#god damnit why did my phone have to go and get destroyed by a chair at the movies

[famouslysleepy]

i just realized 98% of all my lightyear art on ibispaint x did NOT transfer over or was not saved on the icloud storage on my account when I moved my data back over to this phone

[chippedaxe]

yessss for karl?! omg yess please pleas please can you write a dom step sis! reader ruining innocent stepbro! karl!!

like she teases him and he just isn’t experienced at all and she just fucking destroys him, wanking him until the sensitive little bunny is crying and begging to stop from overstimulation

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Title: Silly Boy

Warnings: !TW: STEPCEST!, NSFW (Minors DNI), cursing, corruption ig, blackmail, degrading, teasing, humiliation, penis degrading, small penis, overstimulation

Pronouns: She/her Afab

Synopsis: The reader dominates Karl and knocks him down a peg.

Word count: 2k

Note: If this type of content offends you in any way then please just ignore it, I have tons of other content on my page that isn't stepcest content and you're able to blockout any stepcest content by blocking the 'tw sepcest' or 'stepcest cw' tag <3

- This prolly isn't what u wanted but I thought of this and wanted to write it! also this hasn't been proofread and it hasn't been edited at all!

*Btw Veruca Salt is a spoiled kid that gets everything she wants, from Charlie and the chocolate factory.

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Your eyes glared down at the younger boy, towering over him to show dominance "S-sis, what're you doing?" Karl asked "Trying to scare you, is it working?" you leaned down and kept eye contact with the stammering boy "u-um not really.." he stuttered out "then why're you stuttering over your words? You're obviously intimidated." you placed your hands on your hips.

"Well why're you trying to intimidate me? I'm just trying to read this book!" he groaned "Because someone has to knock you down a peg, you think just because you're younger that you can get everything you want? Well not if I can help it!" you were furious by the boy.

"What're you on about? What've I done to you?" Karl asked worriedly "You've been asking for a whole lot this week, veruca salt!" you threw your arms in the air and started pacing around him and his chair "What? Like what?" Karl was utterly confused "You've been asking for non-stop rides to your friends houses, and you've been leaving your laundry around for mother to do!" you cross your arms.

"You're overreacting!" Karl complained "Oh I'm not done! You've also been taking money from mom's purse!" you called him out "What- how did you know about that??" Karl immediately became tense "Oh you look so stressed dear brother, just relax- don't worry... I'm not gonna tell her-" Karl sighed in relief "Oh thank god" and got cut off by you finishing your sentence "-If you promise to be a good brother and listen to what your stepsister says!" you finished.

"WHAT? No way! I'm telling mom and dad!" He began to stand up but you pushed him back down "Oh no no no, you're gonna tell them what? That you stole the $200 that mom presumed was stolen by a thief? You gonna explain that to her after she already called authorities and had someone sent to jail?" you spat venom at him.

"You're evil!" Karl shouted "Me? Evil? I'm not the thief here" you grinned mischievously "Although I could be- if you don't wanna have to do everything I say then just give me something precious you own" you held your hand out expectantly "What am I supposed to give you? My soul?" Karl questioned "If you can bare to part with it then yes" you gave a mean smile in response to his sarcasm.

"I have literally nothing!" Karl exclaimed "You have your phone" you suggested "Dad would kill me if he found out I'd given it away!" He shouted "he'd kill you if he found out about that money too" you reminded him "I- I could give you... I'll let you date one of my friends!" Karl smiled nervously as he hoped you'd agree "What friends? You're a nerd, no one would want to be friends with you" snickered.

"S-Sapnap! He's strong, he loves animals, he has big muscles!" Karl said "The brute with dark hair? He's cute but not my type" you yawned "U-m.. Quackity?" a bead of sweat dropped down his face "He's super cool, really funny!" Karl was starting to worry as he was already running out of friends to pair you with "No.. My type is nerdy boys that I can dominate, ones that get nervous a lot and stutter over their sentences" you hinted.

"Oh- like Wilbur? I'm not really his friend but I can try something!!" Karl wasn't getting the hint "No, I was thinking more specifically towards someone like you." you finally told him "M-me? But I'm your brother!" Karl was in disbelief "Step-brother. And I don't really like you, I just think that you're pitiful and if you're gonna be selling someone's body to me in exchange to keep your secrets safe than it may as well be yours." you explained.

"But- Well- I've never done that before!" he put his hands up defensively "Well obviously, who would want to touch a greasy nerd like you?" you sighed. "Well- No, that's wrong!" he shook his head "Well I'm not gonna make you, just give me something else then and I'll be on my way" you told him. Karl looked down at his feet for a moment as he mulled over what was happening and what decision he was gonna make.

Karl lifted his head and made eye contact with you "Okay." he replied "Okay what? Okay you're gonna give me something?" you asked "No- I mean- okay I'm gonna give you my body" he mumbled quietly "Gonna need to speak up, can't hear you over the sound of our parents crying over having such a disappointing child" you ridiculed him.

"I'll give you my body, damnit!" he yelled "hey- quiet down, our parents are only just down stairs!" you made him shut up. "Whatever" he leaned back in his chair and slumped down "Karl. You need to give me your full consent, you can't just go 'yea whatever' and expect me to be fine with that!" you furrowed your eyebrows "Why?? What- do you need me to beg you for it?!" he was getting aggravated.

"Actually yes, I do" you decided to torment him a little bit "Big sis, please please please fuck this desperate loser" he put his hands together to make a praying gesture as he mocked you "That's more like it, runt." you grabbed his chin and forced him to face you "We can stop at any time, if you choose not to speak up then that'll be your fault" you made sure he was fully aware that he had a say even though he wasn't in control.

"Thanks. Now- how do we?" Karl was now confused on what you were gonna do, and he was having some type of delusion that he was gonna be the one in charge dominating you. "I think I'm just gonna have some fun by jerking you off, is that okay bunny?" you teased "W-what do you mean you're gonna jerk me off?" Karl asked nervously "I'm gonna stroke your dick, never done that before?" you bullied him.

"N-no, never even thought about it.." his face became red and flushed, you slowly slid onto his lap and straddled his leg "No? You haven't? Are you lying to your big sister? That's not very nice you know, Mom always told me that you shouldn't lie (Unless it's to your dad) " Karl glanced away from you and tried to hide his face "Aw you can tell me the truth, I'm a good listener after all!" you encouraged him "I haven't.." he persisted.

"Well then let me introduce you to the pleasure that is being jerked off, slide your pants down" you instructed "What? Do I have to.." he was clearly embarrassed "No. I guess I could just palm you through your pants" you shrugged. Karl sighed in relief and let out a small breath, tilting his head back in the chair and waiting for you to do what you wanted.

Your hand dipped between his legs, your palm rubbing his growing bulge "H-Hey that feels weird" he told you "So what? You want me to stop?" he shut his mouth, encouraging you to keep palming him. "This would feel a lot better if you let your cock free, instead your trapping it in your tight pants and strangling it.." you frowned "F-fine.." Karl blushed as he slowly pulled his pants down.

You watched in delight as he released his penis "Oh is this what you were worried about?" you stared down at it "O-Oh god-" Karl felt humiliated and went to put it away but you stopped him "It's cute.. I wouldn't expect a nerd's penis to be big anyways" you told him. Karl's little cock twitched at your words, moving slightly on its own "oh. my. god. You LIKE when I'm mean to you! That's why you never argue back! It all makes sense now.." Karl looked down to avert eye contact.

"That's perfect Karl, you love when I'm mean to you- and I love to make fun of you! Win Win!" you felt a small rush of excitement. Your hand wrapped around his cock which forced a choked out moan from him, his hands moving to cover his face "you're acting quite rude Karl. Look at your big sister when she's talking to you!" you ordered.

Karl slowly revealed his face, revealing how much pleasure he was having. "F-Feel's weird, let go!" he ushered you to let go of his penis, even though his body disagreed; his hips bucking up into your hand to help finish him off "Trust your big sister." you said as you continued to pump your hand around his cock. "Fuck! Fuck you!" Karl's whole body shuddered as he was having an orgasm, his penis twitching in your hand.

"Wow Karl, that was rude." you huffed and narrowed your eyes, your hand still lingering on his crotch "A-are you done now?" Karl panted as he was trying to catch his breath "Done? I've barely even started!" you laughed maniacally as you began to slowly stroke him again "Ah- no no no, that's too much!" Karl whined. "You want me to stop?" you asked him "Yes!" he exclaimed so you let go and pulled away "What?" Karl was confused and a bit upset "Hm? What is it?" you asked "You're just.. done?" he looked saddened.

"You told me to stop!" you explained "yeah but.. I didn't really mean it.." Karl's cheeks were dusted red "Well come back here then" you grabbed his hips and forced him back down onto his chair. Karl was already eager and bucking his hips up against you, your hand grabbed him again and started to jerk him off "Ah!- Ah-" Karl tried to keep quiet but couldn't help the escaped noises that came out.

You placed your free hand over his mouth to try and muffle his moans, his voice vibrating against your hand "You can never be quiet! Always have something to say, don't you?" you rolled your eyes at him. Karl clenched his eyes shut and tapped the chair repeatedly with his hand to let you know he was ready to cum again, you let him release his load yet again but you didn't remove your hand.

"A-Again?? I can only take so much.." Karl whimpered and whined "You're feeling this way already? But I've only just started!" You frowned "Well I guess I can give you a break now but there won't be any breaks later on when our parents go out to dinner." you stood up and got off him. "T-Thanks.." Karl huffed "For what?" you asked "Thanks for um- pleasuring me?" you scoffed and walked back to your room, ready to return at night time when you had Karl all to yourself.

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*guys lemme know if u want a part 2 bc I could certainly make one of the reader x karl at night time after their parents have left.

[huffle-dork]

Curiosity Killed the Cat: Chapter 9

Setting the Stage

Chapter 8: [x] Read from the beginning here: [x]

“DAMNIT!!” Jackie screams as he slams his fist into the hospital wall, denting the plaster.

Schneep opened his mouth to scold Jackie but he didn’t have the energy. He was curled up where Jack just was- in between what’s left of his destroyed and smoking machines. The doctor stared at the black coating the floor with a distant expression. Chase went to sit by him and gently rubbed his shoulder. Schneep sighed then laid his head against Chase’s shoulder and the younger brother wrapped half an arm around the doctor. Chase was freaking out too, sure. But, He tended to be the emotional support his brothers’ needed. So, he comforted who he could.

The two of them watched Jackie pace back and forth across the floor, throwing up his hands as his eyes flared dangerously with energy. He was limping though, and blood was caked in his hair from where he was thrown earlier. Chase looked around to see Jamie leaning up against the wall, his hat hung over his eyes and his hands wrapped tight around his arms.

Chase rubbed Schneep’s arm one more time before getting up and walking over to the hero. Jackie didn’t even notice him, he was muttering to himself. Yanking at his hair and digging nails into his bruised and injured arms. It was hard for Chase to watch.

“Jackie…” Chase tried to call out. Jackie still didn’t hear.

“Jackie-!” He tried again. Still, only muttering.

Finally, the vlogger couldn’t take it and he steps in line with Jackie and goes to hold his shoulders. “Jackie! C’mon man-”

Jackie jolts, then looks at Chase with wide eyes. Then, he tries to shove out of his grip. He was losing it- “Let me go Chase- I- I gotta…!”

“Please Jackie, you’re injured- and you gotta take a breather….” Chase tries to coax him. Jackie shakes his head.

“I-I I can’t- I can’t…” Jackie whispers, looking away from Chase. Chase frowns and tries to look into his eyes. “Jackie… you gotta take a break. We’ll figure this out, okay? But you gotta-”

“I can’t Chase!” Jackie suddenly yells, blue silver flaring in his eyes. Chase feels anger flare in his chest too and he shouts back, “Why can’t you?!”

“BECAUSE THIS IS ALL MY FAULT!!” Jackie screams, his voice so loud the walls around them start to crack. The hero pulls away from Chase in the father’s shock and starts to pull on his hair again. He starts to hyperventilate, tears trying to escape his eyes as he gasps.

“I-i! I’m the reason Marvin got kidnapped by Anti in the first place! I was so angry i- I couldn’t see that he needed me! What kind of brother does that?! And- And! When he started acting weird i… i felt so bad about everything. I wanted to figure it out on my own! But then Jays… Marvin did something to Jays and- and he was using that weird magic and.. I did nothing! I could have stopped this! I could have saved Jack- i could have helped Marvin! But i’m such a bad fucking hero now, I couldn’t save anyone!” He starts to raise his voice again, his out of control power making the walls shake and leak debris. Chase watched this with worried eyes, then slowly makes his way towards the trembling hero. He leans down and places a gentle hand on Jackie’s face, and Jackie sucks in air and looks at Chase with teary eyes. He looks so lost, it breaks Chase’s heart.

Chase wipes at his brother’s tears, “Jackie...first of all, breathe for me, okay?” Jackie looks confused at first, but slowly he tries to focus on breathing, bringing up a hand to shakily hold into Chase’s arm.

Chase gently leads the hero to go sit down in one of the few chairs that haven’t been destroyed. Then, he kneels in front of him and places a hand on his knee.

“Jackie…” He starts, “I know it’s hard to not blame yourself when stuff like this happens. God knows, I feel awful that i couldn’t do anything about this either… But, you gotta ask yourself this: Did you kidnap Marvin?”

“...no..”

“Did you make him use this magic? Did you make him kill those people? Did you make him take Jack?”

Jackie swallows, then shakes his head.

Chase’s face softens as his grips a bit tighter onto Jackie’s knee. “Then...you gotta let that go, dude… Lamenting over what happened isn’t going to change anything. Believe me, I know. The only thing that should matter now is not blaming yourself- but working towards fixing all this. You aren’t a terrible hero, bro… but if you want more of a chance to prove yourself. This is it. But now, you don’t have to do it alone… we’ll be here to help you. We’ll save Jack… and hopefully Marvin too.”

The hero is quiet for second, letting the words sink in. Then, he takes a steadying breath before giving Chase a weak smile.

“...thanks, Chase...you’re right.”

The father grins then gets up, ruffling Jackie’s hair and knocking his shoulder with a friendly fist bump. “Hey don’t mention it, brah. Now, c’mon, we got shit to do, right?”

Jackie chuckles, rubbing his arm as he gets up. He studies the room, taking in the state of the others. His stomach churns with uncertainty. They’ll need time to recover… but who knew what Marvin was up to now? They’ll just have to take it a step at a time and hope that-

Wait a second- ”where’s the glitch? Where’s anti?!” Jackie suddenly cries, looking around the room frantically. Henrik and Chase exchange a frightened look before they too start searching.

The boys all look around wildly before realizing… Jameson is standing very still near the back wall. He lifts up his head, a crooked smile hidden behind his mustache as his arms and shoulders buzz with glitches. He lifts up his eyes to reveal two black pits.

“Oh I’m sorry- did you miss me?” Jameson mouths- but a voice is heard. Sounding- tinny and electronic. Jameson’s phone buzzes with pixels and green light shines from his pocket.

