#god fucking damn some people are so dense i could poke my eyes out

[ilostyou]

i am so sick of tiktok comments oh my goD

[jungwonenthusiast]

hi ! enhypen smut prompt request ! can i have the reader whos a female say #4 with jake or sunghoon whos a hard dom ?? if u can , can u add how the reader and the partner are enemies who got lots of sexual tension so they kinda trease e/o a lot with words and actions ? u dont have to use that plot but thank u♡

A/N: This is one of my favorite works now lol i hope u like it :) <3

Warnings: unprotected sex, rly brief oral (f recieving), degredation

Word Count: 2.9 k

“But it’s a Tuesday,” you tell Jay while zipping up your backpack.

“So?” he says. “Don’t be lame.”

“I’m not lame, just responsible.” you sing your bag over your shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s lame.” he walks with you to the lunch tables. Jungwon and Heeseung are already there chatting it up.

“You guys are coming right?” Jay asks them and they nod. “See? You gotta come.”

“It’ll be fun noona,” Jungwon says. “And you have to come because Heeseung hyung and Jay hyung are probably gonna leave me for girls.” he rests his head on your shoulder for a moment.

“Why don’t you get yourself some girls too.” you suggest and he shakes his head.

“I’m too shy.” he says quietly and you giggle.

“Alright fine, I’ll go.” you finally say and they all celebrate. “Jake’s not gonna be there right?”

“Uhm,” Heeseung looks over to Jake’s lunch table nervously. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” you cock an eyebrow.

“He won’t be there,” Jay says. “It’ll be fine.”

You feel someone bump into your shoulder as you walk to history.

“What the hell?” you say and turn around to see who the culprit is. Of course it’s Jake. He shrugs with a half smile. That fucking ass.

After a few more classes you head home and start preparing for the bonfire party. It’s at a beach so you decide to wear your favorite bikini under your shirt and shorts. Your phone begins to buzz and it's a facetime call from Jungwon.

“Hola~” you greet him.

“Hi~” he says. “Can you take me there? My parents are at work.”

“Sure.” you say while putting all of your essentials into a purse.

“Also,” he hesitates. “I think Jake hyung is gonna be there.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I heard him talking about it during p.e.” he says quietly and you groan.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna go anymore.” you say.

“No you have to go, I will die without you.” Jungwon pleads. “It’ll be fun, we'll just stay away from him.”

“It’s gonna be hard to stay away from that giant ego taking up the whole place.” you roll your eyes.

“He’s not that bad noona, he’s actually pretty nice.” Jungwon shrugs.

“Don’t betray me like that,” you scold him. “You’re on my team alright?”

“Okay okay.” he surrenders, giggling.

You pick Jungwon up and give him the aux for the 30 minute drive to the beach.

You guys groove to SZA together.

Jungwon rolls down the window while you're on the highway and sticks his head out like a dog. He kind of is like a dog (in a good way). He’d be a shiba inu.

“Whoooo!!” he screams as the wind whips through his hair, you smile.

When you get there you park your car and get the beach towels from the backseat.

“Did you put sunscreen on?” you as Jungwon and he shakes his head. “Why do you never listen to me?”

You get a bottle of sunscreen out of your purse and rub a dollop on his face. He scrunches his nose.

“It feels like you're rubbing cake batter on me.” he complains.

“You’ll thank me when you’re fifty and you aren’t a wrinkly wreck.” you tell him while spreading it over his cheeks.

“Can we be done now?” he whines and you sigh.

“Fine.”

You two approach the crowd of people suntanning, drinking, playing volleyball, and playing in the ocean.

You drop your stuff next to Heeseung’s and Jay’s before looking around for them. They’re playing volleyball with who on the opposing team? Jake Sim.

Jungwon must’ve noticed you shooting lasers through your eyes because he grabs your arm. “Come on, let’s go swim.” he tugs his t-shirt over his head and jogs over to the water.

You follow suit, only feeling a little self conscious about stripping with Jake Sim only so far away. But it’s only because you don’t want to be vulnerable in front of your worst enemy, right?

Jungwon’s already relaxing among the waves when you get to the shore. “Why’d you go so deep?” you call out to him.

“It’s not that deep,” he says back.

You swim around with him for a bit before forcing him to look for pretty shells with you.

He gasps. “Baby crab!” he rushes to pick it up. ��Look.” he holds it up to you.

You try to pet it without freaking it out. “What if it bites you?”

“It won’t, we’re friends.”

The sun is nearly gone by the time you’re done shell searching and swimming so you head over to the bonfire. You wrap a towel around yourself and snuggle up to Jay. He scrunches his nose.

“It’s cold,” you defend yourself.

Heeseung hands you a white claw and you crack it open.

“What are we doing now?” you ask but you can’t hear Heeseung’s answer over the sight of Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Niki sitting right across from you. You notice how the bonfire highlights the muscles in Jake’s chest and arms. The warm orange light washing over him makes it look like he’s glowing. Is this what Apollo would’ve looked like? “Huh?” you ask Hee.

“We’re probably just gonna play dumb highschool games.” he says.

You inhale and take a big swig of your seltzer.

“Truth or dare time~” Bree sing songs. “Sunoo truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Sunoo answers.

“Do you have a crush on anyone and if so, who?” she asks and he rolls his eyes.

“I have a crush on myself.” he says confidently.

“Fair enough, you go now.” she says to him.

“Heeseung hyung, truth or dare?” Sunoo asks.

“Dare,” he replies and Sunoo giggles.

“Give your phone to Jay and let him text anyone anything he wants.”

Heeseung groans and throws his head back. “Oh God.”

Jay cackles an evil laugh. “Gimme.”

Heeseung reluctantly hands Jay his phone. “You’re gonna text Sophie aren’t you.”

Sophie Morales, Heeseung ex. They broke up only a month ago after half a year of dating. This was about to be brutal.

“You know me so well.” Jay smiles.

“Please don’t say anything too horrible.” Heeseung pleads.

“Sophie,” Jay narrates his text message. “I miss you and your huge tits. Also I’m sorry for not telling you while we were dating but your feet are really fucking ugly.”

Heeseung buries his head into his hands, laughing. “Fucking Christ.”

“And your breath stinks,” Jay continues. “At least your boobs are nice.”

This is what I get for befriending males. You think to yourself.

“Alright that’s enough.” Heeseung snatches his phone away while everyone giggles. “My turn since I was the victim. y/n, truth or dare?” “Truth,”

“What’s your biggest regret?”

“Becoming friends with Jay, because he’s insane.”

Jay guffaws. “I’ve been nothing but good to you.”

You roll your eyes.

The game goes on for a bit until it lands on Jungwon.

“Noona, truth or dare?”

You’d usually go for truth, but you didn’t want people to think you were boring. “Dare.”

“I dare you and Jake hyung to talk to each other in private for at least five minutes.” he says, crossing his arms.

Your eyes widen and you look over at Jake, he looks like he wants to drown himself.

“What? Why?” you ask urgently.

“Because I’m tired of you guys hating each other for no reason. Now go.” Jungwon shoos you away.

“Yeah go talk.” Niki says to Jake.

Both of you don’t budge. Jay tugs at your arm. “Come on, Jake and y/n becoming friends!”

The whole group starts chanting. “JAKE AND Y/N BECOMING FRIENDS!”

You had to admit that their enthusiasm was kind of endearing, so you swallow your pride and walk over to the lifeguard tower. You hear him not far behind you.

You climb up the stairs and let your feet hang over the ledge of the patio.

He sits down next to you.

You let a few moments of silence pass before speaking up. “I don’t want to be here as much as you do, so let’s just wait for the five minutes to pass and then go.”

“Damn,” he says. “Do you really hate me that much?”

You roll your eyes. “What do you think?”

“What did I ever do to you?” he scoffs.

“I don’t need to justify my feelings.” you cross your arms.

“Why are you so dense?” he grumbles.

You whip your body over to him. “I’m the dense one?”

“Yeah,” he says proudly. You want to slap the smug look off of his pretty face. Normal face. Slightly, almost, barely good looking face.

“Such a prick,” you mumble, turning away.

“What’d you call me?” he scrunches his eyebrows.

You look him right in the eyes. You never noticed how dark and piercing they were. “A fucking prick. Cause you are one.”

His black hair is still damp and poking into his eyes. His lips are parted and they look so soft that you almost want to kiss him. But he beats you to it.

I should push him away. Push him away you dumbass. You kept telling yourself but you couldn’t do it. His lips felt too good against yours.

Your arms snake around his waist as he lays you onto your back.

You wish you had a hundred hands so you could touch all of him. Two weren’t enough. He feels like silk and he tastes like red velvet.

He pushes your jaw up so he can get to your neck. You exhale as his tongue dances on your skin. He grinds his hips into yours and you let out a small moan. Why are you letting him affect you like this? Idiot.

“I thought you hated me?” he smirks while kissing your chest.

“I do.” you breathe out.

“You sure?” he asks, his fingers traveling down your stomach and into your bikini bottoms.

“Mhm.” you say.

He kisses your collarbone. “People you hate don’t make you wet like this.”

That just makes you throb even more.

“Fuck off,” you say and he backs up.

“Really?” he says. “Because I will.”

You roll your eyes and pull him in by the back of the neck.

“Touch me,” you say and he happily obliges. You knew were in public but it was dark and honestly, you didn’t care.

“Such a slut,” he says while running a finger up and down your slit. “If you wanted me this badly you should’ve said so sooner.”

“I don’t want you asshole.” you breathe out as he circles your clit.

“You just asked me to touch you princess,” he kisses your neck. “I think that’s good evidence.”

You rub your fingers through the back of his hair and tug it back, exposing his neck. He lets out a small moan. You kiss his neck, sucking and nibbling every now and then. When you pull away there’s at least three red blotches that go from his throat to his chest.

“People are gonna see those you know?” he says.

“Whatever.” you roll your eyes.

“Are you marking me or something? Telling everyone that I’m yours?” he boasts.

It’s confusing how your anger is feeding into your lust for him.

“Shut up and fuck me.” you say and he cocks a brow.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” he kisses your cheek sweetly. You want to wipe it off and slap him in the face.

“Who do you think you are?” you scoff at him.

“Come on dont play with me,” he pushes one finger into you and you moan. “I can tell that you want it.”

It was true. You were practically gushing.

“More,” you say, wanting another finger.

“Where are your manners?” he smirks.

You swallow your pride. “Please?”

“Good girl,” he says and it sends tingles down your spine.

He pulls your bikini bottoms to the side and rubs his thumb up your slit. “Such a pretty cunt.”

Your thighs are already trembling.

“I really thought you’d still be hating me right now.” he says lowly. “Do I make you that weak?”

You snap to your senses for a moment. “Fuck you.”

“I am.” he snickers and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t give me attitude princess.” he warns you with a dangerous smile.

“Or what?” you test him.

“Do you really wanna find out?”

“What do you think you’re intimidating or something?” you ask and he scoffs.

He sits up and grabs your arm. “Get up.”

“What?”

“Get up.” he says sternly and you do.

He grabs your hand, leading you somewhere.

“Where are we going?” you ask, agitated. If you really didn’t want to go you wouldn’t, but you secretly wanted to continue what was going on.

“My car.”

“What? Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“Hey! Where are you going?” Jungwon calls out. “Don’t leave me!” “I’ll be just a second!” you reply with an unsure smile.

“Backseat.” Jake says as you approach his Mercedes.

So bossy, you think.

You sit in the back seat and before you know it he’s pulling you into his lap.

“Let’s continue shall we?” he says and you don’t waste any time getting your lips on his.

He pushes your hips down onto his and you whimper. You were already so wet and this was just making it worse.

“Please, I can’t wait any longer.” you say, not being able to hold it in.

“For what?” he nips at your neck.

“I need to feel you inside of me.” you plead. 

“That’s better.” he tugs his shorts down and pulls your swimsuit to the side.

You grab the base of him before slowly sinking down. “Fuck yes.” you moan in relief.

He fills you up perfectly and his tip brushes your g-spot every time you bounce.

“So fucking tight.” he growls, holding onto your hips tight.

Your legs begin to tremble from the pleasure so he grabs you by the waist and lays you on your back.

He snaps his hips into yours and you whine.

He smirks. “Look at you all spread out for me,” he kisses your neck. “Taking this cock deep inside you.”

Your fingers trail down to rub at your clit. “Please don’t stop.”

He flips you over into doggy and tugs your hair, bringing your ear up to his mouth.

“Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Really bad,” you whimper.

He smacks your ass and you let out a small squeal.

“Touch with yourself while I fuck you.” he lets you go and you rest on the door. Your fingers move to play with your pussy.

His hands are tight on your waist as he pounds into you.

You feel your knees start to give out and your cunt start to pulse around him.

He chuckles. “Are you close sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you exhale. “Please make me cum, please I need it so bad.”

“Why should I think you deserve it?”

“Please, I can’t hold it any longer.” you say and he stops his movements completely.

He gets close to your ear. “You get to cum when I say so okay?”

You accept defeat. “Okay.”

You start to get more and more flustered as he continues to fuck you just right.

“Fuck Jake I can’t,” you whimper and hold onto the car door for dear life.

He pulls out suddenly and you complain before feeling his tongue on you. Your body tenses up from the pleasure.

“You taste so fucking good,” he says and you arch your back, pushing your pussy into his mouth. He moans against you.

After only a couple circles on your clit with his tongue, you’re ready to come undone. You grab onto his hand.

“Wait wait I’m close,”

And before you can utter another word he slams his cock into you and brings his hand around you to rub your clit.

“Cum on this cock sweetheart, I know you can do it.” he encourages you.

He smiles as your moans get louder and more high pitched.

Your legs start to shake and he grabs you tight. He comes up to your ear. “Be a good girl for me won’t you.”

Your eyes roll back as bliss runs through your entire body. He was probably the best lay you’ve ever had.

Your body goes slack as he cums inside of you.

“Fuck,” he growls and slowly pulls out. He picks you up and holds you in his arms as you try to ride out the trembling.

“How am I supposed to clean up?” you ask.

“Maybe you can swim again?” he jokes and you punch him in the arm. “Do you still hate me?”

“One hundred percent.” you say confidently.

“Are you kidding?” he scoffs. “My kids are in you right now.”

You fake gag and he laughs.

[semischarmed]

Chrysalis

People say that college is where you “find yourself” and I can’t help but agree. It’s just, well, how I truly found myself was through my roommate Kyle. Or rather, inside him.

How to describe Kyle? He’s basically the perfect roommate. He’s kind, quiet, studious, relatively clean. He goes to soccer practice for some kind of campus league every weekend. Kyle is also rushing one of the frats on campus- Sig something or the other, so I get quite a few long nights to myself. Long, hot nights where I can’t help but scramble over to his side and pleasure myself in a pile of dirty Kyle-scented undergarments. The biggest treats were the nights when he had to do his frat stuff after a match. The nights when I could slip on his unwashed sweaty gear and just lie in the bliss of being surrounded in him. Every few days, we go out to grab a bite to eat and shoot the shit- the guy’s been a great friend to me, despite his typical serious demeanor. Since he was rushing this semester, he’s been busier and busier but he still makes time for me, even inviting me to some of his soccer team or frat bro hangouts. What can I say? I lucked out with Kyle. Still, I’m a greedy son of a bitch, and I wanted more of him. 

I decided fairly early on that I would possess him, make him wholly mine. I can’t even quite explain why Kyle specifically. He’s cute-sure, tone-definitely, but he isn’t super buff, he isn’t red-carpet-movie star hot, so it’s really hard to place why, out of anyone I could take in this entire school, I decided he would be my target. My forever home. Something about him was just enticing. Maybe it was the way his coffee brown eyes relayed a sense of mystery and serious matters, but lit up with the faintest twinkle of amusement when he recapped his games. Or maybe the way his body only gave me the briefest of glimpses at his musculature when he switched shirts. Maybe it was his kindness, unexpectedly bright for a frat-boy-soccer-star-roomate. Or maybe the way his scent lingered in the room after a workout. God, that scent. Pleasant, warm, humid, musky- like summer rain. Doesn’t matter. I wanted him. I wanted to spend my every moment with him. In him. I wanted to be wrapped up in Kyle’s flesh till the end of time, to wake up with Kyle’s eyes, to take every breath with his lungs, feel every beat of his heart pump as mine.

This possession was going to be special. I prepped for weeks- months even. Truthfully, it’s not all that difficult to possess someone for sometime and when you’re as good at it as I am, you can even maintain it indefinitely by putting the smallest pieces of yourself in them. Kyle would be different. Full, integrative possession- a one-way ticket. I wanted this shit to be permanent. I was going to stuff my entire physical form inside his. To take someone at their core, to violate every law of nature both physical and metaphysical- this, this needed setup, needed planning, needed Kyle to be present during the entire process. Therein lies the issue- how to get a lucid Kyle to sit still long enough for me to complete the slow process of integrating to him. 

I came to the conclusion that a catalyst of sorts was necessary. Something that could lock us in together physically, could stop him from leaving or stopping process, could break open after let the new and improved me emerge. Guess who drafted plans for a one such catalyst? Guess who switched majors to Material Science, who befriended a professor just to figure out a good semi-permeable material to use? No one can say I didn’t love him- at least in my own special way. After weeks of trial, weeks of iteration, I decided on a tight-fitting, sleeping-bag-esque contraption. The material and shape were special- virtually impossible for a human being to break out of, kept fluids in but let some air flow through for ventilation, shaped such that we could only fit directly stacked on top of each other, leaving him unable to escape the process. I also set the release mechanism in the back, so only a completed Kyle could escape. Like any good invention, I gave it a name befitting its purpose: Chrysalis.

I settled on a day where he would be weakest- cardio day, a day where I could easily slip some compound into his post workout mix. I finished preparations with the chrysalis, secretly hidden in his bed.

“Hey dude, sup?” He asks nonchalantly with a slight head nod, as he enters our room, visibly tired from the workout. “Nothing, man” I reciprocate in amusement. I watch in secret anticipation as he downs his special post-workout mixture, scratches his cock through his boxers- unconcerned, comfortable, and gives off a loud yawn. “Hey man, I-I-don’t....feel..” I rush to help him, corralling the grimy, tired, post-workout Kyle into place. He asleep almost immediately. I strip us both naked, marveling at my new vessel. Damn. A light pelting of hair covers the deceptively muscular soccer star. A blanket of sweat surrounds him while a bit of the spiked post workout drink pools at the corners of his plump lips. Deliciously plump lips beckoning for a taste. I aim to lick it off and give him a kiss before I immediately realize what the repercussions would be. Shit. Close call. I stroke his hair, leaning in to tell him how much I wanted this. I take a quick sniff at his pits, at his groin and god they smell fantastic. I roll him to his side, as I take my naked form beside him and pull the Chrysalis around ourselves. I roll to have my back face the bed and the bottom of my cocoon, pulling Kyle on top of me and engaging the the contraption to wrap around us. I find the button to tighten it, effectively locking the position of our stacked bodies in place. I find the final button to lock the Chrysalis into its release valve. No going back.

When I seal us together in my little love cocoon, I begin to feel the gravity of his form above mine, slick with perspiration. My future body was dense, probably from years of building muscle, perfectly tempered, toned, streamlined by every game, every win. Inside our encasement, I rocked back and forth, getting into as comfortable of a position as I could and rubbing our sweaty bods together. I lock my legs around his, intertwine our fingers together and wait patiently for Kyle to come to.

The scent was indescribable, orgasmic even. I’ve never felt closer to him. I am in tune with his slightest movements as he lay on top. With every breath, every inhale our bodies rise and fall in sync. With every steamy inhale I draw in his breath. like we were breathing in each other. No one else deserved to experience Kyle this way, not even his girlfriend Steph. Kyle was mine and mine alone. With mine still intertwined with his, I drag Kyle’s limp hands around his belly, his light abs, give him a feel for himself.

An intrusive wave of uncertainty hits me. Oh god what am I doing? Am I really doing this? This, this is unnatural. I release my hands from his grasp and reach them around him, lightly dancing them across my future body and feeling the new vessel so close, feeling his damp, gently sculpted abs for myself, squeezing his supple ass. Stupid natural order shit. I tug on his hefty, limp dick, which begins to harden involuntarily at my provacation. This is mine. Fuck the natural order, not giving you up baby.

He wakes, disoriented in the Chrysalis. “Uh...I...What the fuck...” Panic sets in, as he feels my immobile flesh behind him and he tries to get his bearings to no avail. He keeps moving back and forth, trying to dislodge himself from the Chrysalis, from me, but it’s far too tight and too strong. I made sure of that. “Oh god, oh god...” he trails as he tries to rationalize the past events. I decide at that point to reveal my identity, faking the sounds of myself waking up before sleepily asking him “Kyle? Uh... w-what are you doing here? What are we doing? W-Where is this? Did you do this? Kyle? Kyle!” I’m a shitty actor but he seems to have bought it. I relish the moment when he sighs in relief at the realization that the naked form on his back was mine. I guess he trusts me. Cute, but you shouldn’t trust me, Kyle.  

“Oh thank god, dude I don’t know, I just woke up. I- uh- sorry, I’m gonna try to get us out of this thing,” He states as he wiggles to try to release us from my cocoon. And fuck did that feel good. 

“Mmmmm Kyle” I trail, as my dick starts to harden and poke at his ass. The wiggling does not helping him, as every movement gets me harder and pushes my dick further in him. 

“Oh! EW! Fuck! What the fuck man!” He shouts, before he realizes all this was turning me on. “Fuck dude stop!” he exclaims. 

“Why would I stop this, baby, we’re just getting started.” I give his back shoulder a quick lick. “I’m gonna make you feel like a new man”.

“Y-You! YOU! You did this! the Fuck! Get me out of here!!” He spat, only for it to rain back on to us through gravity. 

He squirms, trying to escape once more only to be met with the Chrysalis’ tight hold on our forms and my engorged cock. “Only one person can come out of this thing” I moan, as I start gyrating myself into him. “Get the fuck off me, Fag!” He screams in vain as parts of me already start connecting into him. The parts of his body connected to mine light up, like sparks dancing across mine. Euphoria. “There’s that soccer rage” I state seductively as I wrap my arms around his torso and abs and push us impossibly closer. “Suits you... suits...me”.

By this point, My body was halfway submerged into his and he finally starts to feel my nerves, my cells as his. With our shared senses, he feels my arms pushing us together as if his own self was doing the deed. “AHHHH OH MY GOD. Oh! nonononono” He exclaims in terror. He is reduced to incoherent babbling as he smells the suffocating concoction of his post-workout filth. The air is thick and brimming with pheromones. He is reduced to disgust, when he tastes the droplets in the air of our putrid selves locked inside my Chrysalis. Of course, in our connected state, I taste them too, only I love this taste. His taste. Our taste. I can only moan as I continue merging into him and my limbs and his are one. I feel my new biceps as I trace them around the new me. Tone. Nimble. Champion. And I feel my new, experience-tempered legs. Vascular. Virile. Powerful. I’m a goddamn athlete.

Animalistic, guttural sounds escape his mouth as the last of my torso and neck coalesce into his, and all that remains is my head, firmly planted to the back of his. I take a deep whiff of his now-drenched hair with our new, shared, workhorse lungs. “We’re so close, baby.”

Inserting myself into his mind was equally orgasmic. He screams at contact. The first plunge of my forehead tp the back of his was some useless frat shit. Whatever. I dig my head deeper into him and felt his years of soccer practice leak into me. More goodstuff. Then deeper still- and fond memories with friends, fond memories of school bleed into me. I plunge further and further in, taking in every piece of him I could, while he pants and winces at my insertion. His first kiss, grandfather’s funeral, deepest urges all MINE. Fuck. I pull back slightly, as I feel his him gently sob, before I push more myself deeper into his psyche. He screams at the injection of more of my memories and at the realization that this was a one way trip for both of us. “FUCK! FUCK! Stop Please! Too much! Too much!” I mentally sneer as I thrust even deeper into his mind, grabbing some more of him, and leaving more of myself. Childhood memories and feelings flood into my mind and I experience everything that has led to Kyle becoming Kyle. The feeling of winning my first game. The feeling I felt the first time I masturbated. More. Kyle’s deep love for Steph.

Damn, this guy was ready to pop the question and start a family with her-Not Anymore baby. You’re with me now, Kyle. I corrode this particular aspect of him with my own innermost desires. My perversions, the pure lust I felt in finally taking him. He laughs, moans at the lust he now had, before catching himself.

“Oh god what... doing... me!” he whimpers as his body convulses and drools. Our shared pupils dilate at the process as his body thrashes in futility. And yet, I press into him deeper still. Deeper and deeper inside until all but the very last of my old self is left. His deepest secrets, his dreams, self worth belong to me. He cries, mouth mumbling incoherently into a crescendo as I worm in that last bit my head into his and my own life become his. My old body’s childhood memories, My old thoughts, feelings, knowledge, secrets flood his. I give all of it to my new self, ingraining me in him, and cementing us together.

“AHHHH DAMN IT! Fuck Fuck! get-get the fuck out!” he screams as his hands start pulling on his hair, as his head shakes left and right trying to get the intrusion of my mind out of his. He recoils as I briefly take control. “No way dude, this [moan] oh god this is fucking great.” We continue panting, continue convulsing as his body is forced to accept me. “M-My name is Kyle, and I feel fucking good!” He shakes a bit more. “STOP-“ I cut in to force him to tell me “God I fucking love you inside me. Take me! Use me!” He begins gently sobbing, but I make him do it with a smile. “My name is Kyle and I’m a sick fuck who’s gonna cum inside and possess his closest friends”. I make us moan. 

Eventually, the seizing stops, and Kyle finds a moment of clarity. With my memories in him, He finds the release built into the Chrysalis and we emerge out of our slick cocoon as one. Sweat and cum trickle out as we come out a new man. A changed man. He walks to mirror in horror, checking himself to look for any wounds in his form. Instead he finds pulsing of my flesh-or what used to be my flesh-at various parts of his body beneath his skin. Abberant. Inhuman.

“Oh god oh god oh god this-this-this, this can’t be happening”. My new heart quickens as Kyle continues to panic. He tries to slap himself awake, but with each slap my control tightens and I make him moan in approval. He feels impossibly full with something-someone pulsing deep inside his skin, integrating. A natural violation of the highest order. He whimpers as he takes nervous, shaking hands all around him, feeling the intrusiveness of the eroticism I feel in being in him. The pulsing in him stops. “Keep going, baby [moan] fill me up. Make me you,” I force him to tell me with a tone that oozed sex. A tone that was alien to his voice. “My name is Kyle and I love dick. I love dick because the man inside me, the man controlling my every action loves dick. And he’s never leaving me. I love that too, because he’s inside me, making me love that.”

“Kyle I’m giving you one last morsel choice before I take it all the way- I decide everything for us from now on” I state to my reflection in the mirror, giving it a slobbery kiss. “We got a cute ass...I’m sure we can snag a few more bodies to play with... I wanna get a little party going. You know, our teammates are pretty cute, aren’t they? Maybe we can stick some me inside them”. I make him lick his lips. “Your frat bros are pretty cute too [moan] you wanna be frat president? I can arrange that, once I make you put me inside them...I’m getting ahead of myself... Let’s start with one. Pick someone...someone we can take, can use, can fuck” I force his face into an out of place, lustful, deranged smile before returning control to him. “Stay the fuck away from my bros! I..... uh...sorry. S-Sorry for shouting. Just please-please! Get out!” he whimpers in desperation, before descending into more hysteric sobbing. Hysteric sobbing which becomes cute, unsettling giggling, which becomes a roaring laughter as I wrestle back control of my new meat-suit. I wipe his tears off my new face, giving it a quick taste before taking a tour of the new me. “You and I both know there is no going back. The old me? Doesn’t exist. I am You, now. This is your body doing these actions, your brain thinking these thoughts”.

A tremor begins from our extremities, limbs become numb as our shared nerves light up in stimulation. More internal sparks fly through us. This was it. Like an earthquake in my new body, a wave of new feelings wash over me, rocking me to my core. The world around us shook, as the final pieces of my physical self interlocks with his and two become one. 

I reach down to pleasure myself, before deciding instead to first push Kyle’s consciousness to the front so he can watch. This would be my first time in this body. Lets make it special. I do a quick reverse crunch, holding the position. Fucking easy in this body. And then pull the crunch close till the body starts to struggle “Arrgh Fuck! Stop!” he screams. I pull even further and he cries from the uncomfortable position I put us in. “This is mine now” I state with his voice, “I decide how far..[pant]..how far we go” And decide I do, as I pull us even further back, prompting another pained “FUCK” from Kyle. I line my growing hard on-our growing hard-on, up to our shared mouth. “Look.. look at what you can do” I moan as him, before letting his consciousness back in front, leaving only control of his face. He is in hysterics as I keep him locked in his position and continue breaking this new bod. 

“Look at what we’re capable of when I’m driving” I state in our shared mind. His head thrashes back and forth before I freeze it in place. I take brief control of just his plump lips and mouth, and position his thick dick inside. Fuck we taste good. Salty, with the smallest hint of bitterness. I continue, pumping head faster and faster, forcing my occupant to feel every motion. We make little noise beyond the soft smacking sounds as we continue. The feeling was fucking euphoria. Im sure he feels it too, since he’s been uncharacteristically quiet. I’ve seen him do his warmup stretches before. I knew what he was capable of- with just a little push from me. When he shoots, when I let him shoot, I keep our shared mouth firmly wrapped around our engorged dick, guzzling our creation greedily. This mouth cannot contain it all and a bit spill below. Even more dribbles out of as I slowly release our position. Wet cum spills and pools on our shared chest and abs. I smear it around like a lotion. 

I jump and stretch myself into straight standing abruptly, forcing a slight jolt of pain from previously contorting this new body in a way it never had to before. His blood rushes through me, through us, and I let out a sigh of relief and contentment in the afterglow of my possession. I lick my new self clean, exploring all of Kyle’s crevices, before I coat our mouth in my new seed for a taste and swallow the excess in one gulp. We taste Delicious. Kyle, you sexy, tasty fuck, I knew there was something different about you. That last stunt seemed to have satisfied him as he recedes into me. I am in a dreamy smile as I tap my head gently with my finger. “All me now”.

