of empathy, Usagi.” She considered a moment. “As an adult, anyhow. Is it so unusual that I should be kind?”  There was a slight sting to it, as if someone had whipped her with a switch.

“No, but…” Usagi turned back to her bubbles, “You hugged me, Michiru. You got stuff together for Seiya’s--I didn’t think you liked me that much. I know you do like me, but, not like--”

Michiru came over beside the tub, and sat down on the bathroom floor.

“You were so very kind to me, when my Haruka passed.” Her voice was tinged with only a slight note of sorrow, but it was still there, the same as the scar on her arm, no matter how many years had passed. “In a way you were in no way required to be. It is true that I am not terribly warm, and we have been ill-matched. But I could never forget your kindness in a time that was so dark for me.”

“You lost your prince too.” Usagi sniffled again. “But Seiya....It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It’s a love story. They don’t go like this.”

“Oh Usagi,” Michiru sighed, “It is never meant to be any way at all. There are no beautiful deaths in this world, and I am sorry that you must know it. Rei never was allowed to say goodbye. I watched Haruka grow weaker and more ill every single day. We each have been jealous of the other, at turns, but I tell you this truth now: Our lives mean much more than our deaths. You and Seiya had a wonderful love story, and you raised a wonderful daughter, and unfortunately it is very often difficult to finish a story in a satisfying sort of way. It is not the end of your story, simply of hers. For you, it is a new chapter.”

Usagi sat quietly for what felt like the first time since Seiya’s last heartbeat, not wanting to cry, not wanting to speak, just wanting to notice. Michiru’s head was tilted up toward the ceiling, sitting by the edge of the tub, and she had never seemed so real to Usagi, not even when she had been ill, not even when she had cried at Haruka’s funeral.

She was simply a widow, just like Usagi, just trying to make sense of it.

“How did you do it?” Usagi asked, poking at the bubbles in the tub.

“Slowly.” She laughed. “Inelegantly, at times.”

“I can’t do it.”

“I am certain that feels true. But you are stronger than you know, Usagi,” Her voice rang clear and true, “It gets easier, that I promise you. This year will be a difficult one. But we are here.” She chuckled. “Rei is very aggressively here, I assure you. You will write your story, still, and we will give you the pen and paper.”

Usagi threw her dripping arms around Michiru’s neck. “We’ll do it together!”

Michiru took a deep breath. “Your personal tragedy and mine, I am certain.”

Usagi was hurt for a moment, and then Michiru turned to her with a smile.

“Michiru!! You’re teasing!!!”

Usagi laughed for the first time in one month, and if we would ever believe that those we love look down on us, the stars smiled.

[dxlansfxck]

Saints & Sins [G.D] - Part 1

Summary: there's nothing that pisses Y/N off more than her own life. her family is highly religious, wealthy and nothing she'd consider fun. her surrounding is boring, but once the new guy, grayson, decides to sit right next to her, Y/N enters a new world filled with romance & fun. little did she know that this kind of fun had his shadow side to it.

Warnings: DRUG ABUSE!, this story is all about drugs, sex & a toxic relationship, if you don’t like stuff like that, you probably shouldn’t read this.

00 - Prologue

„I don’t get it, y/n! What did we do to you? How could you end up like this?”, her mother broke down in tears while looking down at her dirty, probably disgusting smelling self, “You’re the worst that could have happened to our family! Just because you needed to fall in love with this Grayson guy. The devil has sent him to test you, but you failed. You sinned just to receive a bit of pleasure instead of listening to your god!” She’s talking herself into some kind of rage but she isn’t even listening, ignoring her own mother like she did the past few months.

God here, god there. That’s all her family talks about, this weird guy that seems to live in the sky and watches us living. But how could she think him or Jesus when her mind is full of other things. Like her next shot. “Y/N, I can’t believe it! You’re not even listening to your own mother. I need to call the church so they can send father Louis to us, he needs to clean your mind! He needs to get those demons out of your thoughts.”

Suddenly, she starts praying, which Y/N’s opportunity to get out of here. She slowly walks back into her room, ignoring the cold floor on her naked feet, closes the door and smirks at the beautiful boy that’s already laying in her dirty bed. “Took you long, babe. Did your mother tell you I’m the devil’s son again? That I came straight from hell to ruin your life? Why don’t you listen to her, angel? Why won’t you leave me for your own sake?”, his fingers trail over her lips, making her already weak to the bones. Grayson chuckles, his still very muscular chest rising. His voice is full of sarcasm while his lips form the devilish grin that made her fall for him long time ago. Meanwhile, he takes the old, rusty utensils from the nightstand and slowly pours the white powder on top of the spoon. As soon as she sees his actions, her mind goes crazy and her tiny, destroyed body starts to shake from the sudden pain she feels. But Grayson takes his time preparing his own shot, holds the lighter under the spoon painfully slow.

“For fucks sake, hurry!”, her raspy voice breaks, but she bets he understood what she was saying, he just didn’t want to listen. “Gray, I can’t wait anymore!” Her cold hands were starting to shake so badly, that she was sure she couldn’t even prepare her own shot anymore but she knew Grayson, he wouldn’t do it for her, the were far past this point and he didn’t even wanted her to start this anyway. “If you’ve got enough time to prepare it that slowly, hand it over! I need it now! You know that once I’m on turkey I can’t do it myself. GIVE IT TO ME!”, she tries to rip the improvised belt out of his hand, but he just pushes her away with his foot before ramming the needle in his veins. A few seconds later, his eyes were already closing while a soft smile appears on his lips.

“Fucking son of a bitch”, she mostly mutters to herself before pulling the needle out of his arm and starts preparing her own shot of happiness. She didn’t even bother to clean the needle, if they didn’t get ill from sharing by now, it’ll probably never happen.

Her hands won’t stop shaking while cooking the substance on the dirty spoon and it gets even worse while she was trying to get it into the needle. She nearly dropped everything while searching for a good enough vein, trying not to shoot into the scar tissue, but after a few misplaced shots, she finally gets a good one that beams her somewhere else before falling asleep on Grayson’s chest.

01 - Grayson Bailey Dolan

Her life is boring. Not interesting at all. She’s been in this Christian boarding school ever since she was 6. Now she had to change to a Christian college and to be honest: it really fucking sucks.

She needs to take religion classes every day, visit the college  church every Sunday and her parents seem to be the most boring humans on earth.

“Y/N, c’mon, we’re coming late to Biology!”

Have I already mentioned that her classmates suck as well? She’s never seen someone coming late to class, it’s always been her and always her. By her, I mean Y/N Y/L/N. Ugh, she knows it could’ve been worse, because there’s a guy sitting in front of her called Thaddeus, I mean… You probably know what I mean.

After lunch – strictly vegetarian, of course – and without any motivation left, she attempted the last class of the day. Her uniform was already loose because she had opened the first two buttons of her blouse, the tie hanging loosely around her neck. Which college had uniforms anyway? This was a fucking cult.

“Ms. Y/L/N, could you please put your feet back on the holy ground instead of the table? Or do you want to clean it afterwards?” Y/N huffs in annoyance, placing her feet back in front of her. Instead of mocking the teacher, she gets interrupted by the door swinging open loudly. None of those fuckers would come late to class, but nobody heard of a new student joining them. The guy that walks in seemed a bit older, he was taller and… built. He was a giant, broad shoulders, thick thighs and you could tell through his uniform shirt, that his chest was phenomenal.

“My lovely students, this is Grayson Bailey Dolan. His parents moved here from New Jersey, please don’t be rude to him! I bet he’d be glad to know all of you. Grayson Bailey, why don’t you tell the class more about yourself?”

Grayson Bailey Dolan, as the teacher told them, didn’t seem to be very affected by anything. He studies every single face, which gives Y/N the opportunity to study his. A mop of bleached hair, narrowed eyebrows and brown eyes that had the same annoyed look as hers. His plump lips were pressed into a line, probably hiding a rude commentary to his introduction.

“It’s Grayson. And I don’t see the point in introducing myself, wouldn’t want to make friends anyway.” His deep voice didn’t surprise her at all, while he begins walking towards the only empty chair – which of course led to be the one next to Y/N. She fought for this place for about two years, she would never share it. Not with him, not with anyone. “I want to sit alone”, she spat. “And I don’t care.”

“Alright, the seat next to Ms Y/L/N is empty as you already saw. Now, tell us about your hobbies, your favorite book, don’t be shy!”, their teacher still tries to make him talk, but Grayson just huffs in annoyance. “No hobbies, I don’t read, just look at the pictures, and for that I prefer the dirty ones, you know?”

“Oh, okay, well… Anyways, we’re going to start with our next topic which will be DNS and genetics. I’ll show you a little short film and you have to take some notes so we can discuss it later on. Have fun with our little friend Geni!”

With that, the teacher started some stupid clip of an alien called Geni that wants to teach genetics while being funny. Didn’t work out that well.

“Hey, is she always like that? She seems to be a bit sick in the head.” Grayson’s voice drags Y/N out of her thoughts, and she was surprised that he decided to talk to her. She shrugs her shoulders while muttering a quick “dunno”. She feels his eyes burning through her body while he was obviously checking her out, so she kept starring at him. “Is there something interesting to see? You should focus on Geni, our little friend, not my unbuttoned blouse.” With that, she continued studying his face, his jawline was very strong in contrast to his hallowed cheeks. His eyes seem to be tired because they’ve always been kind of closed while his gaze is starring somewhere else.

Just in the moment he was about to open his mouth, the teacher screams “Well that was fun! Never been so amused while learning important lections! Ha, Geni is a genius. I hoped you wrote down anything important so we can discuss them in the next lesson. Have a night evening and I hope everyone will be there to cheer on our hockey team, they have their first official match today!”

 Soon, the classroom is empty, and everyone is inside their dorms. Y/N changed into something more comfy before sitting down on her desk while painting with her new oil colors.

“Wow, damn! This is sick! Looks like some kind of a trip. Do you draw often? I mean, of course you do, it looks so fucking good!” Y/N got so terrified that she nearly fell out of her chair, then she realized it was Grayson standing right next to her, his eyes on the piece of paper in front of her.

“Ehm, hi Grayson? Nice to see you, I guess, but that’s my room?” “Hi, cool room. I like your style, fits mine”, he points to her pair of joggers while opening and unbuttoning his shirt. Then he sits down on the bed which hasn’t had an owner. Yet.

“Anyways, this college sucks. I mean, it really bloody sucks. Teacher and students. Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, but you know how it is. Everyone seems to be manipulated by god, it’s really scary. Well, I live here now, but I gotta go. See you later, alligator.”

He was soon gone and Y/N was more than confused. She was a girl, living in a dorm, not knowing there was any chance to have a boy as a roommate. Of course, sometimes boyfriend and girlfriend were able to share a room, but most of the time, it was strictly separated. Shrugging the thought off, Y/N prepared her stuff for a quick shower, still thinking about Grayson Bailey Dolan and the impact he’s going to have on her life.

 The next morning already starts with a surprise, it seems like Grayson Dolan hasn’t been in there the entire night. His suitcase and most of his clothes are still spread across his bed. This boy was such a mystery.

Not even an hour later, Y/N finds herself in the first class of the day, not listening to what the teacher said, drawing in her notebook again. “Do you always draw that stuff? I mean, yesterday, today, literally all the time. Not that it bothers me, I really like it. But I wanna know what’s in your head.” She was kinda pissed about Grayson’s presence that she couldn’t ever answer his question. “Oh c’mon, don’t act like you’re listening to that bullshit this nun is talking about. And since you’re a student here, you should be drawing churches or the holy ghost or I don’t even know. But for sure not that”, he points to the burning people she drew, burning in the purgatory and her cheeks got instant red.

“Where were you last night? When I woke up I found your suitcase on your bed, just like you left it yesterday. Listen, those professors are so fucking strict, I don’t want to lose this place, okay? And one of their simplest punishments is scrubbing the church floor – which I don’t want to do either because there will be 20 Jesus figures watching you. And..” “Y/L/N, Dolan! This lesson is more precious than your conversation, seems like I have to inform both of your parents. Detention, both of you!” Their fat, disusting teacher interrupts them.

After 4 more hours of maths and religion, Y/N practically runs into her room, Grayson Dolan right behind her. “Y/N, why aren’t you talking to me? Are you angry ‘cause of the detention? Listen, I’m kinda sorry, but it’ll be just two hours of sitting there, it could be worse. And why is the ugly rat calling our parents? Y/L/N are you even listening?” She feels Grayson’s large hand on her shoulder, but shrugs it off. “Hm? Yeah, sure I am.” “You’re weird, but oh well. Are you hungry? Should we head out to Subway or McDonalds? We still have a bit of time left before detention starts and I’m starving.”

The girl is looking up to him, confusion written on her face. “Leaving? The only time you’re allowed to leave is between 3 and 7. Lunch is in the canteen, but the food is vegetarian.”

Grayson’s eyes widen in shock. “Vegetarian? Seriously? Dude, this is torture! How are you even alive?” “Dunno, never had meat, never wanted to, it’s dead animals. That’s disgusting. There’s plants for a reason, y’know?” “Sick”, Grayson nods. “Hey, Y/N! Why can’t ants go to church? ‘cause they’re insects. In-sects! Understand?”, he laughs so hard that he needed to sit down on his bed, holding his stomach. Y/N on the other hand opened the bible on her desk. “Haha, funny”, she mumbled and began to write down the daily phrases they needed to hand in the next day.

“Have you ever drunk alcohol? Or smoked? Oh, you hesitated, you’re a literal virgin. In everything! We need to change that, but first: lunch!” He drags her by her tiny hands and almost runs into the dining hall. “What’s that smell?”, he scrunches his nose, looking confused. “I don’t even know, it always smells like cabbage, but there’s never cabbage in the meals. You need to get the vegetable burger, but never the vegetable sausages. Everything with noodles or potatoes is fine, salad is okay but the soups are disgusting, got it? We can go to the city later on and find something better for you.” They both decided on getting the burger and while Y/N bites into it, Grayson takes a bite of the fries, then scrunches his nose again and adds half a bottle of ketchup onto them.

“I can show you around then, but there aren’t any cool stores to buy clothes, I usually order them once I’m home”, Y/N managed to speak while chewing her last bite of burger. “You’re pretty cool, angel. Never thought I could meet someone I’d like in here.”  

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: As British as Apple Pie (Grahamavoy)

Thanksgiving prompt #4 (or 5?)

@ghostgirlalicia “How about something soft and domestic like making coffee or baking holiday pies.”

Graham’s THIRSTY though so ‘soft’ turned into ‘smut.’  Takes place about 9 months after the latest thing in this verse, about a year and a half after Joseph’s transplant.  It’s shockingly low angst.

________________________________

Graham wasn’t worth anything before his first cup of coffee in the morning.  That was his only excuse, and the only reason he was in the kitchen a full five minutes before it occurred to him that Joseph was using a knife.  

“Last I checked ‘no knives for Joseph’ was the number one house rule, love.”  Joseph’s cooking skills in general were questionable and he wasn’t usually responsible for more than making sandwiches.  As for his knife skills, well there was a reason they kept a large box of plasters in the kitchen.

“The apples have to be sliced before they’re baked.”  He used the knife to gesture at the recipe in front of him.  Graham sighed.  Baking was even worse than cooking.