Jackie crosses his arms and gives Jamie a withered look. “Cut that shit out, Anti. This isn’t the time for your spooky cryptic shit.”

Jameson almost pouts, his mustache flaring up. “Well what am I supposed to do, hero? Your cat freak took my host after frying me! If I don’t possess something then I could fade-! Dumbass-“

Henrik backs away from the glitch, shivers racking his body. “C-could you not just use Jameson’s or another one of our phones?”

Anti opens up his mouth like he’s gonna snap at Henrik and the doctor flinches back. Then, he looks contemplative, wiggling Jameson’s mustache back and forth.

“...who knew you had a brain under all that hair, doc-“ The glitch mumbles. Schneep looks up to his hair and pats it down with a confused and bewildered expression. Jamie closes his eyes. Glitches fly off of him in a human like shape, like a shadow rising off of his body. Then they quickly dive into Jameson’s phone and it buzzes with Anti’s energy before going back to normal- though it does spark and twitch occasionally.

Jameson opens his eyes to reveal they’re blue once again. But, once he’s awake he starts to feel faint and he sways on his feet. Chase hurriedly catches him before he falls, patting his back. “I gotcha, buddy.”

The gentleman blinks up at Chase in confusion, using a speech slide since his fingers feel shaky. “Quite sorry, chap… did I fall asleep?”

“More like Anti’s a dumbass and tried to possess you when he could easily possess any electronics.” Jackie mumbles with annoyance.

Jameson’s phone buzzes and a static raked voice snarls, “I can hear you, spandex-“

“Good, ya fucking glitchy bastard-“ Jackie snarks back. Henrik gently lays a hand on Jackie‘s shoulder and rubs the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Please Jackie- you both could do this all of the day- we have to figure out how we are going to get Jack back… and what is happening to Marvin.”

The phone buzzes with unhinged giggles, then it fizzles again- right before Anti pops back out and sits cross legged on the floor. He’s not completely solid- he looks like a hologram almost. He twitches and fizzles with static and glitches but he looks up to the others with a slightly twisted smile.

“Mmm kit kat’s finally fallen off the rocker, huh? Ain’t it a sight to see?” Anti grins, his eyes displaying madness. Jackie scowls then stomps over to Anti. He tries to grab the glitch by the shirt collar-

“You did something to him, didn’t you?!” The hero growls- but his hand just phases through Anti’s form and the glitch laughs madly.

“Mmm not so tough when ya can’t touch me huh?” Anti sneers. Then, he glitches around, finally going to lounge on one of the thrown beds. He inspects his nails with a bored expression.

“Did I do something to kitten whiskers? Mmmm that’s hard to say! I did make him put Jack to sleep~ then took his memories so he couldn’t use you all to come back and interfere with my plans.” Anti hums as he recalls, then turns his black pitted eyes back to the others. “But- i didn’t give him that freaky purple magic. I don’t have that kinda power. So- don’t assume every evil thing that happens is cuz of me, cardinal. Though, I am flattered.”

Jackie bristles, ready to charge towards Anti and punch the shit out of him. Chase and Jameson come over however and each hold one of his shoulders to dissuade him. Jackie snorts then looks at the ground, curling his hands into fists.

“Then… why did this happen?” He whispers to himself.

The room grows quiet- except for Anti’s glitching. But, then, Jameson’s head shoots up like a cartoon character with a lightbulb over his head. He eagerly tugs on Jackie’s jacket before rapidly signing to him. “Wait- Anti isn’t the only one who has manipulated Marvin lately…

...what if the answer lies with Phantom?”

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Marvin wandered around the recording room, pacing and running fingers through his hair. God, could he have picked a worse place to hide? What was he thinking? Jack’s recording room??

Luckily his girlfriend had decided to stay elsewhere since Jack had been asleep. But, it feels like only a matter of time before his brothers find him… try to stop him…

“Don’t they get it?” Marvin growls as he paces, “I’m trying to save them! I’m using all this new magic to help them, protect them! Be goddamn useful for once!”

He snorts and glares at Jack with blaring green eyes, “Cuz god knows YOU won't do anything!” He shouts at the comatose body, the machines taken from the hospital beeping softly as it keeps the youtuber breathing.

Marvin feels frustrated tears building up in his eyes as he continues to cry out at his creator, “Even if you weren’t asleep- where were you when we needed you Jack?! Where were you when Phantom found me? Where were you when I needed someone huh?? Not even my own brothers wanted to be around me but- i.. I always thought…” The wetness leaks out of his eyes, burning with purple light as he tries not to break down. He grips at his hair again- when had it gotten so long?

“Why did I expect anything different? You never wanted me! You never planned for me as well as you did the others- i… i was a mistake you just had to work around… Why even bother to name that useless magician huh?! He’ll never amount to anything!” Marvin started to laugh unhingedly to himself, hugging his stomach while the other hand gripped his hair. Once his fit is over, he becomes scarily stoic, looking back down at his creator with blazing purple eyes. He stands taller over the bed and snarls, gripping the rails with purple tinted claws.

“Well- just look at me now, Jack. The useless magician is making his own path now! And soon… none of us will need you- or the parasite you let live in your head.”

He lifts away from the rails to narrow his eyes at Jack, watching his chest just barely rise and fall. For a second- his eyes flicker blue and he looks almost- sad. Then the fire comes back and he hisses, “You kept us all in the dark for your little games and stories… a big strong creator like you can stand being asleep until I’m done with you-!”

He moves away from the youtuber now, starting to pace again as he rubs his chin with one hand and plays with his hair in the other. God- he really needs a haircut-

“I have to be careful… and do this right- I can’t let the others die… but as long as that- glitch! Is out there… none of us are safe… there has to be something i can do to put him in his place! Get him out of the way- powerless… defenseless! Let him know what it feels like…”

As Marvin is walking- he passes by a mirror hanging near the studio door. What he sees sends a jolt of electricity down his spine.

They have brown hair, blazing green eyes, and black sclera.

Without thinking, Marvin yells and sends a blast of magic at the wall. The mirror splinters into pieces with an audible crack! The lights and computers in the room flickered with green and purple magic, crackling like metal stuck in a microwave. Marvin heaves, feeling his heart go a thousand miles per hour. He kept his hand out and powered, ready to blast the Glitch into pieces.

“C-Come out you coward!” The magician stammered, feeling his magic buzz feebly at his hands. He’s still drained from his trip here with Jack and all of his equipment. But, the Glitch doesnt have to know that.

As he creeps closer to the mirror- his eyes widen.

There’s nothing else in the mirror. It’s only him. His hair has started growing super long- and brown, mixing with the green in his hair- and almost eating it all up. His mask where it rests on his forehead is almost completely darkened into a purple black color, obscuring the white underneath. And- his eyes. Where there was once blue are now green with purple centered around his pupils- and his sclera has turned pitch black.

He scampers away from the mirror in shock, gripping at his chest and hair. He pulls a section from his face and looks at it in bewilderment. He watches as the green he’s touching slowly morphs to brown. Like Anti’s hair…

“I… I look like h-him-!” Marvin breathes in panic, feeling his stomach drop. Is.. what is he doing? Was his quest to keep his family safe from the glitch turning him into the same kind of monster? What if he’s been wrong this whole time??

There’s a soft laugh coming from the mirror that has Marvin stiffening. In slow motion, he turns back to the cracked surface- only to come face to face with a shadow. A shadow that has his face… and his previous blue eyes rimmed with purple.

The shadow grins at Marvin, cocking his head at the magician as a smooth mimic of his voice slithers out from the cracks. It seems like it’s reading his thoughts, everything he’s thought and is thinking- reading his very soul… as if it is him.

“Who cares if you’re becoming like him?” The dark being giggles into the air, yet his voice also echoes into Marvin’s mind. “Haven’t you ever heard you have to fight fire with fire?”

Marvin gapes at the mirror’s image- the gears in his head turning to figure out what the shadow could mean.

Fight fire with fire…? Maybe.. Using what Anti has used on him against him…

Then it hits him- and a twisted sinister grin spread across his lips, his eyes fully blaring purple. He has a plan now- something that Anti wont ever be able to recover from.

It was time to make a video… time to return to the stage.

[kaapoincorporated]

Roommates Part One | Kaapo Kakko ft Igor Shesterkin

Requested: Yes | No

Overview: You are forced out of your dorm to quarantine and your best friend, Igor, invites you to move in to the spare bedroom in his apartment and then has to help out his teammate (Kaapo).

Note: Part One is long af.

“ God damnit.” You looked down at your phone and cried softly. “Guess I am not going home. Fuck.” NYU was forcing everyone out of the dorms and trying to send everyone home and, well, you couldn’t go home. With the boarder shut down, you were screwed. As you packed your stuff into a duffel you began running through your head who you could call, your hands shaking as you folded your Winnipeg sweater. ‘Home... God I wish I was there.’

‘ RINGGGG RINGGG RINGGGG’

You paused, frozen in place and then, confirming it not to be a fragment of your imagination, you hurriedly picked up your phone. “Hello?” You mentally cursed yourself for having a shaky voice as you swallowed regretting not checking caller ID. “ Um, Y/n? Hey it’s Igor... Igor Shesterkin? Your friend?” His laugh crackled through the phone speaker as you laugh-cried in relief. “ Oh thank God. Igor I am so sorry I didn’t check caller ID...” You wiped your eyes as you sat down on your twin bed looking out your dorm room window. 

You had moved back to New York last year after you were offered a scholarship in nursing at NYU after you while visiting your friend Katya had gone to an Islander’s game and, long story short, saved a player’s life. It was blurry but he had been hit and then you found yourself there forcing him to breathe. He had swallowed his tongue but you were able to get him to force it back out and the rest is history. 

You sniffled, trying desperately to maintain composure as you pulled your NYU sweatshirt over your head, putting your phone on speaker as you continued packing. The line went quiet for a minute and then Igor’s voice broke the static silence. “ Y/n... why are you crying?” Your mind swam with possible things to say but nothing found it’s way out other than a soft sob. “ Are you at your dorm?” You cleared you throat and wiped you eyes. “I can’t go home Igor...” Silence took over the audio as you heard Igor move something around. “I will be there in a couple minutes. You are packed up right?” You murmured a yes as you pulled your stuffed animals and the last polaroids off the wall. “I am coming, okay?” You sniffled and made your bed wondering when you would be back. “Okay.”

5 minutes later, you opened your door to a worried Igor. “Hey, I-” Before you could finish he hugged you. “Do you have everything?” You nodded. “What are you-” Igor shushed you picking up your duffel and throwing you the last two things you were in the middle of shoving into your bag. The plush Shiba Inu and your favourite plush blanket took up your arms and Igor picked up your phone and keys. Stepping aside, knowing you had everything, he locked your door and started moving down the hall to the elevator. 

“Ummm Igor? Where are we going?” The elevator dinged as the doors opened. “Going down.” He mimicked the elevator as it’s doors closed. “Remember when you helped me paint my apartment?” You thought back but then nodded. “Yeah... the one you share with your teammate?” He nodded. “Well he moved in with his spouse after they got married in Moscow and now I have two free rooms-” You gasped and hugged him so tightly that he winced. “Do you want to be my quarantine buddy? I might have to help out the rookie if he can’t get back to Finland but he is nice so... are you up for it?” You wiped your eyes and smiled, in turn making him smile as you nodded and sighed in relief. “Oh my God you are amazing. How can I-” Igor laughed. “Could you cook? I can’t cook for shit and I don’t know if Kaapo can either so-” You laughed. “Of course! I just hope you are good with the majority being slavic foods. I don’t know many other cuisine types. I mean, I can make some french foods but-” “Any edible food is good food.”

The ride to his apartment was smooth. You placed your duffel and your burrito-wrapped stuffed animal in the guest room as you looked at the space- your new home. After stringing up your polariods and string lights, you began unpacking and then it hit you. “Hey Igor? We should go out and get the groceries quickly.” He laughed, blushing. “You right. Sorry I totally forgot that.” You finished unpacking and let your hair down. As you met him at the door he smiled. “Ready to explore Whole Foods for the last time?” You laughed and you both headed down to the garage. 

The peace you had found in his apartment was destroyed as you both entered the chaotic halls of the grocery. “Blyad this place is crazy,” Igor mumbled as you both began to weave your way past people in order to get all the food needed for at least 3 weeks of meals. As people bumped into you Igor would send them death glares, effectively creating a clear path for maneuvering over to the checkout lines. As you handed the items to the obviously overwhelmed cashier you put a hand on her wrist. “Hey... don’t worry okay? Take your time. No need to rush.” Her eyes widened as she looked at you. Clarifying, you chuckled. “I am a waiter and used to work part-time here. Don’t worry. Just breathe.” The young girl nodded and whispered her thanks as you slipped her a $20 tip and took the bags, Igor paying as the chaotic screeches began to calm. Quickly, you both rushed to the car. As soon as the doors shut, you both leaned into the chairs and sighed.

As you began to put on your seat belt, Igor’s phone began ringing. Igor glanced at the caller ID and answered. “ Kaapo?” The phone synced to the Bluetooth hands-free feature as Igor pulled out of the parking space. “ Kaapo you are on speaker.” The audio crackled a bit and then he spoke. “Um... Igor could I- I can’t go back home and I-” Igor smiled out the window and then smirked at you. ‘Oh God he is planning something.’ You raised an eyebrow as he answered. “Are you at your room?” Crackle. “Yes.” A sigh was heard on the other side of the line followed by a sniffle. “ We will be there in a couple minutes. Pack up okay?” The guy on the other side swallowed hard and murmured a yes and then the line went dead.

10 minutes later you found yourself staring up at an unfamiliar building. Igor leaned across the divider in the car and laughed. “The room number is 34c on the 34th floor. Just tell Mr. Barington you are with Kaapo and Igor.” You shook your head turning back to look at him. “He doesn’t know me, Igor. I think you-” Igor sighed. “Y/n please... I am not that good with emotions and I need to stay in the car. Please?” You sighed and walked into the building.

A broad-chested man stood in front of the elevator doors and smiled calmly, his eyes twinkling with an all-knowing smile. “With Igor?” His gruff voice held a greeting and a question at once but, as if knowing the answer, he opened the door and smiled. “The door will be on the right.” Cling “Going up,” the elevator greeted as the floor lifted.

You looked across the landing as you got off the platform and straightened out your sweatshirt. As you looked at your face you could tell you had been crying. ‘Let’s hope he can’t’. As you made your way to door 34c you heard a deep voice speaking in a language that you couldn’t really put your finger on. You knocked twice and before you could knock a third time a tall man opened the door. You smiled awkwardly and put out your hand. “Kaapo I presume?” He stood there and nodded. Shaking your hand he ran his other through his hair. “Um... what’s your name?” You smiled softly as you looked up at him. “ Y/n.” He nodded, repeating it as he stood back allowing you in. 