The alarm on Kyle’s phone-my phone rings suddenly. Oh Shit. Kyle-er I had a game in a few minutes. I head over to the field with a breeze behind me, to the sight of slight discomfort and subtle gagging from my teammates. Fuck that. Smell more of me motherfuckers. They smile with strained faces as we do some small warmups for the game. His teammates really were cute- I briefly consider possessing them right there in broad daylight. Fuck it, what can anyone fucking do? I’m Kyle. And when Kyle wants something, Kyle gets it. Still, I only came for a test drive, so I decide to postpone their fates.

The match was tense. My teammates were alright, sure. But Kyle? Me? I played his body like an expert- no movement wasted, every single action carefully considered and executed. It was my brain in here after all. Onlookers stared in awe as, almost inhumanly, I block everything that goes my way. Despite my brain’s expert calculation, his body also deserved to praise. His muscled legs gliding my form through the grass, effortlessly, the twisting his body at just the right spot for the most efficient block. This body following my every command, like I’ve owned it for years. The old me was not one for sports, but this? Working his musculature into these complex maneuvers? Straining his form to just the right amount to maximize performance? Bliss. I can see why some people like this shit. The more I move through him, the closer I felt. Despite my heavy panting at the end, I can’t help but feel energized. Being in him is invigorating. I could keep going at this for days and days- this was truly an athlete’s body. 

I do a little dance as, in the end, we squeeze a 1-0 victory. All thanks to me, of course. My teammates brace themselves slightly-likely from the deep, concentrated musk and gallons of sweat I was emanating- before they surround me in a group huddle. New and improved Kyle is kinky little shit though, so I grab and pull their sweaty bodies uncomfortably close, and then squeeze them to me even closer so they can leave with the scent of my sweat on them. They recoil at my actions, at my words, as the normally stoic Kyle gently coos “Great job, team”. They laugh nervously and try to pull away, but I keep them in the embrace just an awkward second too long, sniffing each of them and remarking them. One day, you’ll all be mine.

After the game, I return to our room and look at my sweaty, dirty self in the mirror. I take a whiff of the freshly filthy soccer game and  soccer team smells we impregnate our room with. I take a quick sniff of our shared armpits, deciding to forgo showering this bod. Exquisitely noxious. Not getting rid of this.

I called his girlfriend Steph to break up abruptly over phone, citing my “newfound” sudden onset homosexuality. She was upset, understandably, but supportive. Really, I had no issues with the girl, and in another life, we’d be best friends fawning over the same straight dude. But this was Kyle, new-Kyle, new-gay-Kyle-who-only-loves-possessed-dick. My Kyle. He was mine, and mine alone.

Having finished my short list of post-takeover errands, my new self was on the prowl for some new recruits, new bodies to take, to possess, to pleasure me. Since he never really gave me an answer to my question earlier, I search through the remnants of the Old Kyle in my mind, force them to give me the name of someone to to take. I smiled. In the echoes of my mind, one face, one name reverberated in my head.  

Red.

I start giggling in a cute tone, out of place coming out of jock Kyle before I break out into a full cackle. “Kyle, you sick, sick, fuck...Red? Big Bro Red? After all he’s done to try to bond with you? Sick, incestuous son of a bitch.” I let out a soft moan as I drag my new vascular hands all over myself, stopping at my new nipples to give them a slight tickle, and my eyes flutter. I give them a hard twist, whining in elation when his body delivers the sensations to me. The smells we’ve been emitting has been pungent, concentrated, putrid from that sweaty group hug earlier. “Traitorous, depraved fucks like me don’t deserve a shower” I make him say in dirty whispers.

Red was Kyle’s big bro at the frat, and someone I had only met once previously. Once was enough to leave an impression. Unlike cute, naturally introspective, reserved athlete Kyle, Big Bro Red was extroverted, artsy, and fucking hot. Apparently, he’s been trying to connect to Kyle ever since the two were paired. Well, Kyle’s under new management, and I planned to use every bit of their tenuous relationship to get Big Bro Red under that same management. This was going to be fun. 

I am stopped abruptly as my phone vibrates. “Hey, wanna grab a bite to eat?” I close my eyes in sweet satisfaction, lick my lips seductively and shift my mouth into a filthy smile when I catch the name of who it’s from:

Red. 

—————End—————

Took a bit of inspiration from some past stories I’ve read in writing this one. The story implies a continuation but I’m still a bit on the fence. Hope you liked it/ Happy New Year’s!

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 38

💖 first time reader click here 💖

Fluff and snowball fights. Forgiveness is a path and everyone's making their happy way down it. Friendly Steve slander. Hulk interaction!

"So, what now?" I asked, eyes still closed, not resisting the desire to remain under the covers, nested snugly into Stephen's side. On his other side, Tony snored away, sprawled like a starfish in what looked to be the first decent shut-eye he got in months. I could smell the coffee and omelettes from Tony's kitchen and the soft jazz music playing where Bruce was taking care of the breakfast.

It was an unambiguous decision to take it easy after the last battle. Bucky and Natasha had been ironing out the details from the interrogation after Stephen had un-possessed Cabre, Wanda and Loki were itching to get a minute with the mercenary on their own and Veddie, as I started calling my uncle and his symbiote after experiencing the incredibly immersive symbiosis with Venom, hovered nearby in case Cabre would make a good snack.

"What do you want to do?" Stephen's morning voice was, ahem, an experience. He put Corpse Husband to shame and I knew that it wasn't only me who got hot and bothered by it but Tony as well...

Speaking of Tony, I still had no idea where we stood. My engineer had been less than happy about my actions and I thought I blew it. He wasn't as warm and playful, and while I kept telling myself that it was just the exhaustion from weeks of stress and worry, I knew better.

"I don't know. I didn't think this far," I admitted, damn well knowing what I wanted. I wanted things to be like they were - clear, honest, easy. My mother's voice rang out clearly again. I was being childish. Of course I was.

"I'm sure Tony will have my head for this, but seeing as there's no stopping you, I'm sure Natasha and Barnes will be happy to train you," Stephen sighed, his breath warm in my hair.

I blanched, stiffening in his arms, confused. "Where did that come from?" My eyes finally opened to stare at his sleepy face.

His eyebrows rose. "You don't want to..?"

"Be a hero, like you? No," I shook my head, then snorted. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you I don't want to go to college just yet, maybe take a gap year. In fact, I want to avoid actual in-person classes as much as humanely possible. And I still don't have a clue what major exactly I want to pursue." I was being honest, prepared to be judged. In-between my three men, there were at least ten PhDs whilst I was only nearly done with the first step of my education.

"So what, it was a one-time deal? Let an alien parasite take over your body for a coupla' hours and then continue with your life?" Tony's scratchy voice startled me; apparently, he'd been awake and actively eavesdropping.

I wasn't prepared for this conversation, but then again, I'd never be. Might as well rip the bandaid off. "I'm not that flavour of stupid," I immediately retorted, heart beginning to pick up speed. My mouth was gonna get me in trouble. "I am not delusional, I know things aren't and won't be the same. I did what I did because there was no other option, I'm not sorry and I will do it again if the need arises. It's not what you want to hear but it's the truth." I paused, well aware that my speech was becoming quicker, I was well on my way to nervous rambling. "I'm not hero material, I won't go on a death march for a rando," Justifying my actions? No. I stopped myself again. "I am sorry for lying. I am sorry for hiding things. But I am not sorry for putting my own ass out there so we can get some fucking peace." I finally settled, fisting my pajama top under the blanket in an attempt to release some of the tension.

Twin sighs erupted from my men, as if their bodies synchronized in response to my stubborn nature. Stephen's hold tightened on me as Tony rolled over, sleepy eyes blinking from the space opposite of me on Stephen's chest. Tony's hand reached for my face, stroking the side of it wordlessly - he wasn't the most vocal about his feelings but his eyes said it all. Tony was sad, hurt, a little bit angry but mostly he was relieved. It was the way he moved - nearly no traces of the tension that had gathered on his face in the previous weeks.

"Natasha should still train you, some basic hand to hand and weapons training, in case someone has it out for any of us. SHIELD's security has holes, you're basically one of us now. Everyone and their mother saw Clint hauling you to the quinjet," Tony finally grumbled, admitting his defeat. Everyone knew that if it had been up to him, I wouldn't leave the tower without an armed escort at all times. Thankfully, Bruce was there to screw on Tony's bolts right each time he wanted to go overboard. They thought I wouldn't notice, but I did.

Stephen's free hand landed in Tony's hair, the sorcerer effectively calmed both of us down with his gentle, unobtrusive support. He was far more empathetic than he liked to show. "That seems like a smart idea," He rumbled as my eyes began to drift shut once again.

With each steady breath, my heartbeat slowed and the feelings of guilt and dread began to dissipate. Tony might not had forgiven me yet but I was on my way to inner peace once more. I remembered feeling exactly the same way before our relationship, when every time I took a step inside Tony's lab, I tensed inwardly, shielded my feelings from his eyes, too focused on the outcome I thought would be absolutely disastrous. I had always thought he'd laugh at me, and yet... Laying on Steph's chest, inches away from Tony, my past panic seemed ridiculous.

"What's so funny?" Stephen asked, amused.

I didn't even notice the snort that managed to escape me. "Nothing," I answered immediately, feeling my face heat up. Oh my Loki, what kind of an idiot I had been...

"Sure," Tony's finger poked my cheek without preamble. "Staging a world domination plan, aren't we?" He snarked, much more like his usual self.

"I was just remembering when I was so terrified you'd find out I have a crush on you and you'd laugh at me," I mumbled, willing to placate Tony to avoid any more unnecessary lies and deceit.

Tony, did, in fact, laugh at my confession, but so did Stephen and I am pretty sure I heard Bruce snort from the direction of the archway leading into the spacious bedroom. The bed dipped as the scientist sat down, running a palm over my leg.

"I was pretty sure you would laugh at me," He admitted just as quietly and bashfully. Stephen and Tony only laughed harder. I heard the sound of a pillow hitting Steph in the face. "Let's go, Princess, let's leave the mean geezers alone. I made breakfast."

I could practically hear the pout in Bruce's voice and couldn't resist to comply, leaving a grumbling Tony to stretch and roll out of bed like a disgruntled cat.

"You're older than me, Bruce," Stephen rolled his eyes, I could feel his stare linger on my exposed thighs before Bruce picked me up. My sorcerer boyfriend switched to staring at Tony's bare back, which was an action I wholeheartedly supported.

"Cocky bastards," I stuck out my tongue a moment before we turned the corner and then all I could focus on was the feast of gods Bruce had made for us. The man was really too sweet and too kind, he never ceased to make me mushy and stuff. I stole a kiss, and then another one, and another one, until Tony's whining about the toast burning interrupted our moment.

The bread was fine. Tony was just being himself.

Our phones beeped at the same time - mine being already in my hand, as all normal young people did in the mornings - I looked at the message expecting another assemble and feeling my eyebrows crawl up at Steve's suggestion we all get some fresh air that day.

It had snowed. The whole city was covered in white, crisp snow, and Bucky has been liking nothing but other people's snowman pictures for several days. I suspected the brunette had convinced his boyfriend to take him out to build one or something, but as Steve was known to be exceptionally dense at times, Cap'n Jolly had unanimously decided it was a team bonding-slash-relaxing opportunity.

I relayed my thoughts to my own boyfriends, all of us giggling at Steve's eagerness to cater to his boyfriend and his cluelessness when it came to all things romantic. I was tempted to shoot Steve a text explaining his epic gamer moment but before I could even open the app, Bruce's eyes turned green briefly as he had a very obvious internal conversation with Hulk.

"Is that offer to spend time with Hulk still up?" The scientist asked timidly.

I had a lightbulb moment. "Absolutely!" I replied, watching my other two boyfriends. They didn't even bat an eye, evidently at peace with the green situation. "As long as the snowball fight is had with Thor, Steve or other enhanced individuals." Personally, I had no desire to be flipped over by a snowball the size of a watermelon. Or get any of the pretty but cold stuff under my clothes.

Bruce's responding grin was mostly Hulk.

It was a couple of days before Christmas. I was never one much for the holiday season, but something magical had seeped into me - it wasn't the shiny lights throughout the tower, it wasn't Clint's ugly Christmas sweater and the smell of gingerbread cookies and cinnamon that came from Wanda's apartment. I had no clue what it was, but it seemed to be tied to my boyfriends and Loki and many others who lived in the tower.

Bruce was all but wiggling during the car ride to the park - rationally, I knew it was the Hulk being excited but I still couldn't take my eyes off the usually reserved man. Bruce was happy. It made me smile and hold his hand like we were middle-schoolers in love. The rest of the team pretended to not notice it, or maybe they didn't care, or maybe they had already gotten used to my unconventional relationship.

Either way, Bucky had whisked Steve away almost immediately and I did what every kid ever had dreamed of. As Bruce went to a more secluded space to transform into the Hulk and Tony went to retrieve his thermos of coffee, I ushered Sam over to Steve's car and unlocked it, retrieving his shield from the trunk. It was heavier than it looked but did it stop me and Sam from running up the nearest hill and fighting over who gets to go first?

No, it did not. In mere moments, my ass was being frozen to the metal despite my snowsuit as I parked it inside the shield , holding onto the straps as Sam pushed on my back, hollering "Yeet!" at the top of his lungs, sending me in a steep slide towards where Thor was enthusiastically explaining something to the rest of the team.

"Oh shiiiiit!" I screamed, unprepared for the sudden increase in speed and the surprisingly good gliding abilities Captain America's shield possessed. "Watch o-o-out!" I yelled as the group scattered at the last moment. I heard some strong Russian words coming from Natasha, paired with snorts of badly concealed laughter.

The tree line grew closer by the second but the shield had no plans of stopping any time soon. Whoda thunk that things made of vibranium had all the characteristics to be the perfect sled? Something green entered my field of vision, stopping my crazy train with a grunt.

I answered with an oof of my own. One green palm was securely wrapped around me and the other held Steve's shield. "Hello," Hulk snorted, lifting me up like I was but a feather and setting me on his shoulder. "Puny Princess, don't hurt yourself," He stated firmly as I looked down at him, intrigued by the sudden change in his speech patterns. He sounded almost human.

"Hey, Big Guy," I ruffled his hair. "Aren't you cold?"

"No," He replied, setting me onto his shoulder. Hulk appeared to be completely unaffected by the December cold in his purple shorts. I felt my rear end begin to thaw, such was the heat that he emanated from his body. Meanwhile, Hulk caught Steve's eye, preparing to hurl the shield back to the frowning Captain.

Steve caught it effortlessly while Bucky ignored the interaction whatsoever, caught up in rolling an obscenely large ball of snow a ways from the group, tongue all but hanging out in concentration. I caught myself thinking he was gonna build a snow dick instead of a man and it made me feel...

"Wanna build a snowman?" I asked my green companion, rubbing my mittens in excitement.

The Hulk pondered for a brief moment, adopting that mischievous gleem, eyes shooting to Tony and Stephen who stood regally on the side of the clearing, sipping their hot beverages like the adult men that they were supposed to be. I snorted and Hulk echoed the sound, taking quick strides to a patch of land opposite Bucky. "No," Hulk shook his head. "We build a fort. Then smash," The green bean was all but vibrating in excitement.

Realistically, I knew I was gonna get snow stuck in uncomfortable places and might even get knocked over by an overeager person with super strength. But was I gonna pass up an opportunity to show off my superior construction skills? Hell naw.

It wasn't long before Stephen and Tony wandered off to us and began to pile up snow with a resigned huff, unsuccessful in their attempts to rebuff me ordering them around. In the end, we split in three teams, snow flew everywhere and by the time the battle was in peak heat, all of us were cold, wet and red-faced.

"To the death! BLOOD AND VINEGAR!!!" I screeched, hopping up and down after a series of small rapid snowballs I threw hit their target - Steve had a face full of snow and Bucky wasn't faring much better next to him, having had let a few of them hit him in the chest because he was distracted, doubling over in laughter at Steve's indignant, red face.

"You're bloodthirsty," Tony smirked from my side, dumping a fresh batch of ammo between me and Stephen. "It's hot."

@another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias @warrior1-19 @toomanyrobins

[pressedinthepages]

Chapter 16: Precipice

Summary: Oxenfurt is a large, sprawling place, with answers for some and only more questions for others.

Series Masterlist

Words: 2510

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: mild language, nudity

    Oxenfurt is just as miserable as you had anticipated. It’s far too loud, too smelly, someone bumps into you no matter where you step, and you can soon feel your mind getting overwhelmed with it all. You slip into an alley, using Eskel’s advice to control your breathing before stepping back into the street. Quickly weaving through side streets you find yourself at the University with no idea where to go next. 

    Fuck, you should’ve gone with Eskel. In an effort to prove to yourself that you can handle this damn nonsense yourself, the two of you had split up this morning. Eskel went in the direction of the apothecary, while you tasked yourself with speaking to the head of the University. But now, looking up at the twisting walkways with too many staircases to count, you feel far in over your head. 

    “Excuse me, miss?” A young man, probably no more than 18 summers old, approaches you, a dense pack slung over one shoulder. His hair is loose and curly under a little floppy cap and his clothes are a light green, uncommon this far into Redania.

    You hum in acknowledgment, looking the boy up and down with suspicion.

    “You look lost, what are you trying to find?”

    “I’m not lost,” you lie through your teeth, not needing some seedling’s help. 

    “I can help you, Witcher,” the man’s voice is clear and confident and when you scent the air around him, you notice a distinct lack of the salty tang of lies.

    You hum noncommittally, glancing up at the numerous towers before shaking your head with a resigned sigh. “I need the Headmaster.”

    “Well, that wasn’t so difficult, now was it?” the man starts walking, light on his toes as he twists through the oceans of people that feel suffocating in their presence. You roll your eyes and follow, bumping into shoulders and trying not to let your swords get too banged up.

    He tips open a door on the lower level, holding it for you. “You first,” you growl, nodding in his direction. He shrugs, ducking into the entrance as you follow behind him. 

    When he shuts the door behind you it is blissfully quiet, marble hallways dampening the din of noise from outside. You look over to him, finding him with a stupid grin on his face as he bounces on his toes. You crook an eyebrow, impatiently gesturing for him to lead the way. 

    “Ah, right, sorry,” he says as he startles before striding down the hallway. Now that you are inside and away from all of the competing signals you catch the man’s scent, paper and ink and booze and just a little bit of grass. Your nose twitches oddly before you suddenly sneeze, the poor boy almost jumping out of his skin at the noise.

    “My gods!” He clutches his hand to his chest dramatically. “I thought Witchers didn’t get sick?”

    “We don’t.” You wipe your nose on the back of your wrist as you continue following at a bit more distance, breathing primarily through your mouth. “I just don’t like grass.”

    The boy chuckles, shaking his head without any more questions. Thank Melitele.

    You keep track of your movements in the school, up the left staircase, take the third door on the right, pass by the courtyard, up two flights of stairs, turn right, back down one staircase, and through an ornate set of doors into a large office foyer that smells of dust and books and wine.

    “Headmistress?” The young man calls, poking his head around the edge of the door leading to the main office. “There’s a Witcher here to see you.”

    “Very well, send him in.” You hear a curt voice reply and you shift shoulders back before sliding a coin into the young man’s palm as thanks. He shuffles out of the way, giving you a little wave as he departs. 

    When you open the door you are stunned by the sheer amount of books along the walls of this room. You whistle lowly as you take them all in, bookcases stretching to the ceiling and filled to bursting with tomes on anything and everything. 

    “Forgive me,” the Headmistress sits at the desk, a woman with dark brown hair tinged with grey at the roots. She has a kind face, but one that could turn stern at the drop of a hat. “I thought all Witchers were men.”

    You hum, walking further into the room and sitting in a chair across from her desk. She raises an eyebrow at your quite blatant lack of decorum, but she seems amused by it. “I’m the only woman who survived.”

    She hums back, leaning in her chair and regarding you with an appraising gaze. “Fascinating, truly. I’ll not trouble you with my personal curiosities, though if you were to ever return, I would love to hear more of your life…”

    You blink, a bit taken aback by her absence of animosity. “Maybe one day, miss. Today, though, I am in a bit of a hurry.”

    “Of course, what can I help you with?”

    You think back to the professor who you had met earlier in the year, deciding to start with her. “Where can I find Professor Malkyn?”

The Headmistress’ scent turns cold, stained with musky rainwater. “Unfortunately, she was killed by a group of bandits just past the border into Kovir. It’s only been a few months, but we still feel her loss greatly.”

You sigh, shifting uncomfortably in the chair. Malkyn had been kind, and was a neverending source of seemingly useless information. You enjoyed her company when you had traveled for a bit together, and you had found warmth and comfort in each other’s bodies on more than one occasion. 

“That’s too bad,” you keep your voice calm and level, “she was a good friend…”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment before you speak again. “I am looking for a mage, and I believe that he may have been a professor here in the past.”

The Headmistress blinks and furrows her brow, flipping in a journal with vigor. “Well, it’s been quite a while since we’ve had any mages employed here, do you know their name?”

“Irion, maybe? Or Stregobor, I’m looking for him as well.”

The Headmistress hums, looking through the pages quickly. “Aha!” She exclaims, handing over the journal with her thumb holding a particular page. “This is the previous headmaster’s ledger, and it says that Irion taught herbalism here for a while almost fifty years ago, but one day he just disappeared, and there’s nothing that says he ever showed back up.”

You grunt in acknowledgment, quickly reading through the writing on the page. “I thank you for your time, as well as your help. Not everyone would be so willing for a Witcher.”

She looks at you with a crooked eyebrow as you rise and turn towards the door. As you exit and move to close the door behind you, you notice her smiling, and with a departing nod, you head back towards the Alchemist.

…

Eskel returns not long after you sit at a table, ale in hand. He sits across from you, something painful in his eyes for only a moment before it is blinked away. 

“Find anything?” you ask.

“Not a damn thing. No one here was alive the last time either of those two was in Oxenfurt.”

“That’s what I got too,” you shake your head before taking a long swig of your ale. It’s not much more than warm piss water, but it’s keeping your hands busy. 

“Actually,” Eskel hums, “I did come across a nice enough looking bathhouse...what if we go over there, figure out where to go next?”

Just the idea of Eskel, bare and dripping as you run your hands over the breadth of his chest is enough to have you growing hot in your chair. Before your brain can catch up with your mouth, you find yourself blurting, “Sounds great, let’s go now.”

…

The water is almost scalding, with just the barest hint of rosemary oil added in. Your eyes are closed, your head resting along the edge of the marble bath as your mind floats. All of your senses feel somewhat muffled by the water and it’s a better gift than you could ever ask for. 

You hear the door tip open and peek open an eye, closing it back when you see Eskel stepping into the room. He has dressed down to just his trousers and chemise, looking all the world the perfect picture of relaxation. 

You can hear the rustling of his clothes as they hit the floor and the little splashes of water when he steps into the bath. The water swells, gently caressing your skin as he lowers himself to sit an arm’s length away. The groan that Eskel makes when he finally relaxes shoots straight to your core, and the soft edges of your mind begin to wonder just what other noises you might be able to pull out of him. 

A knock at the door startles the both of you before it opens, revealing a young woman, fair and svelt and completely nude. 

“Just wanted to check on everyone,” her voice is almost a purr with how sultry it is, “as well as offer my services to you.” Her eyes are squarely on Eskel, shameless in their observation of his body above the water. You’re glad that the bath is so damn hot, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to excuse the way that you feel your cheeks flush.

Eskel dips his head for a moment and smiles, and your heart plummets in the moment before he speaks. Since when has he been bashful around women? “Well, thank you for the offer,” he says, looking back up at her, “but I will have to refuse. My friend and I have some very important things to take care of.”

“Well, the offer stands. You know where to find me.”

The low burn of jealousy washes away any semblance of tranquility you had as she turns to leave, Eskel watching her every move. The door closes gently, plunging the little room back into silence. 

You chance a glimpse in Eskel’s direction just as he ducks his head under the water. When he comes back up you watch as beads of water dip and roll across his skin and through the dark thatch of hair on his chest. You swallow and close your eyes, leaning your head back on the edge of the bath as you try to will away your wandering thoughts.

Eskel calls your name, pulling you from your meager attempt. Apparently he had been trying to get your attention unsuccessfully, the remnants of a question already asked in his eyes. 

“Hmm?” you blink, “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Eskel chuckles, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck, the muscles of his arm swelling with the movement and tempting you to lust.

“I asked if you’d like a hand, you seem...tense.”

If you were tense before, you only turn worse, your nerves stretched taut as a bowstring, ready to snap at any moment. You let out a nervous little laugh, refusing to meet his eyes before your willpower finally gives under the pressure.

“I-uh, yeah alright, if you really don’t mind…”

Eskel smiles wordlessly as he slides to the little array of bottles at the edge of the tub. You turn your back to him, settling in the middle of the tub with your legs stretched out in front of you. 

“Mmm…” you hear Eskel hum under his breath.

“What is it?” 

“They have orange soap…” he whispers, and you can hear the tiny clinking of glass as he ponders his options. 

You laugh, your shoulders shaking a bit as you glance over your shoulder. Eskel is balancing four different bottles in his hands, trying to scent them all and not spill them into the water.

“Oh gods,” you whisper, still chuckling a bit, “why don’t we save that one for you...I’ll just use a lavender, or maybe some jasmine?”

The water sways gently as Eskel moves back towards you, and now you can smell the lavender soap drifting lazily from the glass. Eskel sits down behind you, pouring some of the soap into his hand before setting the bottle on the edge of the bath within reach. You face forward again and close your eyes as you listen to Eskel work the soap into a lather. He is impossibly warm at your back, somehow making the water even hotter in his presence.

When his hands finally touch you, gently rubbing the soap into your shoulders, you shudder with the chill that runs through you. Eskel’s fingers move with a simple reverence, smoothing the suds down your arms and the line of your back. Your mind wars with itself, wanting so desperately to lean into his touch, but so terrified of him pulling away that your instinct is to pull away first. But when his hands come back to your neck, squeezing and rubbing his thumbs into the tender skin where your shoulders begin, you feel boneless in his arms, your head falling back to rest on his shoulder. 

You feel his chest shaking on your back as he laughs under his breath, still working his hands over the muscles of your shoulders and moving slowly down your arms. “You alright?” he teases.

You grunt, sounding more like Geralt than yourself. Gods, if Eskel always touched you like this, you think you may be rendered completely non-verbal. His hands carefully press between your shoulder blades, slowly smoothing down to the base of your spine. His thumbs move in little circles as his hands move back up, kneading and undoing the knots that have engrained themselves into your muscles.

You can’t fully relax though, something else tapping at your mind. “Eskel…” you murmur, turning your head to where he is settled at your shoulder.

“Why didn’t you go with her?” you nod at the door, referring to the young lady from earlier.

Eskel’s hands still for half a second and you hear his heart skip a beat. He hums lightly as he resumes his movements, his fingers working deftly against your skin.

“Eskel?”

He sighs, looking over to you. Your mind is soft with peace and Eskel is right there, and his hands feel like home, and then he leans down, his breath hot on your lips.

“I didn’t want her,” he whispers, his mouth just barely brushing yours with his words. You sigh into him, closing your eyes and leaning to close the distance between you. You are so close, only the steam from the bath separating you when the door suddenly slams open.

You both startle, Eskel bracketing himself between you and the intruder. It’s the owner of the bathhouse, and he carries the both of your clothes under his arms. 

“Witchers, you must go, they’re coming for you…”

[myaekingheart]

120. A Map to Matrimony, Like Constellations in the Night Sky

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

               Arai smirked as she leaned against the wall of lockers, watching as Rei changed out of her uniform. There was something almost predatory in her gaze, making Rei hyperaware of her body. The pearl inlay of her engagement ring glinted in the flickering lights overhead.

               “Hey, boss, you know” Arai started, leaning over for a better look. “That’s some pretty flashy bling you’ve got there.” She raised an eyebrow suggestively, nodding towards Rei’s left hand.

               Frowning, Rei drew her hand up to her chest and muttered, “Yeah, and if you so much as think of stealing it, I’ll match it with a necklace made of your teeth.”  

               With a chuckle, Arai raised her hands in surrender. “Oh god, absolutely not!” she assured, almost even disgusted at the insinuation. “I mean, it’s pretty, yeah, but not my style at all.” Despite the initial suspicion, deep down Rei knew that Arai had to be genuine. Nothing about her seemed to align with the dainty and delicate nature of the engagement ring. Rather, Arai seemed like the type for something far more inconspicuous. Something steely and simple and durable. “So who’s the lucky guy, anyway? Maybe I know him” Arai jested. Little did she know, everyone knew him.

               Tugging her dress over her head, Rei flippantly replied, “Kakashi Hatake.” He had become so ordinary to her now that sometimes she forgot just how extraordinary he truly was. The moment his name fell from her lips, Arai’s entire demeanor shifted. Her violet eyes widened and her mouth gaped; if Rei listened closely, she could hear the dial-up signal screeching in her head. “Close your mouth, you’ll catch flies that way” Rei muttered under her breath. She hoped to somehow lessen the tension forming between them. To erase the strange shock that she had caused.

               “Oh, I’m sorry!” Arai replied sarcastically. “I was just trying to figure out how you of all people landed a stud like Kakashi fucking Hatake.”

               Just then, Mikazuki poked her head around the corner and interjected, “They have history!”

        ��      Rei cursed under her breath and shot Mikazuki a fierce glare but she didn’t seem to comprehend her impending wrath. Funny how her dojutsu could pick apart little technicalities and yet Mikazuki was still so dense to common social cues. Arai skirted around Rei, arms crossed and a sly smile on her face. “Ooh, a history” she mused. “Tell me more! What kind of history are we talking here? What story could you possibly have with the renowned Kakashi of the Secondhand Sharingan?”