“They should be peeled first.”  He took the knife from Joseph, putting it down a safe distance from his love’s reach.  With a pairing knife in one hand he picked up an apple and peeled it in one long coil.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“Picked it up somewhere.”  His grandfather had taught him when he was a kid, the same grandfather that had hung up on him when he was seventeen and reaching out.  Instead of answering too truthfully and ruining the mood in the kitchen he took a bite of apple peel, making a show of drawing it slowly into his mouth.  It was almost too easy to make Joseph blush.

“Now we cut it in half and scoop out the core.”  He used a melon baller, a trick he’d learned in a restaurant kitchen once, to remove the core.  

“Show me again?” Joseph asked once the apple was sliced.

“You show me.”  He handed Joseph the knife, wrapping his hand over his lover’s and resting his chin on Joseph’s shoulder.  Together they moved slowly, their combined fingers getting sticky from the apple juice.  They got even sticker when Joseph mixed together the sugar, spices, and flour with the apple slices by hand.

“Don’t move a muscle.”  Graham pinched together the crust around the rim of the pie.  It wasn’t the fancy lattice his sister would probably do but it was good enough to get the pie in the oven.  The timer was set, giving them almost an hour before they needed to check on it.  He caught Joselg turning on the faucet.  “What did I say about not moving?”

“I was just going to wash my hands.”  He held them up, palms facing out.  It looked like he was surrendering.

“Just what I didn’t want you to do.”  He could see that Joseph was about to ask why; it amazed him sometimes how unaware of things his boyfriend was.  He still didn’t understand how attractive he was, how much his actions could be a seduction, the inherent eroticism of sticky sweet fingers.  Graham drew one into his mouth.  “I wanted to do it for you.”

“Oh.”  It was almost comical, how quickly Joseph went from being confused to understanding.  

“Pie’s gonna take an hour, love.  Do you have anything to do before it’s done?”  Nat was at work and he didn’t have to be anywhere for hours yet.  He kept hold of Joseph’s wrist and switched his attention to the thumb, drawing it into his mouth slowly, teasing the tip before using suction.

“I should clean up.”  There was flour and apple on the counter and dishes in the sink.

“Later.”  He used the hand holding onto Joseph to pull him from the kitchen towards their bedroom, pausing long enough to grab the bowl the apples had been in.  Joseph looked at it quizzically, but didn’t ask.  “Works out nicely that I haven’t made the bed yet.”

“I want to taste your fingers too.”  Joseph’s face flushed; nine months since they've resumed their sexual relationship and he was still bashful about expressing his desire.  His cheeks were almost the same color as the pink jersey he wore; no longer confined to the black garments of a priest Joseph had learned to wear colors.  Nat had been more than willing to influence his wardrobe. Graham tossed the empty bowl on the bed.

“You only ever have to ask.”  He held out his hand, and wished he’d taken a moment to back up against the wall because when Joseph licked his palm he felt weak in the knees.  It was the sight of Joseph’s pleasure as much as the warm mouth that had him swearing.  “Fuck.”

“You taste good, but you always do.”  The flat of Joseph’s tong rested against his pulse.  

“Want to taste you everywhere.  Bed,” he pleaded, pulling his shirt over his head and pushing down his flannel pajama bottoms.  He hadn’t bothered to put on any pants..  Unlike Joseph who dressed first thing in the morning in trousers and shirts even if he wasn’t leaving the flat, Graham pulled on just enough clothing that he wasn’t wandering naked.  Unless, of course, it was to his advantage to wander naked; sometimes Joseph needed very blatant signs.  “Jersey off first.”  

“We’ll get the sheets sticky,”  Joseph paused for just a moment, looking at his hands.

“Washing sticky sheets is my favorite chore.  It means we had a lot of fun first.”  Graham laughed and gently pushed his lover onto the bed.  He knelt next to him, resting one hand on the now naked belly just above the snap of his trousers.  He reached for the bowl, tilting it sideways, allowing the scant spoonfuls of apple syrup and spices to splash onto Joseph’s stomach.  From the corner of his eye he could see his love flinch slightly.  “Cold?”

Joseph shook his head.  “I just realized what you were planning.”

“You mean this?”  He lowered his head, lapping at a pool of apple juices, catching a drop as it rolled down on side.  Joseph’s belly was soft and rounded, what some men might bemoan as a middle age spread but Graham celebrated as a sign of health.  No longer could he count his lover’s ribs; every time Joseph had to loosen his belt it felt like a victory.

“Or this?”  His licks moved higher up, chasing the taste of cinnamon and sweetness to Joseph’s clavicle.  He waited until he was sucking on Joseph’s earlobe before undoing his love’s trouser button.  “Still worried about things getting sticky?”

“Please, Graham.”  Joseph’s hips jutted up when Graham stroked him through his pants.  Graham chuckled and kissed his love.

“Tell me, sweetheart.”  There was nothing Graham had ever found that was as erotic as his love finding the words to ask for what he wanted.

“I want to feel you.”  he wiggled his hips, trying to shift his pants down and free himself from the trousers.

“I’m right here.”  There wasn’t much juice left in the bowl but Graham wiped the inside with two fingers and painted Joseph’s lower lip, not allowing it to remain long before licking it away.

“Inside me.  Please, I want to feel you inside.”  Hands so much stronger and more steady than they’d been a year ago pulled at his hips, close enough that his tip rubbed against Joseph’s trousers.

“Let’s get these off you.”  He crawled to the end of the bed to tug off the last bits of clothing and rolled over to the side of the bed to reach for his bedside drawer.  The box of condoms he kept there wasn’t small, and it was well used.  The lube was getting low; they’d need to pick up some more soon.  Perhaps it was time to introduce his love to a sex shop.  When he looked back at Joseph he’d rolled to his side, a blatant invitation he was glad to accept.

“You smell like apples.”  He buried his nose in the crook between neck and shoulder when he tucked himself behind Joseph, teasing his love with lube to make sure he was ready.

“I’d rather smell like you.  I do, sometimes, after making love to you.  I can smell you on my skin.”  Joseph rolled his head as far as he could to see the man behind him.  Graham growled low in his throat.  Fuck, but the man was erotically honest.  He didn’t need to see the look in Joseph’s eyes to know that he spoke with sincerity.  He couldn’t wait longer and pressed into his lover.  If joseph wanted to smell like him he’d do his damndest to make it happen.

“Sticky,” was the first thing he said after, teasing about the state of their sheets.  They would definitely need to do laundry.

“Might need another shower,”  Joseph murmured, tugging Graham’s hand so his arm wrapped around his waist.

“I thought you wanted to smell like me,” he mock pouted.

“Company for dinner.”  Joseph sounded sleepy; Graham glanced at the clock and figured they had fifteen minutes or so before needing to check on the pie.  They could take a short nap.

“Company?”  He didn’t remember anything about people coming over.

“Nat’s bringing her bloke for dinner.  That’s why I attempted a pie.”  Joseph twined their fingers together.  “Take a deep breath, sweetheart.  It’s just dinner.”

“It’s a meet the family dinner.  She’s bringing him home and we’re having dinner and I was tricked into helping.”  He tried to sit up, but Joseph leaned back into him, pinning him into place.  It wasn’t fair, Nat wasn’t even home and his sister and boyfriend were ganging up on him.  Family dinner meant she was serious about the guy.  “I’m not ready for this, Joe.”

“He makes her happy, and you want her to be happy, don’t you?”  Joseph rolled over so they were facing each other.  “I can vouch firsthand how much  it can change your life for the better to be loved by a member of the Hughes family.”

“You aren’t fighting fair,” Graham pouted.  Damn it, Joseph would choose to get sentimental on him.  “Loving you changed my life too.”

“For the better?”  There was just a hint of uncertainty in Joseph’s voice.

“How can you possibly doubt that?”  He did his best to kiss any doubts away.

“Nat deserves the same chance, love.”  Their foreheads were pressed together.  Graham could smell their scents mingled together.  He sighed.

“Yeah, she does.”  That didn’t mean he was going to make things easy for this Adam bloke.  Starting with his plan to try and lure Joseph into a second round.  Maybe if he was lucky they’d ‘accidentally’ burn the pie.

[alienated-idiot]

I'm doing one of those stupid facebook questionnaires because I'm DRUGGED UP and CAFFEINATED

_______________________________________________

Learn 36 things about your friends and let them learn 36 things about you!

1. Do you like blue cheese?

Absolutely the FUCK not. Who likes tasting mold on a salad or cheese burger? Not me.

2. Have you ever smoked?

Smoke what? All of the above anyways, except meth because fuck that shit

3. Do you own a gun?

Yes, a BB gun that's going with my Halloween costume

4. What flavor Kool-Aid?

None of the above

5. Do you get nervous before the Dr?

Only the gyno

6. What do you like on hot dogs?

Motha fuckin mustard, ketchup, relish, and maybe onions

7. Favorite Movie?

I really like The Iron Giant or The Breakfast Club

8. What do you like to drink in the A.M?

Orange juice or coffee

9. Can you do a push up?

No, not really lol

10. What's your favorite piece of jewelry?

I cant really wear jewelry because I'm allergic to the majority of it

11. Do you have a favorite hobby or past time?

I doodle, draw. Whatever you want to call it.

13. Do you wear glasses?

Yeah, I have to or I can't function

14. Who was your childhood idol?

I looked up to my brothers a lot. They basically raised me, too, since my mom was working 2 jobs at the time and wasn't really home because of that

15. Name 3 thoughts at the moment:

• Holy fuck why do my meds do this to me

• I am an adult, why am I hyper at 8 PM

• I need some food

16. Name 3 drinks you regularly drink:

• Water

• Juice

• Mountain Dew

17. Current worries:

I dont know if my current job is going to allow me to be financially stable enough to move out with my fiance into an apartment, away from his crazy ass mom, and still be able to afford groceries, my student loans, and my medical bills (probably not, I'm in debt, help)

18. Current hates:

Bleu cheese, my boyfriend's stinky feet, and the state the country (and/or world) is in

19. Favorite place to be?

In the woods. Where I live is close to a national forest, so sometimes I like to just drive through the canyon that runs through it and listen to music. The big circle that I drive is like, 30 min long.

20. How do you bring in the New Year?

Usually just watch Netflix until WOO its 12 am and kiss my boyfriend and pass out

21. Where would you like to go?

Into my own grave

22. Name 5 people that will do this questionnaire.

Absolutely. Fucking. No. One. Will.

23. Do you own slippers?

Yes, they're pink monster feet ones

24. What color shirt are you in?

A black hoodie

25. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets?

NO I have to sleep on those t shirt Jersey type sheets because the texture of normal sheets bother the fuck out of me, and just satin in general gives me texture issues

26. Can you whistle?

Yeah, not well tho

27. Where are you now?

At home like a dumb bitch

28. Would you be a pirate?

Hell yeah

29. What song do you sing in the shower?

I don't really sing in the shower

30. Favorite sport team?

Uhhhh? Who ever is winning?

31. Favorite food?

Pineapple pizza and tuna mac

32. What's in your pocket?

I've got some pennies and a quarter. I'm rich.

33. The last thing that made you laugh?

I was watching tik tik videos like a cringe lord about 10 min ago

34. What's your favorite animal?

RACOONS AND CATS

35. Worst injury?

I've never broken anything but 2 different times that I've fallen off a skateboard ive:

• shredded the whole side of my thigh and ass cheek because I was sitting on the skateboard, going really fast, and hit a rock that made it wobble (it wasn't a very good skateboard to begin with) this ending in me falling off going like 15 mph. This happened 5 years ago

• hyper extended my left knee because I AGAIN fell up and launched the board down the road but made my lower leg fly up, but not the rest. I still have issues with it and it's been 4 years

Fact about me now: I dont ride skateboards anymore because I injure myself horribly and fall off EVERYTIME

36. How many TV's in your house?

We have 2, were working on a third one to put in the living room so we can use our Wii and stuff (dont tell my boyfriend but I'm also working to get him a Switch for Christmas)

Copy & paste to your page.

Then change answers to your own. Enjoy!!

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 27 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: I always knew the cabin stuff was gonna be pretty long; this is ostensibly Part 1 of 3 that involve the cabin and the narrative surrounding it, a major part of my fic. Please refer to this in particular, which was a major influence on the mythology I’ve built around this particular place--especially the black oak circle--and its connection with Duckenzie’s destiny. I’m so excited for all of you who have reached this part of their journey with them; while I’m using these chapters as an excuse to write LOTS of sex and doting for them (which I fucking live for), they’re also really important to the arc of the wider narrative I’ve been weaving from the beginning; the crux of what pulled this fic out of the relatively small story I had originally planned into something huge and cosmically beautiful--a project that has changed my life, a project I will finish, or die in the attempt thereof. The cabin’s kitchen looks like this. Duncan’s herb grinder is this one, for y’all stoners like me who care about shit like that. Sweet alyssum looks like this (here’s some in pink and white). The mental picture of Duncan with those little flowers in his hair is such a beautiful one to me. A reminder that Kenzie’s bikini looks like this, the rust-colored slip dress looks like this. In order to really understand a major aspect of my story, I feel it’s important to read a little about the concept of the Divine Feminine, a major tenant of witchcraft--I’m a solitary practitioner, and though my Kenzie is not overtly Pagan, she is Pagan-minded regarding how she conducts her life; coming to understand her powers will bring her closer to owning her witch identity for real. The Divine Feminine in my story is certainly not limited to Kenzie, either, and it’s very important that everyone who cares about Duckenzie understands that; Duncan learning to nurture, understand and respect his own feminine divinity, within and outside of his relationship with Kenzie, is a huge aspect of this story. Kenzie kneeling in the flowers was definitely inspired by these shots of Mallory in APOCALYPSE. The spiral of the flowers is not coincidental--the spiral is a very old symbol, symbolizing the cyclical nature of the universe and everything in it, so keep that in mind. If you haven’t noticed, roses are an important part of the imagery of my story--the working title for this fic was DARK RED ROSES once upon a time for like half a second, and Duncan calls her the Queen of Roses in his thoughts because they will forever be associated with her in his mind--it was that rosy balcony where he first saw her, and like the clearing surrounded by black oaks, the balcony was a Thin Place. I’ve been working hard on 28, so that delayed me editing this part--the good news is I’ll probably be done with 28 by the end of the day tomorrow. Here are some super cute pics I found of Billie where she really looks like Kenzie. As ever, your likes, reblogs, comments, asks and edits mean the world to me.

Duncan’s mouth was open on the fiercely soft skin above Kenzie’s breasts, drifting against the Tiffany moon, his hands urgently searching for the tie that held her sun-colored top over them, his mind adrift in her with an overwhelming strength that was making him gasp--the bed was so silken-soft, the light so sweet and golden in the daylight, and the energy in the room seemed suddenly hazy with the weight of their thoughts; Kenzie’s were rapid, heightened, pressing him with mutual relief, kindling up a desire in him that inflamed.

“Oh my fucking goddess, baby--fucking fuck me.”

Queen of Roses. Not just the Princess. The Queen. The highest and most beautiful. The height of all my desires and every pleasure of my heart.

“Oh, I fucking will, Miss Stone,” he spoke into her skin, against her neck, into her ear. “I heard you, baby. We have nowhere to be. This is the only place in the world, and there’s only you and me, and I’m gonna make you fucking scream, I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, Kenzie, moonbeam--” Kenzie writhed under his touch, a nervous, ecstatic laugh drifting out of her.