You looked around the space and relaxed. It was very minimalist and modern. As your eyes drifted, they landed on a duffel on the bed. You laughed sadly as you saw the tissues near family photos. “You also can’t get home?” He nodded and came to stand beside you. You picked up the photo and smiled. “Is that your family?” Kaapo looked over your shoulder and nodded, swallowing hard. “My mother and father...” You nodded. “Your girlfriend?” you pointed to the girl hugging Kaapo. Kaapo sighed. “No... I don’t have a girlfriend. That’s my sister.” You nodded and smiled. “Nice photo.” You placed it in the open bag and stretched. Turning around, you picked up the tissues and threw them in the garbage can. “I didn’t know Igor had a girlfriend.” You laughed, the statement catching you off guard. “I am not his girlfriend... oh lord no!” You laughed and Kaapo relaxed, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

“ I am in his best friend from Biology class... at NYU?” Kaapo nodded, blushing as he looked down embarrassed. “Sorry...” Your smile faded as it hit you and a tear ran down your cheek as you looked over at the photo. Kaapo’s eye widened and he moved closer gently touching your arm. “Um, are you okay?” You nodded and smiled sadly. “Yeah... I just realized that... I mean... I may not be able to see my family again...” Thick silence fell over you both as you wiped your tears away. “I am sorry... um-” Kaapo gave you a hug and then let you go, blushing at realizing what he did. With the remainder of his confidence, he spoke softly, “Don’t be.” You looked up at him and sighed wiping your eyes for the last time drifting off for a little bit into his eyes. “ Are you ready to go?” you asked softly as you picked up his duffel, making sure that it was zipped before lifting it. Kaapo took a deep breath and nodded. He picked up his suitcase and took the duffel from your hands before you could protest. “Let’s go.”

Part Two

[lemonlushff-iy]

Summary: Kagome comes home to Montana from her new life in California…only to be greeted with hostility and the demons of her past. Some mistakes can never be forgiven. She just hopes that maybe this one can.

RATED M / NSFW

Story inspired by Clearwillow​’s “New Moon Ride”, written with permission and for the March 14, 2020 White Day celebration…and slowly uploaded much sooner…

Read parts 1-7 here

One Last Ride - Part Eight

His tongue felt fuzzy and it was far too bright in the room. A pounding headache drilled through his skull, and he wanted to just roll over and die.

Fuck...what had he done last night?

He wanted to try and remember, but his splitting headache was making that far too difficult right now. God damn! Who the hell was turning on a blender at this ungodly hour?

What time was it anyways?

He rolled over with a groan and just barely pried open an eye to grab his phone and wake it up.

9:00 am

Why did he feel like he was running late?

Something in the back of his head told him he needed to get up.

Right now.

Wait.

FUCK!

Souta's graduation!

Inuyasha pushed himself out of bed and stumbled around his room, rummaging through drawers to find a nicer pair of his jeans and a button down, white tank top, and undergarments. He rushed to the bathroom, turning on the water and jumping in...even though the water was still freezing.

He was almost worried his balls would never recover from the shock factor, but he needed to be a man and suck it up.

In and out.

That was the goal so he wouldn't smell like whatever the fuck he smelled like. He gave himself a quick once over with soap, only hitting all of the necessary areas before he was throwing the shower curtain open and tripping over the  bathmat. His head smacked into the mirror over the sink across from the tub, and he let out an embarrassing whimper.

God dammit all to hell!

When the fuck had the bathmat bunched up?!

Fuck!

His head was already throbbing. He didn't need this shit too.

Inuyasha placed his hands on either side of the sink, trying to take deep, calming breaths and not tear the bathroom to pieces. Ma would never forgive him. And then he'd be down a bathroom.

Showering out back in the open wasn't exactly something he wanted to do.

Then again...he wouldn't mind it if he had an appreciative audience…Someone with black hair and stormy, blue grey eyes...

His eyes widened. Where the hell had that come from.

He didn't have time to contemplate it. He needed to down half the bottle of Advil in the medicine cabinet and like, four god damn gallons of water. Why the hell did he drink as much as he did yesterday? He remembered playing the drinking game with Kikyo, but that alone shouldn't have caused this.

Fuck, did it even matter right now?

He pulled the bottle of pills out of the medicine cabinet, opening the top and popping a few into his hand before throwing them back and swallowing. He did his best to towel off, shave, and get ready before running down the stairs.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

And all the goddamn water in the fucking kitchen.

"Well!" his mother greeted, seeing him enter the kitchen like a bull in a china cabinet. "Would ya look who's finally awake! I take it you had a grand ol' time last night!"

"Great time," he groaned, looking for a coffee mug and she moved to stand in front of the coffee pot.

"Oh no young man...You better not be thinking about getting coffee...I know you know better than that…"

She wasn't...oh you had to be fucking kidding right now.

"Ma...I ain't seventeen anymore."

"No...but you sure as hell act like it! Do you know the kinda scare I had last night? Seeing Kagome dragging your drunk ass home?"

That gave him pause. Kagome? Why the hell did she take him home? She was out with her friends. He was out with Kikyo...Come to think of it...How the hell did he get home last night? It hurt too much to think about that right now.

God fucking damnit he needed some godamn coffee!

"Ma, I don't have time for this," he rumbled.

"And you do not use that tone with me!" his mother scolded, crossing her arms over her chest, and he heard his father's near silent chuckle come from outside.

"I'm sorry Ma," he ground out through his teeth, "but I have a really bad hangover and I really need some coffee before I go to Souta's graduation.

His mother arched her brow and picked up the coffee pot, pouring the last little bit down the sink, and he paled.

"If you're going to behave like a delinquent, then you can suffer through the consequences of your actions. Maybe you'll learn now since I clearly failed to raise you right!"

She was digging in deep today huh?

"I cannot wait until I’m done building my damn house so I can move outta here!” he snapped, a low growl rumbled out from his chest, and his mother sent him out to the front porch, yelling at him about manners and respect and he honestly stopped paying attention, the sheer volume of her anger only making his ears ring. His headache wasn't any better and he didn't get his fucking coffee.

Fucking fantastic.

He slumped down into a chair next to his father who only smirked at him, holding out his coffee cup.

He glanced at it wide eyed before grabbing it and downing the remaining coffee in a few deep gulps.

"Thanks Pops," he smiled weakly, handing the cup back to him.

"You're welcome," he replied, a smirk still tugging the corner of his lips. "I take it you had fun last night?"

"I'm sure I did - I just can't seem to remember how much fun and what kind right now."

"If you can't remember, maybe you had too much fun."

"Not you too," he groaned.

"Nah," he chuckled, "I think your mother already did a fine job. And...don't tell her...but I'm not upset. Disappointed that you mighta been a little reckless...but you're a hard working man, son. You're allowed to blow off a little steam every now and then. I'm just surprised ya did it on your date."

"It was Kikyo's idea," he groaned, resting his head in his hands. "She wanted to play a drinking game."

"Huh. Liking the girl more and more. Just don't tell your mother. She wouldn't approve."

"And she's all for this...I know."

His mother had been ecstatic when she had first heard that he and Kikyo were talking. She loved her for reasons he didn't quite get. Not that there was anything wrong with Kikyo, but she hadn't reacted this way about one of his prospects since...not since Kagome.

His ears swiveled towards the road as both men heard a car approach, and his father stood with a groan, patting his son on the back.

"Don't get into too much trouble today, ok? I can't take another night of calming your mother...No matter how sexy she gets when she's angry."

"Pops!"

"Have fun now!" he chuckled, going back inside and Inuyasha sighed as the car pulled up. Kagome was in the driver's seat, her mother next to her.

That put Souta in the back with him.

Great. The back.

This would be fun.

He opened the door and slid in, trying to look cheery, but he wasn't quite sure he hit the mark.

"Morning sunshine," Kagome greeted chipperly as he buckled himself in, glaring at her. "Don't give me that look," she chided, picking up a thermos from the cup holder and handing it back to him. "I brought you something."

He raised a brow in question before opening the canister and groaned as the sweet...or rather bitter...smell of coffee floated up to his nostrils. He inhaled deeply, sighing.

"I love you...thank you."

He didn't realize what he had said and who he had said it to until after he had drank some of his sweet, sweet coffee and he saw Souta giving him a bewildered look.

"I—"

"—Don't worry about it. I know what you mean," Kagome smiled weakly, turning around to regard him with a soft look in her eyes. "You had a hell of a night and I figured you might need it. Your mother wasn't thrilled when we came home."

"She wasn't that thrilled this morning either," he muttered, slumping down in his seat, and he heard Kagome giggle...the sound and her gesture tugging at his heart strings, drawing an unbidden whimper from his throat.

Fuck. Today was going to be a hell of a day.

Why had he said that?

Fucking fuckety FUCK!

He didn't even love her anymore, but it had flowed off of his tongue so easily. Like an unchecked habit.

The rest of the car ride had been painfully awkward despite Kagome's mother doing her best to diffuse the tension. Between his hangover and that hell of a blunder, his day was off to a great start.

And he still couldn't remember much of the night before.

He remembered a lot of making out with Kikyo…

Maybe some pool?

But nothing more concrete than that.

Inuyasha glanced over at Kagome as they sat in the auditorium, listening to their old principal give some long, boring speech about the future and starting a new chapter of their lives and blah, blah, blah. He was pretty sure the guy used the same damn speech at their graduation.

He couldn't have mixed it up a little, could he?

"So what exactly happened last night," he whispered nervously, and she tilted her head to the side towards him.

"You mean you don't remember the hot, hot sex we had?" she whispered back, bewildered, and his brain completely shut down as his throat went dry.

...They...What?!

"We...I…" 

How the hell had that happened?

The fifteen year old in him was snarling that he had gotten so drunk that he couldn't remember his deepest teenage fantasy becoming a reality. She had been the star of his every "dirty" dream. For years she was the woman he had imagined touching...caressing...fucking...making love to…He had imagined her screaming his name in pleasure as their bodies slid together so many times...but he couldn't remember it when it actually fucking happened for real?

Yeah. The teenager in him was beyond pissed.

The adult in him, however, was mortified that he would do something so completely and utterly stupid. This woman had destroyed him. Left him hollow and broken and miserable for years. She had left a shirt in his room unintentionally after they broke up...he was ashamed to admit that he had clung to it at night for months after until her scent finally disappeared and he tucked it into a box under his bed.

A box of Kagome. Photos and ticket stubs and little things that reminded him of her had been abandoned there, left to rot away and forever be forgotten.

What really puzzled him was the lack of "sex" smell when he had woken up. Sure, he smelled like shit...but shouldn't he have still smelled some trace of...that on him?

"I'm kidding," she snickered, and he relaxed a little...but his heart still grew oddly heavy and bitter.

"That wasn't funny," he hissed, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"No? You don't think so?"

"Not even a little. Can't you be serious for one goddamn minute?"

"I thought we were trying to be civil?"

"Yet you're the one jerking me around!"

Kagome took a deep, calming breath before fixing him with a hard look.

"You want to have at it again? Fine. We can do it again. But not here, and not now.

No. I don't know what you did last night.

I just know that you and Kikyo were in no shape to be driving so I left the girls to take both of your sorry asses home so you wouldn't crash and die. So you're welcome," she snapped.

His jaw twitched before he forced himself to grind out a barely audible thank you through clenched teeth.

They sat through the majority of the ceremony in silence...but he didn't need to talk to her to know what she was feeling. He could feel and smell the pain and frustration and guilt radiating off of her in nearly tangible waves. He felt this old, long forgotten, yet familiar desire to comfort her and apologize bubble up from the pit of his gut...but what the hell did he have to apologize for? She was the one fucking with him!

She was always the one toying with him like he didn't fucking matter...

"Do you still have a hangover," he heard Kagome whisper, and he told her he did. He watched her silently reach into her purse, taking out a small reusable bottle of water and a ziplock baggie with a handful of pills.

"Here," she said handing them to him, and he felt his heart ache again as he accepted her peace offering.

"Thanks," he whispered, throwing some of the pills back before handing everything to her.

"Keep it for a while," she advised, nodding towards the water bottle. "You need to re-hydrate. I brought it for you anyways."

"Ok," he smiled wanly, and she weakly returned it.

Soon he heard the closing music start to play and the graduates walked back down the aisle, ready to meet their family outside of the auditorium in the warm June sunshine.

He stood, following Kagome and her mother outside to find Souta, where they all shared rounds of hugs and 'congratulations', and 'we're so proud of you's.

Inuyasha happily volunteered to take photos of the small family, a strangely content, honored, almost paternal feeling washing over him as he did.

"Inuyasha dear, why don't you come take my place? You should be in a few photos too."

He was about to refuse, but thought better of it. Mrs. Higurashi wanted him in a few photos. He couldn't say no to her...so instead he swallowed, nodded, and took her place to the left of Souta. His fingers accidentally grazed Kagome's arm as he wrapped his around the young man's shoulders, and he noticed her straighten in surprise, clearly restraining herself from shooting him a questioning look. Instead, she moved her fingers from Souta's back to his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

He could feel the heat from her skin radiating through his shirt, burning him. Scorching everywhere she touched.

He didn't know why...or what the hell came over him, but his hand left Souta's back to give her arm a light squeeze, and her scent changed.

Remorse.

His eyes flitted to her face and he was surprised to see her looking at him, her eyes pained.

What he wouldn't give to ask her what she was thinking now...What he wouldn't give to comfort her...

His breath caught in his throat.

No.

He didn't care. 

He just had to last the week, then she was gone. Off to her life in California, just the way she wanted it.

Unless her boss let her stay. Which was highly unlikely.

"Inuyasha...Kagome...Smile! It's a happy day," Mrs. Higurashi encouraged, and he watched Kagome turn away from him, shooting the older woman a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

He followed her lead, and a few minutes later, they were done.

A friend called out to Souta, drawing his attention from his family, and one of the teachers came over to speak to the proud mother, leaving him alone with Kagome.

He felt the heat of her eyes on him and he awkwardly glanced at her again, confirming his suspicions.

"Yeah?" He asked a bit more roughly than he intended, and Kagome snapped her attention away from him.

"Nothing."

"I don't think ya'd be looking at me like that if it were just 'nothing', Kagome."

She turned to regard him again, her lips pressing into a thin line as she told him, "Honestly? When you shave, you just look more...you. The you that I remember, at least. It just...everything is taking me back to our graduation day. "

He remembered it well. It marked the beginning of the end. One last summer together.

"Huh," he muttered, and she rolled her eyes.

"You and your damn 'huh's."

"What...you don't like 'em?"

"I never have."

"Huh," he smirked, doing it intentionally this time, and a small smile graced her lips before she turned her attention elsewhere. "I was just thinking that maybe I should grow it back out if that's what this makes you think of," he explained rubbing his chin, unsure of why he felt the need to.

"You look handsome either way, Inuyasha," she disagreed. "You always have. You should do what makes you happy. You don't look like a boy if that's what you're worried about. I don't think you could. I was just...I guess I was just feeling nostalgic."