               “it’s really not a big deal” Rei muttered. There was no way in hell that she was going to delve into the complicated particulars of her romantic record right now. She had had a long day, she was sore and tired. The ANBU locker roms were a cesspool of gossip—one which she preferred not to contribute to. Besides, Rei still did not fully trust Arai anyway. True, they were on far better terms than before but Rei could not afford to be vulnerable with her yet again. Information was a dangerous asset. The less Arai knew, the better.

               A soft smile touched Mikazuki’s lips as she, too, admired the ring from afar. “So have you guys set a date yet?” she asked.

               “Oh, yeah, are you aiming for a winter wedding or a summer one?” Arai asked. “You should, at the very least, do a fall wedding. Those are always the prettiest.”

               “Really?” Mikazuki asked. “I always thought spring weddings were the best, with the cherry blossoms in full bloom. It’s like getting married on a cloud of cotton candy” Mikazuki sighed dreamily as she fell back against the wall of lockers, clutching her hands to her chest like a lovelorn school girl.

               Arai scoffed and shook her head. “Damn, you’re sappy” she replied. “So what about a dress? Have you picked one yet? I heard you don’t want to wait too long or else you won’t have time for alterations, but if you do it too early you’ll blow up like a balloon by the time the wedding rolls around—you know, from the stress eating—and then it won’t even fit.”

               “Oh, speaking of food! What are you doing for catering?” Mikazuki asked. “Buffets are always nice, but those can get expensive.”

               “God, no” Arai scrunched her face in disgust. “A sit-down dinner is the only appropriate option for a wedding. Buffets are way too casual. Do you really want your wedding dinner at the fucking Shinobi Corral?”

               Ignoring Arai’s comments, Mikazuki then asked, “What about the cake?”

               “Place settings?” offered Arai.

               “Bridal party?”

               “China patterns?”

               “Flowers?”

               “Music?”

               “Prenups?”

               “Oh my god, stop!” Rei shouted and the entire locker room fell silent. There was so much to consider, and she was not at all in the proper mindset for any of it. She had only just come to terms with her promotion. Her feelings toward her subordinates were still only lukewarm at best. She refused to think about the abandoned parenthood pursuit. If she didn’t slow her roll and take one thing at a time, she was going to lose her mind.

               But still, they were (unfortunately) valid questions. The wedding needed to be planned and it was only natural for people to wonder. If only they weren’t so overbearing in their curiosity. If Rei was going to do this, and do it right, then she needed to take her time.

               As she made her way home, however, all chances of a relaxing evening were dashed. Mikazuki and Arai’s obsessive inquiries had planted in her brain an overwhelming mania about the wedding. Three weeks had passed since submitting their marriage license applications but in the meantime, they had done little else as far as planning went. Logically, Rei understood much of the past month was occupied by her promotion but still. The pressure to get everything sorted immediately was eating her alive.

               Kakashi had returned home shortly before Rei did, shuffling out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He shook the excess water from his hair as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. “I beat you home” he grinned proudly.

               Rei stalled for only a moment staring at his wet, toned chest and the way his towel sat low on his waist, teasing her. But now was not the time to get aroused. Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she surged forward and took Kakashi’s hand in hers. “We need to talk” she said, guiding him toward the kitchen table.

                Chuckling, Kakashi asked, “Can I get dressed first?” Then, with a sly smile, he asked, “Or is this the sort of conversation that I need to keep my clothes off for?” Her sharp glare gave him his answer. Defeated, he carefully sat down and gave her his full attention. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

               “No, Kakashi” Rei replied. “Everything is not okay. We have a big problem.”

               Kakashi’s face immediately fell. “Am I in trouble?” he asked. His mind sifted through the past few weeks, trying to pinpoint moments where he may have misstepped. He came up empty every time.

               Shaking her head, Rei replied, “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s about us.”

               Kakashi instinctively reached across the table to take her hand in his. His mind automatically leapt to their pregnancy plans. Had something happened? What if she had gone to the doctor only to discover that something was wrong and she couldn’t have kids at all? Or perhaps they had miscalculated and she was pregnant after all? He swallowed back the lump in his throat, asked, “What’s the matter?”

               And then Rei said it and a wave of relief washed over Kakashi. “It’s about the wedding planning.”

               “Oh, thank god” Kakashi sighed, leaning back in his chair. Rei shot him yet another glare and he raised his hands in surrender. “I just expected much worse!”

               Shaking her head, Rei folded her hands on the table in front of her like a businesswoman about to make a deal. “We’ve been engaged for almost two months now and have hardly made any progress” she said. “People are beginning to ask questions and I can’t stand to sit there without answers anymore!”

               “Well, we did submit our marriage license application” Kakashi reminded her. “That’s one thing.” And really, they couldn’t do much else until they received the verdict on that. Without that stamp of approval, there couldn’t be a wedding to begin with. At least not legally.

               Rei gripped her hair and groaned. “I know, but that’s not enough!” she whined. “What about the date? The location? The guests? The food and the flowers? We can’t have our wedding dinner at the fucking Shinobi Corral! I just—”

               “Whoa, wait a second. Who said anything about the Shinobi Corral?” Kakashi asked. His restrained laughter was not appreciated. When it was clear that Rei did not find any of this funny, however, he reached back across the table for her hand yet again. “Rei, look at me” he said, voice soft and tender. “I want our wedding to be perfect for you so whatever you want, we’ll do it. Okay?”

               Rei blinked as she looked at his comforting, unmasked face. He was so sweet but god, he was so, so stupid. “Kakashi, you know I love you” she replied, “but you’re a fucking idiot.” Kakashi recoiled as he tried to figure out where he had gone wrong. Fortunately, Rei spelled it out for him. “I can’t do this all on my own. I want you to have a part in this because it’s your wedding, too. We need to make these decisions together. I want your help. I need your help.”

               Nodding slowly, Kakashi said, “Okay. Well then let’s take it one step at a time.” He reached across their cramped kitchen to pull a notepad and pen from the counter. “Let’s start with the guests. Who do you want to invite?”

               “I don’t know. My family, I guess?” Rei replied. She drew her knees up to her chest as she filtered through her mental address book. “We’ll have to go through the details later, there’s too many people to really count right now. And it’s hard to say how many people we can even invite if we don’t have a location in mind since we don’t know the capacity.”

               “Alright” Kakashi said as he finished scribbling a simple family and friends. “Did you have anything in mind for the location?”

               Rei shook her head. “I don’t know.”

               “Well close your eyes and imagine it then” Kakashi suggested. “What kind of wedding do you see?”

               Rei did as she was told but it was no use. “Kakashi, I can’t see anything” she complained.

               “For an avid reader, your imagery skills need some work” Kakashi jested.

               As Rei opened her eyes, she pursed her lips and narrowed her gaze. “You think you’re real funny, don’t you, Kakashi?” she muttered. Kakashi merely smiled a dumb, childlike little smile—far too proud for his own good. Rei buried her face in her hands. “God, you sound just like everyone else asking me all these questions that I can’t fucking answer.”

               He hated how cute she was when she was frustrated. He tossed the pen and pad aside and rose to his feet, skirting around to rub her shoulders and kiss the top of her head. “But this time you don’t need to have all of the answers, Rei” he reassured her. “We’re just thinking out loud. Nothing is set in stone. You’re allowed to take your time and decide what you want. I really don’t care as long as you’re happy.”

               Squinting, Rei tilted her head back against his chest so as to look up at him and mumble, “That doesn’t sound very budget-friendly, Kakashi.”

               Kakashi shrugged and smiled. “It’s not like we can’t afford it” he said. “We both make plenty of money, right Mrs. ANBU captain?” He smirked and kissed the tip of her nose before turning to head back into the bedroom. Rei twisted around in the kitchen chair, straddling it backwards as she watched Kakashi shed his towel and begin rooting around his drawers for clean underwear. Her cheeks burned as she eyed his dick, tilting her head to get a better view of it.

               “Maybe we should just elope” she commented, resting her head on the back of the chair.

               “Is that really what you want?” Kakashi asked, stepping into a fresh pair of boxer briefs.

               “I don’t know” Rei whined. “I’m just starting to feel like this is more work than it’s worth. I’m stressed. Eloping would solve all of our problems.”

               “In wedding planning, maybe” Kakashi replied. “But it would create a whole army of new ones.”  

               “Oh yeah? Like what?” Rei asked.

               “Well, for one thing” Kakashi replied, tugging his shirt over his head, “I don’t think your parents would be very happy when they find out we’ve run away together.”

               Rei swatted at the air dismissively. “Fuck them” she said. “They’ll just cause more drama, anyway.”

               “Even your grandmother?” Kakashi asked, cocking a brow.

               Rei paused a moment, reconsidering. Then, finally, “Alright, fine, only Grandma Teiko is allowed to come to the wedding. No one else.” At this, Toshio huffed and nudged Rei’s knee with his wet nose. Chuckling, Rei shook her head and scratched behind his ear, adding, “And of course Toshio can come, too. He can be a bridesmaid.”

               “Are you going to make him wear a dress?” Kakashi jested.

               “Only if he wants to” Rei replied. The look on the dog’s face, however, proved that he definitely did not want to.

               Ruffling his hair, Kakashi made his way back into the kitchen. He knelt down in front of Rei and brushed the long bangs back out of her face. “Honestly, though, I think we deserve a real wedding, don’t you?”

               “Yeah” Rei sighed, resting her forehead against his. “I guess so. But god, I wish weddings didn’t have to be so damn stressful. I feel so much pressure to have everything sorted as soon as possible, like I should be some sort of all-knowing bridal goddess or some shit.”

               “I know” Kakashi laughed, petting her head affectionately. “Just try not to worry. We’re allowed to take our time. It’s not like we have a deadline to meet or anything.”

               “God, but that’s exactly the problem, Kakashi!” Rei whined. “Having everything so open-ended doesn’t make me feel much better, either. If anything, it just makes me feel aimless. It’s like I don’t have a clear goal in mind without a set date, you know?”

               Kakashi pursed his lips, considering her words. She did have a valid point. The wedding date was essentially the anchor that tethered everything else in place. Without it, all their other plans were merely disconnected ideas floating in mid-air. “Alright” Kakashi replied, nodding with purpose. “Then how about March 14th?”

               “March 14th?” Rei repeated.

               “Mmhmm” Kakashi affirmed. “The same date I proposed to you, so it would be easy to remember. The weather would be mild, and I think it falls on a weekend. It would be perfect. After all, it is called White Day for a reason.”

               A wedding on White Day. Rei considered the possibility. She thought back to what Mikazuki had said earlier about spring weddings and the cherry blossoms. The soft, ethereal aesthetic was definitely alluring. And plus, it was a day with meaning. The anniversary of their engagement and a holiday founded on the reciprocation of love. How Kakashi had thought of something so perfect was beyond her but then again, it seemed that he was always coming up with perfect ideas. Her eyes skated to the copy of Icha Icha haphazardly tossed on the coffee table and that gave her explanation enough for his romantic powers.

               And from a more logical perspective, March was a little less than a year away which gave them plenty of time to figure out the rest. Rei felt far more confident in her ability to plan a wedding in ten months, with a definite end goal in mind. A small smile began to spread across her lips as she thought about it all, suddenly far less stressed than she was before. Now when she closed her eyes, a hazy image began to form in her mind, still not clear enough to feel fully confident in her plans but better than nothing. Her vision was beginning to take root.

               Rei nodded as she looked Kakashi in the eyes and replied, “March 14th. I like that.”

               “See? That wasn’t so hard” Kakashi grinned. “Now we have one less thing to worry about. Do you feel better?”

               Nodding, Rei replied, “A little bit, yeah. It’s nice to know where the finish line stands. To have an anchor, you know? Something to build up from.”  

               Kakashi nodded and kissed her forehead sweetly before replying “Now to figure out everything else.”

               Rei grimaced, but not unkindly, as she twisted around to whack Kakashi lightly on the shoulder with the notepad. “Watch yourself, Hatake” she jested. A sly, teasing smile touched her lips. “One thing at a time.”

[nat-roman0ff]

shawn & the great tko

shawn & the great tko

requested

---

word count: 2,116

warnings: jealous boyfriends, douchebags and a weak right hook..

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“Shots!” Someone screams at the bar. 

 You cover your ears at the sound and silently scream at yourself for agreeing to come out tonight. It was someone’s birthday, you don’t remember whose and now you’re packed densely in some tacky nightclub with a bunch of strangers.

 At the very least, you had Shawn by your side, an arm wrapped firmly around your middle and swaying you to the music. He kisses your neck every once and a while when he’s feeling frisky, his hands creeping lower and lower on your side. 

“Are you having fun yet?” He asks, kissing the top of your head. 

 You side eye him. 

 “That’s a rhetorical question, I know you’re miserable,” he shouts above the music, “I promise you’ll get a treat later for sticking this out with me. You know I hate going to these things alone,” Shawn pecks your cheek and loosens his grasp on you just slightly. 

 You turn in his arms, rubbing your hands on his chest, “what kind of surprise?” You tease the open part of his shirt, with it buttoned just one damn button too low. 

 He raises an eyebrow and dips his hand under the skirt of your dress, letting his hand glide between your legs, “I think you know,” he says lowly, nipping at your earlobe. 

 “Okay break it up, lovers,” Brian interrupts, pink cheeked and already drunk, “we’ve seen enough for a lifetime at this point.” 

 Shawn responds by licking the side of your face and smacking your bum. You jump slightly at the action and Brian gulps down the remainder of his drink, walking away from the two of you, shaking his head.

 “Hey, hold these,” you hand Shawn your purse and drink, “I’m gonna go hit the head.”

 He laughs, “you’re so gross.” 

 “But you love meeeeee!”

 “That I do. Need me to come with you?” He asks, smirking.

 You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure that bathroom hasn’t been cleaned since 1995. I’m all set. I’ll be back in a jiff.” 

 You kiss his cheek and walk towards the back of the club where the bathrooms are. There’s a line, of course, there’s always a line for the women’s bathroom and you watch the men walk casually in and out of the men’s room as you cross your legs tighter. 

 Another few minutes pass and the line has barely budged, so you cross to the other side of the hallway and into the men’s room. It’s empty in there, go figure, and you take up your business in a stall. When you come out there’s a man at the sink. 

 “Oh shit, sorry. Long line for the ladies room and I couldn’t hold it,” you laugh off as you wash your hands. 

 You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, like you’re something to be watched, “not a problem, sugar.” 

 You do your best not to react, to just play nice and leave because this moment has happened so many times in so many places and these are the moments in life where you just wish you could’ve been born a dude. 

 He stares you down as you dry your hands with a paper towel and pull the hem of your dress down more, “have a good night,” you mumble as you make your way to the door.

 The man stands in front of it, blocking the handle, you immediately take three steps backwards further into the bathroom, away from him. You mentally kick yourself for having Shawn hold your purse that had your phone in it.

 “How about I buy you a drink and we talk a little, Pretty Thing?” 

 Your heart pounds in your chest as he plants himself between you and the door, and you instinctively clench your hands into fists. He doesn’t move, but looks you up and down and smirks, “I like the dress.” 

 “Thank you, it has pockets. And I’m also not interested in getting a drink or talking to you,” you blurt out, your body trembling in fear. 

 You’d learn a long time ago not to trust men alone in confined spaces - and this douchebag was no exception, “aw, why not? I’m a nice guy.” 

 The man chuckles and takes a half step closer to you, but you stand your ground, “because I’m not interested. I don’t owe you an explanation as to why. Now if you’d kindly move aside I’d like to get back to my friends,” you say through gritted teeth.

 He takes a step to the side, just barely enough room for you to walk by him to open the door. He reeks of alcohol, cigarettes, and cheap cologne. You have no choice but slide against him to get out, and he reaches out to squeeze your ass. Before you can second guess yourself, you slap him across the face and stomp out. 

 The tears spill over now, and you do your best to wipe them up before finding Shawn. You see him in the crowd, his back facing you and wearing your purse backpack proudly like the dingus he is. As soon as you reach him you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. It’s hard to hold back the tears and shaking, and he immediately knows something is wrong.

 “Baby, what’s wrong?” Shawn asks frantically, his huge hands on either side of your face.

 He wipes away your tears with each of his thumbs as you sniff through speaking, “I - I, there was a long line for the women’s bathroom,” you sniff, “so I went in the men’s room because it was empty and when I got out there was a man in there and he didn’t leave at first and he kept looking at me like I was something to eat and when he finally let me leave he grabbed my ass.” 

 Shawn’s face turns stone cold, his jaw clenching and unclenching, “someone fucking touched you?” 

 You nod between his hands. 

 He lets you go, “where is this asshole?” He starts, scanning the room, “Gonna give him a piece of my mind.” 

 “Shawn, don’t,” you say, wiping the rest of your tears away with the back of your hand, “it’s fine, I’m fine. I was just scared because he cornered me. I’m alright, I’m just being dramatic.”

 He scoffs, “baby he cornered you alone in a bathroom. God only knows what was going through his head. You aren’t being dramatic by being upset. What’s going to be dramatic is when I flatten him in the middle of this club.” 

 “Babe,” you grab onto the collar of Shawn’s button up shirt, “it’s really not worth it. Please don’t make it a thing. I don’t want to cause any drama tonight.” 

 “I’m not kidding, I’ll knock a motherfucker out,” he says and it makes you laugh. 

 You push on his chest, “oh Shawnie, you’re too soft for that,” you say through sniffles.

 He narrows his eyes, “I’ve hit someone before.” 

 “Peewee hockey doesn’t count.” 

 He clicks his tongue, “I’ve thought about hitting someone before.” 

 You chuckle and stand on your toes to give him a kiss, “you can be my hero another day.” 

 Shawn snickers, “still wanna kick his ass,” he murmurs against your lips before going in for another kiss.

 “Yeah, yeah,” you tug on his hand, “You need to buy me another drink.”

 “Anything for you, my dear,” he says, trailing behind you, his hand in yours.

 When you reach the bar you see the man from the bathroom a few spots down from you. He sees you immediately and you do your best not to make eye contact with him. You can practically feel his eyes burning into you. Shawn absentmindedly twirls a piece of your hair around his finger and orders your drinks, none the wiser to the creep gawking at you.

 “What do you wanna do now?” Shawn asks, “dance, people watch -”, you both give each other the look, “okay so we’ll people watch,” he finishes. 

 You two go over to one of the tables your friends had reserved. Not wanting to be too far from Shawn, you sit on his lap to keep him close, his arm wraps loosely around you and rests on the tops of your thighs. 

 “Okay, okay we got our first one. Two o’clock: drunk girl trying to take a selfie with the calculator app on her phone,” Shawn points across the room. 

 You laugh, “now it’s my turn,” you scan the room, “there! Ten o’clock, that guy looks like he fell asleep standing up with that girl grinding on him.” 

 Shawn bites your bare shoulder then smoothes it over with a kiss, “nope I’m gonna win,” he pokes you with his nose while he looks around, “Ah! Dead noon, middle of the dance floor, dude straight up puked all over himself.” 

 You scrunch your nose, “gross. Alright there’s gotta be a better one than that,” your eyes skim the room and you see him.

 You immediately get uneasy and feel like you’re being watched. Shawn notices your body stiffen and rubs your back soothingly, “what’s up? Is the drink upsetting your stomach? I know sometimes tequila hits you weird.” 

 The room starts spinning, and it’s not because of the alcohol. Your vision blurs, and you have tunnel vision on nothing but him. He never stops staring, making sure his eyes lock with yours as he slowly sips his drink. He watches you like a lion watches a gazelle in the wild, canvassing, casing, until they’re ready to attack their prey. 

 “No - yes, I’m -” 

 “Is it that fucking guy? Did you see him again?” Shawn doesn’t realize it, but his hold on you tightens. 

 You can feel your skin start to burn, and your heart rate pick up, “let’s just go home, babe. Please?” 

 Shawn’s staring madly into the crowd, eyes searching for the man. He knows when he catches him, and you can tell he knows by the way he clenches his jaw until it’s perfectly sharp. His pupils dilate and eyes narrow on him. 

 “Is that him?” He asks, pointing directly at him from across the crowded club.

 You nod.

 “I’m going to go have a word.” 

 Before you have a chance to protest he lifts you off of him and scurries away. Goddamn him for being so lanky and quick. You do your best to keep up and you can see his knuckles whiten as he clenches his fists. You’re hot on his tail when he reaches him. 

 “You’ve got some goddamn nerve.” 

 The man looks taken aback, “excuse me, little boy?” He scoffs. 

 “Don’t you ever put your hands on my girlfriend again, do you hear me?” 

 The man just laughs and throws his head back. You stand protected behind Shawn. 

 “That’s your girl? You could do better.” 

 Shawn’s fist collides with the man’s cheek, but he doesn’t flinch. Your worst fear comes to life when the man draws his fist back.

 “Oh shit,” is all Shawn can manage before his body meets the floor.

 ---

 “And what did we learn tonight?” You ask, dabbing the dried blood from Shawn’s face. 

 He glares up at you from his seat on edge of the bathtub, “don’t pick fights with people that are bigger than you,” he manages, his voice garbled by the two tampons shoved up his bleeding nose.

 “And what else?” You press.

 Shawn rolls his eyes, “that you’re not a damsel in distress and you don’t need saving and toxic masculinity and blah, blah, blah,” he groans. 

 “Very good,” you pip, getting the last of the blood off of his skin, “think you’ve stopped bleeding yet?” 

 “Only one way to find out.” 

 Shawn winces as you pluck out each of the tampons out of his nostrils, “how’s it feel?” You ask. 

 He wiggles his swollen nose around his face, the bruising already beginning under his eyes and around his cheekbones, “I don’t think it’s broken, but I’m going to look like an elephant stepped on my face for a couple weeks.” 

 “I don’t know,” you take a step back and examine him, folding your arms across your chest, “I kinda dig the broken face thing. Makes you look like a bad boy.” 

 Shawn raises an eyebrow, “Oh?” He says, reaching out and pulling you forward by your hips.

 You bite your nail and shake your head, “nah, I like you much better as the big dumb mush that you are.” 

 Shawn smiles, “give me a kisssssssss,” he whines. 

 You oblige and bend down to kiss him, only to be met with: 

 Ow.

[insomni-snacc]

Mx. Shoggoth, I Presume? Pt 4

Here we are. We're finally almost in the part of the fic that actually made me want to write it haha. If you haven't seen Crazy Stupid Love, the scene I reference here is between two people having a one night stand. They completely fail to do so because they're just too busy being cute and funny and sickeningly fluffy. So, ya know, my favorite.

Pt 5: In Which the Reader Becomes Slightly Less Emotionally Dense

Beetlejuice had his own ways of getting from point A to point B, so airplanes had never exactly been necessary. Why stick yourself in a giant speeding metal bullet with hundreds of strangers when you could just trick some poor sap into saying your name three times? Why force yourself to spend several cramped, stressful hours with a gaggle of people that you (probably) hate while narrowly avoiding their near inevitable demise? Why make his best friend and the love of his afterlife plummet to their deaths?

Love of his life? Oh god/satan, he was gonna have to come back to that thought later. But he wasn't scared like some kind of pussy, alright? He just… didn't like planes. In a perfectly rational and reasonable way. He had never been more sure of anything. Ever.

You, however, were more than a bit confused. Everything was all fine and good while the two of you shepherded the kids through the airport, met with the music teacher, and boraded your flight. Once the flight attendants began their pre-flight speech, though, you noticed your demonic friend was acting a bit off. He was stiff as a board, eyes constantly flitting between you, the window, and whatever safety devices the attendants were pointing out. He checked at least six times that both of your seatbelts were fastened, and nearly pulled the oxygen masks out of the ceiling. If you didn't know better - and you did - you'd have said he was scared. So why was he acting like this? You watched him as he secured your tray table a third time. Was he... worried about you?

Wait.

You shook the thought from your head, more concerned with calming your frantic friend down. How could you keep him distracted for two hours? You decided to run woth the first thing that came to mind. Before you could think it through any further, you whipped out your phone and a pair of ear buds. "Beej, hey. BJ, it's all good, it's secure. I downloaded a movie for the flight, wanna watch it with me?"

"What? Oh, uh, sure. What movie?"

"Crazy Stupid Love. It's a… romantic comedy." You trailed off, bracing yourself for the incoming ridicule.

"Ha! You watch that kind of stuff?" Right on cue, "never pegged ya for a sap." He grinned, poking your side and giving you that damned cocked eyebrow and crooked smile he always wore when he was teasing you.

"Yeah, well, it's better than listening to crying babies on an airplane." You shuffled a bit closer to him, handing him a headphone. "Uh, the cord's a bit short so we'll need to ah, get a little close. Hope that's ok."

Beetlejuice sat completely still, his mind on an endless loop of fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck. "Oh, sure. Yeah that's cool."

You put in your headphone and started up the movie, settling into his side and getting comfortable. Somehow, pressing up against his cold torso sent a small jolt of warmth under your skin.

Weird.

Things went a little more smoothly after that. Beetlejuice eventually calmed down and slumped against you, occasionally emitting a low chuckle that sent that same strange warm feeling right through your bones and up into your cheeks. Maybe demons radiated some kind of energy? You hoped it wasn't dangerous.

It wasn't until you were half way through the movie that you started to catch on. You had reached a particularly heart-achingly sweet part of the movie where Hannah and Jacob spend their first night together, laughing and joking while trying (and failing) to have a proper one-night stand. The scene had always been a bit of a weakness for you, you loved the idea of being so comfortable with your partner that you didn't have to take yourselves so seriously. With a small contented sigh, you leaned a little bit further into Beetlejuice and giggled slightly.

He unconsciously leaned into your touch, and suddenly your whole world came crashing down.

Oh.

Oh no.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

You felt Beetlejuice tense up, but he didn't move. He had to think this was weird, right? Right. This was weird. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to sort through the speeding thoughts and hormones swimming around in your brain. You had substantially less-than-platonic thoughts - no, feelings, for your definitely platonic, definitely off-limits, definitely out-of-your-league, and definitely DEAD friend.

And you had just practically sent him a strongly worded email on the subject in triplicate. There was no way he didn't notice, right?

Lucky for you, he was a little too caught up in his own thoughts to notice any emails, smoke signals, or increasingly non-platonic cuddles. The poor guy was just about ready to combust when the comedic stylings/screamings of Steve Carell finally pulled the both of you from your individual panic attacks.

You took the opportunity to shuffle into what you hoped was a less love-struck position, removing your head from his chest and pulling your arm away from where it was nearly resting on his. You selfishly refused to fully break contact, something you decided you could come to terms with later, settling instead for resting your head on his shoulder.

You didn't notice the nearly silent whimper of protest he made when you moved, or how he swallowed hard and exhaled sharply to shake himself out of his wretched state.

Quite honestly, after you landed, neither of you could quite remember how the rest of the movie went.

[ranger-report]

Review (In Progress): THE WITCHER 3: WILD HUNT (2015)

The third and final (so far) game in The Witcher trilogy is big. Very big. Massive. Supermassive. Maybe I’m just a little intimidated by the depth and width and density of the game, but as of this writing, I’ve clocked in 62.4 hours on the game. That’s compared to the 48.1 hours of The Witcher and 31.5 hours of The Witcher 2. I’m closing in on the point where I’ve played Wild Hunt more than the first two games combined. From where I sit, there’s no end in sight, either; I have yet to complete the story, in addition to multiple sidequests, witcher contracts, and treasure hunts, not to mention the jawdropping expansion quests Hearts of Stone and Blood & Wine, which combined supposedly equal the length of the main story quest itself. Throw everything in a blender and pour it out, and I’ll be surprised if I eventually finish everything I’ve a mind for in under 150 hours. This is a big game. This is a dense game, packed with content every couple of miles or so, in a world where you can’t walk into a town without stumbling onto someone -- or something -- in need, and that’s ignoring the contracts on notice boards. People walk, talk, argue, cough, stumble around drunk, and get into fights with you. Oh yes, run afoul of local gangs, and they will come for you. Meanwhile, the vast open world is teeming with monsters to battle and loot, from the continual presence of drowners to the new griffins and basilisks. An overwhelming amount of content in a series that already packs plenty of content into each game. It would be far, far too much and monotonous if it wasn’t for one thing: developers CD Projekt Red write compelling material, and they know how to write a damn good story.

When the game opened up, it looked just like any other open world game I’ve ever played, and immediately I felt a pang of disappointment. I’ve done Far Cry 3, Horizon: Zero Dawn, Grand Theft Auto V, Assassin’s Creed: Origins, and like many of my gaming generation I get what to do. Seek out loot, checkpoints for fast travel, towns, fight things to get xp, ignore the “pressing” main story in favor of side quests for cool shit, yadda yadda yadda. Considering the first two Witcher games felt like original experiences in what they were trying to do, to walk into such a generic open-world framework was such a let down.

At first.

But then, something strange began to happen: I settled in. Two random quests twisted and convoluted into a connected thread, which was followed by a third main quest which circled back to this thread and elaborated on it. Suddenly a character who just seemed off her rocker was now a fearfully sympathetic human being, now seen in the light of someone else’s story. CD Projeckt Red hooked me, hooked me bad, and now this wide wide world was no longer a series of performances, it was the lives of people in this world and how Geralt affects them -- just like in the previous games. Only here, it’s bigger and wider and seemingly less connected, but it still all comes back together. Choices matter. People matter. The world itself twists and winds according to you, the witcher, and who you side with/fight for. Every other open world game I’ve played has had Things To Do, and this is no exception, but now suddenly it feels like everything matters. Before, everything I did felt like it was to further a progression percentage, to get trophies and upgrade items and simply arcade my way through a sandbox which promised “openness” but really was just all the levels of a video game laid out side-by-side so you could see them all at once instead of having to press through to get to the next one. This is the first time where I’ve really, honestly felt like I was walking through a living world, and to say that it’s captured me is an understatement. Where once I would have rolled my eyes at sidequesting in the face of a main quest where the point is to track someone down or save someone because it is incredibly important, now it feels like the most natural thing because the main quest requires you to go through some shit first. Every contract and quest met along the way furthers the main quest in some way or another, particularly when you open up new quests AFTER helping old friends, friends who now desperately need your help again, and what would happen if you weren’t there? Combine all of this with exceptional voice acting, talented writing, detailed animations, and we have compelling content literally around every corner. And that’s even when you’re just out searching for treasure or diagrams to make better witcher armor! Stories pop up everywhere, all of it interesting, even the slightest of things, and it truly crafts a distracting world to be enveloped by.