He found the tie at her waist as his mouth fell onto hers again--oh thank Fate, fuck--his fingers demandingly pulling it apart, drawing the soft fabric away from her, eager beyond all feeling to touch her. Since this morning, her little mouth so adoring around him, his senses for her had been urging him on to a desirous undoing for her--Mackenzie. Kenzie. Baby. My fucking baby. As wonderful as it is to taste you, as exquisite as it is to have your mouth on me, beloved, it’s fucking you, fucking you as we gasp against each other that brings us closest, so irrevocably close, kindles that feeling in me of not knowing where I start when I’m inside you, not feeling the divide of our bodies anymore, never wanting to come away, feeling truly as though wherever we were once separated, we’re tied together again, whole. So before we do anything else today, I’m going to fuck you. Right now. Fuck me, beloved, and let’s get lost in each other, my Persephone, my Ariadne bathed in stars, my Titania of the flowering forest.

Kenzie was lifting up as he gripped her in the space under her shoulder blades, her eyes heavy-lidded as she listened to his thoughts; he easily held her slight weight, keeping his grasp wildly tender. She pushed the top from her arms, and Duncan was lowering her back to the bed (oh fuck it’s so fucking soft, I could lay here with you all day, for days and days), her golden hair scattering around her in a wide halo, his fingers clutched tight around the roundness of her breasts now--he’d slipped them under the softness of her little black bikini top, and Kenzie’s slender chest was heaving, her breathing labored with the immediacy of his touch as he kneaded his palms into her supple skin. He could feel the tiny fluttering vibration of her heart under his thumbs, and it was making his cock jump against the front of the jersey shorts, urging him to make her moan. Speak, angel. Tell me of your need in this sacred space that exists only for us right now.

Kenzie’s little fingers (so delicate, so sweet and small, I love your hands, Kenzie baby) were drifting up to his open collar, undoing the buttons below with gentle speed, their smoothness sending a burst of shivering warmth down his spine, into the space between his legs where his cock was beginning to strain as he knelt over her, his body dipped down on her. Her mouth was so wet and tasted so sweet, her little tongue quivering against his, the tiny longing sounds she made under his lips, and he fought the faintness she was causing; it was gathering like wild, stray flowers, into a bloom in his mind. Fuck, I want you so much, I feel like I’m going to actually pass out, baby.

“I could just die,” she was whispering. “The way I can feel you right now, the way you touch me, baby, the sweetness of your thoughts, how beautiful you are--Duncan, baby, how you kiss me--”

“Remember that first night, Kenzie,” he was murmuring into her mouth, his fingers drifting down the jut of her hip bones, into the denim shorts, down the prickly slightness of the shorn hair around the lips of her sex, letting his fingers hover there. “Remember when you first let me kiss you, angel of heaven? Your little velvet dress, the crystal at your throat, those shoes that left red welts on your beautiful little ankles--remember how you told me you’d come home with me? God, I thought I was going to die right then.” Duncan was drifting the hand up from her sex now--I’m gonna tease you a little, angel baby. We have all the time in the world. I’m gonna make you so fucking wet. Drifting it to the button of her shorts, pulling the zipper down with an ease that brought a wet glow into her jade-hazel eyes, her little mouth open as she listened to him speak, releasing tiny gasps, her thoughts swirling and chaotic with want for him. The soft black of the bikini bottoms peeked from where he’d opened the zipper, and Duncan brought the flat of one palm against the mound of her there, the softness between her legs, using his other hand to pull slowly at the shorts. Kenzie wiggled a little from where he held her down, and the shorts eased off her thighs after a moment. She kicked her Vans off and they tumbled to the floor--then Duncan was dipping back to yank the shorts away, discarding them to the floor as well, kicking his own shoes off, lost in admiration of her body in the bikini. Kenzie’s little hands had managed to undo every button of his shirt now, and he ripped it away, impatiently, mouth still shivering into hers--then he lifted up, pressing his hand harshly between her legs again, heart aching at the whimper that fell out of her, and then Duncan smiled.

“For you, Kenzie, I surrendered my soul in an instant. I may not have really understood that in the moment--but I do now. I would do anything for you.” And this he spoke into her jaw, lips drifting along its delicate curve. “Anything. You--an angel. In my bed, and now that bed is ours, and right now this one is too, isn’t it, baby? This is our bed.”

“Yes,” Kenzie whispered, and the pleading in her voice made him bite his lip, close his eyes, force his need back with an insistent hand.  “Yes, fuck, Duncan, yes, hmmmh,” and she was kneading against him, moving her hips so she pressed into his hand cupped around her, “Gimme your big cock in this beautiful bed, fuck me, Dunny baby--”

He moved his fingers down now, to the crook where her thighs began on either side of her cunt, and pressed outward, then up, so her knees were pressing into her belly, the underside of her thighs clutched in his tight grip, the lips of her visibly folding into the slight fabric covering her sex. Kenzie moaned again, her eyes closing at the demand of his movements; now I have you right where I want you, Princess Kenzie, and I’m gonna make you want my cock with terrible, aching need before I give it to you, before I fuck you hard. I know you want me to--I can feel the golden coil of your desire, telling me what you need.

“Who’s your Prince, baby?” Duncan dipped his hips down so his crotch rode up against hers, against the strain of her cunt still wrapped tightly in the dark fabric, lifted his body up so they were flush against each other there, the hardness of his erection pressing into the outline of her, then back down, causing an aching friction that sent sharp needles of want through him--he felt Kenzie shudder deeply, her thighs shivering violently under where his hands gripped them harshly, felt her cunt spasm along his length, and her head dipped up, her hands finding his jaw, flitting over the stubble on his cheeks, her little mouth open, beginning to abandon all sense of her composure.

“Uhmmm, you are, Dunny, only you, you’re my angel Prince--I want you to fuck me till I’m raw--”

“Not until you tell me whose baby you are. Tell me who you belong to, baby.”

“Unh, you. I belong to you.”

“Say it again.” He let go of her thighs now, pushing himself against her again, as harshly as he could, riding his cock against the fabric that contained them, his hands clutching her little wrists and forcing her arms up over her head, straining them against the silken strands of her golden hair fanning out around her head--like your halo. I will bring you sweetest ecstasy, my goddess, I will worship you most faithfully for all my life, I ache to be your most supplicant admirer, truly, you must know that I do, you must know that I would die for you, I would die and love to die if it was what you wanted--

“I belong to you, Duncan. I’m yours forever. Fucking please--” Her voice needled up into a piteous cry that made him feel as though his mind were about to come undone, unhinge from itself and float away into the ether of oblivion. His mouth tasted at her, cutting her words off, swallowing her cry, his fists pressing her wrists down into the impossibly soft bed, pressing so hard he worried for a moment that he’d leave bruises on her skin, but could feel her thought--leave them, I want bruises from you, beloved, I want to see your devotions on my skin--and the sweet softness of her mouth was promising him that she meant it, her tongue laving out along his bottom lip, her hips bucking up to press her cunt against the fabric that covered his straining cock. He let go of one of her wrists, keeping his fist around the other, his gold Cartier bracelet digging into her, the diamonds on hers leaving tiny welts on his arm--and forced the hand that was now free into the waistband of the black fabric at her sex, rough, demanding, running his thumb into her cunt, now soaking wet for him, bringing it back to her clit and pressing there, unrelenting. Kenzie keened up against him, and her breasts were pressing into the top of his chest for a moment and he shivered to feel her sweet warmth, to smell the sweetness that lingered around her face, and then he was letting go of her other wrist, knowing what she wanted to do--she slid the shorts from his hips so they pooled around his knees, and keeping his hand at her clit as though it were tethered there, he slid out of them; the remainder of their clothing was pushed over the bed so it fell to the floor, discarded.

They were in the very center of the huge bed now, and to Duncan it felt as if they were floating in the middle of some impossibly smooth cloud. He paused for just a moment, Kenzie’s lithe body spread out under him, the irresistible curve of her hips attracting the grip of his hands with a magnetic pull, her face aglow with iridescent arousal and happiness, her fingers dipping in a little fist under her chin, her eyes fixated on his face.

“Kenzie, sweetest, loveliest, beloved--” he dipped his mouth to her ear, unable to stop himself, wanting to give her the roughness he could feel she desired, but lost in his own rosy thoughts, his own deep need to worship her endlessly. “You are so beautiful it fucking staggers me.” She was giggling against the tickle of his breath, and Duncan was overwhelmed so utterly with his love for her he had to steady himself, had to slow his mind, drift away from it, for fear that he’d die right there, die of the immensity of it. Then, he slid his arms under her, against the terrible softness of the bed, and lifted her onto his lap, lifted her so for a moment her golden hair tossed against his cheeks, so her mouth was hovering above his, so her breasts were pressing into his chest, sliding against him with such a yielding ache, the back of her thighs pressing into the top of his, the hard length of his erection pressing between the lips of her, into her clit, and he moaned against her throat as she cried out near his ear, and then he was lifting her up and forcing her down onto his cock, clutching her under one breast and at her hip, holding her steady as he rode up into her, humming into her skin as she began to buck onto him, grinding down so he was buried in her, entirely.

Duncan’s thumb came down and pressed against her clit again, and he spoke into her ear.

“Remember when you rode me like this, that first night? Your hair and your necklace glittered in the low light, and your mouth was open, just as it is now--and I knew you would belong to me, from the way you gave yourself to me, oh Kenzie, I knew you were mine--” he was gasping now, gasping for breath, gasping to feel her, to see her with her head thrown back now, eyes to the ceiling, her mind a swirling maelstrom of gold, lost in his words, loving them utterly as he knew she was. Keep talking, baby, keep saying such beautiful things. Tell me everything and fuck me.

Duncan was pounding his hips up into her with so much force, his cock burying itself in her with such abandon, he worried he’d rend her in two, her breasts and arms shivering terribly against him, her eyes full of ecstatic, oblivious brightness. He paused for a moment, the entirety of him inside her, the wetness between her legs sliding down his thighs in dripping trails.

“I love you, I love your golden hair, your lips, your throat and your eyes--I worship you, unnnh, Kenzie, Mackenzie, you are the goddess of my heart, unggg, you are the most divine of all beings--” Duncan suddenly lifted her up so he slid out of her, and she gasped in surprise, and he was flipping her over forcefully, pushing her down on all fours on the vast silken bed, hand gripping the back of her neck downwards, her little palms coming out to hold herself up, and her ass slid up towards him. Duncan brought his fingers up to tangle into her hair, then gripped it harshly, pulling her head back--then he buried himself into her cunt, seeing the veins on his cock straining with hardness before he did, and now he was riding into her from behind with a wildness that bordered on a Bacchanalian trance--they were facing the painting of Cupid and Psyche now, and his mind prickled with the combined tenderness of it, his tenderness for her against the hedonistic lust he felt for her, inside her this way.

“Unnnng, fuck my little cunt, baby, fuck me--” Kenzie murmured, her fingers clutching the luxuriant gold-and-white spread, pressing her ass back to receive him, and he slid back so all of his length retreated from her, then he forced himself back inside her, entirely, so his balls smacked up into the lips of her vulva, and jerked her head back further so he could see her eyes rolling up into her head, the open drift of her mouth as she lost herself inside the feeling of him, feel the twist of her head under the forceful pull of his hand.

“God, I love your little cunt so much, I’m gonna fuck you so hard while we’re here, I’m gonna make your little cunt so fucking pink and sore, baby--” he was keening into her, burying himself in her, pressing his whole body against her; Duncan pressed her head down now into the bed so her cheek dipped to the side, her little breaths gasping against the silken sheet, and he lifted her hips higher so he could see the raw, rosy darkness that was spreading through the space between her legs, the color of his attentions, see the redness at the pucker of her ass where he knew he’d fucked her so well last night, fucked her so hard, pressed his come inside her with the plug afterwards and kept his need inside her. “We’re gonna fuck so much you won’t be able to walk, baby, we’re gonna fuck so hard you won’t be able to move--”

“Uhhhghh, Dunny--” He could feel how close she was hovering to her orgasm, and he immediately stopped, now, stopped and pulled out of her, though he still pressed her neck into the bed, holding her steady, and Kenzie dissolved into a shivering moan of frustrated need that set his heart on fire--”Mhhhhh, Dunny, please--please--mmph, put it back, gimme your cock, spank me--”

“That’s it, angel, I knew that’s what you wanted, I felt it--tell me again. Say it again, baby.”

“Spank me. Fucking spank me.”

“Yes, Princess Kenzie.”

Keeping the hand steady at her neck, holding her rigidly prostrate, Duncan brought his open palm down, immediate and harsh, on Kenzie’s right ass cheek. The snap reverberated across the wide room, and Kenzie let out a little scream that rang in his ears, making him smile immediately, making his cock smack against the space between her legs, straining. He watched her cunt spasm, felt her shudder under his hand.

“Mmmphhyes,” Kenzie cried, and then, demandingly, “do it again, again, right now, do it again.”

Duncan smacked her left cheek now, first with the palm of his hand, then the flat of it, as hard as he could--Kenzie keened forwards from the force of it, a gasp rattling out of her, the sound of her choking on the spittle that had been sucked back into her throat. “Uhhhhhyes,” she moaned. “Again.”

Duncan could see the rising red welts he had caused--already he knew he’d left a mark that would linger on the left side, but he felt utterly beholden to her demand now, lost in his lust. Hearing his hidden hesitancy, Kenzie spoke again, her voice (the sweetest of all sounds to me) drifting up to him from where he pressed her. “Do it, Duncan. Leave marks. I want it, baby. I want you to leave your mark on me. Do as I say.”

Duncan felt his skin flush, felt himself quake under the power in her words, knew that as much as she wanted him to do it, his desire to give her the pleasure she demanded was even stronger--I would do fucking anything for you, Mackenzie Stone. I can’t speak of the things I would do in the face of my love for you. I am utterly yours for all time. There is nothing for me without you. Whatever you ask of me, know I would do it. No holy terror I would not face. No fearful, dreadful task I would not undertake. No darkness I wouldn’t swallow. I fear nothing if it is in your name.

So he brought his hand up once more, and then down with as much force as he could onto the right side of her ass again--Kenzie keened forward once more, gasping out a cry that was stifled in her surprise, and she sucked air in sharply as he smacked her again on the left, and then he buried his cock into her cunt again, unable to stand the coolness of the bare air against him anymore, unable to bear the sight of her dripping sex, convulsing and empty, and he pulled her head up from the sheet and flushed her against him, his arms trapping her little body as he knelt into her, mouth at her jaw, fingers rubbing harshly at her swollen clit--her hands gripped up around his arms, her faced turned up to Cupid and Psyche there, and he heard her whisper “that’s us, baby, that’s us, fucking divine,” and she was coming now, her tiny shape shivering with such intense force in his grip, her voice screaming out so utterly that he immediately felt his own release, suddenly, unexpectedly, coaxed out of him with her impossible sweetness, her utter abandon, and she was turning her head as they came together, their open-mouthed kiss the melding of their souls, their minds melding together, high in some other, more ethereal place for that moment, in the place where they had wings imperceptible to human eyes, where they had eyes made of galaxies, hair of sunlight, clothing woven in impossible geometry. It’s you who are divine, Mackenzie Stone. I’m merely blessed to be in your light. Her golden softness against him in the daylight was, for a moment, so like a dream, he wondered if they’d fallen into an impossibly vivid fantasy, a place that was untethered from all reality.