"So...I look like a man now, huh? A handsome man?" He drawled, and she rolled her eyes again.

"Don't start."

"I didn't. You did. You started this whole conversation about my facial hair."

"And if I would have known that it would lead to this I would have kept it to myself."

"Mhm…" he agreed. "Maybe. But you didn't. And now I know you still think I'm handsome. Gotta say, it's kinda nice knowing you still think I'm attractive after all these years."

"I've always been attracted to you, Inuyasha...but you've always known that, haven't you?"

Yeah. But that hadn't been enough, had it? In the end, she still left him. Why hadn't he been enough? What was he lacking that made him not good enough? What was so wrong about him that...that she didn't want to be with him anymore? He had told her he'd wait...and he had fucking meant it! It didn't matter how long it took. He'd still be here for her.

That was part of the problem, wasn't it?

She never had any intention of coming back.

Even for him...the man she "loved".

"Inuyasha?" Kagome whispered, pulling him away from the dark turn his thoughts had taken. "What's wrong."

"Nothing," he growled, startling her, and she straightened, confused but prepared to fight him again.

"Inuyasha!" a light, airy, feminine voice called out, and he watched Kagome's face morph into a mask of indifference as Kikyo waved.

"You should go to her," she encouraged.

"Kagome…"

"Inuyasha!" Kikyo called again, and Kagome waved him off, leaving him to stand by her mother and join in the conversation with their former teacher. He knew a dismissal when he heard one.

He spun around on his heel and greeted Kikyo, smiling as she shyly took his hands.

"The set up looked great...Thank you again for all of your help."

"It was my pleasure," he replied, trying to smile, but his conversation with Kagome and his previous dark thoughts hadn't quite loosened their grip over him yet.

"Listen...last night…"

"Was fun?" he supplied, and her smile only brightened.

"It was," she agreed. "I'm sorry for making you drink so much though...I didn't mean to let things get that far out of hand."

"It's ok...I'm still here ain't I? Somea last night is a little hazy still...but I'm glad you're ok."

"Me too. Glad you're ok, I mean. And that I'm ok," she blushed. "I guess we have Kagome to thank for that…"

"So I'm told," he mumbled. Damn. He wished he could remember what happened.

"We were that bad, huh?"

He could only shrug. "I guess it's been awhile since I drank that much," he admitted.

"I wasn't very nice to you during that game. I learned a lot of interesting things about you though…"

His eyes widened nervously.

"What kinda stuff."

Kikyo's face turned bright red as she stood up on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "Little things...like your favorite position for sex. Maybe we can try it out soon?"

He swore he turned bright red as she leaned in to kiss him, and he heard Souta catcall in the background.

"Damn!"

He smirked when the boy yelped. He couldn't confirm it...but he was pretty sure Kagome had smacked him upside the head.

She was jealous.

He'd be sure to give her something to be jealous over then...and he deepened the kiss, pulling Kikyo closer and sliding his hand into her hair. When they parted after several long minutes, her lips were swollen red, her pupils dilated, and her hair only slightly mussed up.

"I gotta go," he murmured apologetically, and she swallowed, nodding. "Call me later when you have a minute? Maybe we can set up another date...to try out that thing you talked about."

"Yeah...ok…"

___________________

That’s better right? Lighter? I thought it was lighter. One and a half more parts guys and then that’s it! I’m posting all I have for chapter 10 for white day too...because I want people should feel like it’s ok to post those, and lead by example, right?!

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[cheese-knife]

A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

Chapter One: The End.

Hello everyone! I know I’m not exactly know for writing fanfiction, but this is the newest project im working on. Its a bit strange, as it is a crossover between BNHA and The Wolf Among Us/ Fables Universe. But this AU is starting to dig a precious place in my heart, and I’d love it if you checked it out.

Rating: Teens and Up

Pairings: (Eventual) Bigby Wolf/Snow White

Read it on Ao3

The room was nothing special, a plain grey room built like a brick shithouse, meant to house and contain some of the most dangerous criminals in New York for questioning. The only things furnishing the room were two chairs, a table, and a single light without a cover. One of the walls had a rectangle of dark glass inlaid into the brick.

Bigby Wolf sat unnaturally still in the uncomfortable metal chair, greasy, unkempt hair hanging in a curtain around his head as he stared a hole into the table in front of him. His hands were latched to the table by heavy cuffs, kept well apart so there was no way he could rip the hand cuffs off without doing significant damage to himself. Even then, the small red lights blinking on the cuffs showed that they were actively suppressing his quirk so its not like he would get very far.

The door to the room opened with a slam as two stern looking officers entered the room, one carrying a significantly thick file folder under his arm. One stood at the door, and the one with the folder sat down across from Bigby at the table.

“Fifty-Six confirmed counts of murder.”

The folder was slammed down onto the table,

“Sixty-One counts of property destruction.”

Dozens of photos of the were laid out before the wolf, each a snapshot moment from his rampage.

“An an association with an unknown number of missing persons. Their bodies were never recovered.”

He didn’t move as the officer spoke. He didn’t even acknowledge that he was there.

“The list goes on and on. You know what this means, don’t you Mr. Wolf?”

Nothing. The three in the room sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

“Damnit-”

Bigby didn’t even flinch as the hand cracked across his face, hard enough to break the skin over his cheekbone. Definitely a strength quirk behind that.

“-You know what this means right?” The officer was in his face now. “We have enough shit on you to put you away for a *thousand* lifetimes, and to kill you a hundred times more. Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”

Bigby finally looked up, furious, wild yellow eyes digging into the frustrated lawman. In this moment, it was clear that he was more animal than man. He had the physicality of a caged feral animal.

In the years after his mother passed away, Bigby let himself slip into the pitfalls of his powerful quirk; in fact, he welcomed it. He welcomed the separation from the world and his humanity, fully embodying the once silly nickname his brothers used to tease him with. The Big Bad Wolf.

The trial went unsurprisingly smoothly. There was no question of what his verdict would be as he stood in front of the judge, still an overwhelming presence in the courtroom despite his restraints.

”Members of the Jury, in the case of Wolf vs. New York, what do you say?”

A small, timid woman stood and cleared her throat.

“Your honor, the members of this Jury finds the defendant wholly GUILTY of his crimes.”

The jury filed out of the courtroom as the judge dismissed them, all more than ready to leave the presence of the newly convicted felon. Bigby could smell the fear-tinged pride on each and every one of them.

The judge looked down on him.

“Bigby Wolf, it is the judgement and sentence of this court that the charged information is true, and the jury having found that the penalty shall be death. It is the order of this court that you shall suffer death, said penalty to be inflicted in Southport Correctional Facility in the manner prescribed by the law, the date later to be fixed by the Court in warrant of execution. You are remanded to the custody of the warden of Southport, it is so ordered. In witness whereof, I have hereon set my hand as Judge of this Superior Court, and I have caused the seal of this Court to be affixed thereto.”

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

He could see the pure joy in the Judge’s eyes as he delivered the sentencing.

It was five years he spent in prison. Each one hammering in the point that the law was making a mockery of him. Everyday, the guards got a little worse, a little more teasing and pushed the limits of what they could do to him without him fighting back. The bastards got comfortable around him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

They treated him like a sad dog doing tricks just for the pleasure of a shitty treat, only to be denied even after groveling at their feet.

Five. Fucking. Years.

At this point he was just craving some sort of relief. He even welcomed death, and despite the judge’s promise all those five years ago, the court seemed determined to draw out his torment for as long as possible before sending him to the slaughterhouse.

Bigby blearily opened his eyes, never getting enough sleep these days, involuntarily flinching at the sharp sound of metal banging against metal. Though the cuff permanently clamped to his wrist prevented him from transforming, its not like they could cancel out his quirk entirely. Enhanced hearing had its downfalls, and every morning he woke up to the same three scents. Sweat, shit, and corruption.

But anyway, apparently he had a visitor. Which was strange, considering Bigby’s family was either gone, or dead, and he never made any friends. So who the fuck could possibly want to see him?

Only after having shackles firmly attached to his wrists and ankles, he was led into the surprisingly private- well, as private as you could get in a supermax prison- and was forced into a rusting metal chair in front of a booth comprised of two phones and bullet proof glass. And on the other side, politely escorted by guards to the seat in front of him, was a woman with skin like porcelain and hair blacker than coal; none other than the Princess Hero herself: Miss Snow Fucking White.

Real cute fucking name there, right?

She picked up the phone on her end, staring down Bigby with her calm, cold stare until he did the same.

“Mr. Wolf-“

“Listen, Miss White, I’m not in the fuckin’ mood to be berated by one of the top heroes in New York, so cut the shit and get outta here. Whatever you have to say, I’m not interested.” Bigby nothing but growled into his phone, nearly hanging up then and there and dragging is own ass back to his cell.

Miss White simply let him calm down, cleared her throat and continued.

“Mr. Wolf, I am here to inform you, in association with the Fables Hero Agency, that the state of New York is willing to grant you amnesty for your past crimes:”

That got Bigby’s attention. It wasn’t obvious, but there was a certain way his eyes widened just a touch, his body tensed and leaned just a hair in towards Snow that let her know that he was interested, very interested.

“Why should I trust you?” And. Twice as skeptical.

“Because, put plainly, I am your last chance at you living past 35. My agency has been interested in your case for a long time, and your time is running short. The court has scheduled a date for your execution, the end of this month. In 2 weeks exactly.”

Sounded good enough- except it didn’t. Bigby couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of him mouth, regretting them as soon as they hit the air. Why would he be actively trying to fuck up what’s already secured for him.

“Why the hell would you be interested in a serial killer with a knack for tearing people limb from limb?”

Snow leaned in towards the glass, hovering just a few inches from the glass.

“Because, you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

“Seven years ago, you broke into and killed six men in the basement of the Geppetto Casino, all wealthy and well know celebrities, CEOs and millionaires. These men were preparing to rape, torment, and humiliate the three women they were holding captive, including myself and my sister, before auctioning us off to the next highest biding sick perverted fuck.

But you showed up before any of that could happen. You gave those men what they deserved and you let us go without so much as a scratch before you nearly destroyed the whole building. The world mourned the death of those truly evil men, never acknowledging their heinous crimes, while insisting that you were the true monster. But I know the truth. At least in that moment, you were a hero.”

“...I’m not always like that, you know. I’ve killed innocent people.”

“We have one of the best investigative teams at the agency, I think we both know that isn’t entirely true. At points, yes. You were a villain through and through, but you’re not a bad person, Mr. Wolf.”

“Right... so where the hell do I sign up for this pardon thing?”

Snow produced a large envelope from a bag sitting at her feet and removed a few legal documents from it and handed them to a guard to present to Bigby.

“You should know that this doesn’t come without heavy restrictions. You’ll be under twenty-four observation, as well as required therapy, and extremely strict parol. You will also be required to study and work at the hero agency, and acquire a hero license at some point in the next 2 years. If you breech any terms of the contract, you’ll be arrested and sent back here to await execution again. But, if you manage to survive all of this, you’ll be relatively free within ten years. Reduced to five on good behavior.”

Bigby nodded, soaking up the information Snow was giving him while he looked over the several contracts placed in front of him. It was a lot of legal jargon, but it was easier to understand than he thought it would be. Well that, and he also spent the little free time he did have studying up on legal practices, curiosity pushing him to figure out just how fucked the system was right now.

“One problem, I can’t sign this. They don’t really let me use pens.”

Snow almost looked like she smiled at that. And it seems like she thought ahead, producing a pad of ink from the bag and passed it along to Bigby’s side of the glass.

“Don’t worry, your fingerprint makes a good replacement.”

There were ten pages in total, and each page was stamped with Bigby Wolf’s fingerprint black swirling ink. The pages were handed back to Miss White as she now truly smiled and looked at Bigby.

“I’ll need to send the paperwork in to be finalized, but you should be released within forty-eight hours, we’ll send a car to bring you to the agency do that you can see where you’ll be staying for the next few years. I look forward to working with you, Mr. Wolf.”

She returned her phone to its place and turned to leave, but he reached out and tapped loudly on the glass. Snow looked back and picked up her phone again.

“Bigby.”

“Mr. Wolf I-“

“Just call me Bigby.”

Next>

[vernonfielding]

Life Writes Its Own Stories

Chapter 7 (AO3!)

AN: The next update won't be for another week. I'm going to be off in the wilderness for a few days with no access to internet. Assuming I don't fall off a cliff, Chapter 8 should be up next Sunday. 

Jake found out the story had published when he was woken up far too early on Sunday by an explosion of text messages. There were a dozen from Gina alone, mostly demanding to know why he had gone on the record with Amy when Gina was his lifelong best friend, damnit. There were two texts from Rosa; the first read “what the hell, Jake” and the second “WHAT THE HELL.” The Vulture had also texted but Jake didn’t bother opening that one.

There was nothing from Amy.

Jake let that particular gut-punch sink in. He hadn’t heard from her since he’d lost his damned mind and kissed her, and he thought it was possible he’d never hear from her again.

When his phone dinged again, he picked it up to find another text from Gina (“srsly man wtf”) and wrote back with a shrug emoji and a heart-kiss emoji and three fruit emojis. He ignored the Vulture. He took a deep breath and called Rosa.

“What the hell, man?”

“On a scale from no-one-reads-the-Bulletin-anyway to maybe-the-FBI-is-hiring, how much trouble do you think I’m in?” Jake said.

“A lot.”

Jake pressed his hand to his eyes and groaned.

On the other end of the line he could hear Rosa rustling around, doing god knew whatever she did on her weekends, but she didn’t speak for a long time and the silence was unnerving. Finally, she said, “Did you know?”

“About the story? Or about my name being in it?” Jake said.

“Either. Both.”

“Yes.”

More dead air, and then Rosa said, “You’re a moron, you know that.”

“Yep.”.

Rosa sighed, said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, dummy,” and ended the call.

Jake stared at the dark screen for a while, then he stuffed the phone under his pillow, rolled over, pulled his blanket up over his head and went back to sleep.

+++

The professional fallout wasn’t as bad as he expected. The Vulture was furious, of course. When Jake finally called him Pembroke screamed for a while and told him his pasty white ass would be glued to his desk chair for the foreseeable future but he didn’t actually make any formal threats. The Vulture did demand to know why Amy had contacted Jake of all possible detectives in the NYPD – something that Jake realized he should have anticipated and prepared an answer for – and he panicked and said Gina must have offered him up. That set off a whole new round of yelling about Jake having friends in the media, but he mostly zoned out on that part.

Around noon, Scully called to tell Jake that officially, the brass did not approve of him talking to a reporter without permission. But unofficially, they were pleased that Jake’s quote gave the NYPD some protection from a story that was destroying the corrections department.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” Scully said, “but you got us more positive press with that quote than I have all year.”

Scully giggled then and asked if Jake wanted to join him for chicken wings.

+++

The personal fallout was far worse.

Jake had been swinging widely between shame and confusion in the immediate aftermath of being soundly rejected by Amy. He couldn’t figure out how he’d misread the situation so badly, to have thought that she might be interested.