A living breathing world would be one thing all on its own, but thankfully Wild Hunt features the best-looking graphics in the series to date. I was genuinely worried that my old rig wouldn’t be able to handle a massive open-world game from 2015 without some tweaks (my desktop is old, shut up), but for the most part I’m running everything on high and it is breathtaking. Weather effects, god rays, BLOOM jesus christ I’m appreciating bloom in a video game for the very first time and I hate that I am but god fuck the first time you see the moon behind clouds in this game with bloom on, and I’m talking a full moon so it is BRIGHT and BEAUTIFUL and just. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Detailed textures and character models, the best in the series so far, a wide palette of colors (which sometimes makes the game look like a living painting, in the best of ways), absolutely masterful work. There’s the odd object-poking-through-something-it-really-shouldn’t, or the glitchy human being moving/acting/dying in ways they shouldn’t be, but that’s also a staple of both open world games and this series in general. Jank happens, especially in a game this size. It’s not as breaking as it has been in certain aspects of the first two games, and it’s mostly Bethesda-level charming. What matters though is that it doesn’t kill the experience, nor does it happen so often that it feels like the game is bugged or broken.

Combat, meanwhile, is still not perfect but it’s the best it’s been in the trilogy. Fast and furious, yet rewarding for those who have more patient skills, swordplay is easy and comfortable and versatile. Similar to the second game, one needs only turn the camera towards whichever enemy they want to attack and Geralt automatically goes for whichever monster or human is highlighted. Sometimes this can be fraught as the game will erratically highlight a different character than the one you’re facing, or will transfer the highlight to a different enemy if the one you were facing dances out of sight due to a roll or dodge or other maneuver. But it’s only frustrating sometimes; this was a flaw far more prevalent in the second game than here, and the lock-on mechanic is a godsend when paired against high-level creatures. With patience and tactics I’ve been able to competently square with beasts far too high level for me to tackle, and actually come out the victor, an idea that would be absolute suicide in the first two games. But now strategy versus simple number rolls can prevail, provided you are prepared and/or willing to have the patience to chip away while dodging for your life.

Wild Hunt is one of the few game worlds I’ve entered that feels stunningly alive. Whenever I start up the game, I am transported. Taken away. Breathlessly in awe of how real and vibrant the physical presence of the visuals on screen are. What a strange gift to behold. And, yet, aggravatingly, it frustrates me that most opinions I have encountered are that players don’t need to play through Witcher 1 & 2 in order to play this game. You certainly can, but so much context is lost. Geralt’s relationships with Triss and Yennifer and the struggles between them (that is, should you decide to romance Triss); the nostalgia and heartache of coming back to Kaer Morhen and revisting the other witchers; the friends and former alliances who pop up under vastly different circumstances; the paths taken and decisions made which impact where and how you begin this story. Wild Hunt is the culmination of a near-decade’s worth of storytelling, and the rewards for having played through the previous two games are plentiful. Nilfgaard’s invasion has extra oomph knowing where they were before, and walking through Vizima’s capital now occupied by Emperor Emhyr is especially chilling and devastating. I have no doubt that someone could pick up this game and play it and get the jist of what’s going on without playing the first two games. But will it mean as much? I daresay no. It is absolutely essential to play the first two games to truly feel the depth of impact that this story -- this world -- has to offer.

At this point in time it seems I’m coming upon some kind of resolution to the story. I’m off in search of allies to help combat a vicious foe, meaning it’s time to wrap up any side quests I still have in my ledger. There’s a lot to do. Once I’ve reached the conclusion of this game, this story, I’ll provide a wrap-up review. For now, this deep and still ploughing through, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt is not only the best of the trilogy, it makes me want to go all the way back to the first game and play through the whole series again with different choices, for different outcomes, if only to see the roads I did not take and who was left behind. This is an amazing experience with literally hours of content to take in, and I am eager to devour the remainder.

Score (So Far): 9/10

[audreysjensens-blog]

central pines [elodie davis x reader] {part one}

heyyy lovelies! i just watched trinkets (please please pretty pleeeease go watch it it’s beyond good) and am in love w elodie’s character. i hope you guys like this one!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

fic playlist: 

bon iver - hey, ma

dead girl in the pool. - girl in red

banana clip - miguel

let it happen - tame impala (song parts 6:15 to 6:38)

overlap - catfish and the bottlemen

this baby don’t cry - k.flay

alligator - of monsters and men

It had been two and a half months since you’d arrived at Central Pines.

The food was okay, and the air conditioning was subpar. Since you hadn’t been too keen on going there in the first place, and your dad’s incessant emails weren’t going to end until you left, your newfound safe haven wasn’t exactly going to be something you cared too much about.

It was nestled in the outskirts of Portland, surrounding by hulking pine trees and dense forest, hiking trails close to overpowering the tiny rehabilitation camp.

Rehab, right, you reminded yourself. I’m in rehab.

The people were the only reason why you hadn’t left yet. Well, that, and your “family issues”, which is what the counselors had so fondly filed you under in their massive stack of patients.

Everyone seemed to be remotely friendly, and the people that you’d met had honestly made a decent impression on you. You’d leave if you were willing to jeopardize it, but going home wasn’t an option. Leaving meant getting caught, and getting caught meant that you’d have to go home. Plus, police, which was something you weren’t too happy to think about again.

You got up and out of bed, shaking out your messy Y/H/C curls and slipping your feet into your sandals. After your bed had been made (a small progression of what your counselors thought was a “good stride”), you took sleepy steps over to the closet and got changed for the day, finishing off your look with an embroidered jean jacket and a pair of loose slacks. You’d seen Booksmart a few weeks ago, and despite the fact that you loved the characters for who they were, you really goddamn wanted Amy’s jacket.

You looked to the other side of the room, barren with nothing to reveal any inpatients. Probably because you didn’t have a roommate. When you’d first gotten there, a girl named Safi was moving out, so there was no overlap between the two of you. You’d taken over your side, she’d left hers, and while your side was filled with posters of bands, movies, and corkboards with your friends’ photos, the other side contained peeling wallpaper and a sad-looking twin bed.

You checked your phone and saw that it was almost nine, which meant that you had to check in with Counselor Adams (or Tracey, depending on who you’d ask) before you could get any sort of breakfast. It was fine, because you’d rather die than go without your beloved coffee that came from Adams’s office, but you were kind of hungry. Regardless, you started making your way down the long dormitory hallways, seeing your peripheral friends getting ready for the day ahead and leaving their dorm doors open.

Adams’s office wasn’t the sort of place that made you feel like you were in an actual rehab center, but more like a therapist’s office, which you actually had grown to like. There were little photos of her family everywhere, along with comfy chairs, glowing twinkly lights, and tiny ceramic animals adorning the chair that sat opposite your couch.  Well, not your couch, but you didn’t really have anything else in this facility besides your belongings, and damn it if that old, overstuffed linen didn’t feel somewhat like home.

“Ahh, Little Miss Caffeine,” Tracey groaned, flopping down in her Frankenstein’d athletic ball/old couch chair. “My espresso hasn’t hit yet, but we still have a couple minutes. Keurig’s up and running.”

“Thank God,” you sighed in relief, shutting the door behind the two of you and going to tap what you wanted into the machine. “You still have that almond milk creamer?”

“How could I not?” Tracey chuckled, taking another sip from her mug. “I use so much of the Folgers original creamer that I’m on the toilet for days with diarrhea. You suggesting an alternative was quite literally the only thing saving me from a life of bathroom hell.”

You giggled then, letting your hot mug sit for a second before splashing in the Splenda and the creamer. “Oh, so we’re blaming the milk for it now, huh?”

“I refuse to believe it’s the caffeine,” Tracey said strongly, wild hand movements indicating her opinion. “If it is, I might go crazy trying new methods of waking up so early.”

You looked up at the clock, seeing that it was exactly 9 on the dot, and sat down on the couch, ready to start your session.

Tracey leaned forward, pushing a piece of her curly brown hair back behind her ear and adjusting her blazer and her Central Pines t-shirt. “So. Let’s talk. Weekly update?”

“Sure!” you said, swatting your hand over your drink to make sure it wouldn’t destroy your tongue upon the first sip. “So, I’m doing okay. I do a lot of hiking, and I went into town last week on the free day. Which was nice.” “Ugh, free days are the absolute best,” Tracey said, crossing her legs over her chair. “I remember when I used to go on them. I was obsessed with the coffee place at the end of the street that gave you those little donut things. I mean, it’s gone now, but, fuck, they were so amazing! Oh, sorry, keep going.”

You laughed again at her habit of constantly interrupting you, and kept going. “Well, uh, it’s been different here. I mean, I know you guys pretty well, but friends-wise, I don’t really have too many here. I think a lot of people kind of just want to keep themselves going while they’re here. Not like, I want to speak for them or anything. I don’t know what’s going on with the others, and I really hope they’re all doing well, but I don’t really know how to you know, bridge that gap. You know?”

Tracey’s face took on a slightly sad and concerned expression, and she leaned back in her chair, nodding at your statement. “I understand. It’s hard enough trying to make sure you’re okay, while also trying to reach out to others. I’m sure that people will come around. Everyone has their personal demons, and when you’re here, we can’t always fully stop them from amplifying. But there’s always outlets. If anything, come here if you’re feeling lonely. You know that I have an armory of snacks and food and conversation, and I’m sure people not reaching out isn’t anything to do with you. I promise.”

You felt tears sparking up in your eyes then, and you looked up at the positive sticky notes on the ceiling, trying to enunciate them in your head to give the tears time to go away. Tracey gave you a moment before speaking up again, this time in a gentler tone of voice.

“Everything’s going to be fine. In fact, you have a new roommate coming at the end of the day today.”

You snapped your head back down to meet Tracey’s eyes, your fidgeting hands ceasing the incessant folding and unfolding and folding of the cuffs of your jacket. You couldn’t help but feel the rush of hope and excitement a new person brought, but quickly shut down the feeling. It was probably someone who didn’t want to be bothered with you, let alone be as furtive as you were to make friends. Squash the hope, you told yourself, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Really?” you said, trying to keep your voice level and break-free. “Are you allowed to… Tell me about them?”

“Sure! A little bit, at least,” Tracey said, reaching over and pulling a manila folder from beside her coffee table. She opened the folder, sliding out a packet or so before speaking.

“Okay, so her name’s Elodie. She’s coming here from a few towns over from you, and she’s going to be with us for a little while. Apparently her father and some other family’s helping her to move in. I haven’t met her yet, but John in admissions did, and he seemed to get a somewhat okay feeling from her. You know, people leaving their hometown and friends and all that, it’s not easy,” Tracey said, sliding the packet back into the folder and replacing it on the table. “At least, she has people here who get what it’s like.”

You poked your tongue in on the side of your cheek and took a deep breath, flattening out your pants with your palms. She was right.

“If you need someone to show her around other than John, whose niche TV show reference I’m sure she loves hearing, I’ll do it.”

The words left your mouth before you could take them back, and you felt almost like you were going to slap your palm against your head. What the fuck! I don’t wanna do that? Do I? What if she’s cute? Fuck! Stop! She’s probably not interested. It doesn’t matter. Ugh, this whole internal guilt thing blows-

“Really?” Tracey squealed, clasping her hands together in excitement. “I mean, I was hoping I could find someone that could show her around that wouldn’t say ‘Bazinga!’ every three seconds.”

A grin took over your face, and you stood up, turning to put your shoes back on and leave the carpeted room. It was officially 9:30, and the next person to be counseled was going to come in any second. “What time are they getting here?”

“Noon!” Tracey said, scarfing down her drink before her next patient. “Thank you so much again, kiddo. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem, man!” you said, shooting finger guns at her before internally cringing and kicking yourself for the weird ass motion.

You said goodbye to Tracey and headed to the cafeteria, sitting down in one of the worn wooden chairs with a Clif bar in front of you.

Hello, Elodie, you thought to yourself. At least you’ll have a cool roommate.

[alfredosauce50]

Who’s the bad guy? (2p + 1p America x reader) 14

Wordcount: 2,961 The reader is referred to as she/her

The driver just couldn't help it. With two men bleeding all over his leather, one with blood painted all over their face and the other with their white dress shirt stained with crimson blotches, he frequently darted his eyes to his rearview mirror. That way he could update himself on just what was going on with his two patrons, where one of them was on the brink of death. His head was mostly limp as he sat in the back; face pale and glazed with sweat, he miraculously scraped together his remaining willpower and energy to talk to his redhaired accompaniment. "... Where did you say Luciano was again?" He coughed. And once again, the driver let his visage travel to the rearview mirror with a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. His brows would twitch at every cough and splutter Alfred let out. If he was not gurgling on his blood for the moment, there was no need to react this way. 

Despite his companion's condition not being much better than his own, he huffed heavily and still responded. "Everywhere. We gotta find him with Flavio's help." That was when Alfred burst into a coughing fit, spluttering and hacking violently to spew a little bit of blood onto the seat in front of him. "... You-" He interrupted himself with another cough. "-don't know?" Allen's brows furrowed, nodding without another word. As evident in his expression that contorted into resentment, he did not want to delve into their obstacle any further. And so, a silence so tense fell around them that a knife could cut right through it. Of course, it was not completely quiet because of the sounds of nightly traffic and the dripping of blood. The man behind the wheel flickered his eyes back to them once more. "... Uh... You guys sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" He asked, to where the two figures behind shook their head simultaneously at. It was the third time he had brought up the question. "No thanks." They mumbled. "Lennox Hill Hospital is right on the left if you guys wanna go-" "No." "Are you sure?" Allen's nostrils flared and he shot up. "NO!" The man flinched. "Is that a no because you're unsure or it that a no because-" Stretching of leather was heard as one of them sat up. Reaching for the headrest right behind his head, he craned his own to the side so he could stare at the side of his sweat-glazed face. "If you wanna keep this car and job, then I suggest you keep driving." He whispered, striking red eyes round with menace. Despite his volume being low, the tone in how he worded things made him sound threatening. The other responded with a quick nod and fixated his attention back onto the black road ahead like he was supposed to. "You got it, buddy." The ride felt so much longer than what the cousins expected. What felt like hours was only around twenty minutes. Alfred wanted some time away from the flashing lights of paparazzi and the blinking lights of the city. Glowing billboards, crazy taxi drivers and towering structures scattered at every corner were signs of a dense population hotspot, and that just meant more people to deal with. Allen on the hand just missed his hometown. It was much quieter there, as ironic as it sounded, but it was true. So when the bustle of life faded away and they drove into his neighborhood, he felt a rush of euphoria and relief surge through his veins. The rundown single-story house at the end of the street stood there in all its glory, beckoning its owner to enter it. It was the perfect embodiment of poor living standards, but damn, it was luxury in Allen's eyes. He jumped out of his seat and pointed it out to the driver. "There! Just stop there." He exclaimed. "Okay, got it." The vehicle slowed down in front of the driveway so that crushing of asphalt could be heard. The interior lit up as the car doors flung open. Allen stepped out first to marvel at the house, but when he heard the painful grunts sourcing from a blonde just behind, he turned around. Before he collapsed onto the ground, Allen reached out and held him up around his stomach to avoid the wound in his shoulder. "Yo, you good?" Alfred struggled up to his feet while holding onto him desperately. "Shit, thanks." He whispered. They made their way up to the front door and he never experienced this much trouble going up a few stairs in his life. By the time he was facing the front door, his body was finally succumbing to the wound in his shoulder that ripped a few tendons. "Actually... I don't feel so good..." When the flyscreen flung open, its screeches faded out into a ring in his ears and he fell forward. His face collided with the front door, pushing it open so he could land on the ground inside in a heavy thud. Allen was already struggling with his weight when he was conscious, but when that left Alfred's body, he was unable to prevent him from plummeting down onto the floor. "Shit!" Allen hissed and rushed to his side. "How the fuck was the door unlocked anyway?!" Blood was pooling on the wooden floorboards he was lying on, and the grotesque sight of how much red there was escalated his heart rate. The only sensation he knew now was pure panic as he carried him over to the couch. Little did he know, another person was there in the house with them. Much too focused on getting Alfred's limp body into a flat position, he did not notice the man that just moved off of the piece of furniture. "Oh my god. What the absolute fudge happened to him?!" Flying back out of sheer shock, he threw the pillow in his hands with a scream. Allen found himself gawking at a familiar blonde and grabbed the fabric around where his thundering heart would have been. "Flavio? The hell are you doing here? You know you gave me a heart attack!" He wheezed. Said man pulled out a baby pink handkerchief and a bottle of clear liquid. Spraying the little square of velvety material a few times with perfume inside, he pressed it to his nose and inhaled deeply. "I was here since nine. I was waiting for you guys to come back and I've got to say-" Flavio dug his finger into the corner of the handkerchief so he could wave it around. In all honesty, he was whipping it, not waving. "I don't want to know where you crazy people have been, nor do I wanna know what you've been doing. Not at all! No, no no!" Allen breathed heavily and furrowed his brows at that. He was going to have to explain their current predicament because Alfred was unconscious, and the thought made him grit his teeth. "Look, Flavio. I can't really talk right now because I have Alfred to look after, but I have a story filled with shit to tell you." He spoke really quickly because he was both breathless and under a tight time constraint. He ran into the kitchen and returned with a large rectangular box. It was a glossy white with a green cross sticker stuck on it. "Mmhmmm." He hummed, stretching out the 'mm' and 'hm' to emphasize his displeasure. "I just told you that I didn't wanna know, but you don't care-" "Of course I don't." He mumbled, ripping open the shirt Alfred was wearing. Buttons flew everywhere and they bounced around on the ground in light taps. He then proceeded to clean the wound, and when Flavio saw, he backed away. "Why is it always him?" He asked in a volume no louder than a whisper. "That's cause he's always making mistakes..." Allen murmured. He pressed his hands on his body to apply pressure so his blood flow would improve. Flavio rose his brows and eyed him with skepticism. But that was exactly what Allen did 24/7. Allen caught that look and stretched his eyes. "... And he doesn't know how to defend himself." Flavio shook his head with a sigh. He then folded his arms and watched the two in a tense silence. "So, what happened?" He finally broke that silence as concern overwhelmed all feelings of disgust that associated with the situation at hand. He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach when he also noticed that you were nowhere in sight. You left with them to Alfred's penthouse, so why did you not return with them as well? "I took care of (F/N)'s shop while you guys were gone. Where is she?" Allen stopped moving and a shadow consumed half his face. It was as if he stopped breathing. If it were not for the bandages coiled around Alfred's chest and shoulder already, he would have bled to death due to his cousin's sudden cease in activity. Images of you flashed in his mind. He recalled the screams and chaos that seized the venue, as well as the stinging pain in his palms. It returned to burn his hands like a ghost sickness and he stood up. "... She's not here." Allen turned his head slowly to Flavio and separated his lips shakily. "Luciano took her. And all I did was watch." He slid the shades off the bridge of his nose to reveal a pair of magenta irises. That way, he could pinch the area between his eyes. "... How could you?" The other dug his hands through his hair and rubbed it stressfully. "I don't fucking know. I could have stopped them, but I didn't... I couldn't!" Flavio stormed up to him and poked him in the chest just under the collarbone. He glared in those striking red irises with his own that were almost glowing with menace. "That's an excuse because you could. I know you're not the type to just give up easily. You had a chance." He dug his finger deep into his flesh under his shirt. "You know how to run. You know how to steal cars. You know how to fire a gun. And most importantly, you can make quick decisions in risky situations. So what happened?" Allen was beyond shocked at the sudden change of behavior, and he was speechless at what he said because it was all true. He was more than capable of chasing down mobsters like Luciano even when they used the latest car models that could travel at the speed of light. He could chase down anything in the world if it involved you. "... I don't-" "You do!" He exasperated, turning around to storm off for a bit. But he returned right after to keep talking. "You made a mistake, and it's way worse than whatever Alfred did." Allen's breath fanned onto his face, and that was when he discovered the answer. It was laced with alcohol. "You classless pig. You were drinking on the job!" Flavio fumed. "Is getting drunk more important than looking out for your friends?!" "No, of course not! I just didn't know-" The other shook their head and sighed angrily. "That doesn't matter. I thought you moved there in the first place because you were worried about (F/N)'s safety. And look what happened. You still fu- messed up!" He quickly corrected himself and threw his hands in the air in rage. "Jesus H Christ. I can't believe you, Allen. You can't just take breaks like that when you have people like my brother around. You're the last person in the world to forget that." Allen did not even try to argue anymore. He just glared at him with a vein popping around his neck and contained all the emotions inside. "... So, what can we do?" He finally let go of the breath he held. Flavio clicked his tongue. "Gee, it's really hard to say, Allen. We need the most intricate and well-thought-out plan if we wanna do anything at all. But of course, we strike when his guard his lowest, so during-" "-the day, got it. What else?" He paused for a moment. "I'll tell you what. I'll give you details to Luciano's hideouts, and I'll update you on his whereabouts whenever I can. Then, it's all up to you." He explained, glancing at Alfred. That was when he noticed his eyes flickering, then opening. He sat up slowly with a groan and rubbed his face. "Um..." Flavio appeared flabberghasted. "I kinda forgot to tell you that Luciano laces his knives with poison, so how he's awake so quickly I don't know how-- but I guess I didn't have to in the end," That was when the clicking of leather shoes was heard and another voice interrupted the conversation. As Allen helped Alfred to sit up properly, the newcomer established his presence by clearing his throat. "Oh yeah, he's like that." Everyone whipped their heads to the man at the same time. "He just can't die." "Happy?!" Flavio just contorted his face into a weird look. Who the hell was he? Happy nodded. "Yeah, I got your text. I figured you guys would've needed someone to drive you around." *** You did not imagine your place of death to be comfortable. Instead of being tied up on a cheap, rickety chair in somebody's basement with a single light source hanging over your head, you were kept in a lavish bedroom. You were still constrained in a way, but not to the extreme case of not being able to move at all. Sliding your legs off of the bed you had been sleeping like a log on, you walked over to the door and jiggled the handle. You were just locked in a room of what looked like a luxurious mansion, which was, of course, located God knows where. Kicking the polished mahogany wood a few times, you gave in with an extended sigh and sauntered to the marble balcony. The French doors you passed through to get outside were conveniently opened already, so wind had been blowing in since square one. "... Where am I?" You mumbled, folding your arms across the stone railing. Lush, green gardens and fountains spewing out water in beautiful patterns were found everywhere underneath. "Whatever this place is, I like it." It was even better than Alfred's penthouse, per se. "Why thank you, bella. I take pride in my gardens." Somebody murmured. "Woah!" You twisted yourself to the right to find one of the garden chairs occupied by a familiar face. His prominent Italian accent and oddly-hued eyes could be recognized from miles away. He had been staring out into the vegetation below as well, just like you, except he was playing with a knife in one hand. Jumping back when you caught sight of the sharp blade rolling in his fingers, he chuckled and stood up. "Don't get near me with that thing, you creepy Italian!" He tucked the throwing knife into his jacket with a grumble. "Luciano." "What?" He walked over to you and grabbed your hand. "My name. It's Luciano." You were beyond confused about his intentions when he grasped your hand, but when he bent down to kiss the back of it, it hit you. "Do all Europeans do that?" You suddenly asked. Luciano's brows twitched and he stood up straight again with a frown. "No? It really varies on the person." He responded. "And why Americans always generalize things I will never know either." Pulling your hand away from his fingers, you wrapped your arms around yourself to shield against the cold. "True." He assumed that you were uncomfortable outside from your body language, so he attached a hand to your back and ushered you back inside. Luciano was being so gentle it made you suspicious of his motives. So when your feet made contact with the soft carpet inside again, you turned to him with furrowed brows. "Luciano, why are you being so nice?" He walked over to one of the dressers and pulled out some robes. He returned and draped it over your shoulders while you stood there, filled to the brim with confusion. Although you were grateful for what he was doing, in the time being, you did not understand why he was doing these things for you. Previously, you were not wearing much at all, just a slightly transparent nightgown. But now, you were a little more decent with something to cover up with. "... Because I don't have a reason to do the opposite." Luciano replied. "And you're a pretty girl." Blood rushed up to your cheeks and you shot him an incredulous look. He laughed at that and leaned in to fan his hot breath over your neck. "I see why Allen likes you so much." Goosebumps pricked all over your skin when he whispered into your ear, so you pushed him away with a gasp. "What are you going to do with Allen? What are you gonna do with me? I thought you wanted to kill me!" You exclaimed. "Seriously, Luciano. What are you playing at?" Luciano did not answer the first question. "I don't want to kill you." He replied. "I need you alive, for Allen." With that, he turned around and made his way to the door. But then, he stopped again so you could stare at his back. "You don't deserve to die. I just want you to realize that the best friend you love so much is not what he seems." Luciano murmured. "And by the time he comes to get you, you won't want to go home. To him."

[writehardwhumpharder]

Fever drabble pt. 2

This turned into more of a story, it continues where the last one left off. This time the main whump is exhaustion and fainting cuz I'm a sucker for that kind of thing, especially when it's in a room full of strangers.

Carson awoke early in the morning to hushed voices. It took him a second to remember where he was and after that it took a few more seconds to open his eyes. Letting Riley and whoever she was talking to think he was still asleep would gave him the opportunity to eaves drop on their conversation. Once he confirmed that it wasn't about him he blinked his eyes open and took his sweet time sitting up on the leather sofa.

Riley met his gaze when he looked toward the table where she had her work spread out in front of her among a few discarded coffee mugs and whiskey glasses. Across from her sat a man that looked vaguely familiar. He had a warm smile and Carson decided he didn't immediately hate the guy.

"We were trying not to wake you. You remember my partner Morris?" Riley asked, bringing him into the conversation. Carson remembered seeing the guy in passing while he was at the police station a few days ago, he'd given him a friendly wave on his way out.

"Yeah, hi." He replied, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. The two were clearly busy so he stood up and headed to the door where his coat hung neatly on a hook and boots were lined up on the floor. He sunk one foot in, disappointed to find that his shoes were still damp from last night, or technically this morning. "Well, I'll get out of your hair. Talk to you later."

Riley smiled smugly and rose from her chair, "nice try, but you're coming to the station with us and you can tell me all about your findings in the car."

Carson groaned audibly. He wanted to go back to his place and promptly fall back asleep but he'd learned it's not a very good idea to argue with the police. "Fine, let me wash up first." He said, sliding his boots back off out of courtesy and headed to the office's small bathroom. He heard papers shuffling behind him as Riley and Morris got their things together.

A flicker of pain went through his head, starting behind his left eye. Looking in the mirror he actually looked okay, though maybe a little paler than usual. The fever was gone but he was far from recovered. Carson did what people call "soul magic", meaning he used life energy to do magic, mostly his own, and naturally it took time to recover from that. But there were bits of energy all around him which he could tap into. People left subtle traces of energy wherever they went, which was especially useful in a densely populated city like New York where that energy amounted to something useable. It wasn't particularly strong magic but it was fairly rare and a highly valued skill. Of all the different kinds, soul magic was the only kind that could be used to heal people since it involves with the manipulation and exchange of life energy. It was an intimate and delicate thing to practice.

So what Carson dealt with now was sort of like a psychic hangover. He'd been taken by surprise last night and was forced to use more of his own energy than he was comfortable with. Rest and positivity were the best ways to rebuild that reservoir, two things that he was coincidentally very bad at. He stood in front of the mirror, closing his eyes for as long as he reasonably could. Then quickly splashed some water on his face, dried off, and went to join them in the car.

Morris was a little older, maybe early 40's, and had spent more time in this city, so he was the only one of the three of them that actually owned a car. It was parked out front in a reserved spot. Riley and Morris were already outside by the time he caught up with them and Riley ducked into the passenger seat when she saw him coming out. "Fan-fucking-tastic," he thought bitterly, "I get to sit in the back." He didn't complain though, not wanting to admit that he, a fully grown man, still got carsick sitting in the backseat. It was only a short drive across town though as long as there wasn't any traffic, he could make it. However, the subtle headache and overall "bleh" feeling of his hangover made him doubt himself.

"So, what did you find out about this guy, Jimmy Foster, did you confirm that he is using some kind of magic?" Riley asked him once the car started moving. He was using magic all right, and a lot of it.

Carson swallowed before responding, "Definitely. I'm not sure what kind but I guess he takes his privacy very seriously and didn't appreciate me poking around." He leaned his head against the cold window and sighed before realizing opening it would probably feel better. The cool, gentle breeze did help ease the stuffy feeling inside the car.

"So what happened exactly when he noticed you?" Morris asked innocently. Riley must not have told her partner much about why he was sleeping on her couch when he showed up. Morris seemed polite enough not to ask.

"Well he came at me pretty hard. Probably wanted to send a message. His guys easily could have thrown some punches to get the point across but he went out of his way to use magic. I don't know why he'd want to reveal himself like that. I had just enough energy to block his attacks and run away."

Morris snorted. Carson was sane enough to know when to run and he wasn't the slightest bit ashamed about it. He glared at him when their eyes met through the rear view mirror. Morris quickly cleared his throat and restored the smile to his face. Maybe it was just the car sickness but Carson felt a little nauseous at how god damn nice these people are. He'd probably feel a hell of a lot better if he breathed in the sunshine and nurtured his soul or whatever but that wasn't really in his nature. Riley turned around briefly to talk to him. She had a file full of photographs in her hand which she tossed down onto the seat next to him.

"Take a look at these and see if you can identify the guys Foster was with." Carson was reluctant to drag his eyes off the horizon line to survey the pictures but he did it anyway. "Hey, are you okay?" She asked cautiously when he was on the fourth photo. He very much wanted to throw up on Morris's fine leather seats but Carson liked to think he has a little more class than that so he just mumbled a yes. She didn't press the issue further. They were only a couple blocks away from the station anyways, he'd survive.