But no--you’re no dream, my love. You are the realest, the truest, most irrefutable of all things.

------

For a little while they had laid quietly, clutching each other, still lost in the center of the golden-cream bed, its smoothness still kindling his senses to a strange high; Duncan pressed soft, imploring kisses along her cheeks, at her eyelids, the bridge of her nose. For a little while Kenzie seemed to drift in a wordless oblivion of post-coitus, her eyes fluttering, her throat spasming with tiny movements as she swallowed, her arms shivering almost imperceptibly under his hands as her mouth dipped open, her hands drifting at his jaw, falling back and forth over the stubble. I love this, he could hear her thinking, over and over in an endless circling. I love this, I love the feeling of you here, I love the soft-prickly touch of you, I love you, I love the curve of your jaw here, I love you, I love touching you here, love you…

His hands fell down to her ass, feeling there tenderly--he coul sense the wincing shiver in her as he did, and ached to know she felt pain he had caused, even if she had asked for it--”ugh, Kenzie, are you okay?” He dipped his head up to look at the marks he’d left--he could see the dark red outline of his palms on both cheeks, and knew there were would be bruises on her tomorrow.

“Baby, it’s okay. I loved it. I wanted it. It--it fucking feels so good. I like it when you’re rough like that with me. I asked you to do it, okay? It was perfect.” And she was pulling his face down to her mouth and kissing him and sending long waves of reassuring, lovely gold into him, where they cascaded down from the top of his head into his body, and Duncan was staggered again by the power he knew she had inside her. I’m blessed to be near you at all. I can’t even fathom it.

Kenzie leaned back from him, eyes gazing at him insistently. “Baby, go get some of that weed, okay? I wanna smoke a little. Then we’ll bring the picnic basket down to the lake.”

“Ugh, yes, baby. Yes.” Duncan slid out of her arms, finding his underwear and the jersey shorts where he’d thrown them to the floor, pulling them on, glancing over to her in the middle of the bed as he did; her hair was still fanning out around her, her expression quiet and deeply content, her little mouth dipping open, her eyes falling up and down over his form. He leaned back over her, dipping his head down over her hip, pressing his lips into her left ass cheek where the redness was swelling, hand coming under it to cup it softly. She moaned softly, hand falling in his hair--then he leaned away and went to the open doorway, glancing into her face over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, baby, wait till you try this stuff, it’s so good, the high is so gradual and steady, it practically feels like an edible.”

Kenzie smiled at him, dreamily, and Duncan had to turn away, feeling lost, consumed for a moment inside his longing for her, her golden hair, the roundness of her breasts, the space between her legs. No matter how much I’m with you, no matter how often we fuck, it never feels like enough. I want you again. And again. And again.

Duncan was drifting inside these thoughts, distracted deep within them, when he realized with a shock that he was outside; the warmth of the afternoon was on his skin, the gentle wind off the lake drifting into his curls and and down his naked torso--wait, how did I get outside so quickly? Did I really walk through the house and down the stairs and out the door without noticing?

Wait.

Duncan tried to backtrack to the bedroom for a moment; tried to rewind the last few moments, retrace his steps. But he couldn’t visualize walking through the house--he couldn’t feel the wood under his feet or see the shape of the chandelier on the landing, couldn’t feel himself descending the stairs. Oh, fuck. I think I did it again, he thought. I think I moved again--without moving. He went to the G-Class, parked quietly on the gravel. Duncan stepped gingerly over it with bare feet, noticing his legs were shaking a little--he opened the trunk and pulled his Prada suitcase towards him, unzipping it and pulling his Armani sandals out, slipping them onto his feet, then set about the work of moving the other Yeti cooler and the picnic basket inside, as well as both suitcases and Kenzie’s tote bag with the books, the fireside cooking kit, and the picnic blanket and piles of lovely quilts Kenzie had ordered. Once everything was inside the house, Duncan brought both of the coolers into the rustically-styled kitchen; it had long windows overlooking the woods on the eastern side of the house, and an island in the middle made of a long slab of oak, rustic tree trunks fitted closely together to make up the base, and latticed stools with oak legs, cool-silver appliances mixed in with the wood embellishments of the counter tops. Duncan hauled both coolers onto the island tabletop, then the picnic basket beside it. The Yetis should keep everything cold for another hour or so, he knew. We’ll pack the picnic basket for the lake in a little while. For now, I need to test this theory again.

He noticed his hands were stinging a little still; stinging from his harsh slaps against Kenzie’s skin. He brought his thumbs against his palm, drifting his fingers over it, down his wrist to the gold bracelet, twisting it around absently. It wasn’t as though he’d never touched anyone else in a harsh sexual way; there were many lost nights with random partners where he remembered flashes of wanton lust, remembered his nights with Evan where he was always the dominant. But Kenzie, he thought. The idea of hurting her in any way is nightmarish to me. I understand that it gives her pleasure, but I can’t help but feel unnerved. Inside this love, I always feel untethered, absolutely unhinged with attachment towards her, and helplessly shy; helpless to behold her. To love someone this much in a world so uncertain is terrifying, and even moreso to love someone as beautiful--inside and outwardly--as she is. And to feel passion from inside it is so intense, it’s as if I’m constantly on fire. Whatever she asks for, I would die to give it to her. I know this. Utterly. It frightens me, and yet I feel so unafraid when we’re together. How strange and wondrous this love is. And it feels as though--these things happening to us are only happening because of this love. I don’t know why, or what it means. But I do feel like our love has opened some kind of door. A pathway, maybe, is a better word. The path is becoming more clear every day. The path to our destinies. And our destinies are irrevocably intertwined. Our destiny is to be together no matter what--to be together inside this greater thing that’s coming.

Duncan went back to the front doorway, where he’d left their suitcases. He gripped the handle of each in either hand. Okay. Let’s try this again. Duncan tried to visualize the bedroom, closing his eyes; the golden-creamy coverlet, the soft gauzey curtains, the gold laurels, Cupid and Psyche on the wall--and Kenzie, her hair fanning out around her like beams of sunlight, her serene expression with her eyes lifted up to him under the halo of her eyelashes, her little mouth smiling, her white breasts and dark rosy nipples, her little hands clutched along her ribs, and her wonderful, beautiful hips and thighs, the gorgeous curve of them, pressed together, hiding her sex in their dip. Mackenzie Louise. Angel of my heart. Light of my shadow.

“Duncan, fuck.”

Duncan opened his eyes--oh, shit. It worked. He was back in the bedroom, the weight of the suitcase handles still in his fingers; Kenzie had opened the window while he was away, and wind drifted cooly against the curtains. Kenzie had put her bikini back on, and she had been laying on her belly on the coverlet, her feet lifted up behind her, knees crooked, chin against her hand; she’d been facing the Swynnerton painting, no doubt gazing at it with the same sort of serene expression she usually reserved for The Youth of Bacchus; but her eyes were on him now, full of astonished confusion, her head crooked back in alarm.

Kenzie sat up, shaking her head in amazement, crossing her legs.

“You just did it twice, baby. I thought maybe the first time I imagined it, I was still coming down from my orgasm and thought I was just sort of fucked up--but that time I saw it. You popped back in here like Samantha in Bewitched. Wow, baby.”

“Kenz, see if you can do it again. See if you can move something--wait.” Duncan crouched and laid his suitcase flat, unzipping it and taking out his gold weed pipe. He laid it flat on his palm and held it up to her, looking into her eyes--they were glowing with flecks of gold, her excitement rising behind them.

“Okay. Try now. See if you can move it.”

Kenzie’s eyes squinted for a moment, biting her lip with concentration; Duncan felt the adoration of his love wash over him, watching her in her little black bikini, her tawny hair gathered over shoulder now, her hand reaching out towards him, her palm upwards, fingers curled just a little. Then Duncan glanced down at his hand--the pipe was gone from it. His eyes shot back up to Kenzie, who was grinning at him in triumph, the pipe now grasped between her thumb and index finger. “Ah ha!” she laughed, tossing her hair. “I did it again!”

“Baby, do you feel--” Duncan was going into his suitcase again, pulling out the bag of weed, a black herb grinder, and a black BIC lighter, sliding up onto the bed with her, kissing her, “--do you feel like whatever this stuff is, these things we can do--fuck it, this magic, is stronger here? That whatever it is is more potent out here? I feel like my body is charged with an electrical current, I feel like my nerves are singing--”

“Yes. Yes. That time it took almost nothing from me--it was as easy as breathing. I just thought about it for a second, and it came to me. I don’t feel dizzy or out of breath like I did before. I think I could do something a lot larger and it wouldn’t bother me at all. That’s how it feels.”

Duncan was grinding some of the blue-strain out and packing the bowl of the pipe, and his nerves still had that potent, shimmering edge--he felt high already since reappearing in the bedroom, high on the strange power of the impossible thing he had done, and the things Kenzie could do, the mystery of them.

“I was thinking, you know that feeling we were talking about--you said it seemed like we opened a door when we met, and I think the door was more like a pathway, like we opened a path, and now we’re on the path, and it’s one we only could have found after we found each other. And now we’re on it. It’s the right path. And the powers--fuck, Kenzie, the magic--they’re part of that path.” He held the bowl out to her and she took it, gently brushing his fingers, staring up at him. My sweet sweet Kenzie. To be alone with you this way. I can’t find words.

“I think so too, Duncan. I think we found the path. Oh, baby. It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”

He could see the hint of tears glistening around her eyes, then she lowered her gaze to light the bowl and breathed in, deeply, letting out a little cough at the first embers in her throat--she dipped down to his mouth, lifting her lips onto his, hand cradling his cheek, then blew the smoke between them, into him, down into his throat, into his lungs, the weed at once inebriating and potent, settling into both of them in the span of moments, bringing a new glow to the room, a spiritous opalescence. Together we’ve manifested real magick, she thought, and he heard her, warm inside her mind and in the grip of the weed, reaching out for her hand, pulling his long fingers achingly down her skin. She passed the pipe to him, which was still lit, and he breathed in from it, deeply. Together we have brought something to life. With this love we’ve woken up something very old and very powerful. I feel it, Duncan. I know it.

“It’s--so, so beautiful,” he replied. “Beyond anything I ever imagined was possible before I found you. You are so beautiful, Kenzie. It’s like I can see the universe inside you.”

“When I write my book, I’m going to steal all the lovely things you say to me,” Kenzie smiled. “I’’m going to pretend like I came up with them.”

“They’re all for you anyway; they belong to you. Everything is for you--every part of me.” Duncan set the pipe down on the softness of the bed, hand drifting down her smooth thigh to her knee. To give myself to you, to give you my love--there is nothing that has ever made me so happy in all the world, Mackenzie Stone.

“I know, baby. I know. I love you. All of me is for you, too.”

“To hear that, my heart just--fucking sings, Kenz. To be loved by you is just…” Duncan trailed off, looking away from her, full of the feeling of shyness again. To be inside her gaze shook him to the center of his soul. It’s like looking into the window of time, seeing that there is something beyond that, something so radiantly lovely, it defies all description. The thing beyond time is love. And I see that now. Because I feel it.

Kenzie was dipping her face down to him as she had before, pressing her mouth up against his--the taste of her bitter with the weed, sweet with the scent of her perfume and her hair and her skin, then she leaned away and gripped his hands, pulling him off the bed with her. He stood over her little frame, marveling over the crown of her head only reaching to the top of his chest, longing to pull her against him, but she was dipping down to her suitcase now, pulling out one of the dresses she’d packed, a strappy rust-colored mini dress, pulling it over her head, sitting abruptly on the rug around the bed (it was covered in gold fleur de lis) to slip her Vans back onto her little feet.

“The lake, baby, the lake,” she said over her shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom, emerging  moment later with two fluffy white towels which she pressed into his arms. “I wanna see the lake, come on.”

Kenzie twined her fingers around his, and in the haze of her touch and the weed and the magic he knew was with them (I know it, I know it is, I’ve seen it, I feel it) now, Duncan knew he was right. We are on the path now. “Take me, baby. I’m yours.”

--------

Together they’d put away all the groceries they’d brought in the woodsy kitchen; Duncan couldn’t stop himself from continually pressing kisses into her hair and along her forehead as Kenzie lined the fruits and vegetables and the carton of eggs, the jars of olives and tiny pickles carefully on the empty shelves; opening the drawers, her hair dipping into her eyes, to slide the lunch-meats and turkey bacon into them. He packed the picnic basket with honeycrisp apples, the tortilla chips and pico, two ripe avocados, and made them each a turkey sandwich on the sprouted bread with fresh lettuce, the artisan provolone and slices of a ripe tomato; then he slipped two bottles of the wine inside, one red, one white, and lined the others carefully at the bottom of the fridge and the reds on the kitchen’s island. Kenzie was watching him with that glittering affection in her eyes, the one that always stopped his heart, made him shy--who was I before I met you? He wondered. I feel like my life has finally begun. Finally, I’m awake, and everything before you was a dream. The weed had made him feel deeply contented, and he could feel a similar dreamlike state of solicitude from her.

“There’s so much I want to show you here,” he said, gripping the handles of the basket. He was still shirtless, and only in the jersey shorts and sandals--fuck it, Duncan, he told himself. There’s no one to care. “Just wait until you see the sky tonight, baby. And I think I can find that clearing again, the one I told you about before--where I went alone that night. With the goldenrods and orchids. Though they might not be blooming now, I don’t know.”

Kenzie was anxiously pulling him out the sliding door to the side of the kitchen; through it was a small side-deck, and then a stony path that led around the house to the path next to the gazebo and the swing that hung from the oak tree--then even further down to the lake, its surface dappled with glitter in the afternoon sun, and the dockside, the canoe bobbing from it on a length of rope. Kenzie stopped them for a moment to admire the gazebo, then glanced over at the swing, her expression elated; I love all of this so much, he heard her, and pulled her against him for a moment, burying his nose into her hair, breathing in. I love you so much.

She pulled back from him, her eyes gold-flecked, then she smiled, mischievous--Kenzie turned and sprinted away from him down the path, her hair streaming out behind her, the little dress fluttering up to flash the dip of her ass in the black bikini. Kenzie made it to the dock, the Vans slapping noisily on the wood, and paused to slip them off and pull the dress over her head, discarding it in a heap--as Duncan came up behind her she ran back a few paces on the dock, then scurried off the edge, cannon-balling into the water, splashing him with a jet of cold spray. He grinned, setting the picnic basket down, shaking the droplets of water from his hair. After a moment, Kenzie reappeared, blinking water from her eyes, pushing her wet hair out of her face, bobbing to the surface. He could see the minute kicking of her feet under the water as she leaned back, face tilting up to the wildly blue sky, the tiny wisps of cloud scudding over the sun, which had moved from the center overhead to begin its slow descent into mid-afternoon.

“I think heaven looks like this,” she said, her eyes drifting closed as she floated there, the surface of the water’s clear reflection making it seem as though she bobbed in the sky itself. In the distance there were hills that stretched for miles due west, and Duncan knew the sun would set over them that evening--he thought of Karer See, with its pink and purple hills--knew after that the sky would burst into a brilliant cascade of stars, the likes of which were never visible in the city, the likes of which weren’t visible anywhere but here, really, as far as he had ever seen--I can’t wait to gaze at the universe with you, he thought, crouching to sit along the side of the dock, dipping his legs down into the water, bringing out the bottle of red wine and opening it as he watched her, the blue weed floating up and down through him, flaring in his mind and his blood like flowers blooming.