But he realized after the story came out that the mood swings were really just denial, because as soon as he saw her name in cold, black print on top of her article, a depression washed over him. The sadness came in waves, at times so dense he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and others like a gray mist that muted the world around him. He stayed in bed for most of the day and only left the apartment to pad down to the corner bodega – in pajama pants and a T-shirt and slippers – so he could buy an actual copy of the Bulletin and further torture himself.

He couldn’t decide if it made things better or so much worse that he hadn’t even noticed that he was falling for Amy. The past few weeks, as he’d felt them becoming close, he’d been intrigued and bemused by the friendship developing between them. He’d certainly noticed that Amy was beautiful, and that she was smart and funny and kind. But it was only standing with her in front of her apartment, her eyes reflecting the light of the streetlamp, the stress and the excitement about her story practically making her glow from within, that he’d realized he wanted to kiss her.

Or maybe his feelings had started to boil over a little before that, when he was walking her home in the dark and the idea had come to him, out of nowhere, that he wanted to hold her hand. Or maybe it had started at the diner, when Amy had said she liked typing his name and Jake hadn’t actually thought she was a big nerd – he’d thought about her fingers tapping out the letters of his name, and he’d felt chills on the back of his neck.

Or maybe it had been a dozen times before that one night, moments like droplets collecting over the past several weeks until he was drowning in them.

Jake wondered if he should call Amy – ask her to reconsider, or even to explain to him how this could have happened. She was smart. She would probably have some ideas. But then he remembered the guilt and the horror on her face at having committed an ethical crime, and he knew he couldn’t call. Her moral code was something he’d admired in her from the first time he’d read a story of hers, when he’d given her the tip about the cop who killed his ex-girlfriend. He wasn’t going to be the one to compromise that, not any more than he already had. And even if he did call, nothing could happen between them, not anymore. He would never ask her to put her professional ethics aside for him. Not for some cop.

He still hoped she might call or text. Just to let him know.

+++

It was getting close to midnight and he was already back in bed with the lights out when he couldn’t take it anymore and wrote a text. It said: “Congrats.” He added an explosion emoji, deleted the emoji, then hit send.

He was sliding the phone under his pillow when it vibrated in his hand.

The text from Eldora Senegal said: “Can we meet?”

+++

Jake sat on a swing in the playground, wishing he hadn’t forgotten his jacket before ducking out to meet her. He was sure the only reason he’d gotten there first was because he lived nearby, but he still couldn’t help the nerves in his stomach – the worry that she was going to text him any minute to say she’d changed her mind. Or maybe she just wouldn’t show up.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from her. He just knew he wanted to see her.

He kicked his feet in the sand, pushing himself back a few inches, and buried his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. The swing seat was damp and the chill of it was soaking into his jeans, making him shiver. He startled when he caught movement in his peripheral vision, and planted his feet to stop the swing. Amy stood at the edge of sand, almost entirely in shadow, but he knew her profile, recognized the curve of her cheek. She walked over silently and sat in the swing beside his.

They drifted a little in their swings, not talking. Then Amy said, not much louder than a whisper, “Did you get in any trouble?”

“Not really,” Jake said, eyes on the ground. “The Vulture yelled a bunch, but that’s kind of his thing. Honestly? I think you made a lot of people in the NYPD pretty happy today.”

“But not you.”

“No,” Jake said, carefully. “Proud. Impressed. But no, not happy.”

Amy dug the toes of her shoes into the sand, rocking on her swing. He felt bad telling her the truth, but he would have felt worse if he’d lied.

“Today was amazing,” Amy said, after a few minutes of silence. Jake glanced at her, but she was staring at her feet, and her voice hadn’t actually reflected her words. “All of these politicians were on Twitter condemning the corrections department. The mayor himself said he’s going to open an investigation. The New York Times actually had a story online today quoting my article. And tomorrow I’m going on NPR to talk about it. The Brian Lehrer Show, Jake!”

She took a deep breath, and when she glanced up, Jake could see that her eyes were too bright. “A bunch of my coworkers took me out tonight to celebrate, and even Holt came out with us, and I was so proud of myself. But all I could think about was how much it sucked that I couldn’t talk to you.”

Jake felt dizzy with uncertainty and relief and longing, and a dozen other emotions he couldn’t pin down. He opened his mouth but had no idea what to say.

Amy said, “So from there I sort of spiraled and just kept thinking, what if I never talk to you again, or never see you again? And I know that’s dumb because I’d probably see you around even if I was trying to avoid you, but what if you didn’t ever want to see me, because of- what happened. I would hate that. I don’t want that.”

“Amy, if you want to be friends-”

“No,” Amy said. “I don’t want that.”

“Then-” Jake stopped, swallowing his words, suddenly afraid of the hope swelling in his chest.

But Amy was getting up from her swing, and she stood in front of him, so his knees bumped against her legs. She grabbed the chains of his swing in her fists and held him steady. He looked up at her face, his heart hammering, his palms sweaty.

“I like you, Jake,” Amy said. “And I don’t want you to be my source, and I don’t want us to be professional or- transactional. I just want you.”

She pulled his swing toward her and dipped her head down to his and kissed him. There was no doubt in her kiss, no hesitation, and he kissed her back fiercely, planting his hands on her hips to hold her closer. She moved her hands to cup his face and her fingers were freezing from holding the cold chains, and the feeling against his flushed cheeks was electric. He groaned into her mouth and she kissed him harder, tongue diving between his lips. She kissed like she couldn’t get enough, like she needed something from him, something only he had.

But eventually they did slow down, kisses evolving into nips and tastes. By then they were both shivering from the cold. Jake kissed her closed mouth and pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, and she smiled coyly at him. She stood over him, her cheeks pink and her lips swollen,  her hair falling out of its ponytail in wisps all around her face, and she was breathtaking.

He kissed her again, felt her lips curl into another smile against his, then stood up and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her in close.

“What do we do now?” he said, pressing his face into her hair.

“Your place?” Amy said. “It’s closer.”

Jake laughed and squeezed her tight, then stepped back and took her hand, and led her across the sand and out of the park. It had to be getting close to 1 a.m., and they both had work in the morning, and apparently Amy had an important radio thing, but he couldn’t imagine sleeping any time soon – not when she was here with him, when she’d come back to him, and there was so much to talk about and he just wanted to make out with her all night.

He was the one spiraling now, in the best way. The relief and euphoria were almost overwhelming. He let go of her hand and looped his arm around her shoulders instead, drawing her into his side, and she slipped an arm around his waist.

“Are you sure about this?” he said, after they’d walked a bit in silence. He wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘this’ – the kissing and holding, or that they were going back to his apartment possibly to have sex, or that they were maybe dating, if not now sometime very soon.

“Yes,” Amy said, the certainty in her voice reassuring. “I actually did some research.”

“Research on what?” Jake said, smiling at her profile.

“Journalism ethics,” Amy said. “There are a ton of thought pieces on dating sources – which is never appropriate, by the way. But the consensus seems to be that sometimes you can’t help who you fall for, and there are best practices for transitioning from a professional reporter-source relationship to a personal one.”

“Best practices, huh? Sounds romantic,” Jake said. He paused at an intersection and nuzzled her ear.

Amy laughed and pulled her head away. “First, I meant what I said – you can’t be my source anymore.”

“That’s okay, I’ll just find someone else to tell all my secrets to,” Jake said, pulling her along as they started walking again.

Amy slapped his arm. “You will not!” He shot her a look, surprised by the intensity of her response, and she just shrugged. “I know, ‘democracy dies in darkness,’ the Fourth Estate, freedom of speech, whatever – if I don’t get your secrets, no one does.”

“Okay, honestly, your possessive side is pretty hot,” Jake said.

She shot him a smile with a bit of an edge to it, and Jake felt a chill run up his spine. Then she said, “But seriously, no more tips, no more leads, no more quoting you.”

“All right,” Jake said, but he slowed down as they approached his building, and he thought over what her words meant. “Except, this is sounding a lot like my Gina arrangement, and I don’t think I can do that with you. Are you saying I can’t talk about my job at all?”

“No, of course not.” Amy stopped them and turned to face him, wrapping both arms loosely around his shoulders. “You can tell me anything, it’s just all off the record. If you say something that I think is newsworthy then I might ask you if I can pass it on to another reporter, but I won’t ever write about it myself.”

Jake considered that and nodded. “And you think that’ll work?”

“Sure,” Amy said with a grin. “It’s not like most of what you say is very interesting anyway.”

“Hurtful.”

“Interesting as in newsworthy,” Amy said, chuckling. “Like, when you talk about the Vulture – that’s great gossip. And you know I want to hear all about whatever’s going on in the cold war between Rosa and the IT guy.”

“Heidi,” Jake said.

“Right, Heidi from IT who is a man who is either in love with Rosa or wants to murder her with the internet,” Amy said. “See? That’s great stuff. But not anything I’d ever write about. So you keep that coming.”

Jake nodded along, and he thought they could do this – they could be together and maybe both of their careers could survive and neither of them would have to do anything horribly unethical that would be a betrayal to their very soul.

“You’re really sure,” Jake said anyway.

“I am,” Amy said. “Now please, can we go upstairs and get in your bed? It’s stupid cold out here.”

He kissed her, hard and fast on the lips, and grabbed her hand and tugged her inside.

And they had sex, and it was incredible.

CHAPTER 8

[writerofblocks]

It’s a Process

[Note: This is an original work I submitted as part of a creative writing class. it’s kind of long, so I put it under a cut. I hope you enjoy.]

Two thousand words. How is anyone supposed to write a story that long? I mean, I know it’s technically possible; this definitely isn’t the first time this teacher has given out this assignment to a class, and it certainly won’t be the last. Page count wise, that’s like… ten, isn’t? That’s not much. Or at least it shouldn’t seem like as much as it does. The last story I wrote was 500 words- if you can even call something of that length a story- and it still felt like a stretch at the time.

At least it’s only a first draft. First drafts are allowed to be flaming garbage piles. And given that it’s due tonight and I only remembered its existence about thirty minutes ago, it’s a safe bet that this draft’s more likely to be a flaming garbage pile than not. Resisting the temptation to throw it all out and make it perfect is going to be a challenge. It’d feel better to wipe the slate clean than try to fix something that’s broken and worthless.

Wait. Stop. Thinking like that isn’t going to help.

What am I supposed to write about, anyway? The teacher said we could write about anything (within reason), but where am I supposed to go with that? Not sci-fi, I know that much. The amount of words I’d need for world-building would take up all the space given. I could write an elaborate fanfiction and disguise it by changing the names, but that just seems tacky. Besides, I already did it once this semester. Never again.

…Too hungry to think further. I need food.

The cafeteria’s a bearable enough place. At least there are a few staples I can get by on if the daily rotation of meals doesn’t work out in my favor. Though pizza every day has gotten pretty boring after a while. Maybe it’s the depression talking, but everything just tastes bland when it comes out of a buffet trough. Hot sauce would be a good way to go to fix that, if anything spicier than pico de gallo didn’t disagree with me. I still don’t know how people can willingly subject themselves to oral torture via condiments, let alone get into contests over who can eat the spiciest pepper in existence. What was it my friend said? Something about how some people are nontasters and need stronger spices to actually feel something and some people are supertasters where everything is intense. Dang, I need to look that up sometime. I wonder if the ratio of supertasters to nontasters or vice versa is linked to specific regions of the world? Would explain why some cultures enjoy spicier food while some can’t stand anything stronger than salt.

There are burritos today. A small blessing.

Write your story. Stop watching that video on your phone, pull out your notebook, and write your story. You’ll feel much better with it done, but you need to actually write the story. You’ve already watched this video ten times already, you know it by heart, why are you watching it over and over again when you have other things you’ve been meaning to get to? Put it away on the count of three. One, two, three. I said, one, two, three four five- damnit.

“We now bring to you on the Inner Brain Radio “Mambo. No 5”, but only the first measure. This will be on repeat for the next three hours.”

Excellent. Hey, can I request something different? Like, maybe some silence, or some thoughts on how I’m actually going to finish this freaking story?

“Sorry, we don’t take requests.”

That’s what I figured.

Damn, this burrito is hot. Why are all the burritos from the cafeteria burning hot? The rice is always overcooked, too. Tasteless. Feels like chewing on actual rice grains instead of, you know, cooked rice. At least it fills me up- won’t have to break my writing stride to get a snack, if it comes to that. And it always comes to that.

…Noise.

Too much noise. Mouths chewing with wet and obscene sounds. Conversations I can’t piece together but try to anyway. What if they’re talking about me?

I can’t tell whether they’re laughing or crying.

I can’t tell whether they’re laughing or crying.

I can’t tell whether they’re laughing or crying.

Need to move. No more people. I’m tired after two classes, how am I supposed to work in the real world? How am I supposed to do anything worthwhile? How am I supposed to grow and be an adult? I don’t feel like an adult. I stopped changing at sixteen and I’ve been stuck in this worthless rotten excuse of a body ever since.

Stand up. Stand up! Prickling in my muscles, everything’s too loud. Beep boop, out of people juice again. Where can I get more? People juice machine broke. Why am I thinking in memes at a time like this, I need to pack up my bag and go.

Out of the cafeteria, into the fall air. I don’t need to think about the path I’m taking. I may not be able to remember meetings, due dates, birthdays, names, anything short-term memory related, or anything that makes me viable and valid as a human adult worth caring about, but by God do I still have my muscle memory! Wondrous miracles!

What should I listen to on the walk home? Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to listen to this album. It’d be good to listen to something new. Or, I could listen to the same set of songs I’ve been listening to on repeat for weeks now because that’s what’s comfortable to me.

Yeah. Let’s go with that.

It’s getting windier by the minute. I left my good jacket in my bedroom closet- didn’t think I’d need it today. I need to make it a habit to check the weather before I go out, I can’t keep going out under prepared like this-

What on earth is that squirrel doing?

…God damnit. Did it again. I’m just a walking stereotype at this point. I really hate that joke about people with ADHD and squirrels, but it’s true. Maybe that’s why I hate it so much.

I did take my pills today, didn’t I? The section for today is empty, so I must have. Good. I’ve gotten better about doing that.

Walk faster towards home, bow my head against the galeforce winds. It’s not galeforce, I’m exaggerating, but it’s damn windy is what it is. I’m swimming upstream, I’m a carp trying to jump a waterfall. I’m Sisyphus up a hill made out of air. I’m an adventurer on a solemn quest, I’m a badass with somewhere to be, I’m making up things that I am because the walk home is boring and I’d rather be at home under my duvet instead of be out here freezing my everything off.

Finally home. My room’s at the top of three sets of stairs. I’m the crazy lady in the attic. Stick me up here, forget about me. Or it could be that it’s smaller so they make the single rooms out of the space they have. Self reminder- finish reading “The Yellow Wallpaper”.

When I take off my shoes, I need to place them in the shoe caddy. If I do so, it will be easier to find them and they won’t be a trip hazard. Everyone wins.