There were ten similar looking guys in the pictures and he managed to pick out two that he was fairly certain matched the men he saw last night. "I'm pretty sure it was these two." Carson said quietly, handing back the file. He went back to feeling the cool breeze on his face and no one bothered him for the rest of the ride.

Morris pulled into a parking space in the small lot reserved for employees. And the three climbed out of the car, Carson noticabley shakier than the others.

"So do you have more questions for me or can I go home now." He asked dryly. Riley only said he had to go with them to the station, not stay. And his apartment wasn't very far from here.

"Almost done. Just come in for a minute, there's free coffee and bagels in it for you." She said, trying to coax him inside. Any other day he'd find free bagels incredibly tempting. They are, after all, his favorite food. Today though his stomach churned at the thought of it and he practically had to drag himself inside. He wasn't uncomfortable in police stations or anything but the noise of people walking around and taking phone calls wasn't helping him in the slightest. Everything sounded three times louder than usual and he could feel the shrill sound of ringing phones grate against his eardrums. Riley wasn't lucky enough to have her own office at the police station. It was actually surprising that she could afford a small one on the other side of town. He wasn't quite sure what she did in addition to your typical police work, but it was definitely something boring. She let him sit down her office chair, the kind that spins and raises and lowers. Carson's inner child debated fiddling with it while Riley did whatever it was she needed to do but he thought it best not to make himself any dizzier than he already was. Leaning over him to riffle through a stack of papers she frowned, clearly not finding what she was looking for.

"I'll need your official statement but it looks like I'm all out of forms. The copier is in the lounge with the coffee, let's go."

Her voice had that gentle commanding tone that made you want to listen to her. After all he could just bag up a couple bagels to take home and see if he could stomach a little coffee, assuming there was milk and sugar to go with it. Getting up to follow her, Carson felt a little strange for a second. He'd expected to feel pretty bad but he thought he'd be back at home by now, suffering in privacy, so he got a little worried. Once he was fully on his feet he knew he was in trouble but took a deep breath before falling in step behind her. She walked fast, too fast. There was no shortage of cubicle walls to steady himself on as he walked. Since Riley was in front of him she didn't see the way he started to stumble, grabbing onto every available surface for dear life.

"Okay the lounge is right down this hall." She said without looking behind her.

Oh god...

"The faster you fill out this form the faster you can leave." She added, noticing he was lagging behind.

No, please not here...

"Are you coming or what?"

Anywhere but here...

Finally she stopped to look behind her in time to see Carson go deathly pale, wavering a little with his hand against the wall. They didn't know each other all that well but she sensed that he was growing distant, expression somewhat vacant. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly in an effort to regain control of himself. But he was just delaying the inevitable. Riley stepped closer to him, preparing to catch him if he fainted, which Carson knew he was definitely going to do. Feeling himself starting to slip, he realized what a burden he'd been to Riley over the last few hours.

"Sorry," he mumbled at his eyes rolled back. There was a scraping sound as he slid down the wall, one of the buttons of his coat making contact with the cheap drywall. Riley managed to seize one of his shoulders, slowing down his descent. Luckily there was nothing for him to hit his head on as he landed on his side on the carpet. The loud thud drew the eyes of half of the people in the police station. Some woman by the front desk asked, "did he just pass out?" to no one in particular.

Riley felt her cheeks heat up, embarrassment by proxy. She did her best to ignore the nosy looks from her coworkers as she knelt down next to him. This time when she put a hand out to feel his forehead he couldn't flinch away from her. Confirming that his fever hadn't suddenly come back she noted the slight clamminess of his skin. Not knowing much about magic overuse, there wasn't much she could do for him but wait for him to wake up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Morris trotting over to them from his own desk.

"I thought he looked rough in the car but I didn't know it was this bad... what's wrong with him?" He asked with genuine worry.

"I don't know. He said something about overusing his magic last night then fell asleep on my couch with a 106⁰ fever before I could ask him any questions."

"Jesus Riley, why didn't you take him to the hospital?" He asked as some sort of innate fatherly instinct kick in. Having a little more stature in this precinct he didn't hesitate to grab the nearest coat off the back of someone's chair and roll it up to make a pillow for him. The woman from the front desk approached them slowly.

"You don't need to call an ambulance," said Riley, already knowing what she was going to ask. The woman looked skeptical but returned to her desk. Slowly the station came back to life and Carson's limp body in the hallway was mostly forgotten.

"I think he's just exhausted, let's give him a minute to wake up." Riley said, sitting down in a more comfortable position. Carson's arms were bent in front of him and she grabbed one of his hands to hold gently. Morris, respectfully, didn't comment on the gesture. Carson laid there, peacefully still, for another ten minutes, then started to stir. He unknowingly squeezed her hand and shifted one of his legs.

Of all the thoughts that could have run through his head as he woke up, like 'where am I?', 'who is holding my hand?', or 'how long have I been out?', his first thought was:

"This carpet is hideous." He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but to be fair, mustard yellow and forest green were never meant to be together. Especially in this swirling pattern, although that might have just been his eyes trying to focus. He moved his head slightly to look up at Riley, not quite sure what to say. More than anything he wanted to go home. Not in any position to care if he sounded like a child, that's exactly what he said.

"I want to go home." He mumbled, trying to sound matter of fact and not pathetic. Morris who was still crouched near them was happy to oblige.

"Get up, I'll drive you home." He said, then turned to Riley, "would you finish looking over our files. We can wait to get his statement later."

"Sure." She said, moving out of the way. Carson managed to prop himself up on his elbows and look around the station. Despite his catnap on the floor he was still pretty tired so he didn't protest when Morris grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to his feet. Morris and Riley exchanged looks when he let go of him, both half expecting him to fall down again. Instead Carson stood up straight, dusted off his clothes and headed towards the door with renewed determination. Morris quickly grabbed his keys and caught up with him.

"Someone's in a hurry to leave." He said as they made their way to his car.

"You have no idea." Carson said, sounding like he'd had a long day despite the fact that it was still only 10am. They got into Morris's black Honda Civic and buckled in. Carson immediately closed his eyes once he was sitting down again, only to realize a minute later that they weren't going anywhere. Carson opened them again to see Morris looking at him expectantly.

"Aren't you going to tell me where you live?" He asked.

"Oh right, just turn right onto the main road and I'll let you know where to turn after that." Caron said tiredly. Describing him as 'awake' would be a little generous, but he managed to give Morris directions until they pulled up to his apartment complex. It was nothing fancy, and in kind of a rough neighborhood, even then it was kind of hard to believe that he could afford a place like this in New York. Carson knew what he was thinking and smiled for the first time that day.

"I didn't know the guy but my dad left it to me in his will, it's rent controlled." He explained. Morris hummed in response. "Thanks for the ride." Carson riffled through his pockets for his keys on his way to the main door.

"No problem, take care of yourself." He called after him, pulling away from the curb before Carson would be forced to make a promise he couldn't keep. The stairs up to his apartment were absolute torture with the full body ache he had going. And that was really saying something, seeing as he lived on the first floor and only had to walk up five steps to get into the building. It took a few tries to get his door open, turning the key the wrong way no matter which way he seemed to turn it. Finally it clicked open and he stripped of his coat, boots, and the light jacket he had on underneath. Ah Fall, the season for layering.

Carson's apartment was small but in good shape. He had a small kitchen to the right of the door with an island that served as a dining table. To the left was a bathroom the easily took up a quarter of the apartment's total space. Then further in was a living room with two soft couches opposite each other, with a cluttered .coffee table in the middle. Instead of a TV he had two large floor to ceiling bookshelves that hid his bed from view. There were about three feet on either side to get by then the rest of the space was dedicated to a full size bed, a large dresser, and a nightstand. Despite the small size his studio was easy to get around. Carson suspected his dad had some kind of mobility issue given the large handicapable bathtub (which Carson loved the shit out of), especially on days like today. He padded over to his old answering machine on the island in the kitchen and let it play through his messages. He could just as easily check it on his smart phone but for some reason he liked it this way. It was sort of a ritual, something he did every time he came home. It crackled to life.

"One message: *beep* hi Carson, it's Riley. Get some sleep then call me back. We need to talk." He turned it off thinking it sounded important but she had said to get some sleep and who was he to argue with her. Stripping off his socks and jeans, Carson fell into bed with a heavy sigh, not even bothering to get under the covers. He surrendered to a deep sleep almost instantly, thinking in the back of his head that it might be a while before he got the chance again.

[okitodorokidoki]

[2/3] all the feeling was all or nothing | takigawa chris yuu + yuuki tetsuya

ao3 | 2,696 words | gender-neutral reader

Things had begun to feel tense between you and Yuuki. At first you thought it was something that would blow away within a week or so, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

The two of you had gone out with Jun again, and Yuuki ended up drifting away for a moment.

“Did I spit on someone’s grave without knowing it?”

Jun didn’t seem too keen to answer your question.

“I’d like to know if I fucked up somehow so I can apologize- it sucks feeling like he’s forcing himself to be around me.”

“It’s nothing like that,” he finally said. “He’s just got a lot on his mind.”

The lack of real answers probably just fueled the awkward fire that was burning between the two of you.

-

You found yourself avoiding Yuuki, whether you intended to or not. You didn’t even call yourself out on it until you’d backed around a corner after catching sight of him with Jun.

“Is something wrong?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice behind you. Whirling around with wide eyes, you saw Chris standing a few feet away from you.

“Oh, hey. No, nothing’s wrong, I just forgot where I was going for a moment there.” He didn’t seem to take your response as an answer or a joke, so you felt a little backed in.

He tilted his head slightly in the direction of a bench- an invitation that you didn’t think you could refuse. Chris let you pass him before following you, sitting maybe a foot away.

“I feel like I should repay you for the vague conversation that helped me,” he said. “Have something on your mind?”

You struggled with how to form your thoughts to not sound as whiny as you felt. “Things have just been… weird between Yuuki and I. I feel like I did something wrong, so I want to apologize to him, but I can’t apologize without knowing what I did, right?”

He took a deep breath, seeming like he was thinking rather hard about it. “Do you have reason to believe you did something? Maybe he’s just feeling stressed out about the team.”

You buried your face in your hands with a groan. “I tried asking Jun what was going on, but he just said he was thinking about a lot. But if it was related to baseball why would he avoid me and not Jun? Is he just too polite to tell me he doesn’t like hanging out anymore? He’s making me feel like I’m forcing him to stick around.”

Chris hummed, the bench creaking as he leaned back. “Tetsu isn’t the type to force himself to be friends with someone. Have you tried asking him directly what was going on?”

You drew your knees up to bury yourself further. “No…”

“I couldn’t hear that.”

A weak glare in his general direction didn’t phase him. “I said no.”

“So why don’t you try telling him directly how you feel?”

You uncurled yourself and pressed your back against the bench, looking up at the sky. “Because I’m scared? Yuuki’s one of my closest friends here, I don’t want to lose him just because I’m getting uncomfortable over something that may not even matter. Hell, maybe he’ll just come to his senses without me even saying anything.”

Chris moved his leg to bump your knee. “If you’re really friends, and it does bother you, then it’ll matter. Just tell him how you feel about this, and I’m sure he’ll understand.”

You looked back down at the catcher, trying to not feel like you were in a therapy session with how vulnerable you felt. “You’re an odd one, you know that?”

He laughed softly. “Is that a thank you?”

You nudged his arm gently as you got up. “Yeah. Thank you, Chris. Let me know if you ever need to ramble like this. It’s oddly enlightening.”

The small smile on his face almost looked bittersweet for a moment before he stood, turning away from you to look out at the practice grounds. “Thank you. I’ll be sure to do that.”

It wasn’t until after he’d left your view that you found yourself moving. You hadn’t gotten far, however, as you noticed someone leaning against the side of the building on your first turn.

“Yuuki?” you asked, a little shocked. “Are you okay?”

There was barely any indication that he heard you, but the bat in his hand shifted against the gravel as his hand twitched.

“Is something wrong?”

As you leaned forward to try and get a better look at his face, he suddenly turned to meet your eye. The almost disturbingly hurt expression on his face nearly had you stumbling back in shock. Neither of you seemed to want to speak first, but he soon pushed off the wall and gave you a short, stiff bow.

“I apologize if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I’ll try to be more aware of your feelings in the future. I hope we can still continue as friends.” His monotonous spiel set off a sharp pain in your chest.

You tried to call his name again, but there was hardly any sound to it- just a rush of air out of your lungs. Your hand reached out to grab his arm, but he’d already begun to turn away from you to leave. Air was the only thing that met your shaky grasp as a panic washed over you. What the hell was he going on about? The gravel beneath your feet felt like it had grown over your legs as you watched him walk away, shoulders tense.

-

You ended up walking back to the bench on shaky legs as you tried to figure out what had happened. Did he overhear your conversation with Chris and take even more offense? Just once you’d like to not fuck up your relationship with the first baseman. You never let yourself hope for a romance, so the friendship between you was kept in a tight grip close to your heart. And now you were just squeezing the life out of it.

You don’t know how much time or how many students passed by you before a rough stomping and a loud “oy” came your way.

“What the hell did you say to Tetsu, damnit? I thought I told you he was just overthinking some shit!”

You looked up at Jun, who looked more pissed than you could remember seeing him. For some reason, though, the expression cracked and he let out a softer “oy” than before. He crouched in front of you with his brows pressed together, bringing a hand to your face.

“Ju-” as you tried to speak, hiccup tore through your throat.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys,” Jun grumbled, wiping your face. “Shit’s supposed to go smoother than this.”

You let Jun pull your head to his shoulder, wrapping your arms under his. It didn’t even feel like you were crying, but the hand rubbing your back made your shaking more apparent.

“Whose ass am I supposed to kick now, damnit?” he asked, tone oddly fond for the words he was saying. “I’m gonna have to kick both of your asses.”

You shook your head as you cried your frustrations into his shoulder.

When you’d finally calmed down, Jun brought you over to a water fountain to wash your face with his hanky.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I don’t know why I was crying.”

“Your head’s probably too damn dense for your heart to take anymore.” Jun tried to fix your hair after cleaning up your face. “Can’t say I blame it, you guys are making me want to cry too.”

You sniffled as he checked for any lingering mess. You thought for a moment that anyone who questioned the managers for putting Jun first in line to be their brother had never seen the boy off the diamond.

“Now you three have to talk before I lose my mind. I’ll lock you in the shed if I have to, ya hear?” he poked your forehead harshly before rubbing the mark he left.

“First of all- ow. Secondly, three?” you rubbed the abused spot gently.

“Yeah, three. You all talking two at a time is just biting me in the ass because you’re all so god damn dense.” he complained.

“Should you be talking like that at school, Jun? You’re sounding awfully rude.”

-

By the end of the day, your nerves almost felt shot. Your almost-breakdown after Yuuki felt like someone overestimated a wind-up toy and snapped its spring, and now you had to rest or go in for repairs or something. Or just let Jun take the wheel for a bit.

You were finally being dismissed from your club, so you packed your bag and made your way to his classroom. It wasn’t too long a walk, but your legs honestly felt like lead at this point. You were definitely going to soak in the bath much longer than needed tonight.

By the time you made it to the meet up spot, there were already three people there- the two you were expecting, and the one Jun had thrown out of left field. You just barely stopped yourself from saying his name in shock, not wanting to start things off with a dumb question.

“Bout time you made it,” Jun barked. “Did you crawl halfway?”

“I had to help clean up,” you said. “Sorry for the wait.”

Yuuki seemed interested in how many tiles were in the stretch of floor in front of him, while poor Chris looked like he was coming to terms with a kidnapping.

“So what is it exactly we’ve been biting you in the ass with?” It was better to just rip the band-aid off, right?

Jun thought so. “Everyone’s feelings for each other.”

At least he had the decency to look uncomfortable when everyone’s gazes snapped to him.

“Jun,” Yuuki’s tone almost had you backing down.

“I don’t see why I’m here,” Chris had a flush crawling up his neck that you could almost blame on practice.

“I understand threatening to lock us in the shed now,” you deadpanned.

Jun leaned against the wall behind him, shoving his hands in his pockets. You took some solace in the fact that you weren’t alone with your negative thoughts. You’d thought that Jun was letting your status with Yuuki turn into what it wanted without him meddling. And why was he dragging Chris into this? You glanced over at the catcher, who seemed like he was trying to look at everyone without being seen himself. Sure he was sweet, and cute, and nice to talk to when you were upset. And he always had that reliable vibe to him, yet a quality that made you want to shoo everyone away from him and let him curl up with a warm blanket. Those were completely platonic feelings for someone you considered no more than a friend.

Glancing back at Jun, you almost blanched at the look he was sending you.

“So I’ll leave this to the three of you,” he announced, walking out of the classroom.

The long stretch of silence after he left was almost suffocating. You found yourself scratching at the desk next to you before sitting down.

“Well then,” you said. “I take it if we don’t talk now, things will just get that much worse?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look up, but soon the two left sat in the desks in front and behind you.

You turned your head to Yuuki behind first, but kept your gaze on the desk. “I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. I’m sorry for whatever I did to offend you.”

“You said my feelings didn’t matter,” he said, tone fluxing cold and hurt.

That got you to look at him, utterly confused. “What?”

“When the two of you were talking. You said I was making you uncomfortable over something that didn’t matter,” Yuuki continued.

You heard Chris shifting on your other side. “Ah, Tetsu. That wasn’t what we were talking about, I promise.”

“Wait, your feelings?” you asked.

“Yes. My feelings for you.” He looked understandably upset that he had to keep reiterating how he felt. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable with how I felt, but it wasn’t fair of you to say they didn’t matter just because you don’t feel the same.”

Your head was spinning, and you wondered if you tripped down the stairs on your way to meet Jun.

“Tetsu, you being cold was causing discomfort,” Chris tried again. “I never outed your feelings, and I doubt they were discovered naturally with that reaction.”

“Wait, you knew?” you turned to look at Chris.

You couldn’t place his expression, but he had a small smile. “I figured it out a while ago when he asked how I felt about you.”

“Oh, wow, okay, I totally understand Jun being over this,” you said, sinking in your chair a bit.

Yuuki leaned forward a bit. “What do you mean over this? Jun loves suspenseful romance.”

“This might just be too much for him. Because it sure is for me, and I’m part of it.”

There’s a long moment where the three of you sit in silence, just thinking.

“Do you return Yuuki’s feelings?” Chris’ sudden question made you jump.

You find yourself looking at the trees outside the window instead of at either of them. “I… yes?”

“Do you like Chris?” Yuuki asked.

You hesitate a bit longer to answer, but your mouth moves like it was expecting an answer.

“We both like you,” Chris says softly, his hand sliding across the desk to sit near yours. “Do you like us back?”

Your fingers twitch a bit as you contemplate grabbing his hand. The last thing you wanted was to hurt either of them, or the relationship they had as teammates. Would lying salvage anything at this point?

“Yes,” you almost choked out, like it was trying to escape before you buried it.

Chris’ fingers slid between yours as Yuuki leaned even closer, enough to move your hair with his breath.

“Would you like to be with us?” Yuuki asked, voice low enough to match Chris’.

Your gaze makes it to his chin before you back out. Were they teasing you? They weren’t that cruel, were they?

Chris tugs on your hand as he says your name gently. “We both want to be with you. And we’d like to be with each other. Would you like that?”

Your fingers curl around his as you take a deep breath, mulling over his words. “All three of us?”

Yuuki grunts in response, his knuckles brushing the back of your other hand.

“No one gets hurt?” you asked, a little quieter.

“No one gets hurt,” Chris confirmed. “We all like each other, we’d all be with each other. If we aren’t happy, we talk to each other.”

Yuuki stood and moved in front of you, guiding you up as well. “No love triangle, no drama. No one gets hurt.”

You finally looked up at him, and felt like you were melting under his gaze. “You guys won’t fight? I won’t ruin your team bond?”

Chris moved to stand behind you, and you were suddenly surrounded by warmth. “We can’t promise we’ll never fight over anything, but you don’t have to worry about driving a wedge between us by saying yes to this.”

Yuuki finally grabbed your other hand, his callouses tickling your sensitive palm. “We want this as well.”

You squeezed their hands as you rested your forehead against Yuuki’s chest. “Okay… I want it too. I really want this too.”

There was movement around you before you felt them both pressed against you, free arms pulling each other closer. You could almost feel the tension melting off of the three of you the longer you stood there.

“Does this mean Jun is our fairy god mother?” you asked, needing some humor to not feel like you were about to choke on your heart.

Their short laughs shook you to the core, and you found yourself pulling them closer.

[sheisbornadreamer]

Blend in, chapter eight

Disclaimer: Don't own Digimon. Sex without consent is bad. 'Nuff said. This is fiction, not sex-ed

Warnings: graphic language and male on male content

Chapter eight

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Please tell me you're kidding!"

-'-

During the last couple of weeks the redheaded girl's surroundings had changed dramatically. From having her two guy friends to joke and chat with, it had gone to comforting Yamato (without progress) and keeping him company, to being stuck in the extremely awkward space between the guys, to witness them being more than friendly all of a sudden, to see Yamato fall into depression, to be the loyal and comforting friend telling Yamato that being gay isn't the end of the world, to get stuck in an even more awkward space between them, to listen to Taichi's endless wining about the other avoiding him, and finally being the one to tell the brunet to give up.

Taichi blinked innocently –well, he would've looked innocent if he'd been able to wipe the grin off his face- tilting his head slightly to elucidate that he had no idea what she was talking about. The truth is that he actually didn't.

"What?" came the surprised and slightly hesitant reply.

"You think I'm stupid? You think I'm too blind to see? Tai, it's written all over you! What the hell did you do to him?"

Taichi's eyes darkened and his grin suddenly disappeared. Then he sighed and shook his head. "Sora, don't jump to conclusions, alright? It wasn't me this time."

Sora's amber eyes narrowed as she studied his face suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

Taichi's grin returned and his eyes lit up, making him look like a dog receiving a bone. (A/N: no bad thoughts here, people!) "He wanted me. He wanted me, not the other way around! Well… 'course the other way around too, but… Sora, he came on to me. And we-"

"Again?"

Sora buried her face into her hands, shaking it dramatically. She looked up again, staring at him with devastated eyes. "Tai, how could you let that happen?"

Taichi raised his eyebrows. "Wha…? No, you don't get it –this is a good thing!"

Sora snorted, turning away from him and started pacing back and forth. She suddenly stopped and turned to him again. "How?"

Taichi looked up and blinked, opening his mouth to respond. Before he could she interrupted him. "How is this a good thing? Are you two friends? Are you dating? Do even give a shit about each other?"

"Sora, calm down… this isn't another mistake, or another crisis. It's just sex, damn it! We both wanted to, no one got forced. Everything's fine." He grinned again, throwing his arms out. "I'm happy! See?"

She looked at him with a mix of contempt and disbelief, but she couldn't find anything fake in that smile, so she sighed, giving up.

"Alright. I guess I should believe you." She threw him another doubtful look. As weird as it seemed, she couldn't force herself to think that he was lying. Taichi couldn't lie about being happy. If he was, it shone right through him. The tanned boy could however lie about being miserable. He was very good at throwing on a happy face. Sora had known him for long enough to see the difference between the happy face and actual happiness.

But there was still one thing to worry about.

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Thursday 1.55 P.M.

Walking through the hall, carrying a thick textbook in a hideous mix of sage-green and purple, wearing a blank expression that stopped most eyes from noticing him, Yamato Ishida was on his way to his locker. Some heads still turned, perhaps two or three, which was a small number considering the overfilled corridor of chattering teenagers. Most people had forgotten the rumor that had started three weeks ago. Yamato was finally invisible again.

School had been working surprisingly well this day and he had for once been able to keep his focus throughout the classes. He hadn't even back-talked Mr Watanabe, which surprised both his teacher and him.

The only times he spent in the hallway he knew Sora and Taichi would be in, was when he had to get his books for class. But he had still managed to avoid talking to them or being spotted.

The two football-players' absence didn't really bother him, and he didn't feel any need to talk to either of them. The fact that he'd practically spent the whole day alone with hardly anyone to talk to, was something he hadn't bothered to think of. Nor did he mind everyone ignoring him. This new understanding he had with Taichi was probably the main thing to keep him from losing his mind, plus it was way better than jerking off. He was finally free from all the drama, the angst, the painful desire and shame. Now all he had got to do is start living again.

Reaching his goal, he opened his locker and put his book back. The area he was currently standing in was the one with the highest risk of meeting one of the football players. Yamato had no shared classes with either one of them today, and he was glad to have escaped any needless trouble.

Walking towards him, listening to some loud music that should make his ears explode but for some odd reason didn't, Taichi noticed the other boy and stopped immediately, quickly turning off his mp3. Yamato turned around, not once looking at him and started to walk back the way he came from. The confused brunet made several attempts to speak, move, shout or just do something, but none were very successful. He ended up staring after him as he walked out of his vision of sight.

The blond was frowning slightly as he walked; annoyed by his sudden bad luck.

He'll learn, Matt, a comforting voice said in his head. Tomorrow he's got it.

Yamato smiled inwardly, a smile that almost reached his delicate features. Then he turned left and entered class.

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At was a miracle that he hadn't even noticed her intense gaze. If he had, he would've cringed under it, begging her to stop looking at him like that. But he was currently zoning out, head threatening to tilt down from his right palm that was supporting it, which would naturally lead to him jerking it back up and looking around with a confused and drowsy expression.

So he was tired. Okay, not the same thing as miserable, and not the same thing as trying to hide that he's miserable. Just… tired. She sighed, briefly looking away from her observing-object. She couldn't help it; he was supposed to be depressed by the way Yamato was still avoiding him, even after…

To her, that was a pretty good reason not to ignore someone. Of course that's just the way guys work, isn't it?

She jerked slightly when feeling a light hand on hers and came back to reality. Mimi's hand, that had for one second pulled away again when noticing her reaction, rested on hers. "Are you okay, Sora?"

"I'm fine." She sighed, throwing her friend an apologizing look for not having the strength to, well, act fine.

Mimi studied her with concern, then finally gave up, figuring they'd talk about it at another time. Koushiro, sitting across the table, was still talking to Ken about his latest updated program about God knows what, –she'd never get what the hell was coming out of that guy's mouth- the reason Taichi, who was sitting next to the genius, was falling asleep of course. It was one of the few days when her schedule matched theirs and she could actually have lunch with them. Then there were the even fewer days when Koushiro's best friend Joe could join them. That had happened three times.

The redhead beside her looked at Taichi once again, frowning. Even if he's dense now, doesn't mean he won't get hurt eventually. And the longer it takes, the more it'll hurt.

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Taichi had never in his life observed his friend for so long.

To have walked behind him for the last ten minutes, he'd discovered many fascinating things. He walked in a very interesting way, unable to be described. Not slutty, like a girl. Not stiff, like a guy. Not overdone, like a "cool" dude. Just…

Man, what a weird way to walk in, he thought for the tenth time, shaking his head. The reason he was walking 20 feet behind the musician was because he had not yet found the courage to approach him, much less speaking. Plus he had a feeling that wasn't such a good idea. Don't poke the bear. He snickered at the thought of his friend as an angry bear, chasing annoying kids and growling. Then he shook that thought away, rolling his eyes at himself. After all, he had better things to do.

His eyes returned to Yamato's back, studying with interest. When he finally came to the spot where their shared way home split, Taichi sighed to himself and started walking his own way, feeling a little weird doing that without the usual "see ya" or "bye". Busy with feeling sorry for himself, he almost missed Yamato's words.

"Where're you going?"

Taichi spun around, founding his friend standing right at the spot where their separate ways met. It was an invitation, not a question. Even though it didn't sound very inviting, it were the keywords for I want you to follow me home and fuck my brains out. Okay so it didn't necessarily mean the last part, but Taichi was obviously not going to be home for the next hour or so.

All of this raced through Taichi's head, as he just stared at him, careful not to smile or look smug or even hopeful. One mistake and Yamato might get mad and this would be all over.

Without another word, Yamato turned his way and started walking. Taichi quickly considered if it was 100 per cent safe to follow, and started walking, finally letting the smile spread across his face.

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"Did you know that Kari's got class meeting tomorrow? Apparently one parent has to attend."

"Mmm…?" Mr Yagami mumbled, eyes glued to the magazine. His wife was pouring herself a cup of coffee, still having her black coat on. There was no need to take it off; she was going to leave again soon.

"Class meeting?" he finally muttered, affirming that he'd caught that word at least.

"Yes," Mrs Yagami replied quickly, sitting down beside him and drinking the hot gift from heaven. If she survived the day without coffee or not she didn't know; she would never in her life try. Believing that it made things better was enough. "Could you be there?"

"Maybe. Why not you?"

"Got a client" Big gulp –she never drank it slowly nowadays. "Ms Kobayashi" she sighed, and smirked a little as her husband immediately uttered an understanding 'oh'. Calling an over middle-aged woman 'Ms' felt odd, though she could certainly understand why she was still a Miss. I swear to God, if that woman didn't have more money than she deserved I would never have anything to do with her.

"Believe me, I would much rather listen to that stupid teacher for hours, than dealing with Ms Kobayashi."

He smiled, finally turning his attention away from random crises and disasters in the newspaper. "I know. You're admirable, you know that?"

She snorted, a brief show of amusement and gratefulness visible on her still youthful features. Then a serious face. "Tai is having some grade problems"

Their sixteen-year-old son wasn't exactly any more open than other teenagers; he just had a very inquisitive mother. At least when in came to things that had to do with school. She would occasionally ask him how every thing was, but it wasn't like he would ever reply 'oh well everything sucks right now and I'm very depressed because I'm feeling this and she said that and they did this and he did that…' If he ever informed her about anything having to do with emotions she would probably choke on something or fall off the chair. She accepted the 'okay' for an answer, appreciating that he at least talked to her about other things.

"In what?"

She snapped back, blinking. In a second or two she remembered what she had been talking about. "English, mostly. Do you think there's something wrong with him?"

Mr Yagami turned page. "Wrong?" he glanced at her. "Just because he's got some school problems doesn't mean he's stupid."