“Heaven looks like you, Miss Stone.”

She squinted at him, sticking her tongue out, dipping down to swim over to him, reaching up to where he held a wine glass down to her, his other hand falling against her wet hair. Kenzie sipped at it, then set it gently on the dock, dipping down into the water so her mouth was hidden under it. She kept her nose hovering just above the surface, her eyes sparkling with a green-blue reflection from the sky, dancing at him. He felt a jerk at his foot as she playfully yanked on it under the water.

“Hey! A little fish grabbed me!”

Kenzie laughed at that, ecstatic. She yanked again, and Duncan had to grab onto the side of the dock to keep from being pulled into the water this time.

“Cut that out, Mrs. Shepherd.”

“Mrs. Shepherd,” Kenzie balked, laughing. “That’s your mother.”

“But it’ll be you, too. Soon. Mackenzie Louise Shepherd, Chairwoman of the Board of Directors, Shepherd Unlimited LLC.”

“Oh, soon, huh? What makes you so sure I’ll say yes to you, Mr. Shepherd?”

“I know you will. You told me you will.”

“What if I change my mind,” she said, teasingly, reaching for her wine glass again.

“You won’t.”

“Oh really?”

“You love me.”

Kenzie grinned. “Nah, I just love your big dick and your credit cards.”

Duncan shook his head, and the weed crashed against him again, this time in a stronger wave. He stared at her; he felt bold, untethered by reason, and intoxicated with her.

“Nope. You’re totally in love with me. You’d do anything for me. I heard you tell Annette. You gave yourself away. You’re going to marry me.”

Kenzie’s smile fell away; oh god, what was it? What did I say? he thought. But then he saw the emotion in her eyes, saw that it had been there all along, that her facetiousness had been a paltry attempt to hide it. The weed seemed to be clashing against her thoughts in him, muddling them; but now he felt them in a surge. I did, didn’t I? I did tell her. I forgot about that--so much has happened since then. And I meant every word. I would do anything for you. I am going to marry you. And I love you so much it fucking hurts like a wound. It’s like the most bittersweet chocolate, a wine so rich it burns on the tongue, this heady weed we smoked, drifting in our veins now. My love for you is like that inside me all the time--and your love for me, so strong it’s like a storm that surrounds me, sweetest rain against me.

“Kenzie, baby. Come here. Eat something.”

The heat had deepened; it had to be in the 80’s now, Duncan guessed, remembering his phone was off and discarded in one of the pockets of his suitcase now, and he breathed a sigh of relief as Kenzie set her wine glass down again on the edge of the dock, reaching for his hand. He pulled her easily up to him, into his lap--cradling his head into her neck for a moment, not caring when her wetness seeped into him. Then Kenzie extracted herself from his arms, leaning over the basket to use a cloth napkin to dry the lake water from her hands, grabbing one of the towels to wrap around her shoulders, then reaching for one of the turkey sandwiches Duncan had made for them--he’d wrapped them in cloth napkins too, tying each with a neat double-knot, and Kenzie sat beside him, crossing her legs, wincing a little, to untie it.

“My ass is sore from double-duty,” and then she snorted; they both burst into a peal of laughter. Kenzie reached into the basket and handed him the other wrapped sandwich, their laughter bleeding out into stoned giggles--and together they sat on the dock, eating with insistence. Duncan was starving; sex and weed will do that, he thought, and Kenzie was nodding, reaching for tortilla chips from the basket’s interior, her little teeth crunching into them, her eyes drifting up to the sky again, full of lovely wonder that pierced his heart. Duncan finished his sandwich and cut one of the avocados in half, using a spoon to dip its green flesh into his mouth, watching her coyly. Her wet hair was dripping onto the dock’s wood surface, leaving a damp ring around her, and he fought the urge to reach out and grasp her little breast in the tiny bikini top. He watched it shiver with moisture; watched the dip of her clavicle, the moon still glittering at her throat. She brought a hand up to brush her wet hair from her cheek again, the diamonds on her wrist flashing.

“I just wanna buy you more diamonds,” he murmured between bites. “Hundreds more. One for every star in the sky.”

“Just get me flowers, baby. I love the flowers best.”

“We’re taking the path through the woods behind the house after this, I’ll show you where most of the wildflowers grow--we can gather as many as you want to bring back with us.”

“Oh, Dunny, I’d really love that. I wanna cover the whole wall at home with them.”

“A wall of flowers for Persephone, trapped in the Underworld.”

“Duncan. No. It’s not the Underworld. It won’t be--not anymore. Not after what we do.”

Duncan hesitated; my heart is so light with you. I believe it. He remembered her tear-stained face last night, the pulsing glow of her sadness when he found her in the powder room, the memory of Bill Shepherd’s cruel resentment in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry about my uncle, Kenzie. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry that he doesn’t understand--I’m sorry he touched you, that he said those things. It won’t happen again.”

“Duncan. It’s not your fault.” Her hand grasped his much larger one, disappearing into it. “Death is frightening. People are afraid to die. It’s makes them do things they wouldn’t do otherwise. He’s afraid. I already forgave him. I can’t possibly hold a grudge against a man who’s about to die.”

“And Annette?”

“Annette...I think when we get back, we’ll all feel different, you know? I think things will be different.”

“I hope so. I wish I could push all my resentment away. I want to--to try to forgive her.”

“You’re human, baby. You’re allowed to be upset, unsure. It’s okay.”

“Kenzie. How are you so wonderful. So perfect.”

Kenzie shook her head, scattering water across the dock, her eyes (the forest, the sun) burning at him. “I’m not perfect, Duncan. Fuck.”

“You are perfect. You’re perfect to me. For me.”

“You’re fucking perfect,okay? Your fucking stupid perfect hair. Your jawline--I dunno--it could cut steel or something. Your beautiful hands and your lips and your eyes like the sky. And the beautiful way you think about me. It takes my breath away.”

“Kenzie. You are the brightest person I’ve ever met. It’s like you’re made of sunlight. Of starlight. It shines out of every part of you. I could see you in the darkest place. You’d shine out like a beacon. The way people react to you...they can see it too. I think you...you have royal blood. I mean--you come from...something greater. Greater than me. Greater than anyone.”

“I don’t understand that. Why people react to me that way, especially lately. I thought maybe it’s just because of your family and, I dunno--you. Millions of Instagram followers.” Kenzie smirked at him.

Duncan shook his head.

“I think it has to do with us being together. They can see something--I don’t know what to call it. Something extraordinary. They don’t know what it is, but they can feel it. It has something to do with the magic, maybe. Like an invisible current of energy. Claire said something to me that night she came over, after you fell asleep--she said we’re intense, like a bright light a moth flies into. I think people see us like that, for whatever reason--especially you--like a bright light that they want a part of. Some people are like Lindy and Gabby, they’re sincere--it inspires them, they see how much we love each other, I think. And some people respond like that guy Georgio--lust. They just want a bite of it. And other people still--Marissa, or my uncle. They want to destroy it. Snuff it out. They long for it, and can’t accept that it doesn’t belong to them, and never could; that they can’t possess it.”

Kenzie was eating one of the apples now, munching on it with an earnest cuteness that made Duncan long for the bed upstairs again; I’m gonna throw you down in the flowers and kiss every inch of your skin soon, Mackenzie Stone.

“I think that’s why I want to be kind to them so much,” she said softly. “Lindy and Gabby, I mean. They’re so sincere.”

She paused, her mouth on the apple’s smooth skin, and he wanted to reach out and brush his fingers along her lips there. Eve eats the Apple of Knowledge in Eden. And then she Knows--she knows everything. I feel like we’re about to know, too. Everything.

Duncan nodded. “I know that, baby. You don’t have to explain that.”

“Claire has always been that way to me. So sincere. I feel love from her so genuinely, so selflessly. Now I think--I think Claire could always see it. The thing we are becoming.”

“I think so too. I think Samuel could see it too. And Pilar. And so many other people around us our whole lives. We’re noticing it now, but...I think it was always there.”

They both fell silent. Kenzie’s fingers tightened on his palm for a moment, drifted down to the bracelet, sliding over it softly. The thread. The tether. It was always there too, wasn’t it? The one between us. The magic was always there, and so were we. Us. Together.

Then she dipped her head down and took another ravenous bite from the apple, crunching it happily, her face falling into an expression of blissful happiness, the sun in her hair. She slid her hand out of his, balancing the apple on her knee, and twisted her hair out onto the deck. Water pattered in an arc that glittered in a beam of light, reflecting off the water and her diamond bracelet, blinding him for a moment. Scatter your gold over me. Then she reached for the little dress she’d discarded in a heap, pulled it over her head, and stood up, reeling her arm back and tossing the apple’s core into the water.  Duncan drifted his fingers up her leg, looking into her eyes.

“Show me the woods, fair Oberon.”

The day was growing muggy now, the heat at its zenith--Duncan knew after this time, this halo’d span of hours, the sun would begin to set and the day would cool into an evening that would linger in both of them for the rest of their lives; whatever we see and feel tonight, Kenzie, will always be with us. His skin felt hot, potent, the weed crashing up again in his mind, like a rising tide. He could feel the sweat at his temples, at the back of his neck, feel the ghost of her hand that had just left his. Kenzie’s hair had already begun to dry, its waves tossing over her shoulder as she slipped her Vans back on and skipped away from him down the dock, beckoning to him impatiently.

“Come on, Dunny.” Her eyes were luminous; their gold seemed to reflect the sky, tossing green and bronze in their depth with swirling intensity. I want you again. I want you under the eaves of the shade. Come to me.

Duncan launched himself up from the dock, from his trance in the sunlight. The spell she was weaving (as you always do, my love) was pushing him toward her--he started to jog towards her but Kenzie flitted away (my little firefly), her little feet in the tennis shoes flying out behind her in the grass, cutting across the path and behind the gazebo. As Duncan ran after her the sun dappled through the trees, giving the afternoon a glittering sheen, the affectation of a sepia memory. Because as this moment fades into the next, it really is a memory now, he thought, his heart aching as he chased her, the sound of her excited giggling drifting back to him as she flew down the path which had faded from stone to pounded dirt, and through the pines and oaks that grew abundantly together at the forest opening. I ache for every moment with you that fades from reality and exists only within us forever after. I’d extend every single one of them into eternity if I could. I could never have enough moments with you. Each one is precious gold--I don’t have space in my hands enough to hold them all, and that will always leave me yearning for you, Kenzie. My moonbeam, radiant with hallowed light.

He made it to the space where the trees parted to the path, panting heavily, pausing to press his palms against his knees, dipping down to suck air into his lungs--his hair fell down over his forehead, sweat dripping at the side of his cheek. The heat had begun to feel almost tantric, enveloping him, the weed veering into the space behind his eyes, through the crown of his head, down the back of his neck, through his arms, swirling down his throat and into the warm center of him. Where are you, angel. I’m going to find you. He suddenly ached for her with a terrible craving that made him want to groan aloud. What is this day, the summer wind, the sky, the water, the wood, without you. Where are you.

He jerked his head back up, hands drifting over his shirtless torso, over the sweat that was pooling in the dip of his throat, and peered through the trees. The clearing he knew was inside wasn’t visible from this distance, and Kenzie had disappeared around the dip in the path a few paces ahead. Duncan stepped under the canopy of trees; in the forest now, he thought, and shivered a little despite the heat. He forced himself to walk rather than run; Kenzie wouldn’t have gone far, he knew. She’s expecting me to follow. And once she sees the clearing--her heart won’t let her go on. I know her; as I’ve always known her. He turned around a cluster of Virginia pines at the dip in the path, eyes falling on the stream he knew was here, one that had run here for at least a hundred years. An arching, handmade bridge spanned across it--it had once been a dark wine-red, but was now fading into the russet of the forest, the paint chipping away. Duncan listened carefully; the telltale sound of Kenzie’s giggling echoed ahead, the distant slap of the bottom of her shoes. Then, it stopped, and he heard her gasp of delight--she had reached the clearing, that oasis he had found on a night his heart had ached with loneliness for her.

Duncan stepped over the bridge, glancing down at the clearness of the stream, his heart pounding wildly, his head dizzy. He knew the clearing was nearly upon him, through the denseness of the strange cluster of black oaks ahead. He remembered them because they grew oddly close together, as though they were guarding something; as though they were the gatekeepers for a world beyond, one that was different than this one, tinged with mystery. Their leaves grew heavy, dipping low, shielding the space where the path led through them. Duncan lifted his hand to push them aside, lowering his head between the eaves of them, feeling their many-pronged leaves brushing through his hair; as he cleared them, he lifted his eyes, and his breath caught again, but not from running. Fuck me, he thought. I thought I’d remembered how lovely it is, but I didn’t, not really. And there are more flowers now; so many more. It’s as if they all bloomed for her. They knew she was coming.

Kenzie was kneeling in the center of the round clearing--overhead the trees created a canopy of shade that only let slivers of sunlight down onto her, but these seemed to create a circlet of gold around her head--her halo, he thought, immediately overcome with her loveliness. All around her there were wildflowers; little lavender asters with golden centers, clusters of drooping red fuchsias, and the goldenrods he remembered. There were what seemed like a million tiny white, purple and pink alyssum flowers covering the carpet of the forest floor, too--they seemed to have grown in a circular pattern that cascaded from the outward edge of the clearing in swirls that dipped all the way to the center where she sat, her feet tucked under her little dress, her face leaning down to press her nose into the clusters in front of her, her hands delicately trailing down their stems and petals. Duncan felt dizzy again--this wave burst over him with more power than the first, and he reached out a hand to clutch the nearby trunk of the black oak beside him. The trunk was warm--strangely warm, almost--and its roughness was soothing. It seemed to tether him to reality when nothing else wanted to, not the flowers or the sunlight in her hair, not her little face turned down so angelically, not her little sighs of longing and joy, nor the way the clearing seemed to drift around her, its anchor, its center--the flowers seemed to have gathered around her with purpose, though such a thing could not be.

“Kenzie, baby,” he heard his voice call to her softly, untethered from himself; and when she looked up at the sound of his voice, Duncan felt his breath gasp again. Her eyes were glimmering gold once more; gold like they had been in the complete darkness of their bed that night, in the throes of their passion in the shadows, otherworldly and ethereal; though they were not as intensely strange as the ones he’d seen in his dream of her, they reminded him of those eyes, those galaxies she had inside her, and Duncan felt the weight of a universe pressing down on him inside the moment, inside that clearing. He went to her, hearing her speaking to him from inside the halo of where she was sitting; come to me, come to me, Duncan, come here my love.

Yes, angel. Yes, Queen of Roses.