I didn’t place them in the shoe caddy. Figures.

Set your bag down, pull your laptop and notebook out. This whole day will be a waste if I don’t get something down at least. Sit on your bed and make yourself comfortable. I’m not going anywhere for the next however-long-it-takes, and the desk chairs are too hard for my delicate lil’ butt to handle.

My bedsheets already smell like farts and sweat. I just washed them a few days ago. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.

A thousand underperformances on the back of my neck, constricting my lungs. I’ve barely opened the laptop and already I’m at anxiety DEFCON 2, how am I supposed to start this thing? It’s impossible, why did I put it off for this long, I’m going to fail, I’m-

Wait! Breathe. Breathe in for five, hold for five, exhale for seven. That’s it, just like your psychologist taught you. Still stressed. Thoughts still racing. Howie Mandel, I’m going to use a lifeline on this one. Pick up my phone, flip over to texts.

[Mom are you in a good place to talk right now?] [well, text] [not up for calling atm]

[I am. What’s up?]

[just. kind of stressed out] [I have a story due by midnight and I haven’t started  it yet] [trying not to beat myself up about it. not really working]

[At least you’re trying, right? That’s better than in the past.] [Maybe try doing something nice for a bit?] [Not forever, just something that will calm you down.]

[did I mention its due tonight at midnight]

[I know. But trying to do things when you’re riled up doesn’t work.]

I hate it when she’s right.

[maybe I’ll do some knitting for a bit] [still have to finish that blanket]

[Sounds like a plan <3]

One, two, three four… seven? Fuck, I dropped a stitch somewhere. Time to frog it and start over. Mom’s always astonished when I spend so much time on something and destroy it when it’s not perfect. Like I didn’t inherit it from her. She’s gotten better in recent days, but still. Still. Why do knitters call it “frogging”? Because you rip it, rip it.

…It’s nine o clock at night. When did it become nine o clock at night? Put your knitting away, goddamnit, what are you thinking? The story’s due before midnight, just open your Word doc and go!

Focus. Play with form. Poetry, writing, dance, art, living- it’s all just one connection of motion to another. But at what point does a story become a poem? Or a poem become a story, either or. I know free verse is a thing, will the teacher dock me points if it’s not within at least a certain limit of change? Maybe. I don’t know.

The word counter’s ticking up, one agonizing number at a time. It’s all bullshit, of course it’s all bullshit, I can’t write anything but bullshit. But in the Game of College Classes, all that matters is that it fulfills the requirements of the assignment. Nothing more.

Something something too rhythmic, something something “all writers are failed poets”, something something I don’t know what I’m doing, something something, just as long as it’s something.

You’ll never be good enough. This story will never be good enough. You’re unoriginal. And even if you were original, who would want someone who can’t turn things in on time? That’s all you’re good for, menial tasks, just get used up and thrown out when you’re no longer needed. You’re disposable. There are millions of other people just like you, only better because they aren’t lazy worthless garbage. No one likes you. People who say they like you and like what you do are lying. Why can’t you just write what’s in your head? You think you’re better than everyone else at this, but when it comes to brass tacks you just can’t live up to your own fantasies of greatness. Face it- you’re never going to get anywhere with this. You’re never going to get anywhere with anything you do. You’ll just give up as soon as things become even slightly tough; what were you thinking coming here, where it’s all tough all the time? Oh wait, you weren’t, you just go along with whatever someone in authority tells you because you’re a coward and can’t think for yourself without someone else giving the go-ahead. If you’re ever given control you just throw it all away and don’t do shit-

11:50pm. It’s done. Aborted thoughts that pro-lifers would have a field day with, flimsy thoughts, very little structure, absolutely meaningless in the long run, but done, blessedly done. Open your email, send it off to the professor. Write an apology for it being late at night. Send a joke that at least it’s on time. Delete the part that says “for once”- only so much self-deprecation is allowed when interacting with others before they get concerned. Hit the SEND button and try to feel proud, though you know you could have done better if you hadn’t put it off.

It’s late. I’m tired. Time to attempt to sleep. I’ll stay up until one watching videos- I know myself- but at least I need to pretend I’m going to bed or I’ll stay up even later with meaningless distractions

I’ll have to face my mistakes I’ve made with other classes tomorrow, the assignments I’ve put off elsewhere. But this is a victory. A victory that shouldn’t be this hard to get, but it’s a victory. And I’ll take it for all it’s worth.

[randomfandomsciencethings]

Zen x MC Gravity

(Hey! This is kind of angsty, but it has a happy ending I swear. Also, this is one of my favorite songs, and I'd really recommend checking out EDEN! They're amazing! This is my first time writing a songfic, so please tell me how I did! Thank you, and enjoy!)

~I wanted you to be the last thing on my mind.

I wanted you to be the reason I close my eyes.~

“Why wasn’t I good enough?” Zen sighed, running a hand down his face, the cucumbers on his eyes having fallen off hours ago. It was late at night, yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t sleep.

“No, I was good enough. This isn’t their fault, but...Fuck, I messed up.”

~But I can’t sleep,

And oh God I wanted to be your high.~

“Babe, I’m sorry. I...I won’t do it again,” he attempted to talk sensibly, to not slur his words, but his mind wasn’t working properly after all the alcohol he consumed. He had been turned down for a part he had spent months on, and he was depressed. Unfortunately, he turned to bad habits to cope with this failure, leading to the current argument.

“Am...am I not good enough?” Their voice broke, and it seemed as though the shards pierced his heart as his eyes stared at them pleadingly, begging for them to not think that way. Unfortunately, however, that’s all they saw. They saw him returning to how he was before because they were inadequate.

~But everything I said, it went unheard And everything you saw with eyes straight blurred Became our downfall.~

“Zen, I’m only worried about your health! You’re going to be hurt if you keep doing this!”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t worry about me, MC! It doesn’t matter!” Voices rose as they became more passionate and he grew even more stubborn.

“What doesn’t matter?! Your health, or our relationship?!” His words were twisting and turning in their head, becoming all about their relationship as a couple. One word from his mouth, however, pierced through the hurricane of confusion, stabbing a fatal wound into their heart.

“Both.”

They stand frozen as his eyes widen in realization at what he said, but he stays still, emotionless as he waits for their reaction. After a while of complete silence, he closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face, about to apologize. All thoughts stop, however, when he hears a loud sob. His eyes shoot open, and he sees them shakily standing, supporting their weight on a chair.

“I...Is that all I am to you? Someone to just pass the time? I...I need to go. Goodbye, call me when you get your shit together.” They staggered out the door, and he didn’t follow. Why should he, when he’s the one that practically destroyed them?

~'Cause you say I drink and I smoke and I talk too much

But I know you lied when you said that you just gotta go and save yourself~

“Why would they do that? No...why would I do something so idiotic?!” He slammed his phone on the bed, turning to the other side where he can smell their lingering scent, the shampoo they used, the body wash, the cologne/perfume they used, everything.

The rumors had started soon afterwards, saying he’d moved on, found someone else. The articles hurt both of them.

~You know everybody talks, girl.

And it means nothing ‘till you let it

But if you keep second guessing then

There’s only gonna be one end~

Sobbing filled the small hotel room, a body curled in the corner shaking softly as the thunder cracked around them. Rain leaked in through small holes in the cracked walls and ceiling, and the flickering neon “vacancy” sign bathed the room in a dim red glow (on the rare occasion that it actually worked). Their sobbing seemed to increase in intensity as the storm heightened, wind banging against the line of rooms as it howled.

“I d-d-don’t need h-him...I don’t n-need h-h-him...I...GOD!” They screamed, throwing whatever was right beside them as their arms shot away from their face, revealing their appearance. Their eyes were red and puffy from crying and lack of sleep, clothes were wet from tears, and they clearly hadn’t eaten for at least a day or two. They couldn’t take care of themselves, not while knowing that the only person they loved didn’t feel the same anymore. He couldn’t, not after what he said, right?

~But you can leave if you really want to

And you can run if you feel you have to~

Now I’ll be fine if you ever ask me~

“Hello?” Their stuffy voice rang out clear on the other side of the call, and Saeyoung winced.

“Hey, MC! I...I heard about what happened with Zen...and I know you’re not okay. Do you need to talk?” They smiled despite the situation. He always seemed to know when they’re lying, so they never even try anymore.

“I...I miss him, but I honestly don’t even think it bothers him. I mean, he just...watched me go, I walked right out of there and I haven’t heard from him since. I’m so confused. I...I just want to give up.”

~Falling’s easy

But there’s only one way out~

“MC, you can’t think like that. First, you can’t let your life revolve around him, he can’t be your life. When it comes down to it, your life should be about you.” He sighs as they sniffle. His grip on the phone tightens in anger.

“But I can’t stop thinking about him, Sae. He’s always there, in my mind.”

“I...I know. I know how that is, to love and miss someone so much that you can’t stop thinking about them. Look, don’t...don’t over think, okay?” they sighed.

“I can’t help it, damnit! I sit here, or I pace, and I think. What if I’m not good enough? What if he was cheating, too? How is he now? Is he still smoking, and drinking? What if he accidentally hurts himself with that? I can’t help but think about him, I love him!” Saeyoung nods.

“I understand, but you need to sleep, okay? Just do that. He wouldn’t want you to hurt over this. Listen, I’d love to talk to you more, but now that I know you’re still alive and as well as can be expected due to the circumstances, I have to get back to work. Call if you need me, okay?”

And just like that, they were alone again.

~So I’ve been thinking that I think too much

And I can’t sleep but I can dream of us~

Another sleepless night. Another day in his crummy apartment, the silence ringing in his ears as loud as his shouting that night. His words echo in his head, drilling themselves into his brain as he thinks and thinks and thinks and thinks…

Until he sleeps.

Then it starts all over the next morning.

~And I’ve been seeing shit like horror cuts

It’s burning down, I gotta drown this out

And you said you need me to let this go~

He throws another empty bottle at the wall, denting it again. He tried, he tried so hard for them to stop, but it became a serious problem. Without them, he lost all his motivation. Without them, he was almost nothing. Of course, he thought they wanted him to move on. Who would want to still be with him after he fucked up that badly?!

~And you said you need me to let this go

But it’s who I am or am I just losin’ it

‘Cause you said jump and I went first

But falling’s always been my downfall~

No. He can’t do this, not if he wants them back.

The next day, he throws his cigarettes in the dumpster, along with giving the neighbors any alcohol he owned. He needs them back, if he wants to ever be okay again. He glanced at a picture of them with him, and sighed. He grabbed the picture, and set it by his bed, so he’d remember what he can’t ever forget.

~But you can leave if you feel you really want to

And you can run if you feel you have to

And I can drink if I feel I have to~

They weren’t coming back. He could feel himself slipping, but nothing really changed. He went out more, trying to avoid bars and his empty home. He couldn’t stand it any more, so finally…

“Zen? What do you need?” Saeyoung’s voice echoed in Zen’s empty home.

“Find her. Wherever, please. I need...I need to have them back, and I need to apologize. I haven’t touched either in a month, so please…”

“Fine. But if you hurt them again, I will make sure you never see them again, do you understand?”

~I know it’s hard, but I can’t feel like I used to

Like I used to

Cause I used to defy gravity

Defy gravity~

Finally, he was there. The exact room number was hastily scrawled on a torn piece of paper, and he nervously crumpled it as he stepped out. Walking towards that door was the most terrifying thing he had ever done. He slowly straightened his posture, and knocked on the door shakily. It swung open, and their pale, sickly face appeared.

“What?” They asked in a hoarse voice, and Zen’s eyes widened.

~Goodbyes keep dragging me

Down~

“MC, please, just...listen to me, just this once. I never, ever meant that, not in a million years, I love you so much that I could hardly survive this long without you. I need you, MC. Please...don’t say goodbye.”

They stared blankly at him before their eyes well up with tears, and they sob, wrapping their arms around him. He sighed in relief, and buried his head in their hair, tears running down both of their faces as they held on tightly to each other.

“I...I won’t, I never wanted to Zen. I love you so much.” He laughs through his tears, spinning them around as they shriek in surprise.

“I love you too! I will never say anything like that ever again, I swear.”

~And I’m fighting gravity

Defying gravity

I try but I keep falling

Cause falling’s easy~

~But it only brings you down~

[colettascorner]

#ItsGoodToBeKing SL with @BEstYoullNvrHve @AssholeWrangler and @TryButYoullLose

SL #5 - Peter the King

Peter: /She was gorgeous, petite but not small, regal in a timeless way, and yet sitting across from me she looked almost lost. A woman of her status shouldn’t be lost anywhere. She was a princess. Going to the bar, I made a dirty martini, extra olives, and walked over, handing it to her/ Just a sip. I’ll finish the rest. One of you two have to be sober. /I sat back in the black leather chair, back to the game. I really only kept this for clients, and Oli. That bastard got under my skin. I loved the guy, don’t get me wrong, but he was a hard pill to swallow most of the time. I just looked at Coletta, feeling her pain/ It’s not just you. I know what you’re thinking. He treats everyone with the same disdain for choice, boundaries, or decorum. It’s a miracle he’s as well-liked as he is. Good PR and a pretty face. And a winning record. You’d think this was Gotham and he was Harvey Dent. /I crossed my leg over my knee, folding my hands in my lap/ Though I am going to say that I find it curious that he married you. Not saying you’re not ravishing and far too classy for someone as low brow at heart as our dear Oli, but, well—you’ll learn I don’t mince words—he has a hangup about marriage. Did he tell you? /I chuckled, side-eyeing a very passed out man, who at that moment began to snore lightly/ You see, Oliver Wendell Davidson grew up the only son to very wealthy parents who, tragically, passed in an accident when he was young. Aunt and the man she lived with, dastardly people still today, took him in and spent all the allotted money for his care on everything else but Oli. /I looked behind me as the crowd cheered, rolling my eyes and looking back to Coletta/ He remembered his parents as in love and the picture of fidelity, and he’s sold himself on the ideal that if he can’t have that, he’ll have nothing at all. /I let that sink in, knowing I was throwing a lot at her upfront. Might as well. It wasn’t as if Oli would be this forthcoming/ I dare say he agreed because deep down, the idea of being married to you, because he will not, under any circumstances, get divorced, seemed intriguing. You’ll find most of what Oli does is to assuage his own curiosity. Damn bastard.

Coletta: {The scent of olive infused vodka.pulled me from my darkened thoughts as the martini was held before me. Taking the glass, I nodded my thanks before taking a sip, watching the debonair stranger sit before me. Easily drawing my attention when he began to talk about my husband, I tilted my head as I handed the glass back, listening intently. The picture of a small blonde boy left alone in the world made my heart ache in ways I wasn't exactly comfortable with. It was interesting to find out that the picture perfect marriage that his parents left behind shaped his views of fidelity and marriage, while watching my father make a mockery of it and destroy my mother, were what shaped mine. Because I agreed with the seriousness of the commitment of marriage...even if mine was a farce. I was honest with him when I told him I would never have an affair. I didn't want to be that type of person. Shaking my head, a small laugh escaped and I hoped the warmth that his last statement brought to my cheeks wasn't showing. Even if Oliver treated everyone the way he'd been treating me, I had no delusions that he had entered into this agreed upon prison for any other reason than to be able to win the case of a lifetime and propel his career.} He sounds more like Batman than Harvey Dent. Orphan turned champion of justice, no? {With a small smirk at the corner of my lips, I lifted a shoulder.} But why are you telling me all of this? He did tell me his views on marriage, but not why. And while I do appreciate a better understanding of the reason, I don't know that it will help or change...anything.