"No that's not what I meant" she sighed, rolling her eyes at him. "I mean besides school, I haven't seen him with Yamato for a while." She said as an example, though that wasn't really what she thought was the case.

"Why would I know?" he muttered, not turning his eyes away from the newspaper. She blinked, slightly disappointed. Then she shrugged, hit by the realization that neither of them did know.

"Girl problems?" she offered half-heartedly, rubbing her eyes. She didn't really have the energy to discuss it anyway –especially not if neither one of them had a clue.

"Maybe"

She checked her watch and noticed that she should have left two minutes ago. After giving him a quick kiss she said goodbye and ran out, leaving a ready-to-be-cleaned kitchen, a ready-to-be-shaved man and a half-empty cup.

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Yagami Taichi was a quick learner. When he was little, he used to watch guys play football down the street, and then mimic their moves and tricks until he could do it in his sleep. He made up new ones too and, simply by finding it more fun than anything else, trained to be the best when he started school, shortly becoming a star. He learned to be funny by idolizing his uncle, who –to him- was the funniest man on the planet and made everyone around him smile and laugh. When he first met Sora, it was because he made her laugh that he escaped getting beat down for destroying her red hat with mud. Back then she was taller than him, and he only had his charm to save him from receiving physical damage. Yamato was a different thing. While football and jokes were simply fun, this new blond kid was a challenge. Eventually Taichi learned exactly what to say and do to get his attention at all, to startle him out of his defense and finally trick him into surrender. Before Yamato knew it, he'd become so attached to Taichi that he couldn't turn back.

This afternoon, Taichi was once again faced with a challenge. He had already learned his mistakes; this time he didn't look like a human question mark when Yamato had tried to hint that he wanted sex, he didn't ask a hundred times if he really meant it, he was quick to start touching him without teasing, and he didn't speak. Still, there were so many new mistakes to be made.

Yamato pushed Taichi's hands back with an annoyed sigh, giving him a quick glare and removing his shirt by himself. Taichi ducked his head, feeling useless. There were so many things Yamato didn't like, and so many unspoken rules that Taichi was expected to follow. He let Yamato remove his shirt and then his t-shirt, slightly encouraged by the lustful look on the blonde's face as he gazed at his body. He then made the biggest mistake he could've done, he leaned in and kissed him, unable to resist. Yamato pushed him away with surprising strength, and Taichi was a bit taken aback. He barely had time to realize what he'd done wrong before Yamato started unbuttoning his jeans. He hesitatingly responded by unbuttoning Yamato pants, looking carefully at him from under his bangs. As the musician didn't make any signs on irritation, he quickly unzipped and pulled them down, leaving Yamato to take them off completely.

As they stumbled into bed, Taichi's mind was focused on what he was allowed, and not allowed, supposed and not supposed to do. He didn't want Yamato to feel unwanted, but he couldn't grope around like last time. He probably shouldn't speak, he shouldn't look at him, get him frustrated, or annoyed. He shouldn't be dominant, nor should he be slow.

When he made the blue-eyed boy frown, he thought it was the end of the world. Then suddenly he was moaning, and Taichi thought he was going to burst with pride. When he got a command to stop, he took it in and remembered it, and when everything just rolled on, Yamato silent and pleased, he tried to memorize that as well. There were times when he lost himself, -after all they were rolling around naked in a bed- and he happened to spontaneously do something that just felt right.

"Stop kissing me."

Taichi looked up at him –another mistake- and blinked. He swore that he had heard Yamato moan when he was kissing his collarbone, although that may have been because he was touching him at the same time.

Remembering to be quiet, Taichi just nodded and continued jerking him off mechanically. Just before Yamato was about to stop him, getting close, he removed his hand and waited for him to make the first initiative to go further. Pride filled inside him when his friend was a bit taken aback by his fast learning, and he made a mental note to himself that next time he'd make it without any slip-ups whatsoever.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Next day arrived, and during its hours of school time, Taichi made no attempts to approach, talk to, talk about or even think about the blond-haired jerk that seemed to have fallen off the face of earth. He talked about other things like football, his "cruel big-mouthed asshole for a coach" (which Sora could agree with; she had him as coach too), and various grade problems –or as he put it; grouchy teachers that either had love problems, money problems, or simply hadn't got laid for a very long time. Taichi even went as far as talking about girls, and trying to make Sora talk about guys, which was very ironic by a fact she chose not to say out loud.

It was one thing to see your friend miserable and hear him whine over it, but seeing him in this weird situation that could be working, but could screw everything up just as well was both worrying and frustrating. It was a dangerous balancing between chaos and brief happiness. Then again, she had to remind herself every so often that the brunet didn't think the way she did. Not at all. Therefore, he probably didn't feel the way she would've felt. Question is if that makes it right.

Either way, he kept surprising her by filling out the hole Yamato had left them with endless chattering, jokes and just being himself. She couldn't decide whether he was very good at acting, or if he was dumb enough to be happy, if there were something she had missed or maybe just –God forbid- didn't get. Since the blond wasn't a good topic to bring up, she couldn't exactly get any information out either. It was an evil circle, unless of course they were happy, but…

"…so then he said "Yagami, if you don't get your lazy ass out on the field, I'm throwing you out of the team so fast you wouldn't know what hit you!" I mean was an ass; I just explained everything about Kari –which I shouldn't even have to do, cuz it's none of his fucking business if she's in the hospital and why would I even have to talk about that, it's a hard thing to talk about y'know and then he goes and completely ignores everything I just said and threatens to kick me off the team! And he called me a lazy-ass! And then he gets even angrier when I say this and he makes me do a hundred push-ups. I think it was two hundred even…"

Sora sighed to herself. Originally it had been thirty push-ups.

"Hey, guy with blue hair! Ken right?" Taichi suddenly hollered, -making Sora jump in the effort- waving a cheerful hand at the younger teen that was passing them.

Sora blinked at her friend. Man, he's good at moving on. She was almost a bit proud of him, perhaps he'd even forget about Yamato after a few days. Obviously he wasn't as attached as she'd thought.

Ken observed him hesitatingly, slightly suspicious by the elder boy's wide grin and friendly manner. He felt tempted to jump back when Taichi made his way over to him faster than he'd expected, dragging him by his arm.

"You've met Sora right?" Taichi asked, pulling him down on the bench.

"I guess" Ken mumbled distractedly, politely nodding at Sora before glancing at the brunet.

"Sora, this is my stalker. Stalker, this is my… -ew-" he paused long enough to make a face. "This is Sora. She's not mine."

Ken looked back and forth between the rambling brunet and the sighing redhead. "In case you've missed it, Tai's retarded." Sora mentioned as a sort of excuse.

"No, I've noticed." The blue-haired boy assured, "I've had lunch with him"

The girl smirked, and Taichi immediately brought up their talks, chattering like only he could do. The only thing that he avoided mentioning was their missing friend, which Ken instantly noticed. Apparently the two had divorced themselves from the third person to complete the trio, question was why. Ken had some theories that he –now knowing better- kept to himself.

Well-raised boy as he was, he listened to the brown-eyed teen's pointless and quite random rambling until he had to get to class. He then quickly excused himself and hurried away to get there in time. Manners and punctuality often had a way of crashing with each other.

Taichi turned to the redhead and grinned widely. "Great kid, huh? Little weird though. He spies on people"

"…yeah." Sora replied hesitatingly, eyeing him.

Taichi's gaze rested on something behind her, and, noticing the change in his face -which was a day to night kind of difference- she turned around.

"Ah… I don't think you should say anything to him…" Taichi mumbled, eyes still glued to the blond musician who was making his way through the hall, soon about to pass them. The unfazed and somewhat distant expression on his face made her frown, raising an eyebrow at the tense teen beside her, as if he would be the one to explain. Ignoring his advice, she threw an arm up, waving.

"Matt!"

He merely glanced her way before passing her, turning his back to her shocked stare. After a few seconds of gaping, she looked at Taichi who looked both guilty and embarrassed.

"What the hell was that?" she gasped, still in shock. Sure, she had grown used to the blond acting strange, but this was a new record.

"Nothing. He' just like that, forget him." Taichi mumbled, desperately searching for something else to bring up.

"Hey, ah… I saw this girl the other day…"

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The second he could make Yamato's face out he knew he'd done something wrong. He cursed inwardly, angry with himself. It hadn't even begun and already he had made a mistake. When would he learn?

"You do not wait for me like that." Yamato said as he passed by, not even looking at him. Taichi stared as the blond walked pass him, feeling like killing himself. Why couldn't he have just done it right and then everything would've worked? He had one chance and he fucked it up.

Not having the strength to move, he watched the musician walk home –for no reason. It was over.

There was a moment of regret when he saw the other teen turn around and glare at him. Maybe he shouldn't have stared like that.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" the blond boy then said, loud enough to be heard by the brunet still standing where he had waited in the first place. At first he was just confused. Then fear of making another mistake built up in him. Yamato's impatient look forced him to take a ridiculously hesitant step forward. As soon as he'd done that, the blue-eyed boy nodded and turned around, once again starting to walk home.

-'-

Taichi smiled faintly as he walked down the stairs. He'd made him scream. Not once had he yelled at him or even frowned. Hell, he almost smiled once! Taichi hadn't lost focus, he hadn't said a word, and his timing was prefect. Plus they were done in time, so Yamato didn't even have to worry about his dad. Though he did rush afterwards anyway. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd actually done everything right.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Monday 10.45 A.M.

When a person keeps looking at you for a very long time and doesn't say anything, you really start noticing things about them. Especially if it's a very strange look they're giving you and their mouth is hanging open just a little, and their eyes are slightly bigger than usual. What he noticed about Sora as she was staring at him, was that her eyelashes were actually pretty long even though she never put mascara on them, and her eyes were not just the color of amber. They had both darker, almost sangria-colored shades and lighter golden glimmerings. Even though she had frozen in that rather amusing expression, different reflections of light made everything mix and blur. It was confusing as hell once he tried to define it all. Frustrated for no particular reason, he gave up on it and observed the skin instead. Again, as he paid more attention to it than he ever had before, he discovered new things. It was slightly yellowish and yet sort of pink and slightly sun-burnt. Though right now it seemed almost pale. Her mouth was still hanging open and, being a few inches taller than her, he could see a bit of the inside of her lower lip. There was a line right were the lips met, and the inside was darker than the outside. As she never used lip-gloss either, the outside looked pretty dry and he could spot very fine lines hinting lack of moisture.

Taichi had known Sora for about eight years and only once had he liked her as a girl and not just a friend. But that lasted for one day and no more. He had never had any distracting attraction towards her but still, right now he realized how much more interesting her face was compared to the plastic-looking ones on TV. He decided that Sora –even now, as she seriously looked like an idiot- was way more beautiful than any other girl he'd seen.

-'-

"…you did what?!"

Taichi ducked his head, avoiding her unforgiving eyes. He couldn't understand why she was so against it. He and Yamato finally had something, and she hated it! Why?

Something suddenly struck him, and he almost jumped back in horror. Sora raised an eyebrow, now looking more suspicious than angry. When he pointed an accusing finger at her, still not managing to speak, she frowned. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"You're jealous!" Taichi hissed, and now it was his turn to gape.

Sora gaped right back for a second, then put a hand to her forehead, sighing darkly. One sentence was trapped behind her gritting teeth, desperate to jump out. But she was used to suppress it and she did, even though this time it was more difficult than usual.

"Tai, you're wasting my time. Just tell me why the hell you did it." She demanded lowly, frustrated that he was so stubborn.

"I'm wasting your time? Sora, will you drop this already! Will you let me live my fucking life and stop pretending that you know everything." He clenched his fists, determined to not give in. "Or deserve to know, for that matter" he added coldly. "It was just an accident that you found out in the first place. We wouldn't have told you if you didn't."

Sora closed her eyes, fighting the urge to choke him. He deserves the effort, he's just blind right now. Help him.

"Tai, please…"

He immediately softened, and sat down beside her. He'd always been a stubborn person, but he couldn't stand it when people got sad. The times he had cried the hardest as a child, were when someone else was crying. Sora knew this weakness, and right now she took advantage of it. Fair? She didn't give a shit.

"I just want you to talk to me. Even if everything's fine. Don't just avoid it."

"Sora, please. Let it go, will you?" he stared at the wall, as if that was what he was begging to get off his back. From his left, Sora's frustrated gaze buried itself into him. She hardly stopped herself from smacking him across the head.

"No, we're talking about it and that's final! I still don't get this. He doesn't want you to talk to him, look at him, be near him or even think about him. But then after school he demands you to-"

"No, its just… we've both realized that we want this, that… y'know-"

"You rather sleep with guys?" Sora finished, smirking at him. Until now, it had never been put out in the open, but it was rather obvious that Taichi preferred boys over girls. Or at least wanted both.

He shrugged. "…yeah. And I took it way better than him to say the least. But we can't be anything deeper than…" he paused, hanging his head and sighing.

"Fuck-buddies?"

He winced, closing his eyes. Sora stood up, running her fingers through her short red hair. Seeing the brown-eyed boy like this was irritating her. Not because he irritated her, but because he was suffering from his own stupid kindness and she couldn't help him. He was like a little puppy following his owner no matter how many times he got hit. She looked down at him where he was sitting on the bench. They were in the sports hall; the current class were having football outside on the field and wouldn't return until the end of the period. Sora had dragged him over there since Taichi refused to talk to her about this out in the hall.

It was obviously a sensitive subject and he wanted to avoid it. But she was not going to let him. If he told her everything, he could at least put some of the weight on her and not carry it by himself.

"Can't you hear yourself? Stop being a such doormat!"

He glared at her, anger building up. He knew that she was just trying to help and up until now he had looked past her constant nagging. But the way she was acting right now –like she had him all figured out and angry with him for not getting it himself- was something he couldn't stand.

"Will you for once realize that I'm not like you! I won't break just because he doesn't want to be my boyfriend and marry me and tell me he loves me everyday! I don't care, alright! I know sex to you is such a fucking big deal but to us it's just release. Sure it would be nice to have it with someone I care about but right now I don't fucking need it! We're not friends anymore, but I have someone to screw and for your information –since you apparently want to know everything- he's fucking good at it too! The only thing that seriously bugs me right now is you and your big mouth!"

He stormed out, punching the wall, knocking some box down and slamming the door on the way. If Sora hadn't felt so jaded she would've rolled her eyes.

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tbc

[headoverhiddles]

The Stiffs, The Stiffy, and Me - Billy Blaze (Night Shift) x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: Your wild and cute coworker Billy and you go back to his place on a whim, while Chuck holds down the fort for the night shift. 

Notes: I love Michael Keaton lol and I love this movie. Watch it if you haven’t, it’s hilarious, and so is he! 

The quaint little morgue that you worked in was only a temporary job. 

You would be onto bigger, better things soon, but for now, it was a good job, and it was a shift that worked perfectly for you-- no people around at night. Except for your coworkers.

One was a very docile guy, Chuck, probably in his thirties or fourties, who had been working here forever. He was nice enough. Then there was the other one... the one you couldn't get out of your mind. Billy. 

He was crazy. He was a fast talking, party animal idea man. His energy was so exciting to you, and his charismatic charms were not lost on you either. 

You put your jacket on around halfway through your shift. Across the room, your two coworkers talk softly. 

Chuck folds a file up. "You know, (y/n) is very much into you." 

Bill waves a hand. "Naaah, she's totally n-- really?" 

Chuck fixes him with a look. "Yeah, Billy, really. She's dropping hints left right and centre, you'd have to be dense not to pick up on them!" 

Bill blinks, and clears his throat. "Yeah, I knew she was into me, I was just... checking to see if, uh... if you knew, cause you know, it's exciting news, not surprising, but--"

"Yeah okay, she's over there if you're wondering," Chuck mutters, trying to hide his smile. Billy whips around, sees you, and turns back, licking his palms and slicking back his hair. 

"How do I look?" 

"Like you do every day." 

"Only cooler, right?" he winks.

"Oh sure." 

Bill grabs a couple wads of tissues. He looks both ways, unzipping his fly, and stuffs them into his crotch. "I'm packing tonight when I get it in!" He grins, and Chuck raises his eyebrows. 

"Billy?" 

"Yessiree, Chuck-man?!" 

"She's going to be unzipping that, if you do in fact 'get it in'." 

He points down, and Bill snaps his fingers. "You're right. You know, you always have my back, Chuck, I love you buddy." 

"I love you too Bill, and so does she, so pull up your pants and turn around." Bill turns, and comes face to face with you. 

You bite your lip, looking at the handsome young man, standing there in his loose jacket that's a few sizes too big, his hair in a mess of curls, and his headphones around his neck. He gives you that lopsided grin; it's a smile different from the usual cocky ones he gives, one that he reserves for you alone. It's a smile that looks like he's just been blindsided. 

"Your fly is undone," you wink. He goes red, and immediately scrambles to zip himself back up and look cool doing it. 

"Thanks. You, uh, you look sweet," he says. 

"So do you," you return. He blinks out of his trance. 

"You noticed? Aw, you flatter me." 

You giggle. "Hey, um... I was hoping you'd--"

"Do you wanna go to dinner?!" he suddenly blurts, and curses. "Shut up Bill, let the woman speak!" he hisses, and you poke his hand, taking a step closer.  

"Well I'm real hungry now, if you wanna split." 

"Chuck--" Billy begins to beg. 

"Got it," the older man says, dismissing you two. As Bill's leaving after you, he spins around and does a celebratory air guitar riff for Chuck, who just shoos him out again. 

At his car, Bill opens the passenger door for you. 

"Hey," he says once inside, "Okay, this gives me an idea, hold the phone...” he clicks his recorder, “This is Bill, I’m gonna write a porn about two people bangin’ in a morgue, call it...” He puts his hands up. “The Stiffs, The Stiffy, and Me.”” 

You hesitate. “But we’re not banging in a morgue.”

“I didn’t say it was gonna star us!” He side eyes you as he turns the ignition. “Unless... you feel like starring in a porno, I mean--”

“No.”

“Cool, sweet, no sweat. Hey you wanna know something pretty rad?" 

"What?" 

"The windows in here are tinted. So... theoretically, if we wanted to fuck, we could 100% do so, even in front of cops with binoculars, I shit you not." 

You giggle, and lean over. He leans in too, so both of you are leaning on the console. "Bill... sorry to disappoint..." His face falls a little as he braces himself for his usual rejection. "--But the positions I wanna get you in just wouldn't work in here." 

His eyes widen, and he grins, revving up the engine. As he drives through city traffic, you put your hand on his thigh, slowly inching your way up. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and you finally unzip him. 

"Oh shit," he murmurs, smiling excitedly. You smirk up at him,  and reach over, taking his cock out of his boxers. "Oh, shit!" he repeats, mouth dropping, "Oh, god yes." You start to jerk him, and climb over the armrest, lowering your mouth down over him as he drives. "Oh, fuck yes... this is instantly the greatest, most rocking night ever, babe," he groans, and you continue to suck him. "Fuck, gonna crash the car. Wow. Wow!" 

"Don't crash the car," you mumble. 

"I won't crash the car," he nods, and finally floors it down his street. Pulling up in front of his apartment, you zip him back up, and grin at the sight of his erection straining against his jeans.

He jumps out of the driver's side, practically skipping to your side, and opens the door for you, offering his arm playfully. You take it, and he immediately pulls you in, holding your arms to him as he kisses you. Your head spins with the intensity of it, and you kiss back. The two of you don't stop for the door-- he blindly feels his way in with the key, and you two do the same thing in the elevator, kissing and moaning and touching. A woman gets on at the fourth floor, and ducks each time one of you flails out, trying to avoid a collision. 

Once inside his apartment, he slams the door, one arm on either side of your head. His gaze is predatory-- you want him bad. He picks you up bridal style, and kicks his way through all kinds of crap on the floor, like magazines, take out containers, and clothes. 

"Wasn't expecting guests," he teases, swooping down to kiss you again.

You both fall back onto his bed, and you roll over top of him. His radio is on, playing classic rock that gets your blood pumping even more than it is.

"Yeah," he groans, hands coming down to feel your hips, "That's so good..." 

"I just wish we had more room on here," you grin, and he holds up a finger.

"Hold the phone!" He gets out his tape recorder, and clicks a button, raising an eyebrow. "Bill here... sex-sized beds. Perfect for two people!" 

"Isn't that just a queen?" you laugh. 

"It's all in the marketing. Everyone's gonna want my sex bed," he explains excitedly. 

"For now..." you redirect his attention with your breasts as you unhook your bra, and he lets out a little noise, eyes popping. He feels them, and bucks his hips up, so you unbuckle him, pulling his jeans down. He kicks them off. You take your pants off as well, panties with them, and after he rolls a condom on, you slide down over his dick, sighing softly at the stretch. 

"Ya like it?" he smirks, "Big enough for ya?" 

"It’s perfect," you smile, flipping your hair back, and start to ride him into the bed. He groans, clutching you, and soon, he sits you two up, kissing you hard as you wrap your legs behind his back, both of you in a sitting position. You look into each other's eyes as he pounds you, every thrust bringing you closer. 

"You look real hot like this," he breathes, captivated by you. You smile, bopping your coworker, friend, and apparently lover on the nose. 

"You're cute." 

He groans, pulling you tighter to his bare chest as he fucks you. You tilt your head back, then lean forward, letting your forehead fall against his as warmth begins to build in your stomach. 

"So hot... so, so fuckin hot," he grins, laughing, and you laugh too, letting the beat and the guitar in whatever Zeppelin song playing take you away. 

"Gonna come," you gasp, your pussy clenching around him. 

"Hell, baby, me too, yeah, me too," he grimaces, and you both meet in the middle, kissing as you come. He's still hard as you come down, so you turn around, getting on all fours. He licks his lips, and starts thrusting fast, holding your back and feeling your ass as he chases his release. Three more thrusts, and he comes into the condom, chanting your name. The radio announcer announces some ACDC, and you let out a whistle. 

"You know something?" You turn your head behind you. "I've never come that hard in my god damn life!" 

Bill balks. "Seriously?" 

"Yeah!" you laugh. 

"Shit," he mutters, then shrugs. "Then let's do it again." You giggle, and you two get to making out.

----

The next night at work, Chuck sees you two come in together. "Was it a fortuitous evening?" he asks from his desk, fingers folded. 

"It was pretty freaking fortuitous, Chuck, yeah," Billy grins, winking your way, and you blush as you go to get your uniform on. 

"I'm glad, because it was our busiest night," Chuck shakes his head, "The one night you choose to grow a spine." Bill scoffs.

"I always had a spine! I just... y'know, took it out and dusted it off last night."

"Please don't talk to me about dusting off spines, I had enough of all kinds of bones last night." 

"Well, glad you had a good night with the stiffs, buddy! I sure had a good time with MY bone, and my uh... new chick." He pulls you in for a kiss and dips you, as Chuck rolls his eyes. 

"Adorable. Now get to work doing nothing."

[artificialqueens]

You're Giving Up Before You Start (Shalaska) - Sammy Indigo

A/N: For those who read my 10,000 word Sharon-Aquaria mother-daughter fic (She Says To Me, She’ll Always Be There), this is the requested Shalaska origin story. It’s just over 14,000 words of how they came to be, with a fair amount of Trixya, and a little dash of Pearlet. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for the lovely feedback on my previous fics xxxxx

Summary: Sometimes life is hard, and sometimes it sucks, and sometimes Sharon feels like a terrible mother, and sometimes she thinks about how it’s going to be like this forever. Or maybe not. Not when Alaska is there. But Sharon can’t even care for a cactus. She doesn’t deserve her.

“It’ll be a huge order.” Trixie said, pacing in Sharon’s office. “Massive. There’s at least sixty tables, Katya says, and each table needs two centre pieces.”

“Why would a table need two centre pieces?” Sharon asked, looking back at the projections spread sheet she was working on. “Seems a bit frivolous, especially for a charity event.” Sharon blew sweaty bangs out of her eyes.

“Why are you being such a bitch today?” Trixie asked. “You’re gonna have to apologise to Farrah, you know? She’s just a kid.”

“An annoying kid.” Sharon muttered at her laptop.

“Still. A kid.” Trixie wandered over to the filing cabinet in the corner. “Think about if that was your Aquaria and someone spoke to her like that.”

“They’d be dead.” Sharon said without hesitation, and then stared up at Trixie in unveiled realisation. “Oh.” She drew out the syllable. “She’s just a kid. Someone’s kid.”

“Yeah.” Trixie said. “You’ll say sorry to her.”

It was hot day for October, and despite the open windows in her office, Sharon was still struggling with her heat-induced irritability. The air outside was unmoving, there was no breeze to even rustle the blinds, and she had only been provided with one shitty USB-powered fan to keep her from melting. Most of the staff at the florist understood it was safer to just avoid Sharon on days like this, but not all of Trixie’s staff were seasoned pros in dealing with Sharon’s moodiness. The poor high school kid, Farrah, who Trixie had recently hired to help hold down the fort on Saturdays, had come earlier in the day to collect her pay cheque and Sharon had made her cry. Not that it was necessarily Sharon’s fault, the kid was a bit of a cry-baby bitch on the best of days, but perhaps she could have chosen not to throw Farrah’s cheque directly into her face and tell her she should “use the money to buy a better personality” when the kid had commented on Sharon’s sweaty sheen. Not Sharon’s finest moment, she was big enough to admit. And maybe, she did feel a tiny bit guilty. Only a tiny bit, though.

“So tell me, again,” Sharon said, puling half of her hair back into a ratty ponytail, if only to relieve her from the stagnant heat for a moment, “why does a charity require this ridiculous amount of floral arrangements?”

Trixie briefly stopped her pacing to glare at Sharon. Sharon glared back. The florist’s shop floor was kept at a constant comfortable seventy degrees for the benefit of the customers, and the floral cool room at a frigid thirty-eight for the benefit of the flowers, but it was ninety-four degrees in the back of the goddamn building where the AC did not stretch, and Trixie had been in the offices just as much as Sharon, and her make-up hadn’t moved all damn day. Sharon made a mental note to ask her what setting spray she was using these days, when she wasn’t feeling so petulant.

“This is good for us.” Trixie said. “Don’t ruin it.”

“Having two centrepieces per table? How big are the fucking tables at this thing?”

“It’s a massive event, Katya says.” Trixie walked over to the cactus on Sharon’s bookshelf and wrinkled her nose at the browning edges. “How the fuck do you work for a florist and kill a cactus?” She muttered, shaking her head.

Sharon watched her as she inspected the plant, muttering something about Sharon’s incompetence. Trixie swore quietly when the cactus pricked her finger.

“Good job, Klaus.” Sharon said.

“You named your dead cactus, Klaus?” Trixie asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Actually, my daughter named it…when it was alive.”

Trixie shook her head with a small smile, coming to stand in front of Sharon’s desk. “How in the fuck do you keep that poor child alive when you’ve somehow managed to kill a cactus?”

“I-,”

“Kill a cactus,” Trixie interrupted, “in a florist, filled with people who are plant experts?” Trixie shrugged. “It’s truly baffling, Shaz.”

“Don’t call me that.” Sharon said dangerously, and Trixie stuck her tongue out at her.

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She looked over at the browning corpse of Klaus. “I still think whatever charity Katya’s planning this shit for, have a fucking nerve spending this much on fucking flowers.”

Trixie huffed. “You’re so negative.” She said. “Why do you have to be like this all the time? It wears me down!”

“I’m not negative. I’m realistic.” She argued, looking over the top of her laptop screen. “Sure it’s great for us that they want to spend an extortionate amount of money on flowers that will inevitably end up in the trash at the end of the night, but what about the money they’re spending on them? Couldn’t they give that to charity?”

Sharon watched Trixie cross to the window in the office, glance out into the empty alley for a fleeting moment, and then turn to walk back over to the door. “That’s not the point.”

“I feel like it is the point.”

“Listen,” Trixie said, moving to stand directly in front of Sharon’s desk, placing both her hands on the top, “I didn’t come in here to ask you for your opinion on this opportunity. I came in here to tell you about it because I was excited.” One of the feathers Trixie was wearing in her DIY Pinterest-style headband fell into her face and she swiped it away angrily. “I own this place.” She said, hands on her hips. “I worked fucking hard to get here, and you work for me.”

Sharon made a show of leaning back in her chair, taking a deep breath, and letting it out through her nose. She had worked for Trixie for just over three years, had started back when her business had been fairly new and struggling, and Sharon knew exactly the way to get under Trixie’s skin and push every button she had. Trixie was dying to butt in, to say something else, but she was holding her tongue, waiting for Sharon to respond just so she could argue with her again.

Shangela always said they were sisters separated at birth, not because of any physical similarities, but because of their love-hate, partnership-rivalry they had developed from day one of meeting each other. Sharon loved Trixie to death, but God, it was fucking fun to fight with her.

It was their permanent dynamic at this point.

The arguments usually developed as follows; Trixie had an idea. Trixie told Sharon. Sharon told her it was stupid. Trixie went through with said idea, anyway. And sometimes, it paid off and Sharon was wrong and left to endure days of ‘I told you so’sfrom Trixie. And sometimes, it didn’t pay off, and as the financial officer Sharon was left to pick up the pieces and make sure the business remained afloat. And as a friend, Sharon was left to pick up Trixie and assure her she wasn’t a failure, and that sometimes, shit just wasn’t meant to be.

“You know I’m not going to stop you.” Sharon said eventually, dismissing Trixie with a wave of her hand. Trixie opened her mouth to respond, but Sharon cut her off. “But I want to stand firm in the opinion that it is inherently immoral that a charity spend thousands of dollars on pointless decorations for an event in order to raise money for charity. It makes no sense.”

Trixie nodded. “I respect your opinion.” She said.

“But…?”

“But, I’m selling the damn charity one hundred and twenty centrepieces, anyway, bitch.”

There was no point arguing anymore. Sharon shrugged and Trixie did a stupid little victory dance that got ever so slightly more elaborate each time she did it. Thus far, the dance was well over thirty seconds and had more than one twirl. Sharon watched it all from behind her desk with a scowl.

“I can’t believe that Katya got you this order.” Sharon said as Trixie ended her dance. “Of all people, I thought she would be principled enough to see the ethical quandary of this.”