She reached up to him, and Duncan lowered himself into her arms; the clearing was cool, strangely so, drying the sweat from his skin, and there was no breeze here, more strangely still; the trees must grow so closely the wind can’t penetrate them, Duncan thought; but that didn’t seem quite true. He could see the dips of the trees beyond through the circle here; knew that any breeze of earth would easily be able to drift through into the space. But there was only stillness, stillness in her arms. Duncan let his hands drift up into her hair, tangling in the waves, now soft and dry. The scent of the flowers was rising up to him, the dizziness he’d felt at the edge of the clearing dissipating; a deep need for her replaced it, a painfully clear desire to give himself to her in this quiet, secluded place, this place that seemed to be brimming with finespun power. Kenzie’s eyes were coaxing him to a euphoric state of abandon, and the laughter she’d sent out behind her moments ago had metamorphosed to a look of absolute trust on her small features, in the hugeness of her eyes; all her trust, and all the holy sweetness of her power over him reflected therein.

“This place is sacred, Duncan,” she whispered, and the hairs at the back of his neck rose at her words; at the fragility of the tips of her fingers on the bareness of his ribs. “This place feels like it’s part of another world.”

“Maybe it is,” he whispered back, lowering his face to her cheek, brushing his lips down the skin there, tiny kisses that pressed in measured holiness until they reached her mouth, opening to him, the scent of the flowers drifting up into his senses again as her face turned against him, her hair falling through his fingers. Kenzie was sliding into his lap, her legs parting to press the space between them flush to him, their mouths still crushed together, deeper, the small movement of her under him shivering out; he clutched at her as she rose to lean over him, her hair falling into his eyes, against his curls, chestnut-gold in russet-copper. Her hands were on his jaw again, her favorite spot, her hands belong there, lifting him into her, tasting him as though he were the sweet nectar of some wild fruit, and Duncan gave himself over to her, to the need he felt falling onto him from every fiber of her. Her power here, in this place, in this bed of flowers; it was absolute, and he knew it, could sense it. Like the Mirror, like this place--I belong to her. My world turns to her whims, her tiniest pleasures; my life is hers, my toil, every breath from my lungs a prayer to her wonders.

“I’m yours,” he whispered up into her mouth. “Kenzie, you must know how much, oh, god--how I belong to you--”

“I do know, beloved,” and her smile against him made him shiver; the Kenzie in this moment had an overwhelming flood of golden power rushing out of her into him, and he felt weak with it; weak and desirous, overcome with her. “Now, lay back, sweet Prince. Your angel needs your attention.”

Duncan let her push him, the weight of her fingers so slight and yet so entire, into the coolness of the long grass under them. His head crushed into the clusters of tiny alyssum that carpeted the clearing; for a moment, he saw himself through her eyes, dizzyingly, and knew it seemed to her that he wore a crown of flowers for her, oh love, Lord Hades, I know how you’ve dreamt of flowers in my hair, but to see them in yours too, is a delight to my eyes. In this I know you truly are mine; with these flowers I kiss you, I give you my gold.

Kenzie stood; Duncan went to lift up to her, but she shook her head with the tiniest movement, and he knew not to move; he watched her from the alcove of flowers leaning over him, watched her pull the dress over her head, untie the bikini and slide it from her thighs, her shoes discarded to a drifting patch of grasses. She was sweetly naked now; her nakedness so beautiful to him in this place, this (sacred) clearing where once he knew he’d longed for her, and where, now, miraculously, he longed for the reality of her before him, knew she held him in her sway here, knew the gold of her was brimming with power not of the world they knew; that here it was greater, somehow, it was closer to the Kenzie he had seen in the achingly beautiful dream, knew, without knowing how he knew, that she was closer to that Kenzie now than she was to the one who existed outside this circle. She lowered herself onto him, straddling him at the waist, and he shuddered to feel the lips of her sex press down onto the sensitive space below his ribs. She leaned down over him, hair tossing into the alyssum beside his face, her knowing grin shaking his heart into adamant supplication; I need you Kenzie, I need you, need you, bless me, let me give all of myself to you, I beg you--

“You need me, do you, sweet Prince? You, he of great riches and great beauty, lord of many houses, overseer of shadows, soon to be king of many lands--”

“All of these are nothing in your eyes, Goddess of the Golden Bower, High Princess of the Garden of All Delights, Angel of the Hidden Sphere wherein is held the knowledge of all things, supremely exalted in heaven--” for a moment, someone else seemed to speak through Duncan’s lips; he understood his words but not from whence they came, knew their shape, but could not comprehend their meaning--and then--these are her names, he knew. These names belong to my Kenzie, they are her names that I forgot.

Kenzie dipped away from him, and his nerves thrilled as she pressed her hand harshly against his mouth, stopping his words; he watched her expression contort in a way he couldn’t quite decipher; he could feel the rise of her lust, and feel that she could not bear the words he spoke; that somehow they were too much, too great, or too raw a wound for her to allow. Some other self, she thought, the one I was before, the one my mind can’t seem to see, the one my heart can’t comprehend. Her finger went between his lips, pressing hard into his tongue, demanding. No more words, beloved, I can’t stand the beauty of them, I’m--I’m not ready. Not yet.

“Fuck me, Duncan. Right now. I need you.”

“Kenzie, up,” he murmured, and demandingly he pressed his palms against the redness he’d left along her ass cheeks, loving the mingled gasp of pleasure and pain that fell out of her, could feel it wiping her mind clean of her uncertainty; Kenzie’s hands fell above his head into the sweet grass as her cunt bruised against his mouth and his tongue pressed, immediate, into her swollen clit, urging it to sodden preparation. Her voice sobbed up into the trees that covered the clearing, and Duncan thrilled to know no one could hear them; this belongs only to us, no one else can have any of it, and his hands drifted up her back, pressing her onto his face. Her wordless cries almost sounded like a song to him; an otherworldly, ethereal one, fitting for a place such as this, this circle that seemed like the portal to another world, surrounded by the black oaks. He pushed his tongue further into her, dipping it down to the opening of her sex, up to her clit, down the side of either lip of her, making her thighs shake against the sides of his jaw, and he kept his eyes open, open to look at the intensity of her beauty; there it is again, her halo, he knew as her head dipped back and her throat moved, shivered for him, her hair falling back in a waterfall against his fingers, and this time it’s not the sunlight, it’s not the dappled light in the clearing, it’s real, it really is her halo, and it’s like nothing in this world, this mundane world made of rules that bind us to the earth, but another world where we had wings unfathomable to human eyes, where we had clothing woven from a thread that doesn’t exist here. Her halo is the essence of her divinity. My Kenzie is truly a goddess. I can feel that here. In this place, I can see that. Here, I worship her in the truth of her golden light. And he knew.

Oh my fucking god, Kenzie. You are Holy. You’re fucking holy; you really are an angel, or something like an angel--there was a time, somewhere, somehow, where you were something else, a being made of light, higher than humankind. I saw it that first night, when I loved you so immediately; I saw it the first time we fucked in the low light of that dark bed and I longed to be by your side forever from that day, when the thought of you leaving me was like a knife in my heart. This is just the beginning--just the tip of the knowing. More is coming.

“Baby, let me fuck you,” Kenzie’s voice was half whisper, half a cry that rattled at the edges of his mind and she lifted her sex away from him, making him gasp to lose her--she was sliding down his skin, the feeling of her smooth as silk and hot as low fire, to the waistband of his jersey shorts--she snapped it back demandingly, her fingers closing around the base of his cock, sliding down further, further, her mouth dipping onto him for just a moment, scattering wetness along his length, then she lowered herself onto him, so quickly and sleekly he cried out, overcome with her--Kenzie lowered her palm against his cheek and her fingers dug into his skin, down against the incline of the top of his throat, and she was pushing into him, forcing her hand into him, and she murmured “give your hard cock to me, Duncan--” and then she was keening her hips down onto him, riding him with so much force that he felt white spasms of light, like the crackling edges of a bonfire, around the edges of his vision.

“Fuck me, give yourself to me, let me fuck you, give yourself, give to me, dearest love, fairest of all men, and mine alone, chosen one--” Kenzie’s head fell back again, her words drifting into the stillness of the clearing, the coolness, the solitude that was blessed and golden, the holy sweetness of this place that, in this moment, was theirs and theirs alone. Her nipples were achingly hard in the soft, shaded light; Duncan’s hands came up to them as she rode against him, biting harshly into his lip to keep himself from rushing over the edge already; his thighs were prickling with the softness of her swollen ass pressing down onto him, and she was so wet--so exquisitely tight against him--

This place seemed to heighten everything in his body; his sight seemed sharper, bringing every detail of her small features into clarity, the impossible depth in her eyes, the shivering length of her eyelashes, her little lips and their tiny, gathered dew, the little round dip at her nose, the scattered blush at her cheeks, the strands of her hair plastered to her neck in her passionate abandon. The sensation of her in his hands and along his cock was nearly unbearable; he fought the urge to scream, to burst into tears, and the scent of her held a sweetness that seemed, like the air, the aura of this place, not of the earth. The scent of a moonbeam, of moonlight scattered on some place that is paradise--the Garden of All Delights, is that what I called it? Is that what I said to her a moment ago, inside this place, halfway between a dream and reality?

Duncan gripped under Kenzie’s arms and forced her down, crushing his mouth against hers; the heat of her naked body was so exquisite, the warmth of her cunt so divine, he wished she could absorb him inside her somehow, cradle him in the cocoon of her light.

“That’s it, baby,” she whispered, and she gasped, “give yourself to me, just like that, ride up into me, like that, fuck me in these sweet flowers, in this sacred place--because we’re fucking holy, baby, when we’re together, it’s fucking holy, isn’t it--it’s sacred--”

“God, yes, I can feel it, it’s like a--unnnh, it’s like you’re made of sunlight, and you’re sucking me inside you--it’s so fucking lovely, Kenzie, baby--I can’t fucking stand it--”

“Fuck, baby, this place--what is it--” Kenzie was gasping, and to Duncan it felt as though her body were lifting him up into her, not just their skin pressing together here, in the dark green grass bursting with wildflowers, but their souls, twining in a meditation that seemed to exceed the boundaries of what he thought possible; like her wings are there again.

“I don’t know, baby, I don’t know, but fuck--unngh--you feel so good--”

Her hand came down again, against his mouth, her index and middle fingers pressing inside his teeth, her hips rhythmic now, back and forth along his length, his fingers coming up to dip into her clit and soothe the deep wetness there, pressing the lips of her to the sides. He could feel it now; the vibrating air, the space of this sacred circle, feel that it wasn’t just their own imagining; for a moment it was as though the circle of black oaks became unstuck, and the spirals of the flowers growing in their twisting pattern turned to a hidden beltway of galaxy, and they had ascended to that other place, the place of in their dreams, made of the sunrise colors that were moving beyond any language he had ever heard, the colors of time and things beyond time.

And then--then they were crashing back to earth, the circle tethered once more, locking back into its place, and Kenzie was falling against him, and he felt his orgasm rushing up into her intense heat, closed his eyes in his overwhelmed idolatry of her--I am the cup that runs over with the abundance of your grace--and they were coming together, crying into each other’s mouths, her little fingers on his face, flitting over his eyelids and along this stubble and against his forehead, beating softly like butterfly wings as she shuddered down onto him and he held her as tightly as he could, crushing her into him, wishing they could be together like this always, that the moment of their inevitable parting would simply never come.

------

Kenzie was laying against him now, in the crook under his arm (her spot, the place she was torn away from me); her hair was scattered back, his hand toying with its soft strands, absent-mindedly. They lay in the center of the clearing, the flowers still crushing around his head, the soft afternoon light scattering through the black oaks onto the long green grass that grew so strangely verdant here. Duncan had noticed, with a strange sort of calm, that the trees outside the circle would drift now and again in the wind; but that the leaves of these trees, the ones that created the circle, did not.

“I almost never want to leave this place,” he murmured to her. Kenzie’s eyes were closed, her cheek on the corner of his chest, her breath small and calm; she’d slipped her bikini bottoms back on, as Duncan had pulled the waistband of his shorts back over his softening cock, but she was still topless, the softness of her breasts pressing against him. “There’s something about it that’s so peaceful. Like the rest of the world can’t get in. Like only we can.”

“Baby,” and Kenzie was turning her head up to him. “What were those names you called me before? They were so beautiful. What did they mean?”

“Kenz, I--” Duncan drifted a hand over his eyes. “I don’t know, honestly. I’m not sure what I was saying. It’s something about--something about this place. It put the thought of them inside me. Like I was remembering something I’d forgotten. Like when you relearn words in a language you haven’t heard for a long time.”

Kenzie didn’t say anything more, just brought her fingers up to his stubbled chin. She seemed to be thinking, but as he knew she could if she willed it, she seemed to have closed her thoughts away from him again. He ached to hear her; he pulled her in closer to him, so her leg dipped over his thigh in their flowery bed. The light was lowering; he wondered what time it was, how long they’d laid here in the quietness. He lifted a hand up and picked a pink alyssum from where a cluster dipped down over them, bringing it around a wave of her golden hair and weaving it through, then did the same with a white flower, and a purple one--eventually there were a dozen flowers he’d braided into her, and Kenzie was smiling at him quietly, not moving, head crooked under her arm, eyes sleepy but watchful.

“I like you with flowers in your hair too, baby,” she murmured. “For our wedding you should wear a crown of flowers, too.”

“Thought you hadn’t decided if you were going to say yes to me or not,” he whispered, hoisting himself up to look down at her now. Goddess of the Golden Bower. That had been one of them.

“I mean our theoretical wedding.”

He grinned at that, then drifted back into seriousness. There are things I realize now, Kenzie. It’s like I can’t speak them out loud though, not yet. Is that what you’re closing away from me? The things you know about me, too? Did you hear me when we fucked? Did you hear that I know you’re holy? That you really are some kind of angel--that you were, once?

Kenzie made no indication that she heard these thoughts from him, either--she was drifting up from her sleepy position, the flowers he’d woven into her hair shivering around her shoulders. She reached her hands up into the air, legs tucked under her, and stretched, yawning, cat-like. Duncan immediately reached for her, pulling her against him, overcome with her again, lost for words, fumbling to speak. Kenzie seemed to sense his emotion, and pressed her lips in an earnest kiss into his neck, whispering “oh Duncan, how I love you,” and he knew there was nothing he needed to say, then--that everything between them was known, and he could enfold himself safely into her, and the outside world was impossibly far away in the understanding of her love.

They lingered that way for a little while, Duncan’s hand in her hair, the tiny remnants of the scent of roses and vetiver on her skin mixed in with the alyssum and the sun-dried earthiness of her hair now, then Kenzie pulled away from him and stood, gathering her other clothes and her shoes, reaching out her hand. He pulled himself up to her, his body immediately towering over her tiny one, and she pulled the bikini top around her waist, turning to him and brushing her hair aside; Duncan laced it back together, kissing her neck.

“We left the picnic basket on the dock, I guess we should go get it,” Kenzie said, glancing up into the black oaks one more time; Duncan followed her eyes to where the round patch of sky above was deepening into a darker blue, the hints of oncoming sunset beginning to bleed around the edges of the trees. Soon the stars will be out, baby. You’ll see.

“We should gather some of these flowers first,” he said, pulling the dress gently out of her hands and gathering it so she could dip her head into its neckline. Duncan straightened the hem around her thighs as she pulled her arms through it, then turned to pick some, but Kenzie stopped him, grasping his fingers.

“No, baby, let’s do it tomorrow. Let’s come here tomorrow morning, when the sun is rising--and gather them in the sunrise. Can we do that? I want to be--I want to gather them that way. In the sunlight.”

Duncan nodded. “Of course, baby. Whatever you want. That sounds lovely.”