Peter: /Ah. That blush confirmed my assumptions, which I liked, but I kept it as if I’d seen nothing, nor noticed the way she hesitated./ We’re just chatting, Miss Martinelli. And though he may seem like Bruce Wayne, he’s not. The man is fearless, practically, and bent on justice. It’s odd, because most equate justice with empathy, but in his case that’s not so. His sense of justice is for justice sake. The world must be righted, the wrong must be punished. I tell him often he has a fucked up moral compass, but that’s just me giving him a hard time. The man is destined to make a difference. We, you and I, are just along for the ride. /I chuckled low, sipping my martini, offering the missus an olive/ I met Oliver while he was still in law school. He was a scrappy little shit, always hanging around my ER, looking for cases to impress the lawyers he interned with every chance he got. We struck up a conversation one night, and I flirted pretty heavily with him. He was flattered but not moved one bit. And he kept coming back. One night, a hooker came in on a bad trip, slapping herself in the head, screaming, and when one of my nurses stepped up to help her, she pulled a knife and put it at her throat. I knew lawyers had smooth tongues, I mean, I’ve known a few… /smirks/ But Oliver talked the woman down as effortlessly as if he were ordering dinner or seducing a lover. It was a skill I’d never seen up close, and I was mesmerized. /I took another long drink and sighed./  I operated on him the first time he got shot, serving a warrant on a drug dealer, and again when he went on a ride along with one of our city’s finest and he couldn’t follow directions and sit in the car. /I remembered those times well, and though I’d never admit it to the missus, it’d scared the hell out of me./ I’ve patched that man up from so much, it’s insane that he still doesn’t have a single scar--have you noticed? Flawless skin. It makes me ill. /I shifted a bit and studied her, staying quiet for only a moment. That’s all I could stand./ So, tell me. I’m dying to know. How is he in bed?

Coletta: {I could tell by the way he spoke about Oliver, he was fond of the man. The more Peter revealed, the more I softened to the asshole passed out on the couch, which wasn't necessarily something I welcomed, but still… “Know your enemy” was always sound advice. I liked knowing that he was hands on with his work, even if it made my pulse stutter with worry to hear about his various other injuries. Peter was right though, his skin was flawless. Shaking my head with pursed lips to contain my laugh in response to the hooker story, I rolled my eyes.} He certainly had a silver tongue. Bastard. {Taking the olive on a toothpick from him, I slid it off with my teeth, nearly choking as his next question had my eyes popping wide as my cheeks burned scarlet. Coughing a few times between shocked laughs, I held up a hand to let him know I was okay.} Oh my god, you went there…{Shaking my head as I recovered, my grin pinned my bottom lip as I leaned closer to Peter as if ready to share some scandalous details.} However skilled you've imagined him...multiply it by at least ten.{Winking as my grin stretched wider, I sat back in my seat, glancing at the game behind him.} I swear, it's his only saving grace. Well, that and the weed. Which he's out of and I'm not sharing mine, so if you could score him some, I'm sure he'd appreciate it. {Yes, I was changing the topic. Thinking about sleeping with Oliver would make me like him, and I didn't want to today. I had a hunch that was what the good doctor was trying to accomplish though.}

Peter: /I could only groan when she commented on Oli’s prowess in bed/ Damnit. I knew it. Asshole. /I took another long sip of the martini, considering making another one./ Anyways, A man can dream. When he’s not passed out behind us where I can be tempted to molest him, you’ll have to give me some juicy details. I can live vicariously through you. /I wasn’t at all interested in game, as I’d said already, but I did know that it was coming to a close soon, and we’d have to find a way to wake up his highness over on the couch, but we had some time. I looked over my shoulder and sighed, seeing him just as oblivious as before, but that’s what I’d aimed for./ He’s going to be pissed at me later, just so you can expect him to rant. I gave him a sedative. As far as the marijuana, he’s never come to me for that, but I do have my sources. Let me make a call and I can have him some before he leaves. Maybe that’ll make him less cranky when he wakes up. /I pulled out my phone and sent a text, and in about ten minutes, my person was on their way with enough smoke that Oli would be alright for maybe a week. It irritated me that he didn’t call and ask, but I didn’t say anything. If I could make a good impression on the missus, maybe she'd keep me in the loop where Oli tended to shut me out. He was far too reclusive for my taste, and with his propensity for working too hard he needed someone like Coletta to kick his ass. I’d teach her. I snorted a laugh as I put my phone away/ I’m sure you’ve guessed that Oli’s a little obsessive when it comes to control. When he was young and impressionable, he got a good eyeful of addiction, and since then, he’s hated anything addictive. Though, it’s a laughable irony that he drinks like he does. It’s maddening. He’s not an alcoholic, stopping just short of pickling his liver and making himself dependent. It’s another thing that he exercises control over. /I had to laugh, standing and walking to the window, looking over the field. I wanted to warn her away, partly, but I was hoping she’d stay, maybe, because Oliver let few people in, even me. I worried about him./ You’ve definitely got your hands full with him.

Coletta: {The references to groping him and living vicariously through me, jad me arching a brow as a surge of possessiveness rose, but I tamped that down immediately. It was absurd to have that reaction, and I was sure it was only because the title of husband, no matter how fraudulently acquired, made Oliver mine. As an only child, I'd never been good at sharing. Yes, that was the reasoning I could handle. When Peter so accommodatingly got in touch with his connect to weed,I was pleasantly surprised before second guessing how Oliver would react to me having gone out on a limb and asked him. Then again if it was something else he'd be angry at me with either way, that was going to be his problem, not mine.} Thank you for that. Because I'm sure he won't. {Laughing humorlessly, I glanced back at the sleeping pain in the ass with a sigh, pushing my fingers through my ponytail.} Hopefully he'll be groggy enough not to be able to decide what to lash out at first before we get him into the limo. I've still got the spilled beer to answer to, I'm sure. Even though it saved his ass the embarrassment of passing out in his seat, but he won't acknowledge that. {Snorting, I turned back to the doctor in love with my husband.} Would you like to come back to the house for a night cap? I'll understand if you don't, and to be honest, I'd be selfishly using you to run interference, but I can handle him either way.

Peter: /I laughed, not loud enough to wake Oli, but loud enough to really feel it. She was smart and savvy, but not honest enough to be awkward. I walked back to my seat and sat fluidly, crossing my leg and settling back./ We can only hope. Usually he’s a bitch after waking up from sedation. Just letting you know. /I pulled my phone back out and clicked around, checking my surgery schedule, other things, even though I knew that I had plenty of time to spend at Oli’s and still fulfill my obligations, but it never hurt to look busy. She’d bristled when I’d halfway joked about molesting Oliver, and that told me a lot about how things were truly going with the two of them. I knew how affectionate Oliver could be when high, or in pain, and judging from her reaction, she knew too. Sometimes I hated him, others I missed him, and as I put my phone away, I smiled cordially/ I’m used to being used, so I definitely don’t mind spending some time taming the beast. I’ll need dinner, so we can order in, and then we can talk about getting you out a little more. /I leaned up and reached for her hand, taking it in mine and running my thumb over her fingernails, nodding a little with pursed lips/ A manicure. Probably a pedicure. /I looked up at her ponytail, nodding toward it./ A haircut and a blowout, maybe. I’m sure Oliver has planned out your every move, but I’m just as able to get people to do as I want as he is. The upside would be that you wouldn't have to deal with being told what to do. He’s famous for that, telling you how things will be without any compassion at all… /I let go of her hand, turning back to the game, trying to reign in my words. I should likely shut up or I’d let Mrs. Oliver Davidson see more than I wanted./

Coletta: {Relief washed over me when Peter agreed to come back with us. I didn't have the strength for another fight with Oliver tonight. If one was coming any way, at the very least, I'd have backup.} Since the plan to have dinner up here during the second half of the game has fallen through, ordering in sounds perfect. It'll be a late meal, but it's not as though we've been keeping traditional hours these days. {I softened so much more to this man when he turned his attention to things that might actually matter to me. Oliver had done no such thing and it almost brought tears to my eyes to realize how the smallest nicety almost had me falling apart. Talk about your wounded animal syndrome. Nodding I forced a smile as I looked down at the hand he'd inspected.} You have no idea how much I miss my nail salon. I doubt I'd be able to go there ever again, but even I know there are spas that keep the confidentiality of their clients under wraps and secure. I would only need what you mentioned. Maybe once a month. I swear I'm not that high maintenance. {Laughing softly, I shook my head, glancing at Oliver once more.} Do you have smelling salts or something? Or should I pour a glass of whiskey on his face?

Peter: /I chuckled, shaking my head, stood and walked over to Oliver. I made a fist and placed it against his sternum, rubbing my fist up and down until he stirred, which only took a few moments. This little technique hurt. One hand swung out to smack me, apparently in my face, and I dodged it, guessing he realized what I’d done./ Oh come on, Oli. Get over it. You needed it. /He mumbled something, but I did the sternal rub again, and he pushed my hand away and sat up, but I didn’t give him any platitudes because I didn’t have them. A knock at the door drew me away, and I went to answer it, pulling my wallet out as I went. Darren stood behind the door, and I didn’t even try to hide what we were doing. The guards up here didn’t care to know what went on, so I held out the wad of bills and he slipped me the sack of bud, and I could smell it was good stuff. Maybe it’d make Oli a little easier to deal with. Probably not. Darren left, and I turned back to the lovebirds, walking back over and giving Oliver a good back-of-the-head-slap, dropping the weed in his lap/ Next time, call me. /I walked over to where Coletta was still sitting and took my seat again, plucking the olive out of the glass and slipping it into my mouth./ You ruined the plans, Oliver, with your need to push yourself too hard and refuse help. The game is almost over. Drink some water, get your shit together, and then we’re going back to your place. She had to eat that shitty concession food. It’s deplorable. /I rolled my eyes, acting nonplussed, looking at Coletta/ I’m assuming that you’re a fan of Italian food, real Italian, but tell me if I’m wrong. If I���m right, I have this place we can stop in at that makes, hands down, the best mushroom ravioli I’ve ever tasted.

Coletta: {Watching with interest as Peter.moved to Oliver, at first I thought he was making good on his promise to grope the other man, until Oliver woke up swinging. Better Peter than me. Snorting a silent laugh, I shook my head and glanced out at the game, my shoulders slumping in defeat. Eight to three. Stankin Yankees. Oh well. Looking back toward the doctor, my grin showing when he went right back to giving Oliver crap, even as he dropped a bag of herb in his lap. Nodding when he mentioned pasta, couldn't help but laugh.} Well the best ravioli in the city comes from Tonelli’s, so unless you're plan on having a delivery from the Bronx, you’re mistaken, but I'm sure your choice will be satisfactory. {Smirking as I winked playfully at the man before pushing to my feet. Rounding the row, I picked up Oliver’s jersey and t-shirt from behind the small couch and held it out to him.} I'll help you put it on if you need it. You won't even have to lower yourself to asking since I offered first. Just please be careful not to rip those stitches open again, please? {Pressing my lips together to keep from saying more, my brow furrowed in concern as I watched him wince in pain.} Hey, the Yankees are going to pull out the win. Silver lining, I guess. For you at least.

Oliver: [I grabbed the clothes from her hands, jerking it to me. My mouth felt like I’d swallowed cotton and my head was...not right. Fucking Peter. When I could stand, I was going to kick his ass. Him of all people knew I hated this shit.] I don’t need your help. [Carefully, I pushed my arm through the t-shirt, then my head, then my other arm, and by the time it was on, I was out of breath. Fucking narcotics. Fucking Peter.] You know, fuck you, King. Dick. I don’t give a fuck. [I smelled the bud before I saw it, and without a word, I stuffed it in my pants pocket and pushed off the couch to stand. But I didn’t stand. Wobbling, I fell back down, and even though hands reached for me, I pushed them away.] Don’t even fucking touch me. Either of you. [Taking a deep breath, going slower this time, I was up and somewhat steady, enough to walk to the bathroom. I slammed the door behind me, went straight to the sink, and dry-heaved. I had nothing in my stomach, so nothing to come up, but just the instability, the dizziness, threw me for a loop. When my stomach was done revolting, I splashed cold water on my face, backed up to the wall, and slid down on my ass, the cool tile nice on my skin. I had this under control. Until now. I hated this. I hated everything.]

Peter: /The bathroom door slammed and I didn’t even budge. Typical Oliver. Had to make a scene/ Seems the sedative limited his vocabulary to a particular four letter word beginning with “f”. I’ll have to note that as a side effect. /I chuckled at my own joke, reaching back and slipping my hand into Coletta’s, drawing her to me and setting her down in my lap./ Don’t fret. He’ll calm. The trick to Oliver’s tantrums is not giving them the attention they’re demanding. Have you ever seen him charm a jury? /I raised an eyebrow, and when she shook her head, I chuckled./ It’s a sight to behold. Go one day, watch him during a trial. He’s a dramatic man, truly. He’s also a master at manipulating emotions. /I pursed my lips and looked back at the bathroom, sighing a bit before turning back to Coletta/ Though that? That was quite genuine. He hates being out of control. Still, don’t react, give him space. /I patted her hand./ He worked a case one time, young woman, rape victim, wanted to pursue charges against her attacker. It was truly an air tight case, according to him. The sense of pride he exuded at being able to help this woman was endearing. One evening, I walked into the ER to start my shift, and there sat Oliver, a bottle of bourbon in one hand and blood all over his white dress shirt. Once I got him to talk, he told me that the woman had been murdered. By her attacker. Oh, lord, he was drunk. Back then, he didn’t have the tolerance for alcohol he has today. All he kept saying was, “I did everything right. I couldn’t keep her safe. What did I do wrong?” /I rubbed Coletta’s back, sighing softly./ For Oliver’s world to work, everything has to be in his control. Everything has to happen just as he plans. And I guarantee that several things are spinning out of his control, some he doesn’t even realize yet.