“Actually, I think it’s mostly down to the new woman she’s been working with. Katya says she’s a hard-ass for business. Knows what the fuck she’s doing.”

“She sounds terrible.”

Trixie smirked. “She sounds like you.”

Sharon blinked. “I’m not like that.” She said. “I’m nice.”

“You’re literally awful, and my high school weekend staff are all scared of you.”

“They shouldn’t all be so fucking dense, then.” Sharon said. “I mean how difficult is it for them to cash up a register correctly?” She sighed. “Morons.”

Trixie stared at her for a second. “Yeah, you’re right.” She said without feeling. “You’re a goddamn delight.”

“I hate you. I don’t know how Katya has put up with you for this long.”

“What can I say?” Trixie flipped blonde hair over her shoulder. “She loves her wifey.”

“Ew, gross, don’t say that.” Sharon threw a balled up post-it at Trixie who caught it and flicked it back. “You’re not married.” Sharon looked back at her computer. “You’re not even married to her. And the word ‘wifey’ is just disgusting, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up, you jaded lesbian.” Trixie grinned. She perched on the edge of the desk, displacing some of Sharon’s papers with her ass. “You’re just bitter because you haven’t known the love of a women for over two years.”

Sharon scoffed. “I had sex four days ago.”

“I didn’t say you were celibate.” Trixie ran her fingers over one of the feathers hanging from her headband. “I said you hadn’t known love. Getting laid by a stranger on the nights your kid is at sleepovers doesn’t count as love. I feel sorry for you.”

Sharon pulled some papers from underneath Trixie, purposely poking her hip with her spikey ring in the process. “Leave me alone with my spreadsheets and go play with your peonies.”

“Wrong season for peonies, Shaz.” Trixie shrugged.

“Don’t call me that.”

Trixie showed no indication she had even heard her. “I mean, Christ, you’ve worked here for years. You’d think you would have at least learned something about flowers. Even your kid knows more than you.”

“Don’t bring my child into this.” Sharon said. She made a show of clicking her mouse and marking some numbers on the papers rescued from below Trixie’s ass. “Now can you please go back to fucking around with plants, and leave me in peace?”

Trixie sighed heavily, and stood up from the desk. “Fine. But you’re going to see I’m right about this charity thing. I’m winning this argument.”

“What’s the argument?” Sharon muttered eyes on the laptop. “Morality versus money?” She looked up, smirking at Trixie’s irked expression.

Trixie flipped her off, walking to the office door. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too.” Sharon called after her.

“Well fuck you, more.” Trixie argued back from the hallway.

“How about fuck you, most?” Sharon shouted, grinning.

Shangela’s voice came from the front of the store, loud and angry. “Y’all wanna shut up fighting like two thirteen year old girls?”

“She started it!” Trixie and Sharon yelled at the same moment.

Trixie’s face appeared back in the doorway, grinning like an idiot. “Jinx!” She scream-laughed. “Now you can’t talk!”

“Oh my Lord,” Shangela called, “give me the strength to continue working with these two children for another day. Halleloo.”

………………………………

“Farrah, my door has a window.” Sharon said, pulling it open and looking down at the kid. “I can see you standing there. You’ve been here for like five minutes now.”

“Sorry, Sharon.” Farrah squeaked.

Sharon blew some air out of her nose. “What do you want, kid?”

“Um, I just, I came by because, well, my cheque is, um, well, wrong, I think.” She stuttered.

“It’s not wrong.”

“Oh.” She looked down at the envelope in her hands. “I’m sure it’s too much. I didn’t work this many hours.”

“It’s not wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go home, Farrah.” Sharon said, shutting the door. “Go on. Leave me alone, kid.”

…………………………….

On one occasion, in the early days of Sharon’s employment to Trixie Mattel, the latter had taken an order for some wedding arrangements from the mother of a bride, who was set to get married in a large church, with eight bridesmaids, eight groomsmen, and two flower girls. It was a ridiculous wedding, from what Sharon could remember, with a bride who had demanded yellow flowers and a mother who wanted purple, and they had felt the need to fight out their difference in opinion inside of Trixie’s shop on more than one occasion. Back then, Trixie had been a lot more timid and had done everything to make the women happy. It had been difficult for Sharon to witness, but she had felt as though it was not her place to step in when her boss was being walked all over by two snotty bitches in yoga leggings and Uggs. She was the money woman, and as long as the books were in the black, Sharon was doing her job.

The mother of the bride had ordered a lot of flowers, though, in the end. Purple. Trixie and Shangela had slaved for days over the fresh floral arrangements for the church pews. It had been before Trixie had hired Violet and Pearl as arrangers, and so only she and Shangela had spent hours of overtime creating the little basket bound bunches for the flower girls to hold, and the matching larger bouquets for the bridesmaids and bride. Shangela alone had created the buttonhole lilacs for all the groomsman. All of the hard work, the time, the undying effort from Trixie had been witnessed by Sharon for the first time since she had been hired. It was inspirational, and all of a sudden Sharon had realised just how a person as young as Trixie had managed to develop her own business; it was the passion. Sharon had felt a swell of pride for the woman. She had really begun to admire Trixie Mattel as a business owner.

And then she had been given the books, and Sharon had almost had an aneurysm.

Trixie had made a profit from the job that wasn’t even worth mentioning. All the hours, all the effort, and she had literally nothing to show for it. Not even enough to pay Shangela for her overtime. Sharon had been horrified. It had been the first time ever that Sharon had truly confronted Trixie about her business, and Trixie had broken down in front of her.

“I just wanted them to be happy.” She had said. “I kept saying I’d give them things cheaper because they were telling me about her grandfather dying, and about how times were hard, and how she had dreamed about this wedding since she was a kid and-,”

“Who the fuck cares, Trixie?” Sharon had interjected. “You need to be charging your customers for your skills, for your time, not based on how many dead relatives they have!”

From that day forward, Trixie had, at Sharon’s request, offloaded the responsibility of charges and payment for larger custom orders, over to Sharon. It was something that worked for both of them nicely. Trixie got to consult with the client about the pretty flowers and sparkly place settings, and Sharon got to be the hard-ass who dropped the bomb of the final bill. Violet called it their ‘good cop, bad cop’ act. They both loved their roles, and Sharon had no qualms in admitting that she was fucking good at her job.

This therefore meant, that Sharon had been assigned the responsibility of heading over to Katya’s offices, to discuss the final pricing for the metric fuck-tonne of centrepieces that Trixie had agreed to create. Which was fine, because a week later and it was still like working in the devil’s ass crack back at Trixie’s place, and she was certain Katya’s place of employment had air conditioning throughout.

Katya worked for an event-planning company that housed the top two floors of an office building in the centre of the city. The traffic could be a bitch, but Sharon was willing to overlook the extra twenty minutes in the car for the amazing view of the river from the office windows.

“Got any positions opening here?” Sharon asked Katya, leaning against her office window and angling her body just enough so the AC was blowing down her neck deliciously. She sipped at the coffee Katya had given her. “I could get used to this.”

Katya cackled. “And who would keep my lovely Trixie in check at her place of employment? Hmm?”

Sharon nodded, turning to face Katya sitting across the room. “You’re right. Without me, that place would dissolve into chaos.”

“And everyone would be much happier.”

“I told you, I apologised to Farrah and we’re good now.”

“She avoids you at all costs, you mean?”

“Same thing.”

Katya grinned. “How many kids have you made cry today?”

“Only one.” Sharon said with a smirk over her cup. “But it was my own kid, and it was because I told her she couldn’t wear fake lashes to school and she threw a fit.”

“Lashes?” Katya whistled and kicked herself over to Sharon in her wheeled desk chair. “How old is Aquaria, again?”

Sharon sighed. “Ten.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” She sipped more of her coffee and wrapped an arm around her stomach. “Although if you ask her, she will inform you that she will be eleven in less than four months.”

“Wow.” Katya spun in her chair. “Kids are growing up so fast these days. When I was ten, I hadn’t even discovered my vagina.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, I’ve got ten year old who seems to be going on twenty four, so I’m excited to see how that progresses throughout her teenage years.”

“I sense sarcasm, Sharon.”

“Good.” Sharon said. “You were meant to.” She sat in the spare chair by Katya’s desk. “What time is this bitch meant to get here?”

“Alaska.” Katya said.

“Huh?”

“Her name is Alaska. And I told you, she’s just finishing up her meeting with Raven. She’ll be by soon.” She kicked Sharon in the shin. “Why are you so cranky?”

Sharon drank down the last of her coffee. “I haven’t eaten lunch, yet.”

“Hangry?”

“What?”

“Hangry.” Katya repeated. “It’s when you get angry because you’re hungry.”

Sharon blinked. “That is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever heard and whoever came up with it should throw themselves off the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“Sounds like,” Katya wheeled closer to Sharon and leaned towards her face, “something someone who was hangry, would say.”

“I’m going to actually kill you, Zamo.” Sharon said.

Katya laughed, flailing her limbs and kicking Sharon in the leg once more, in the process.

“I swear!” Sharon reached for Katya as the woman tried to wheel herself away. “I swear to God, Katya, one of the these days I’m actually going to choke you and watch the life leave your eyes!”

Katya left her chair and ran across the room as Sharon chased her. She pulled open the door, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of the person mid-knock on the other side. Sharon ran into the back of her and grunted.

“Um…” The woman slowly lowered her arm to her side. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.” Katya said before Sharon could respond. “I was about to be brutally murdered.” She said it with a straight face and the women glanced behind her at Sharon, warily. Katya’s face lit up at her expression and she grinned manically. “This is my murderer, Sharon!”

“Oh.” The woman said. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Hi.” She dragged out the single syllable for far too long and Sharon tried her best to smile in a way that said ‘I’m happy to meet you’, rather than ‘I’m seconds away from punching someone and that someone might be you if I don’t eat a sandwich soon and you continue to speak in that irritating manner’.

“Hello.” Sharon said carefully, taking a step back from where she was still too close to Katya’s back and offering her hand. “I’m Sharon Needles.”

The woman glanced at Katya, and then back to Sharon’s hand, before taking it and giving her two firm shakes. “Alaska.” She said. “It’s a pleasure.” From the half bored, half faux-sweet tone of her voice, it seemed to Sharon that for Alaska, meeting Sharon was anything but ‘a pleasure’.

“So,” Sharon said, taking back her hand, and sticking it in her jeans’ pocket just for something to do, “Alaska, are you ready to discuss the prices of plants?” It was quite possibly the worst opening line Sharon had ever uttered, and judging by the baffled expression on both Katya and Alaska’s faces, they sensed it, too.

“I am.” Alaska said. She smoothed a hand over the lapel of her blazer. It matched her pencil skirt impeccably.

Sharon smoothed a hand down her Metallica tee-shirt. There was a bleach stain on the hem of it from when Aquaria had tried to help clean the kitchen countertops and simultaneously do laundry.

Alaska switched her briefcase to the other hand.

Sharon put Katya’s coffee cup on the desk and picked up her lever arch file.

Alaska dropped her gaze to Sharon’s holey converse.

“I have nice shoes.” Sharon said without any forethought, and then felt like jumping out of the window.

“I’m sorry?” Alaska asked, eyes meeting Sharon’s.

Sharon stared at her. “I was just saying,” She paused, looked over to Katya and her bemused expression, and then looked back to Alaska, “I don’t always look like this.” She said. “I didn’t dress up today. But I can.” Sharon opened her mouth and closed it again, before speaking once more. “I can look professional.”

“Congratulations.” Said Alaska.

Katya coughed through a laugh.

“Oh, so you’re a cunt?” Sharon gestured at Alaska.

Katya screamed.

Alaska narrowed her eyes. “Did you just call me a cunt?”

Sharon nodded. “I was just voicing my thoughts. Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” Katya said. “She’s very hangry.”

Alaska tightened her jaw and Sharon could see it in the line of her cheekbone.

Whether simply not noticing the tension in the room, or just choosing not to acknowledge it, both were just as likely, Katya clapped once and turned to Sharon and Alaska, both still glaring at one another. “Well, I’ll be going. Have a fun meeting, you two.”

“Wait.” Sharon grabbed Katya’s arm as she passed her. “I thought you were coming to this meeting, too? Isn’t this charity night your thing, also?”

Katya grabbed her bag and shook her head. “Nothing to do with me.” She said. “This is Alaska’s gig. I got a Halloween party to plan.”

“But Trixie said you got her the job?”

“I did.” Katya pushed past her to grab her phone.

Alaska held up a hand. “She gave me the florist recommendation.” She said.

“See.” Said Katya. “Now can you both kindly get the fuck out of my office? I have to go to Party City while Phi Phi’s still on shift if I want to get a discount.”

Katya ushered them out of the office, locking the door behind them. “Hey, Alaska?” She said, walking backwards away from them down the hall. “If you want to have any kind of civilised conversation with Sharon you’re going to have to take her to Coffee Bean or something because bitch needs a snack.”

The walk to the nearest coffee house was almost silent. It was a six minute walk, Sharon was counting, and Alaska said five words to her: “This place has good sandwiches,” as they approached a storefront.

Sharon had replied. “Sounds good.” And then they had ordered, sat down, received their food and drinks, and begun eating, all without saying much more to each other.

The sandwich was good. Sharon wanted to express this to Alaska and show her gratitude for suggesting the place, but felt there was something more pressing to address. She reluctantly put down the final third of sandwich she had yet to inhale on her plate, and took a drink of her soda to clear her mouth.

“I’m sorry I called you a cunt.” Sharon said.

Alaska looked up from her salad at her. “Thanks.”

“I don’t even know you.” She continued. “It was a mean thing to say, and I’m sorry, Alaska.”

“It’s okay.” For the first time since they had been introduced, Alaska smiled, straight teeth and showing gums. “I am a cunt. So, you weren’t wrong.”

“I see.” Sharon felt herself grinning back. “That’s cool.”

“It is?” Alaska had a piece of rocket on her lip. Sharon didn’t tell her.

Sharon nodded. “Yeah.” She laughed, and quickly stopped, catching herself at the unexpected show. “I may have been informed on several occasions that I, too, am a cunt.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Straight up bitch.” Sharon said.

Alaska snickered.

“Despicable human being.” Sharon grinned.

Alaska clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the laughter.

“Not worthy of breathing the same air as the rest of common society.”

“That seems awfully harsh.” Alaska said from behind her hands. Her eyes glittered with mirth.

“Well,” Sharon shrugged, “that last one was from Katya.”

“Sounds like her.”

“Yeah.” Sharon smiled as she watched Alaska lower her hands. “She’s a wonderful friend.”

“I could tell you were close from the way you were threatening to kill her, earlier.”

“I’m actually closer with her girlfriend. You should see the way I speak to her.”

Alaska whistled. “If you’re this hostile with your friends, I’d hate to see what you’re like with your boyfriend.”

She was fishing. Sharon grinned. It was so obvious, and Alaska was smirking at her.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Sharon said. She took a mouthful of her soda.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. No guys have really peaked my interest, recently.”

Alaska ran a fingernail over the wood grain of the table. “I see.”

Sharon put down her glass. “Also, I’m a super gay.”

Alaska grinned. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Mm.” Alaska cocked an eyebrow at her. “Good.”

She was fucking flirting with Sharon. The hard-ass cunt was coming onto her. Maybe.

“Cool.” Sharon said, and then cringed. She probably hadn’t used the word ‘cool’ since she was twenty and it felt unnatural coming from her lips.

“Right.” Alaska cleared her throat, and looked down at her hands. “We should probably get to work. I need to be back in the office by three.”

“I could, um, walk you back to your office?”

Alaska blinked. “What?”

Sharon hadn’t flirted with anyone, or had anyone flirt with her, while she was sober, for years as far as she could recall. Not since she had broken up with her ex, and even then, any flirting between them had stopped months before they had actually called it quits.

A waitress collected their plates, and Sharon was feeling too introspective to even point out the fact that she wasn’t actually done with her food. Alaska was watching her curiously, pulling out a file from her briefcase. She set it down on the table and flipped through the neatly typed pages before landing on what appeared to be a print-out of Trixie’s website.

The piece of rocket fell from her lips and disappeared somewhere in her lap.

“I’ve looked at what you’re offering in terms of pricing for custom orders.” Alaska said. “But your website doesn’t seem to have any definitive prices.” She wasn’t smiling, and the glint in her eyes had been replaced with the hardened determination Sharon had been anticipating from the businesswoman.

It was unsettling how quickly she had switched.

“Okay.” Sharon said, unhelpfully.

“I was wondering if we could discuss options.”

“Okay.”

Alaska frowned at her. “Do you want me to just start throwing numbers at you, or are you going to give me a figure to negotiate with?”

Something about the way in which Alaska tapped her fingers against the plastic wallet on the file, brought Sharon out of her stupor, and she quickly fumbled to grab the ring binder settled by her feet under the table. She dropped it on the table with a thud, and Alaska’s expression remained stony.

“For the arrangements you’ve requested with Trixie,” Sharon said, flicking through the file, “our standard price would be…” She trailed off as she slowed her page-turning, eventually finding the correct one. “Would be one hundred dollars, per arrangement.”

“That’s unreasonable.” Alaska said.

“I haven’t finished.” Sharon muttered. “Christ.”

Alaska nodded. “Continue.”

“I shall.” She sighed through her nose. “So, one hundred dollars per centre piece, but we will offer a discount of five per cent on each arrangement, after the first twenty five.”

“That seems like an extremely small discount for such a hefty order.”

Sharon shrugged. “That’s our pricing.  We’re fantastic at what we do.” She said proudly. “Our pricing reflects that.”

“I’m not paying eleven thousand, five hundred and twenty five dollars for one hundred and twenty centre pieces.” Alaska said.

“Oh, she can do math.” Sharon mocked.

Alaska leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “That’s robbery.”

“That’s business.” Sharon said. She leaned forward in her seat, excited to argue with the other woman. “I agree, it’s a fucking unreasonable amount for a goddamn charity to be spending on decorations but hey, it’s your client. You tell them, that.”

Alaska looked seething. She was gripping the sleeves of her blazer where it covered her upper arms. “It’s a huge event. It has to look classy.”

“And what’s classier than a bunch of white guys in Armani suits pretending to care about whales and polar bears, while signing of cheques for eleven thousand dollars of donated money to pay for flowers, for tables at an event that probably wont even raise enough money to cover the entire party, anyway?”

Sharon punctuated her rant by picking up her glass and attempting to take a long victory sip. There was no soda left, so she settled with sucking one of the melting ice cubes into her mouth and crunching down on it. Alaska cringed.

“Trees.” Alaska said, eyeing Sharon’s mouth.

Sharon crunched the ice cube again. “Huh?”

“Trees.” Alaska repeated. She moved her gaze to Sharon’s eyes. “The charity. It’s not for ‘whales and polar bears’. It’s for trees.”

“Trees?” Sharon swallowed her ice.

“Yeah. They’re raising money for afforestation.”

“Fuck all the way off.” Sharon breathed, and Alaska’s lips twitched. “You’re shitting me.”

Alaska smirked. “I’m not.”

Sharon dropped her head to the table. It shook the glasses, and she heard a sound she thought might have been Alaska snorting a laugh. She hoped it was.

“The world is a terrible place, Alaska.” Sharon said into her file. She lifted her head and the paper inside of the file stuck to her forehead for a moment before falling back down. It had a greasy mark on it. Alaska was smiling again. “The people you are organising this fucking event for are garbage humans.”

“Oh, I know.” Alaska said.

“They’re willing to spend thousands of dollars on plants to decorate a night dedicated to planting trees.”

“Yeah, it makes entirely no sense.” Alaska agreed. “But they’re paying us a lot of money, and I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Tell me, Alaska.” Sharon said with a genuine smile. “What’s this reputation?”

Alaska leaned forward in her chair, beckoned Sharon closer with the crook of her finger. Her nail polish was black, just like Sharon’s, but manicured to perfection. Sharon scooted forward, face so close to Alaska’s that she could probably lick her if she had a slightly longer tongue. The thought was exceptionally weird, even for her, and Sharon berated herself with a pinch to her palm.

Alaska grinned and dropped her voice to a whisper. “I’m a fucking lesbian.” She said. “And I get shit done. And I get what I want. And I don’t let anyone walk all over me.”

“I get it.” Sharon said. “You’re a straight up cunt.”

“I’m a straight up cunt.” Alaska leaned back. “I’m not paying eleven thousand dollars for flowers.”

Sharon wanted to jump her. “Negotiate with me.”

“Is this you asking me out?”

“Is this you asking me to ask you out?”

“Ten thousand even and we put your business cards in the guest gift bags.”

“Fifteen thousand, and you never mention my business was associated with that atrocity of a charity.”

Alaska cocked her head. “How are we going up in price?”

“Plants for plants, Alaska.”

“Ten thousand.”

“Eleven fifty.”

“Ten.”

“Eleven.”

“Ten thousand and I don’t spread the rumour that I made you cry.”

Sharon narrowed her eyes. “That’s slander. No one would believe you.”

“You want to test the theory?”

“Straight up cunt.”

Alaska beamed. “Straight up cunt. We got a deal?” She held out her hand.

Sharon considered her. She took a long moment to run the numbers through her head, adding up the profit margins in her mind as if she were using a spreadsheet on her laptop.

“If I agree to an even ten.” Sharon said slowly. “I would hope that you will keep our business in your mind as a favourable asset for future projects?”

“Of course.” Alaska said. “I’d certainly look forward to working with you more in the future, Miss Needles.”

Sharon shook her hand. “And I, you, Miss…”

Alaska ended their handshake, but kept her hand in Sharon’s. “Thunder. Alaska Thunder.”

Sharon laughed. “Thunder? Fuck, that’s a stupid last name.”

“Sure, you’re one to talk, Sharon Needles.” She squeezed Sharon’s fingers.

“I have no idea what you mean, Lasky.”

………………………….

“Violet?”

Violet looked up from the magazine she was reading on the counter at the front of the store, at the sound of her name.

“I’m on my break.” She said, nodding to the magazine.

Sharon smirked. “No, you’re not. And don’t defend yourself to me. I’m not your boss.”

“Yeah, but you hand out the cheques.” Violet turned and leaned on the counter. “What do you want?”

“A favour.”

“Try me.”

Sharon took a position leaning against the counter next to her. “I need you to watch Aquaria on Thursday.”

“Thursday? Doesn’t she have school?”

“Thursday night.” Sharon said. “And take her to school Friday.”

Violet raised an eyebrow. “You got a booty call?”

“That phrase is disgusting. Please, stop.”

Violet laughed. “So you do have a booty call?”

“I’m meeting a friend. She comes to town like twice a year with work, and we take advantage of that.”

Violet was smiling. “I want to be just like you when I grow up.” She grinned. “You’re nasty.”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “Can you babysit for me or not?”

“Sure.” Violet shrugged. “Pearl’s doing some stupid dog class with Honey, but we’ll come pick Aquaria up after.”

“It’s not stupid.” Pearl shouted from the floral cold room. “It’s agility training. And it’s awesome.”

“Right.” Violet shook her head, dropping her voice. “The dog can’t walk down the street without being distracted by a pigeon. You can imagine what it looks like trying to get her to jump through hoops.”

Sharon smiled. “Thank you, Vi. I owe you one. And Pearl.”

“Don’t worry about it. I love watching Aquaria. She’s fun, and she likes to listen to my lectures on the benefit’s of Rigilene versus Tripleflex in corsets. Most people don’t appreciate a good discussion on boning.”

“Please stop teaching my daughter about corsets. She’s ten.” Sharon turned to go back to her office. “Seriously, though, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Have fun with your slam piece.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Violet just grinned and waved.

………………………………….

“Thanks for watching Aquaria last night.” Sharon said.

Pearl smiled. “No problem. We had fun. How was your night?”

“It was alright.” Sharon shrugged.

“Just alright?”

“It scratched an itch.” She said. “And that’s all I was looking for.”

Violet walked around them to ring up a customer, pausing to kiss Pearl on the cheek as she passed. Pearl blushed.

“You two are gross.” Sharon said.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Whatever.”

……………………………………….

“Are you on the fucking phone to Alaska, again?” Trixie didn’t seem to be in the least bit concerned about Alaska hearing her via Sharon’s phone. “Jesus Christ, Shaz. Just fuck her already so you can get back to work.” She stormed out of Sharon’s office, pink kaftan sweeping behind her in an elegant punctuation to her exit.

“Shaz?” Alaska asked, and Sharon could hear the laughter beginning to bubble from her.

“Don’t.” She threatened. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sure thing, Shaz.” Alaska laughed.

“I hate you.”

Trixie poked her head back through the door. “Get off the fucking phone.”  She glared at Sharon until Shangela called her from the front of the store.

“Pearl’s injured, again.” Shangela shouted. “Not ‘emergency room’ injured. But like ‘there’s blood in the chrysanthemums’ injured.”

Trixie rolled her eyes. “How does she manage to injure herself on flowers?” She asked rhetorically.

“I need a Band-Aid and a shot of Fireball, and then I’ll be fine.” Pearl’s voice carried through the building.

Trixie gave Sharon one last glare and turned again to leave her alone with her phone call.

“Sounds like it’s all happening over there.” Alaska said.

“They’re all incompetent, is what is happening.”

Sharon and Alaska’s phone calls were mostly professional, although the beginning and end of their conversations tended to be filled with light flirting and pleasant chitchat about their day-to-day lives. Since their first meeting, it had been a solid three weeks of back and forth calls and emails regarding the finer details of Alaska’s order, and the payment options Sharon was willing to offer on behalf of the business. The calls were tedious, and made all the more boring by the frequent addition of various college interns on Alaska’s end, hoping to gain some insight into the world of business. Sharon fucking hated those calls. They meant she had to act professional and pretend she wasn’t seconds away from making death threats.

“Well, you don’t have to be there much longer, right? It’s Friday.” Alaska said. “Got any plans for the weekend?”

Today, it was just the two of them on the call. The two of them, and occasionally Trixie screeching at Sharon to get off the phone, but it was still nice to have a mostly private conversation with Alaska.

“Yeah.” Sharon said. “Fifty more minutes and I’m out of here.” She spun around in her chair to signify her upcoming freedom to Klaus the dead cactus. “Going to go home and eat cheese and drink wine in my pyjamas.”

Alaska snorted a laugh. “Isn’t your daughter at a slumber party?”

“Yeah. Your point?”

“You’re child-free for a night. Go wild.”

Sharon nodded. “You’re right, Lask.” She slapped a hand on her desk. “I’m going to eat cheese and drink wine, naked.”

“Not what I meant, but live your life, I guess.”

“Then what did you mean? Come on, apparently I’m old and boring according to my ten year old, so give me young and fresh ideas.”

“I’m only two years younger than you.”

“But you’re still in your twenties.” Sharon stressed. She rubbed a smudge from one of the photographs of Aquaria she had stuck to her desk organiser. “That makes a hell of a difference. As soon as your turn thirty, you might as well be dead.”

“Sharon!”

“It’s true.” She shrugged. “Thirty is the new ‘dead’.”

Alaska sighed. “Remember when you said you had trouble making friends as an adult, this is why.”

“Noted.”

“I just thought you would be out doing cool single-mom things.” Alaska said, enthusiastically.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know, like going to strip clubs, or going to swingers parties.”

Sharon frowned at Klaus. “Is this what you think single mothers do?”

“It’s what my mom did.” There was a pause. “Okay, so she didn’t necessarily go swinging, but she ran a strip club.”

Sharon paused. “Really? That’s kind of awesome of your mom.”

“I know.” Alaska proclaimed, proudly. “She’s awesome. Still runs it now, in LA.”

“Well, then.” Sharon said, stretching an arm over her head. “Maybe I’ll go see some strippers. You know, and think about your mom.”

“Please don’t go and see strippers and think about my mom.” Alaska’s voice was void of emotion. “Just, please don’t do that.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?”

“Do whatever you want. Just don’t think about my mom.”

Sharon smiled. She scratched at her scalp and dropped her voice. “And who should I think about?”

Alaska breathed heavily enough that it was clearly distinguishable on the phone. “Anyone you want.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t the smoothest reply she perhaps could have mustered, but Sharon was frankly amazed she had managed to actually say anything in reply to Alaska. “Do, um, do you have plans for the weekend?”

Alaska was quiet for several seconds.

Sharon held her breath and didn’t know why.

“My friend is performing tonight.”  She said, casually. “I was going to go and watch her.”

“That sounds like fun.” Sharon said. She put her feet up on her desk and leaned back in her chair in an attempt to look as casual as Alaska sounded.

“Yeah, it should be. Might be a bit lonely, though.”

The desk chair moved backwards of it’s own accord and Sharon almost dropped her phone, fumbling to press it back to her ear. “Why is that?”

“Well, she’s performing.” Alaska said slowly. “And I’ll be watching, but I’ll be all on my own.”

“You don’t have anyone to go with you?”

Alaska sighed. “I had lots of friends in the city when I lived here in college, but I only moved back a couple of months ago.” She said. “I don’t know a lot of people, anymore.”

“Like I said, it’s hard making friends as an adult.”

“Yeah it is.” She sighed again, so dramatically that it made Sharon smirk.

“Well,” Sharon said, “you know you’ve made one friend here.”

“You’re right.” she said, and Sharon beamed. “I guess I could ask Katya.”

“Katya?” Sharon kicked away from the desk and the chair spun and hit the back wall.

Alaska laughed. “You don’t think I should ask Katya? You have a better suggestion, Shaz?”

“I can come.” Sharon said.

“Oh, I would have asked,” Alaska teased, “but I just wasn’t sure it was really your scene.” She giggled. “You know, with you being thirty and all. It’s more of a place for people in their twenties.”

Sharon was grinning. She was grinning, and she was spinning around in the fucking desk chair because Alaska was fully being a little shit.

“Fuck all the way, off.” She said. “You deserve to get eaten by bobcat, you whore.”

Alaska laughed again, loud and obnoxious. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Alaska, I’d love to join you.”

“Whatever.” Sharon bit her bottom lip. “Get fucked.”

“Not on the first date. I’m a lady.”