She was pulling him out of the flowers now; out of the halo of oaks, back into the forest. As they left the shrouded enclosure of the huge trees, growing so closely together in their strange way, Duncan breathed out a long sigh--the air seemed to suck back into him, the wind immediately raising the hairs on his arms. It was as though they’d walked through a door back into the outside world from the shadowed interior of a house, its floors made of long grasses and wildflowers.

“That’s so--” Kenzie hesitated, pausing, faltering. “That place, Duncan.”

“You said it yourself, Kenzie, and you were right. It’s sacred. It was the first place I felt you, even when we were so far away from each other once. It was the first time I knew you were out there somewhere--that I missed you.”

She nodded, eyes bright, hand tight inside his. “It’s thin there, isn’t it?”

Duncan knew what she meant; he felt it, deep within his bones, the certainty of it. Yes, my love. It’s thin there; and the barrier between this world and whatever else there is--whatever is outside it--is barely there in that place. We felt another world bumping up against us there; our past. Our future. And other things. Things too great to even describe.

“Yes, Kenzie. I think so. I think you’re right.”

Kenzie nodded a little again, then, clutching his hand tightly, she led him down the path to the bridge; he could hear the eerie cry of a loon far off in the distance somewhere--probably on the lake--and he shivered, threading his fingers against hers, contented to be led by her. Led anywhere. Led into hell if you willed it. Led into an abyss if that was your wish. But no. I know you’ll lead me into heaven. I know it, and it amazes my soul.

Soon they were out of the woods. A cool gust of wind drifted toward them from the lake, smelling of earthy rot, grass baked in sunlight, and the oncoming dew of the evening, and as Duncan lifted his eyes to its serene surface, he was moved anew by its beauty in the oncoming sunset--the sky had begun to turn shades of pink and apricot, and they reflected on the lake’s face with a passionate kiss.

“Wow, Duncan. It looks like…” Kenzie trailed off, squeezing his hand. Her eyes misted, glancing earthward to hide her emotion; but he knew--for I see into your thoughts, beloved, and therefore, into your soul--what she was trying to say. It looks like that other place. The one with colors we can’t describe. I know, baby. I know. She looked up to him, went up on her toes, gripping into his bare shoulders to kiss him. Holy. He felt her shiver a little as another gust of wind fell over them, the flowers he’d twined into her hair falling against her cheek.

“Go get a sweater, baby, it got chilly. I’ll get the picnic basket.”

“Can we make a fire? The weather tonight is perfect. Then we can lay under the stars all night, until the sun rises.” She was grinning against him, her little chin pressing into his skin, her eyes inside his, eyelashes so long, her softness like the rose petals that had been in her hair last night--like the petals she’d slipped inside his wallet, a memory. I want to remember every minute I’ll ever have with you, I wish I could, I wish I could memorize every tiny part of everything.

He pressed his hand down from her head. “Of course we can. I can’t wait to show you the spot--the place where you can see everything. Every star in the sky. And tonight’s so clear--baby, it’s like everything is coming together. I feel so--it’s like they did this for us--”

“The Fates.”

“Yes. Kenzie--I love you.”

“And I love you. To the moon and back.”

Duncan’s heart clenched, knowing that was what she said to Madeline; knowing it was sacred, special, held close, shared between two women, tied to the feminine parts of her, secret and achingly personal. Knowing that saying it to him was a wildly intimate permission from her; knowing that the thing that had passed between them in the holy embrace of their passion under the black oaks was a piece of something vast and yet, somehow, coming together, like a thousand intricate threads of a tapestry that encompassed a universe. He felt as though he’d passed some sort of deeply difficult test; one of utter trust, one innately tied to her femininity.

To share ourselves with each other means to open our hearts to each other utterly; not just our hopes, but our secret fears, our quiet anxieties, our uncertainty, and all our vulnerabilities. In the woods, under those trees, flowers in my hair, I touched something divine in a way I hadn’t before. You felt it, too, didn’t you, my Kenzie?

Her eyes heard him, and recognized him, russet, green and gold. Yes, Duncan. Yes, my exalted love.

Kenzie turned away from him, lightning-quick--he watched her run down the path and disappear around the gazebo; a minute later he saw a warm light spill from its opening as she flicked on the lantern there, then he watched her little shape flitting out and up to the deck, hair swaying, her shoes slapping up the path, the sliding door opening then slamming behind her. The swing drifted, creaking in the breeze--the loon called out again, from somewhere far away on the lake, the canoe slapping against the dockside. Duncan shivered in the sudden solitude, walking down to the dock to gather the basket up, gazing out on the color reflected on the surface of the lake once more, lost in thoughts of otherworldly vistas, of ethereal, angelic clouds. He turned back to the house, lost inside his thoughts of the wood, the strange names he’d called her in his passion, the new knowledge, the certainty of her divinity--one he still couldn’t find words to describe to her. Maybe under the stars I’ll find them. Maybe with the universe looking down on us, I can speak what I know in my heart to her.

Maybe then I can tell her what I know now: that she really is an angel. Or she was. Or she will be. 

That she truly is divine.

[words-writ-in-starlight]

"#someday i should write a brief fic in the constantine movie verse titled 'none of us are getting out of here alive'#and basically just have it be john having a Talk with hellboy" Holy shit YES that would be the best thing ever

Anonymous said:

yooooo,, previous constantine anon here,, just read your tags on the keanu reeves quote,, and i would totally be down for reading constantine and hellboy whenever that gets posted

Fine, FINE, you twisted my arm, HERE is like 3K of just John and Hellboy TALKING AIMLESSLY in a CHURCH.  It’s also on AO3.  I’m drinking rosé out of a literal chalice right now and still will be when it gets spat out of my queue fifteen minutes after I queue it, so, like, at least I’m really embodying the self-indulgent lifestyle here.

getting out of here alive

John shrugged deeper into his long coat—New Jersey wasn’tcold, not really, but it was damp at night, and he missed Los Angeles with itsperpetual warmth.  This clammy chillgnawed sullenly at his bones, and the concrete step was cold under his knee ashe knelt beside the door.  He swore underhis breath and gave his tension wrench a frustrated twist, and—there.  The lock gave, and he pocketed his lockpicksas he stood, pulling his coat around him and scowling as he slipped through thedoor.

The side door opened into a small office, papered withdrawings by a small child’s hand, dark and quiet.  Well, it was past midnight on a November Tuesday,hardly peak work hours.  The door on theother side of the office was propped open, and John shoved both hands deep intohis pockets and walked as quietly as he could over the tile and into the narthex.  He paused there, beside the font.

Saint Benedict’s was a small church, neither well-attendednor well-appointed, but the stained glass over the altar was pristine, blue andclouded white wreathed in red and gold. The colors were dim at night, only visible as shifting glints when theclouds parted to let the moonlight through. The lights in the sanctuary were still off, impenetrable shadowscluttering in the corners where the faint glow from outside couldn’t reach.

John patted the edge of the holy water font, like someonedismissing a suspicious cat, before he walked into the sanctuary, toward thefigure in the fourth row.

“Hey, Johnny,” the figure said as John sat down.  He tipped his head to the side, glancing atJohn out of the corner of one eye, his left hand resting on the back of thenext pew up, the beads of a rosary between his fingers so that the cross drapedover the curve of his thumb.  His righthand was propped on his knees, graphite-grey in the light and scrawled withshadows that seemed to writhe.  “Beendown to Georgia lately?”

“Still not a good joke, Red,” John said dryly.  “How’s Moscow?”

“Hm,” Hellboy said. His voice was the same subterranean rumble it had been last time Johnsaw him, the same it had been when John was twenty-five and so determined toget into trouble that he almost got killed in Atlanta.  Hellboy wasn’t quite static, not likeGabriel, he was just…slow to change.  Helooked older than he did twenty years ago, but only barely.  It was probably even the same coat he’d beenwearing then, meticulously repaired. “Moscow’s fine.  Cold andwet.  Heard about that, huh?”

“Heard about that,” John confirmed.  “I was in the area, thought I’d come say hi.”

“Sure you were.”

John shrugged.  “Gladto see you’re feeling yourself, is all.”

Hellboy’s teeth flashed for a brief moment in themoonlight.  “You weren’t this diplomaticlast time.”

“Last time I was about three days post-mortem, and in a realrush to get that spear off my hands.” John patted absently at his coat pockets, wishing he had a cigarette,and came up with a lighter instead.  Heflicked it open, then closed, and watched the eyeshine that flashed back fromHellboy’s gaze in the short-lived flame. “Really though,” he said.  “Shookus up pretty good, seeing that end days shit pop up and then go away likethat.  You should be glad I got herefirst.  Everyone else is sprinting off toMoscow, or else building bunkers.”

“Always glad to see you,” Hellboy drawled, and his teethflashed again in the flicker of John’s lighter, open-close.  “Sorry for the scare.”

“I was thinking you’d finally managed to get that big headof yours bashed in.  Figures that youmanaged to just civilly turn down the Apocalypse, though, you always were astubborn fuck.  You know how hard us meremortals have to work to shut down that kind of shit?”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” John sighed, flipping his lighter thoughtfully over his knuckles.  “Your involvement isn’t exactly commonknowledge, Red, but seriously.  How areyou doing?”

Hellboy waved his right hand dismissively, still passing therosary through his left one bead at a time. The silken wooden beads glowed when John’s lighter flicked on.  “Good learning experience, to the tune ofwatching my step.”

“Mmhm,” John murmured, and dropped the subject.  “I heard about your old man, too.”

“Yeah,” Hellboy said quietly.  His lips twisted.  “You wanna hear a good joke, Johnny?”  He didn’t wait for an answer before hecontinued, a deft flip of his hand switching the cross onto the front of hisknuckles, where it dangled loose.  “He’dhave died of lung cancer if that puppet fuck hadn’t murdered him.”

John—winced.

It had been a long time since John winced.

“Jesus, Hellboy.  I’msorry.”

“He kept it a secret,” Hellboy went on, with a fatalisticnote in his voice.  “Because he didn’twant to worry me, see.  Because I’m goingto live a long, long time, and he wanted me not to worry over him until Ididn’t have a choice.  But after--”  Hellboy hesitated.  “His will ain’t exactly a long one.  All finances to support the Bureau, on thecondition that I always have a place here. All books to remain in the library, under the care of AbrahamSapien.  All personal effects to his son,and please could I make sure his headstone says something nice.  I got his medical records, too.”

Hellboy’s hand dropped from the back of the pew and hepropped both elbows on his knees, his head bowing down as if in prayer as heshook it slowly.  John nodded in thedark—Hellboy’s night vision was some of the best he’d ever encountered, hewould see it—and tried not to give in to the sudden black swell of rage underhis ribs.

“Lung cancer,” Hellboy said to the rosary in his fist.  “All that shit he survived, Nazis andmonsters and—goddamn, me, and he was gonna die from lung cancer.  He never even smoked.”

“Fuck,” John said with feeling.  “I’m—fuck me, Red.  I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t fair.  Johnhad met Doctor Trevor Bruttenholm once and only once, delivering the Spear ofDestiny into the care of the BPRD.  Heand Hellboy had been on good terms, at the time, and it had been almost funny,watching the hulking red demon with his broad military-brat drawl and thesophisticated old man with his cane and his stern eyes.  They looked nothing alike, their mannerismswere like night and day, but—Hellboy always lingered by his father’s chair whenhe was rising, waiting to offer his hand to help him up, and Doctor Bruttenholmkept a stock of chocolates in his desk to toss to his son.  

The professor had been a good man, was the thing.  Really a good man, the kind of man whodecided to raise a demonic child as his own son, the kind of man who heard outJohn’s story about his acquisition of the Spear with calm interest and thenoffered him coffee, the kind of man who gave a shit.

The kind of man who deserved to be saved from an unfairdeath he hadn’t earned.

What must it be like, John wondered, to sit next to a manwho half-cheated his way into the miracle Hellboy must still crave for hisfather?

John flicked his lighter, open-close, and wondered if heshould leave.  The silence dragged onlike tar, heavy and dense, the only sound the rapid click-click of the lighterand the slow, swelling tide of Hellboy’s breathing.

It was almost five minutes later when Hellboy broke thesilence with the inevitable question.

“How’d you do it, Constantine?”

John let out the breath he had been holding.  Hellboy never called him by his lastname.  “I don’t--”

Hellboy shook his head. “No, I—I know you told us the Devil saved your life.  But how’d you do it, really?  A bargain? Pentacostal silver?  Shit, did OldScratch just let you walk the hell out? Too obnoxious to put up with?”

“Pentacostal silver?” John asked quietly.  “Been doing some reading on how to get out ofHell?”

“It’s my job.” Hellboy paused.  “And—no.  I’m not planning to try anything.  He’d never forgive me.  I just want to know.”

“I handed Mammon in to Lucifer,” John said flatly.  “He offered me a reward—an extension on mylife, more time to buy a ticket to Heaven. So I--”  He broke off and sighed,turning his lighter over in his fingers.

“So you took it,” Hellboy finished.

John’s lips quirked into a rueful smile, and shook hishead.  “Actually, no.  I—there was this girl--”

“Always a girl.”

“Fuck you, you can’t lecture me,” John said,good-natured.  “There was this girl, apsychic.  She saw what was coming, so she--”the good humor faded and John cleared his throat.  “So she jumped off a roof and left her sistera message for me.  She saved the world,y’know, and she was damned forever—suicide.”

“Ah,” Hellboy murmured. “I gotcha.  Save the girl.”

John nodded.  “And—sacrifice,the old rules and all that shit.  TheDevil’s a sore fucking loser.”

“So here you are,” Hellboy said.

“Here I am,” John agreed. He hesitated, flicked the lighter. “Your old man—the professor couldn’t have pulled that cheat,” he saidquietly.  “Hell was never getting itshands on him.”

“Yeah.”  Hellboy letthe rosary slip through his fingers, one bead at a time, until he had the crossin his fingers, rubbing the smooth wood thoughtfully with his thumb.  “Yeah, you’re right.”

They subsided back into silence, thick and cloying.  John turned his lighter over in his fingers,the quiet sound of his skin brushing the metal loud in the quiet sanctuary, andHellboy’s eyes with their faint shine of reflected moonlight fixed on the dimglint of silver.  

“The priest here knows me,” Hellboy said abruptly, and Johnblinked in surprise but didn’t fumble his lighter.  “Closest parish to our base, so this priest Iknew what I was a kid—really a kid, three or four—pulled some strings to getone of his friends he trusted placed here and then they made him sign about athousand NDA’s.  He gave me a spare key,so I could come in at night when I wanted to. Good guy, Father Wesley.”

“Sounds—level-headed,” John remarked.

Hellboy chuckled, a little wry.  “More’n some, I bet.  So how’d you get in here, Johnny?”

“Picked the lock.”

“You just picked locks until you found me?”

“No, I asked Liz,” John said with a shrug.  “She gave me a few places to try, but--”  John cracked a smile, flicked hislighter.  Open-close, open-close, andeyeshine.  “I’ve known you since I wastwenty-five, Red, I tried the church first.”

“Fair enough,” Hellboy said. He unwound the rosary from his fingers and palmed it in his stone hand,and then held out his other hand to John. “Gimme that thing, you’re gonna give me a migraine.”