Coletta: {The outburst wasn't surprising, even if his anger stung. I was still developing my thick skin against Oliver, and his hot and cold routine didn't help, although, the colder he was, the easier it became to reinforce my hatred. By the time he slammed into the bathroom, I didn't even flinch, more curious about being pulled into Peter’s lap. That was unexpected. It was nice to be comforted, and I let myself relax against him briefly.} I've been surrounded by type A control freak alpha males all my life. I just need to learn him. The last thing I want to do is indulge his tantrums. It only gets my temper going, and it's just...It's just not worth it. {The story about the rape case had my lips pulling down into a frown, my heart aching. Knowing that Oliver might actually care about some of the cases he prosecuted...I knew what Peter was trying to do. Whether he had an ulterior motive or not, he wanted me to see Oliver as more human. Possibly trying to get me to cut him some slack. While I appreciated a fuller view of the man I was married to, I wasn't prepared to excuse the shitty way he treated me because he cried over his victims. Sighing heavily, I could only shake my head, sliding my hand down Peter’s arm.} I know quite a few things are out of his control. I just wish he'd take them out on John and not me. None of this was my idea. If he hadn't waltzed into my life with his bogus harassment claims, trying to get me to turn on my father, neither of us would be here. But ultimately, he got what he wanted. I had no other choice and while I'm well past the pity party, I'm not going to let him forget that this whole situation is one of his making. Not any time soon at least and especially when he's hell bent on being an asshole at every chance. {Saying it all out loud only had my frustration rising as I pushed to my feet and began pacing the length of the suite. I was ready to be out of here, my tolerance for the evening's excursion well past expired.}

Oliver: [When I finally came out, Cole was pacing and Peter was pensive and I didn’t want to deal with either of them. I slipped into my jersey carefully, taking out my phone as I leaned against the wall. I texted the driver, had him bring the car around, and didn’t even turn to look at them.] There’s cameras. You need to be up here, Coletta. [I'd heard their conversation before, just the tone of it, not the words, but just the fact that she was talking to Peter pissed me off. He couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut to save his life, and no telling what he’d told Cole. When she didn’t come to my side in a time I thought was acceptable, I looked back] What are you waiting for? You’re with me, not him. That’s the deal. Get up here, now. [I got a text that the car was ready, and all I needed was her on my arm and we’d walk out. I was done here. This whole day was fucked from the beginning.] Peter, you’re riding with us if you’re coming back to the house. Fuck...can’t you both move any quicker? [And without waiting, I pushed off the wall and opened the door, taking a few steps before realizing that I might be a bit light on my feet still. The security guard came to steady me, and I pushed him off] Get off me, man. Fuck. [Where was Cole? Fine. Whatever. I took two steps, and I felt my feet get confused, but there was little I could do to stop it.]

Peter: /I saw him begin to fall, stubborn bastard, and when I stepped up to catch him, I put my lips to his ear where only Coletta and I could hear/ Get your shit together, Oliver. You want to be on the cover of the paper as the drunk? You’re so fucking concerned with how things will look and you’re here acting like this? /the guard came over, but I waved him off, pushing Oliver up straight as I spoke low/ You treat that woman back there with some goddamn respect or I’m going to make you regret it. /Once he was stable on his feet, I stood chest to chest, meeting his eyes/ You don’t own me, Oliver. Just like you don’t own her. You better remember that, treat us accordingly, or your well-constructed little world might just shatter into a million pieces. /I held out my arm to Coletta, smiling a bit, nodding/ Let’s let the photographers get the beautiful people first, then maybe he’ll correct his attitude before his face freezes like that.

Coletta: {Wow. I really had committed myself to a toddler. The more he barked the slower I moved, because fuck this guy. He might think he knew things about me, but he knew nothing of me. He was taking a page out of my father's, “How to get Coletta to dpo nothing I want her to book.” I was glad that Peter got in his face, thankful that he mentioned respect, because the appearance of the security guards was the only thing that kept my fisted hand from landing right over his wound. I let him see just how furious I was before my death glare morphed into a wide, delighted smile when Peter offered me his arm. Oliver could throw any tantrum he wanted, I was learning exactly what to do to keep on pushing him, rather than placate his ridiculous behave. Practically skipping to Peter’s side, I popped my arm through the one he offered, tiptoeing to press a kiss to his cheek.} Such a gentleman. It really is refreshing. {Casting a glance over my shoulder with a smile full of malice, I nodded at Oliver.} When you have an apology or a thank you, you can muster, I'd be happy to have a civil conversation, darling. Until then, go fuck yourself. {Turning a grin up at Peter as we proceeded ahead of Oliver down the hall, I put an extra swing in my hips. He wouldn't be affected, I was sure, but if I could remind him what his shitty attitude was keeping him from, just maybe he'd change his tune.}

Oliver: [Anger surged and before they could get far, I took two long steps and wrapped my hand around her forearm. I tugged her away from Peter, spinning her till her back was against the wall, and encasing her as I flattened my palms above her head. I stared for a long time. I wanted to say so much, like how dare she. That she was mine, not Peter’s, even though it was ridiculous to feel such jealousy. Peter was gay. He was a friend. But somehow that didn’t matter. I wanted to say how everything hurt and how frustrating it was to be out of control. I wanted to explain so she wouldn’t hate me so much, to tell her that I’d missed her, but I didn’t know how and I was too pissed off to get anything out. Instead, I slapped my fist above her head and pushed off the wall, pulling out my phone and putting it to my ear. I reached up and turned my hat around, bill forward, and pulled it down over my eyes as I pretended to be in deep conversation as I walked out through the cameras that barely snapped now. I wobbled a little, but not too bad. The car was waiting, so I slipped in the front seat instead of the back, and the driver stared at me oddly.] What? Just...wait till they get in and fucking drive. And shut up. Don’t even talk. [I gave him the address to the Italian place Peter was going to show Cole to and tried to get comfortable in the seat, but sitting hurt, bending my body right across the stitches. I wanted to be home, high, and then sleep. I pulled the earbuds out of the driver’s phone without asking and plugged them into my phone, slipping the buds in my ear and putting on some music.]

Peter: /It took everything I had not to push him off of her. If the man wasn’t so emotionally constipated he might be able to tell her himself, but that was going to take a lot of time. I wondered if they had that long. Coletta was a strong woman, but a person could only take so much. Whe Oliver walked away, I made my way to Coletta, not even giving Oliver a backwards glance. He wouldn’t me either. Oliver never looked back. I placed my hand over her arm, reached up and brushed her hair back, and kept my voice low/ It’s okay. Are you alright? /I looked down at her arm, and just as I thought, not a mark there. He was a lot of things but he’d never hurt a woman. I smoothed my hand over it, sighing softly/ Come on. Let’s get you some of that wonderful ravioli I spoke of. It’ll help. Carbs and all. Maybe a nice piece of tiramisu. Or something chocolate. Chocolate can help anything. /I tucked her arm in mine, lowering my voice more./ Relax. Are you alright to keep going? Just...talk to me if you want and act natural. He took a work call and you and I are chatting away. /I chuckled, smiling warmly./

Coletta: {For a man that had almost fallen over twice, he was pretty fucking fast when he grabbed me. Gasping as he whirled me around, my entire body jarring as my back hit the wall. My pulse pounded in my ears, I could feel the vein throbbing in my neck like a jackhammer, but I lifted my chin, jaw set, and held his gaze. If he was going to hit me, he was going to do it, looking me in the eyes, seeing all of the hate I had for him pouring from me. Flinching when his hand slapped the wall above my head, I hated myself for the tears that well, blinking rapidly to keep them from falling as I stayed motionless until he walked away. Shoulders slumping, only my position propped against the wall kept me from crumbling to the ground. When Peter stood before me, I could only nod rapidly, no words forming yet in my mind. I hated my father, but not more than the man that had just walked away from me. Not today. A few more minutes. That's as long as I'd need to hold it together. Looping my arm through his again, I forced a smile and a laugh, tilting my head up to speak.} I'm going to need several pieces of tiramisu and a mountain of chocolate. A few hot entrees I can spill all over him would work too. {Another forced laugh for the last few camera snaps, and I was in the seat behind Oliver. As Peter rounded the SUV to climb in behind the driver, I drew my knees up to my chest lined up my feet and kicked the back of Oliver’s as hard as I could, as close to his wound as I could figure. When I heard him curse in pain, I leaned up to the space between his seat and the passenger window and pulled the bud from his ear.} I don't know who the fuck you think you are, Davidson, but if you ever even think of raising your hand to me again, I will cut your dick off and shove it down your throat. This whole deal is over if you fucking touch me. You want to flush your precious case, fine. Just give me a fucking head start so I can spend my last days alive away from you. {Flinging the earbud in his face, I sat back chest heaving as I laid my forehead against the tinted window of the back seat, just concentrating on breathing as the tears rolled down my cheeks.}

Peter: /I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it over to Coletta and glared at Oliver, hoping he felt it boring into the back of his head. That damn Neanderthal was in love. Curious indeed. If not completely in love, certainly feeling things he wasn’t quite used to. Had I known how muddled his head was, I’d have held off on the sedative. Carefully, I draped my arm over Coletta’s shoulder, running my hand down her hair and moving a bit closer. I felt like shit.

Oliver went to bed the moment we arrived at his home. It was better that way, and I hoped once he slept off the effects that he could apologize and make this right. I certainly planned to do my part. As I sat out the meal, taking two plates from the cupboard, I sighed./ I have to apologize, Coletta. /I held up my hand when she seemed to interrupt/ I shouldn’t have given him the sedative. I know how much it affects him and how angry it makes him. It seems I misjudged on many fronts. /I began to plate the ravioli, but then I stopped, placing my hand over hers and looking her in the eyes/ He would never hurt you. Please don’t think so poorly of him. It was my fault. He nearly always declines narcotics because of the way they play with his emotions, another thing he keeps a tight rein on. /I pursed my lips and shook my head. I’d said too much, and before I could blather on, I poured a few glasses of wine and pulled a dime bag of nice purple kush from my jacket. I handed her a wine glass, then dangled the baggie between us./ Come. Let’s put this day in the rear view.

Coletta: {I took the handkerchief from Peter, of course the man carried an actual cloth handkerchief and wiped my eyes as the city passed us by. Once Peter stopped into the restaurant and came out with bags of food, my stomach was growling. The scents of Italian food filled the interior of the SUV for the rest of the ride, so that despite the late hour and my emotional emptiness, I was ravenous. I barely spared a glance up the stairs as Oliver went into hiding, only checking that he did make it up them. After hearing his bedroom door close, I went up to my room to change. Lounge pants and my grad school hoodie to keep me warm, dwarfed and protected from my riotous emotions, I made my way back to the kitchen and propped myself onto one of the high stools set at the extended pitched island. Pulling the glass of wine and plate towards me, I shook my head as Peter apologized for things he had no reason apologizing for.} I know you’re a great friend to him, Peter, but at some point he needs to be accountable for his own shitty behavior. Sedative or not, he's a grown man, groggy from the drug sure, but to lash out like that? I'm sorry, there's far more wrong inside his head than he wants to see, and why should he with people around him that will make excuse for and enable him like this. “Oh that's just how Oliver is?” Really? I'm supposed to accept that while in the one place I'm supposed to be safe, with the one person I gave an ounce of trust to, while fearing he might take a swing at me when something doesn't go his way? That sounds like a gross lack of background  information with the deal I agreed to and a breach of contract. But what do I know, right? {Rolling my eyes, I lifted a shoulder as the wine glass met my lips and I took a couple large gulps. Humming softly as I set it down and picked up the fork. Of course, Peter had spectacular taste in wine. The cabernet sauvignon was exceptional and I already knew it would complement the pasta perfectly. Nodding when he dangled the bag of pretty purple bud between us, I pointed with my fork, my mouth too full to speak, to the cabinet where he could find a bowl and rolling papers.}

Peter: /I measure my words while I rolled the joint, perfectly of course, then grabbed the lighter and held it out to Coletta/ You misunderstand me, Miss Martini. /chuckling, I sit back, sipping my wine as well. Perfect. I wasn’t at all sorry that Oliver had yet to taste the exquisite bottle I’d gotten him when I visited Italy./ I am in no way excusing his behavior. Furthermore, I don’t clean up Oliver’s messes. That’s his PR’s job. If he doesn’t apologize for himself, and explain if you’re fortunate, which I assure you he will, then you have every right to hate him. What I’m attempting to do is to help you see...that yes, his head, on his “good” days, is a frightening place, but he’s a good man, Coletta. I’ve known him most of his adult life, and he has a good heart. You two are both in a situation, yes, of his making, but...not. /I drew my lips into a line, taking another sip of wine, feeling that familiar hate beginning to creep up./ John is a parasite. He makes Oli feel as if he cares, a paternal figure if you will, but all that man cares about is riding Oli’s coattails to Washington. We’ve had words, he and I, when he tried to press Oliver into this whole thing with your father the first time. /I stood, then sat, sighing a little as I drank more/ I swear, when I looked into his eyes, I could tell he didn’t give a damn about whether Oliver lived or died. And marriage! The boy’s 27, for fuck’s sake. He’s far too young to carry the weight he does! /I stopped, covering my mouth, and breathed, regaining my composure before speaking again/ I’m sorry darling. Truly. But Oliver would be much better without John in his life. /I motioned to the joint/ Hand me that thing.  It’s time to relax and eat. No more talk of the unpleasant. Let’s speak of fashion week instead. It’s coming up in a week and I don’t have a date this year…

Coletta: {Taking the joint, I sparked it and inhaled, holding the smoke, I exhaled slowly, my entire body relaxing as I did. I didn't want to have my back up and tune out when it came to information about Oliver, but it was hard not to. Passing the joint to Oliver, I let out another sigh, my head shaking slightly.} I dare say, he doesn't deserve you, Peter. I have a feeling very few people have ever been there for him the way it seems you have. I can't imagine why? Regardless, even if what you're saying about him is true, I've yet to see any of it when he wasn't drunk, high or horny, so I really only have your word to go on, and you know what they say about actions versus words, Peter, my dear. {Eyes wide with feigned surprise, I snorted before my lips twitched into a smirk. It was interesting to hear the disdain in Peter’s voice as he spoke about John as well as his protectiveness of Oliver. I could tell his affection for the man upstairs ran deep, and as much as I loathed Oliver, I was glad he had Peter in his life. I'd never had a confidante like him. I'd gotten a slimy feeling from John myself. I'd watched men like him swarm around my father my entire life, although if they became too overt in their efforts, my father usually put an end to them. Peter’s assessment of the man confirmed my initial read on John and I'd be sure to do what I could to keep his claws out of Oliver in the future...not that I was trying to protect the man, just trying to make my life more livable. Taking the bottle and topping off my glass, I smiled at the change of subject. It was welcome, and instead of further exhausting the topic of Oliver, I went with it.} Your date should complement the shows your going to. And definitely not someone better looking. Although, I doubt many are.

Peter: /I laughed, pulling my legs up into the chair and taking another hit before passing the joint, waving my hand indicating I don’t want it back as I pick up my fork./ Honey, it was a subtle invitation. I have two runway tickets and many more parties to show my face at. Are you interested? /I took a bite of the ravioli and groaned, nodding/ So good. You have to try this. We need to decide what you’ll wear. I have a good friend. We’ll go see her. You shouldn’t be shut in like this. And if Oliver insists on guards, so be it. It’ll be all the talk of the town.