John flicked the lighter on vengefully, and the light fromthe tiny flame glowed bright in the dark room, turning Hellboy’s hand from greyto brilliant red and throwing a shadow across a scar marring the meat of hispalm.

“I thought you were fireproof, you smug son of a bitch,”John said, closing the lighter and tossing it blindly across the space betweenthem.  Hellboy caught it and opened it,setting it carefully on the pew in front of him so that the flame glowed againstthe dark.  “Thanks,” John added dryly.

“Spend all my time with people who can’t see fuck-all,”Hellboy said.  He opened his flesh andblood hand, palm up, so that the light fell on the fresh scar—a cross, Johnrealized.  It was a small thing, not eventwo inches tall, squared off on the ends, with the distinctive shiny look of aburn scar recently healed over, and it must have been a deep burn, because itresisted stretching when Hellboy spread his hand for John to see.  

“Damn,” John said, almost awed against his will—it was moreimpressive, somehow, to see scars on Hellboy’s pristine red skin than on hisown.  Hellboy wasn’t invulnerable, forall that he was sturdier than most people, but he never scarred.  Except for the deep-scored coils creeping uphis arm from the stone hand, Hellboy didn’t have a mark on him.

But now he did.

“The rosary,” Hellboy said, brushing his palm with the tipof one stone finger.  “Meyers—you mighthave met Meyers, he’s a Boy Scout, you’ll hate him—he threw it to me.  Wanted me to remember…a lot of shit.”

John normally prided himself on his poker face, but he felthis eyebrows jump at that.  “The cross onyour rosary did that?”

“Father’s rosary,” Hellboy corrected.  “And—yeah.” He touched the scar again, apparently fascinated, mouth set andgrim.  “Holy stuff never burned mebefore.”

“Yeah, I know,” John said. “I dumped holy water on you once.”

“Thanks, Johnny,” Hellboy said.  Watching him roll his eyes in the small flameof the lighter was strange—two shining gold coins set deep into his face.  “But while I was—out of it.  I caught the rosary and it hurt.”  He sounded offended, almost like a kid who’djust discovered pain, and John wondered, again, just how old Hellboy was by thereckoning of whatever, exactly, his species was called.  When John was twenty-five and stupid, Hellboyhad seemed older and experienced in a way that John, mortal as he was, couldn’thope to match.  Now, John was forty-five,and Hellboy seemed still young and wide-eyed and ready to get into trouble.

John had never been good with kids.  He’d always been pretty good with Hellboy,though, so he kept his voice absent and considering when he spoke again.  “Out of it like what?”

“Hm,” Hellboy rumbled. “Out of it like you don’t wanna see. Full demon.”  He reached out andheld his flesh and blood hand over the flame, so that the gold licked along thecrease of his palm and clung to his skin like honey, or holy oil.  “Learned my real name.  Don’t like it much.”

“What is it?”

Hellboy shook his head, lingering over the fire and turninghis hand to watch the small tongue of flame coil around his fingertips.  It took a long moment before he spokeagain.  “Father would be so disappointedin me.”  He shook his head.  “I could have destroyed…everything,Johnny.  He would have been sodisappointed.”

“You didn’t, though,” John said, stretching both legs out infront of him.  “I could have fucked theworld up pretty good too, in my time, and I didn’t.”

Hellboy smiled, and in the light of the single small flameit looked terrifying, his teeth and eyes flashing, the harsh craggy lines ofhis face throwing shadows darker than ink over the gold- and silver-touched redof his skin.  “Don’t tell me you don’tfeel guilty, Johnny.”

“I do,” John agreed.  

“So,” Hellboy said. “Share your worldly wisdom.”

John considered, watching the delicate flame part aroundHellboy’s palm, below the burn, and the shadows that shifted slow and sleepy onthe ceiling, cast by his hand.  “Ithink,” John said, “that good people don’t turn down the Apocalypse becausethey like humanity too much to destroy it.”

Hellboy chuckled, pulling his hand back.  “And what’s that say about you?”

“That I’ve put a lot of damn work into this planet and I’mnot about to watch some smug fucking archdemon turn it into an ashtray,” Johnsaid flatly, and Hellboy threw his head back and laughed properly, deep andringing as a bell.  John let one cornerof his mouth tick up at the sound.  Forall that Hellboy looked out of place in a church, with his blunted red hornsand inhuman yellow eyes, his laugh lived in the vaults of the roof and therecessed windows like he was born there.

“That’s why Father liked you,” Hellboy said, stillsnickering to himself.  “Said you weredirect.”

John shrugged, reaching out to flick his lighter closed andpalm it.  “He was a good man.  Not many of those around in the world.”  He stood, pocketed the lighter.  The church was darker than before, withoutit, the dim moonlight shining through the stained glass not quite enough forhis eyes anymore, but Hellboy was still unmistakable, cast in shades ofgrey.  Red turned grey faster than anyother color on the spectrum, in low light—Hellboy had told him that fact thefirst time John accused him of being less subtle than a fire engine.  Then he’d followed it up with a smirk and“besides, they don’t bring me places to be subtle,” and, in fairness, Johncould hardly question that one.

“Not many,” Hellboy agreed, his smile fading a little.

“Good thing your father raised one,” John added, and clappedHellboy on the shoulder as he left the pew without looking back to see hisface.  “Come on, Red.  Liz said to bring you back in time forpoker.”

There was a moment of quiet, and John walked up the aislewith his hands in his pockets without pausing. Then Hellboy sighed and rose to his feet, his steps heavy on the flooras he followed John outside, and he was chuckling again when he caught up.

“I don’t want to take all your money, Johnny,” Hellboy said.

John grinned, idly missing a cigarette as he pushed open thechurch doors and stepped out into the clammy night air again.  “You’ve got a shit poker face.”

“Yeah, and you’re a fuckin’ cheat,” Hellboy saidcomfortably, pausing to lock the doors behind him.  “We play poker with a ref.  Blue’s gonna close you down the second youstart, so enjoy it while it lasts and all that.”

“I’m not a cheat.  I’mjust better than you.”

Hellboy scoffed, and when they started walking, he hummedunder his breath to the old song.  

…a fiddle of goldagainst your soul…

“I’ll give you mymoney to cut that shit out right now,” John said.

Hellboy switched to whistling.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #143

“i’d rather be in battle than slaughtered like cattle.”

Were you happy or sad when you found out your babysitter was coming?  Sad, I had separation anxiety from Mom. Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten?  No. Did you ever read the "Junie B. Jones" books?  LOVED THEM. Were you friends with your neighbors?  I was friends with a boy down the street. Did you ever play the "Reader Rabbit" computer games?  YESSSSS I LOVED THE BIRTHDAY PARTY ONE. What kinds of games did you play with your friends during Recess?  None really, we just played on the swings and such. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid?  Chocolate. Who were you last in an elevator with?  Mom. Do you know anyone that has a black belt in karate?  No. If you have a notepad in your phone, what do you use it for the most?  I have tattoo ideas on it lmao. Who is the last child that you took a photo with?  Aubree. How and where did you get your most recent cut?  On the side of my hand.  I was drying my feet off after a shower, and my toenail cut the fuck out of it. ;-;  Pretty sure the scar's gonna be permanent. Would you ever get a nature tattoo?  Yeah, sure. Do you have any locked texts messages?  A few from Sara. Is anyone saved in your phone under a nickname?  My sisters are just "Ash" and "Nicky." Which company provides your car insurance?  I don't have my own car. Have you ever ordered from an informercial?  Nope. When, where, and why did a needle last pierce your skin?  Tattoo parlor in June to get a tattoo. Why did your last relationship end?  I didn't like him like that, I found. Do you have any tan lines?  No. Have you ever had any friends with benefits?  No. How old were you when you became financially independent from your parents?  Lol I'm not. What’s your favorite flavor of potato chip?  Ummmm probs salt and vinegar. Do you have a lock number or pattern for your phone?  No. What was the hardest language you’ve ever tried to learn?  What the super fuck even is Latin. Do you have any food intolerances or allergies?  No.  Well, without my medicine, bananas give me hellish heartburn. What’s the most number of people you’ve ever lived with?  Five.  Mom, Dad, two immediate sisters, and on different occasions my half-brother lived with us, then Dad's daughter stayed here a while. How many college degrees do you want?  Ideally, a master's because that's what is required to be an out-in-the-field zoologist.  I can do some things with lower ones, though. What do you look forward to most in the next two months?  Photographing my first wedding, my nephew's and mom's birthdays, going to see Sara in a little over two. What song explains how you feel about love?  "When It's Love" by Van Halen will always be way up there. Have you ever been IN a wedding?  Yeah, bridesmaid at Ash's. Have you ever been covered in mud?  Probably as a kid? Are there any books you wanna read?  I'm always gonna wanna read Rhett and Link's book, and I wanna start reading Wings of Fire 'cuz it sounds like something I'd like, thanks Sara. What classes are you taking in school? I'm not back in it yet. What is the last song you attempted to play on an instrument? I don't remember.  I took my guitar out months upon months ago to try and mess wi- OH, it was "Sweet Child O' Mine," and it went down horribly lmao. Could you handle being married to the last person you kissed?  That's the plan, buddy. Do you crack your knuckles?  No. How do you react when people sing “happy birthday” to you in a restaurant?  Get really shy and look down, but can't help but smile. Ever been shot by a paintball gun?  No. Have you ever had a significant other with a mental disorder?  Yes. Are you a moaner, a screamer, or totally silent?  The first. Have you ever tried Nutella?  I love that shit. Are there any activities which are “meant for children” that you still enjoy?  Yeah, movies, shows, games... Is there anything you wish you had started doing when you were younger that would have had an impact on or would have helped you with your life today?  Yeah.  I should've worked on social skills way sooner.  I should've fought back younger. Can you read lips?  Not at all. Are you part of any online communities? If so, which ones, and how did you get involved in them?  Only really KM, and because I've been in the meerkat RP community since '05. When vacuuming, do you have a set pattern or do you go willy-nilly?  Somewhat of a pattern. What’s your favorite kind of bread?  Pumpernickel. Who’s your favorite Muppet?  I don't have one. What’s your favorite monster? (can be Monsters Inc, horror films, stories, or myths, whatever)  Probably the Jersey Devil or Mothman.  Or the Dover Demon.  I like cryptozoological stuff okay. Have you ever considered shaving your head? Have you shaved it?  Noooooo. Have you ever seen a polar bear in person?  Yeah, at zoos. What’s your favorite school yard game? (4-Square, Kick the Can, etc)  I think it was called 4-Square... but I'm not sure. Have you ever boycotted anything?  No. Would you fall apart if that last person you kissed walked out of your life?  Um you have no idea. Are you against smoking weed?  Yeah tbh.  However I know there's lots of evidence coming out proving some of its medical uses, but I'm still kinda.  Unsure about medical marijuana. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about your feelings?  Sara. Who of the opposite sex has seen you at your worst?  Jason. Who were you dating this time last year?  Girt. Have you ever smoked pot?  I've only ever been in the presence of people smoking it. Are your ears gauged?  No. Have you ever played beer pong?  No. Do you believe that you are a good girlfriend or boyfriend?  I sure hope so. Would you hug your ex again?  A couple I would. Do you like to climb trees?  I wouldn't know. Name your three closest friends.  Sara, Colleen, then probably Alex?  Although she hasn't been talking to me lately. What is the best kind of Girl Scout cookie?  I loved the chocolate and PB ones. Do you like it or hate it when your partner is clingy?  To a degree, I like it.  Shows they really do care. What kind of jelly do you buy?  Grape. Is your dad overweight?  He's underweight. Do you know all the words to “Don’t Trust Me” by 3oh!3?  I don't feel like playing it in my head but maybe 'cuz that song was my shit. What movies have you cried to?  Oh yeesh, I'm a fucking baby.  The Notebook, A Walk to Remember, Old Yeller, Logan, The Outsiders, Titanic, The Hunger Games (I think), and how could I almost forget Forrest Gump.  I knoooow there's more tho. Do you love substitute teachers?  No.  We would sit around doing nothing. Does your personality generally fall in line with gender stereotypes?  Not really? What’s your favorite movie soundtrack?  Off the top of my head, maybe Blair Witch Project 2: Book of Shadows. If you could own any 3 fictional objects from any book/movie/show, what would you choose? (does not have to all be from the same book/movie/show)  I legitimately want to commission someone to make a wooden model of Lord Emon's mask from Shadow of the Colossus.  I want so much SotC stuff, but shit expensive man.  Ummm having the Seal of Metatron from SH3 would be an awesome lil collectable.  OH YEAH and why the hell not have a hearthstone from WoW so I can go home in a jiffy whenever I want. :'D How far away do you live from the last place you lived?  Like... 10-15 minutes? Do you know anyone who’s had their kids taken by Child Protective Services?  No. You’re in a food court, what do you feel like eating?  Pizza, probably. Have you ever seen someone sleepwalk?  Yes, my younger sister.  She legit tried to go outside, but I obviously stopped her (I was the only one in the room). Have you ever thought about getting your tongue pierced?  Yes, and I would if I didn't have a damn retainer. If you had to move in with a friend, which one would you pick?  I'd move in with Sara any day. How does alcohol affect you?  Okay so I handle alcohol extremely well so I've never seen serious changes... but I do know if I'm tipsy, I'm more talkative and outgoing.  I don't think my face flushes anymore. When was the last time you had a cold or flu?  Holy shit I couldn't tell you for a cold.  I've never had the flu, thankfully. Have you ever watched Parks and Recreation?  Girt and I watched a few episodes.  It wasn't bad, but the fact still stands that I can't really get into TV. What is your favorite kind of pasta?  Typical spaghetti and meatballs. What color is your shampoo?  Pink. Is there a special someone in your life right now?  Yes. If so, tell me your favorite thing about their personality and their looks:  She's strong as fuck and her smile's to die for. Ever made a guy cry?  Yeah. Has a guy ever made you cry?  For over a year straight lmao. What’s the worst goodbye you’ve ever had to say?  To Jason. What make up product do you never use? It'd be easier to tell you only what I do use.  I only ever wear eyeliner and then sometimes eye shadow, mascara, lipstick, and very rarely foundation. What is one place you have been to and hated?  Uhhhh idk. Have you ever seen a jellyfish?  In aquariums, yes.  So majestic. Did anyone ever draw on your face when you were sleeping? No. Have you ever done that to someone else?  No. Were you ever chased by an animal?  Only pets playfully. Have you ever started talking to someone that you thought was someone else?  Omfg I did this a good number of months back at the tat parlor and the embarrassment will stay with me forever. Name one person of the same sex as you that you wouldn’t mind dating? Okay so I'm not gonna be a smartass and say "my girlfriend," I'll actually answer this as if we weren't together.  I'd date Suzy Hanson in a heartbeat, come at me Arin.  Fuckin sweetheart. Do you know any vegans?  No. What’s your best friend’s pet’s name(s)?  Sara: Martha, Crowley, Little Dot, Buster, Mabel, Doris.  Idk the toads' and fishes' names yet.  Colleen: Miracle and Maxwell. When was the last time you were disappointed?  Two or so days ago, real bad.  Mom put aside buying the concert tickets regardless of how many times I reminded her, and now we can't go. Have you ever been on a blind date? No, not my thing. If you have a job, who’s your closest friend at work?  No job. Do you see yourself married in the next five years?  Probably at least engaged.  Maybe married.