………………………………

“When you said we were going to see your friend perform, I kind of assumed you meant singing.” Sharon said.

The person on stage strutted to the edge in time with the beat of the music, leaned over to take a five-dollar bill from a patron’s outstretched hand, and promptly licked the side of his face. She grinned and he offered her another five.

“Well, you didn’t assume totally wrong.” Alaska said. Sharon looked over at her, eyes roaming over her cheek where the contour wasn’t quite blended completely. “Sometimes she sings.” Alaska nodded towards the stage.

Sharon followed her gaze. The woman was humping the stage with an enthusiasm and skill that Sharon admired. It was hot.

“But mostly,” Alaska continued, “Willam does that.”

Alaska’s friend was very hot. Sharon was also pretty sure Alaska’s friend had a dick and was the same guy who sold her coffee at the place around the corner from Trixie’s florist. She liked him. Good for Willam.

“She’s very good.” Sharon said.

“Oh, she is.” Alaska agreed, brows rising as the woman pulled money out of her bra and threw it into the audience. “And she knows it.”

The bar they were in was loud. On meeting Alaska outside, she had grabbed Sharon’s hand and led her inside, towards the back of the establishment. They were close to the bar, which Sharon thought was just lovely, but slightly secluded from the drunken stupor that directly surrounded the stage. Alaska seemed to know the place well, darting out of their little table-booth on the raised floor at the back, to get them both drinks. She was only gone a few minutes, despite the massive crowds around the bar.

From their table, Sharon had an almost perfect view of the stage. The right hand side was blocked by a group of kids who were probably in their twenties, but who Sharon had decided were too young to even be a valuable part of society. One of them was wearing a smart watch.

In between sipping on the vodka sodas Alaska had bought for them, and making small talk about the various people on the tables surrounding them, Alaska had informed Sharon that she frequented the bar twice a month or so at the request of her friend, who performed there several times a week.

“She asks me to come and see her when she’s really proud of a routine and she wants to show off.” Alaska had said.

On stage, Willam whipped her hair into the face of a man wearing sunglasses. She kissed both of the lenses. He offered her money.

“She’s talented.” Sharon said.

Alaska was watching her friend with an ample amount of interest. Sharon was trying, and it wasn’t like Willam wasn’t interesting enough to watch, but there was something more compelling in the view of Alaska. Even in her own mind, Sharon was creeped out at the thought. She was thirty years old, in a strip club, that was also maybe a gay bar, and also perhaps a brothel, and she was ignoring the stage act in favour of slyly watching the woman next to her. Who she was maybe on a date with, but was also maybe just out with as a friend. The music was loud, Sharon felt old, and it was all very confusing.

Alaska was wearing jeans with rips across the legs all the way to the top of her thighs. She had a tattoo and Sharon was trying not to stare at the pale skin through the splits, trying to work out what it was.

“I like your shoes.” Alaska was still watching the stage. Her mascara was clumping together at the edge of her lashes. Sharon wanted to pick at it.

“Thanks.” Sharon said. “They’re not new.”

Alaska smiled, eyes still on her friend. “I guessed.”

She was wearing heels. Sharon had made an effort. Had spend far too long asking herself if she was dressed too casual in the skinny leather pants that made her legs sweat, and the band tee she had once upon a time chopped the arms off and cut a ‘v’ in to show off her cleavage. The compromise had come from Aquaria, who had, in an attempt to get her mom to take her to her friend’s house quicker, suggested she wear some heels. Sharon had taken her ten-year-old’s advice begrudgingly (she was ten, she shouldn’t know the difference between a corset heel and platform sling back), and had chosen to throw on an old pair of black pumps. The toes were scuffed, but they had been worn in enough that they were comfortable. Sharon had thrown up while wearing them twice. They were seasoned.

“Do all the shoes you own have holes in them?”

“Well, duh.” Sharon said. “How else would I get my feet in them?”

Alaska tilted her head slightly to look at Sharon. One of her eyebrows was cocked cartoonishly. “How are you a even real person?”

Sharon didn’t reply. She thought about kissing Alaska, but then the crowd gasped collectively and both of their attentions were drawn to the woman on stage. Alaska had her hand on Sharon’s forearm and Sharon didn’t know why but liked it very much.

“Oh.” Sharon said. Alaska’s friend was, very professionally, doing a live demonstration of fisting a young man wearing an orange harness.

Alaska squeezed her arm. “Would you believe me if I told you this is a regular part of the show?”

The man with the hand in his butt was collecting tips from nearby spectators.

“Actually, I would.”

Alaska turned fully to Sharon, then. She smiled. Sharon wanted to hold Alaska’s hand, but the other woman beat her to it. “I think we’re friends now.” They could have been shaking hands in a business meeting.

But they weren’t.

Sharon lifted Alaska’s hand to her mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Good.”

………………………….

Alaska invited Sharon to lunch four times in three weeks.

And then Sharon asked Alaska to lunch twice after that.

It became an unspoken regular arrangement to meet for lunch twice a week. If they couldn’t make lunch, Sharon dropped Aquaria with Jinkx for a few hours, and instead they had dinner.

They held hands on three occasions. But once Alaska was leading Sharon through a crowded part of town to a café she liked.

Once Alaska kissed Sharon on the cheek. But then she thanked her for being a good friend.

…………………………..

Sharon went to Alaska’s apartment for the first time, six weeks after they had first met. She went again two weeks after that. Both times they watched a movie, ate take out, and cuddled on the couch.

They never kissed.

……………………………

Three months after they met, Sharon went into the phone store and asked for a different monthly plan. Three hundred minutes and five hundred texts per month was suddenly not enough.

Sharon loved hearing about Alaska’s day. She would kiss Aquaria goodnight at eight thirty, and Alaska would call an hour later, and the routine would have been scary if Alaska hadn’t started referring to Sharon as her ‘best friend’ to the people they met at the bar when they went to see Willam perform.

One night at the bar, Alaska wore a short skirt even though it was fucking cold out. She let Sharon sit all night with her hand on her thigh, rubbing her thumb over the pretty illustration of some grey scale flowers tattooed onto her leg. Sharon didn’t know what kind of flower they were and she didn’t ask.

They went back to Alaska’s apartment and slept in the same bed, as friends.

……………………………

“Your stupid dog is under my desk, again.” Sharon said when Pearl and Violet entered her office to get their pay slips.

“Sorry.” Pearl whistled and Honey extracted herself from around Sharon’s feet to trot over to her. “Were you bothering Sharon?” She petted the dog.

“Yes.” Sharon said. “Stupid mutt.” She held out their envelopes. “Here. Take these so I can go home.”

Violet grabbed, them, passing one to Pearl. “I’ve been making some costumes for Farrah’s high school play.” She said, using a long nail to slice through the envelope. “I was thinking Aquaria would like to see them next time she comes over. You have any booty calls coming up?”

“We haven’t had a real sleepover with her in months.” Pearl commented. “You getting too old to hump and dump?”

Sharon glared at her. “I just haven’t been in the mood for any pointless one night stands.”

“Plus,” Violet added, “she’s too busy trying to get in Alaska’s pants.”

“Shut up.”

………………………………….

Sharon had introduced Alaska to Aquaria at her daughter’s birthday party.

February. Four months after they met.

Aquaria had hugged Alaska and told her she was “gorgeous”. Alaska had blushed and given Aquaria a gift in a purple sparkly gift bag. Sharon had told her not to buy her anything but that suggestion had gone by the wayside. The present was a thick, lined notebook with lilac pages and a purple furry cover. Alaska had included a matching pencil case and filled it with metallic gel pens and scented markers. For the remainder of her party, Aquaria had carried the notebook around under her arm, with a gold gel pen in the rings of the binding, occasionally removing the pen to write something “poignant” that she wanted to “remember forever.”

“How does she even know what ‘poignant’ means?” Sharon had mumbled to Alaska as she had watched Aquaria run off with her friends. “I’m not even sure that I really know what it means.”

“She seems like a really smart kid.” Alaska had stood with her side leaning on Sharon, nudging her with her elbow. “She obviously didn’t get that from you.”

Sharon had rolled her eyes, fondly. Alaska had linked her arm with hers. They had eaten ice cream and driven back to Sharon’s house in the same car. Aquaria fell asleep in the back seat with a butterfly painted on her face and the fluffy notebook in her lap.

……………………………….

Trixie poked her head into Sharon’s office without knocking. “So you’re fucking Alaska, now?”

Sharon looked up from her computer, pushing her glasses onto her head. “No.”

“Kat says you’re fucking Alaska.” Trixie was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded under her boobs. She had dirt on her knuckles, although her white cardigan remained pristine.

“Kat doesn’t know shit.” Sharon said. She pushed her glasses back down onto her nose. “She sees things that aren’t there.”

“You guys go to that weird bar, though. Like all the time.” Trixie said.

“Like every few weeks.” She muttered.

“And Katya says you’re always going for lunch with her. Talking on the phone with her. Inviting her over to your house.”

Sharon rolled her eyes and went back to her laptop. “We’re friends.” She said. “I can have friends.”

“Sure you can.” Trixie shrugged. “You just don’t seem the type to make a friend. It’s been like six months. You don’t keep friends for that long.”

Sharon glared at her. “I can make friends.”

“Name five friends you’ve made who you still talk to, regularly.”

“You? And Katya? Shangela? Jinkx?” Sharon counted on her fingers.

“Four.”

“And,” she looked around the room for inspiration, eyes landing on Klaus’ rotted husk.

“Not the dead cactus.” Trixie said, giving him a disgusted squint.

From the floral cold room Violet screamed at Pearl. “Get that fucking thing away from me!”

“It’s just a spider.” Pearl laughed back.

There was a scream and the sound of running footsteps through the hall. Trixie looked up at the ceiling and pinched her nose.

“Pearl and Violet.” Sharon said. “There, I gave you a bonus one. Six friends. I’m friendly.”

Trixie shook her head in exasperation, folding her arms again. “First of all, I don’t count. I’m your boss and it took me eight months to get you to go to lunch with me. Katya is your friend by proximity, because she comes with me.”

“You’re a package deal. Right.”

“I’m like ninety-eight per cent sure you’ve never even spoken to Shangela outside of work before.” Trixie continued. “She genuinely only puts up with you because you handle her wages each month.”

Sharon lifted a hand to begin to argue, but Trixie powered ahead.

“And when was the last time you spoke to Violet or Pearl outside of this office?”

Sharon bristled. “I was texting Violet just the other day.” She defended. “And I spoke to Pearl at the front of store just this morning. You saw.”

“And were both of those conversations regarding them babysitting for you?” At Sharon’s lack of response, Trixie smiled. “See? You’re just not the type to go out of your way to make a friend.”

It was difficult to argue with Trixie’s logic this time, no matter how much she wanted to. “What about Jinkx?” She asked in a last attempt to prove her wrong.

Trixie shrugged. “So maybe Jinkx is the exception. Did you act friendly to secure that friendship?”

“No, actually.” She said. “I was pregnant and homeless and she felt sorry for me.”

“Oh. But you became friends eventually.”

“Yeah.” Sharon nodded. “She mostly pursued the friendship though. I mostly told her to go to hell while I ate her food and lived in her living room.” She squinted as she recalled. “She was far too chirpy back then. I wasn’t into it.”

“Do you see my point?”

“I see your point.” Sharon agreed. “But that doesn’t mean Alaska’s not my friend. I like spending time with her.”

“So you’re dating her?”

“No.”

“So just fucking?”

“No.”

Trixie huffed. “Then what?”

“Then nothing. God, Trixie, can’t you just shut the fuck up for once?”

“Touchy.”

“Fuck off.”

“You should get laid. You’re too tense.”

Sharon threw a pen at her with the company logo printed on. “Get out and leave me alone.”

…………………………..

Sharon was convinced she had an actual pair of sneakers appropriate for exercising in, somewhere in the bottom of her closet. Aquaria was convinced Sharon had thrown them into the charity bin at the supermarket after she tried the gym that one time two and half years ago, and cried in the car because everything hurt.

Alaska was on a health kick. That apparently meant Sharon had to go on a hike with her.

“Is Alaska your girlfriend, Mom?”

Sharon turned from her task of rummaging through the shit on the floor of her closet to look at Aquaria.

“Is she my girlfriend?”

Aquaria nodded. “Yeah.”

The kid was sitting cross-legged in the centre of Sharon’s bed, running a hairbrush through a Barbie’s hair. The brush was Aquaria’s own and she was brutally smacking the doll in the face with it each time she pulled it through the hair. Sharon would feel sorry for it, but the feminist lesbian in her secretly enjoyed the fact that Aquaria wasn’t usually overly fond of the dolls. Recently, though, she had taken to setting the few she owned on their coffee table and callously critiquing their fashion choices, before making her own clothes from construction paper.

The kid was watching her with wide eyes, waiting for Sharon to respond. Aquaria blinked and cocked her head to the side, lifting her chin. She had blue eye shadow from Claire’s smeared across her eyelids.

“You’re too young for all that crap on your face.”

“I’m eleven.” Aquaria said, still holding the doll. “I’m a young adult. That’s the section I go to in Barnes and Noble.”

Sharon stood up and crossed to sit on the bed next to her. “Come here.” She muttered, and licked her thumb. Aquaria started to squeal and claw herself across the bed and Sharon cackled and tried to rub the make-up off Aquaria’s face.

“Get off!” Aquaria was laughing, batting her hands at Sharon. “I don’t want your spit on me.”

Sharon pinned her to the bed. “I’m your mommy.” She kissed her cheek sloppily, putting as much spit into it as she could. “You’re my baby. We have the same spit.”

Aquaria pretended to gag. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Sharon blew a raspberry on Aquaria’s belly and left dark lipstick marks around her belly button. Aquaria launched herself at Sharon, discarding the Barbie and hairbrush on the side of the bed, to tackle her onto the pillows. Sharon let her push her back and sit on her stomach to tickle her sides.

“No, no, stop!” Sharon shrieked. She dramatically jumped at every one of Aquaria’s tickles to make her laugh. “You’re so mean.”

“No.” Aquaria said, breathing heavily as she grinned at Sharon. She stopped her attack, but kept her hands on Sharon’s sides. “You’re the mean one.” She giggled. “Mama. Say something mean to me.”

“You look like a smurf.” Sharon told her.

Aquaria smiled. “How do you know that’s not what I’m going for?”

“Well, you got me there.”

“Yeah I did, huh?” The kid looked so goddamn proud of herself. “Say something so mean to me, that I’ll die.”

“Are you sure?” Sharon humoured her. “Dying means you won’t be able to go and hang out with Violet, tomorrow. She’s got new dresses, I’ve heard.”

Aquaria bit her lip. “I’m sure.”

“Sure, sure?”

She smiled and leaned forward, rubbing her nose against Sharon’s “Sure, sure.”

“Okay then.” Sharon held her close and whispered. “This is going to be so mean, you’re literally going to start bleeding from your ears, and your eyeballs are going to pop out of your skull.”

Aquaria laughed.

“And your brain is going to melt and drip out of your nose.”

“Wow.”

“Are you ready?

“Yeah.”

Sharon took one long dramatic breath in. “Aquaria Needles,” she said slowly, pulling her knees up to hold the kid close, “you look just like your mommy.”

The kid screamed and put her hands over her head. “My brain is dripping from my nose.” She shouted. “That was a horrible thing to say.”

“You asked for mean, I gave you mean.” Sharon bear-hugged her daughter.

Aquaria stopped fighting and instead giggled breathlessly as she lay down over Sharon’s chest, cheek pressed to one of her boobs. For a second, Sharon thought she was going to suck her thumb like when she was younger, but then Aquaria moved her hand away from her face to hold the strap on Sharon’s tank top. She brushed Aquaria’s hair out of her eyes and kissed the top of her head.

“That wasn’t really mean, Mom.” Aquaria said quietly. “I want to look like you, anyways.”

“Are you sure?” Sharon asked, still petting her hair. “I’m old, you know.”

“Well I don’t want to look like you now.” She rolled her eyes. “But when I’m fifty-seven I want to look as good as you do.”

“I’m thirty-one you little creep.”

Aquaria laughed. “I’m just kidding.” She looked up at Sharon through her lashes. “I think you’re stunning, Mama.”

“Stunning?” Sharon smiled at her.

“That’s what Alaska called you.” She said. “When she put the lipstick on you the other day.”

The three of them had gone to the mall together. Aquaria needed new shoes, Alaska wanted new shoes, and Sharon spent the whole day feeling warm and happy as she watched her daughter hold Alaska’s hand around all of the stores. She wouldn’t hold Sharon’s, she was ‘too old to hold hands with her mom’, but Alaska was apparently allowed the privilege. They had ended the day with forty-five minutes in Sephora. Aquaria had been in her element, and apparently so had Alaska as she used every available tester to make up Sharon’s face.

“Stunning means beautiful.” Aquaria said, still watching Sharon. “Alaska thinks you’re beautiful.”

“I know.”

“Do you think that Alaska is beautiful?”

Sharon nodded.

Aquaria reached behind her and groped the bed until the Barbie doll fell into her hand. “I like this one because she looks like Alaska.”

The doll was a generic Barbie; long straight blonde hair, skinny legs, massive tits, elongated neck, and tiny waist.

“No,” Sharon said into the top of Aquaria’s head, “Alaska’s a lot more beautiful that that.”

Aquaria nodded. “She’s stunning.”

“She is.”

The kid moved so that she was lying on her stomach, directly on top of Sharon. She wiggled to get comfortable, and Sharon got an elbow to the ribs. Aquaria rested her chin on her hands on top of Sharon’s chest, and looked her in the eye.

“Are you avoiding my question on purpose?” She asked.

“And what question would that be?”

“I asked if Alaska was your girlfriend.” Aquaria said. “And then you called me a smurf.”

Sharon kissed her nose. “My baby smurf.”

“Mom.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” She said. Sharon laced her hands over Aquaria’s back. “I’m not avoiding your question.”

“So, then what’s the answer?”

“No.” Sharon said. “Alaska isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Aquaria frowned. “But you do girlfriend things with her.”

“What ‘girlfriend things’?”

Aquaria scrunched her nose. “You go on dates places. And you have sleepovers. And you think she’s beautiful.”

“You’re right.”

“Then why isn’t Alaska your girlfriend?” She blinked twice. “I don’t mind, you know. I love Alaska, too.”

Too.

Her little face was so fucking cute Sharon wanted to punch something. Instead she leaned down and kissed Aquaria’s cheek.

“I love you, you know.” Sharon said. She kissed Aquaria, again. “I love you more than I love anything in the world.”

“And I love you more than anything else.” Aquaria smiled. “I’m going to love you more than anything else, forever.”

“Oh, that’s not true.” Sharon tickled her side gently. “One day you’ll grow up, and you’ll go off and leave me to be with someone else.” She wiped away a fake tear. “And you won’t be my baby anymore.”

“Yes I will!” Aquaria looked horrified. “I’m not leaving you, Mommy.”

“You’re not?” Sharon said. “But I thought you were a young adult?”

The kid nuzzled her nose into her chest. “Maybe not all the time, though.”

“How come?”

“Because if I’m an adult, you can’t snuggle me and sometimes I want to snuggle.” To illustrate her point, Aquaria burrowed into Sharon’s arms and sighed. “Like this.”

“Kiddo, you can be one hundred and four and I’ll still snuggle you.”

“You’ll be dead, by then. And I don’t want to snuggle with a corpse.”

Sharon chuckled. “But you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah. I promise that even when I’m a grown up, I’ll want to cuddle with you, Mama.” Aquaria said. “But I still don’t think I’m going to love anyone more than you.”

“What if you get a husband and he has lots of money and nice cars and a huge house?”

Aquaria sat up slightly to regard her mother. The look on her face was one of pure alarm. “Excuse you, but I’m going to have my own money. I’m not marrying some rich dude. Gross.”

Sharon grinned. “Good girl.”

“Are you going to get married, Mom?”

It was a question Aquaria had asked before, but certainly not recently. Not since Sharon and her ex had broken up. It had been more than three years.

“I don’t think so, kiddo.” Sharon said, slowly. “I don’t need to get married. I’ve got you.”

“You said I was going to leave you when I grow up.”

“Well, maybe when that happens, I’ll elope.”

“You could marry Alaska.” Aquaria shrugged. “If you wanted. I’d let you.”

Sharon brushed some of the fallout from the Claire’s eye shadow off Aquaria’s cheek. Her freckles were noticeable at the close angle, tiny little ones dusted over her nose. “Alaska’s just my friend, kiddo.”

“But when you’re girlfriends, you can marry her, then.”

“It’s not really that simple.”

Aquaria picked up the Barbie again. She smiled. “Grown ups always say that. I think things are usually simpler than they make them out to be.”

…………………………..

“I’m closing up and going home, Shaz.” Trixie appeared at the door of her office. “Come on, or I’ll lock you in.”

Sharon glanced over to her, and then back to her laptop. “Give me the keys. I’ll lock up. I’ve still got work to do.”

Trixie shifted the tote bag on her shoulder. “You’re already two hours late in clocking out.”

“Aquaria’s with Pearl and Violet tonight.” She said. “So I don’t have to rush home for anything.”

“I thought Kat said you were going for dinner with Alaska tonight?” Trixie folded her arms.

Sharon frowned. “She’s busy tonight with friends.”

“Doing what?”

“I don’t care.”

Trixie threw her the keys. “Are you sure? Because it sounds like you care.”

……………………………

“How was your night out?” Sharon asked.

“It was okay.” Alaska said. “Willam’s been trying to set me up with this girl he works with at the coffee shop. She was there.”

“Oh.”

Alaska nodded. “I left pretty early. Willam took some guy home, so I just left, too.”

“Is she nice?”

“Who?”

“The girl.” Sharon pressed her lips together. “Um, the one Willam set you up with.”

Alaska smiled. “I don’t know.” She bumped her arm against Sharon’s. “I didn’t meet her. I told Willam I wasn’t interested.”

Sharon smiled.

“Well, I told him I wasn’t interested in her, anyway.”

…………………………..

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Sharon rolled her eyes at Katya, sprawled across the couch in Sharon’s office, hands gripping at her stomach. “When was the last time you had a dick in you?”

Trixie walked into the room. “Two thousand and four.” She said. “She was twenty-two and still thought she was bi.”

“Then, I can guarantee you, you’re not pregnant.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Katya nodded. She accepted the mug of tea from Trixie. “It’s probably just a phantom pregnancy.”

“Or you ate two day old Mexican food at three am and we’re twenty minutes away from you shitting yourself.” Trixie sat on the arm of the couch. “I told you last night that taco was a bad idea.”

Katya’s belly audibly groaned. “I don’t regret a thing.”

“If you diarrhoea in my office, I’m going to get Pearl’s dog to shit in your Prius.”

The shrill marimba of Sharon’s phone scorched whatever retort Katya had on the tip of her tongue. The photograph of Alaska Sharon was using for her contact picture showed off her floral tattoo on her thigh. She fumbled for a second to unplug it from the charging cable, and caught Trixie giving Katya a look. She glared at both of them.

“Hi, Lasky.”

“Hey, I’m outside.” Alaska said. “I was going to come in, but there’s no parking so I’m just idling in a loading bay.”

“Okay, give me like two minutes.” Sharon grabbed her bag off the floor. “I’ll be out soon and then we can go for dinner.”

“See you in a sec, Shaz.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Alaska laughed and then the conversation ended as she hung up. Sharon put her phone in her pocket.

“You know,” Trixie said, leaning into Katya’s side on the couch, “if you don’t make a move on Alaska soon, she’s going to find someone else.”

Sharon opened her desk drawer. “Have either of you seen my house keys? I can’t find them.”

“That barista at the place around the corner’s been eyeing her up, I’ve heard.”

“Fucking keys. Where are they?”

“Stop ignoring me.” Trixie said.

“I had them in my hand this morning when I came into work.” Sharon muttered. She began moving papers around her desk. “But I can’t remember where I put them.”

“Sharon?”

Sharon began checking her jacket pockets. “Maybe in here…”

“Shaz.”

“Don’t call me that, Trixie.”

“Don’t ignore me, then, Shaz.”

She sighed and looked over at Trixie. She had her arms folded, eyes narrowed at Sharon. Katya looked between them.

“Just,” Sharon wiped some mascara goop out of the corner of her eye, “give it a rest, Trixie?” She asked. “I’m tired of you nagging me.”

“I nag because I care.”

“It’s true.” Katya nodded.

Trixie stood up. She crossed over to the bookshelf. Klaus had become a breeding ground for the local fly population as soon as the weather had begun to heat up again. In his place was a purple orchid, lovingly named ‘Penelope’ by Aquaria. All Sharon had to do, according to Trixie, was give Penelope one ice cube in her pot, every Monday morning. So far, Penelope was five weeks in to her new life on the bookcase, and going strong.

“I want you to be happy.” Trixie said sincerely. She reached out and plucked Sharon’s keys from the shelf above Penelope’s. “I love you, Sharon, and I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

Trixie smiled. “I know. But, you could be happier.” She threw Sharon the keys.

She caught them easily. The little plastic key ring hanging from the set knocked against her knuckle. She looked down and smiled at Aquaria’s kindergarten school photograph inside of the plastic casing. Christ, that day felt like minutes ago.

“Can you believe Aquaria’s going to be twelve in less than six months?”

“What?” Trixie said. She looked at Katya, and Sharon caught the hint of a shrug from her.

“Nothing.” Sharon rubbed her thumb over the photograph, and dropped her keys into her purse. “I guess I’m just feeling sentimental. Time flies.”

“Sure does.” Katya agreed. She sat up straighter on the couch. “Two weeks and Alaska’s been working with me for a year. Feels like nothing.”

“Fuck.” Sharon breathed. “That’s….” She began counting the months in her head. “Wow. I’ve known Alaska for-,”

“Ten months.” Trixie interrupted. “You met in October. It’s August.”

Sharon looked at her. “What are you, my calendar?”

“No.” Trixie threw her arms up in the air. “But I’m trying to be your fucking alarm.”

“Huh?”

“Ugh!” Trixie groaned. “You need to wake up.” She clapped her hands. “Fucking hell, Sharon, you’ve been in love with that woman for almost a fucking year, and you haven’t told her.”

“Stop telling me how I feel!” Sharon stepped in front of her desk. “You think you know me.” She stepped towards Trixie. “You think you know my life.” She was nose to nose with her. “But,” She poked Trixie’s chest, “you fucking don’t. You don’t, Trixie.”

Trixie pushed Sharon’s shoulder. “I know you.” She spoke quietly. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“I know that you pretend you’re a scary Goth bitch, but you sleep with the hall light on because you’re scared.”

“Oh, shut up, Trixie.”

She pushed her again. “I know that you claim to hate Pearl’s dog, but that you give her treats and get her to sleep under your desk when she brings her into work.”

“Trixie.” Sharon heard Katya say, somewhere across the room. They ignored her, and Sharon instead, continued to stare Trixie down.

Trixie smiled sweetly. “You think I don’t know that you’ve been giving Farrah an extra forty dollars in her pay every week because her mom’s been sick and hasn’t been able to work as much.”

Sharon glared at Trixie. “You don’t have a clue about me. About my life.”

“I know you say you don’t care, but that you cry every time Aquaria gets mad and shouts at you.”

She growled. “Don’t you talk about my kid. You don’t know shit, Mattel.”

“I know you think you’re a terrible mother. That you cry in your car because you think she’d be better off with someone else.”

“Trix.” Katya said.

She continued. “It’s true, isn’t it? I know that you think Aquaria’s going to turn out just like you.”

“Trixie, stop.”

Sharon bared her teeth. “Fuck you.”

“Pregnant and homeless at nineteen, trying to drink her way into a miscarriage just so she doesn’t have to bare any responsibility beyond getting a high.”

Sharon hit her.

Trixie stumbled back into the bookcase with the force of the slap. Penelope fell and her pot shattered on the ground.

A hand gripped Sharon’s arm and pulled her back.

“Enough.” Katya wrapped her arms around Trixie, guiding her away. “Both of you stop.”

Trixie held her cheek. There were tear tracks in her blush.

The hand on Sharon’s arm tightened. “Sharon?” Alaska said. “Hey, it’s alright.”

Sharon turned to her and opened her mouth. Alaska was paler than usual and her eyes roamed Sharon’s face, quickly. Tears dripped from Sharon’s chin. She swallowed, heavily.

“Please don’t cry.” Alaska whispered.

“You were waiting outside.” Sharon’s voice felt far away. “In the car.”

“Yeah. But I found a parking space.” She touched the tears on Sharon’s cheek. “You were taking so long. I came to find you.”

Trixie was crying. Sharon could hear her.

“I hit Trixie, Lask.”

“I’m sorry.” Trixie said. “I didn’t mean it, Sharon. I’m so sorry.”

“I know.” Alaska said. She held Sharon’s chin. “I saw.”

Trixie was out of order. Way fucking out of order. Sharon was glad she had hit her, glad she had made her cry, glad Trixie was sobbing into Katya’s arms, because she had made her feel like utter shit. Worse than shit. She had said things Sharon had never in her life thought she’d have to hear, and she was fucking furious because…

… Because, Trixie had been right. About all of it.

The dark freaked Sharon out so she turned the hall light on before bed and claimed it was on behalf of Aquaria. Whenever Pearl brought Honey into work with her, Sharon would tell her it was unprofessional, and then coax the dog into her office with pieces of cheese until she curled up by her feet, then pretend to be annoyed about it. Farrah had told Shangela that her mom had had to leave her night job because of her bad chest, Sharon had overheard and began working the books enough to help cover Farrah’s costs for her travel to work and some school supplies. Aquaria’s outbursts weren’t common but they were enough to make Sharon cry the whole time the kid was in a time out.

And Sharon felt like a terrible mother. Almost all the time. And she lay awake at night, listening to the playlists of Celtic music Jinkx had made almost twelve years ago to play for her while she’d been in labour, and thought about how she had been so selfish the entire time that that little girl had been growing inside of her.

Trixie knew. She knew because she knew Sharon. Trixie knew Sharon’s deepest fears. Knew she prayed to something she had no belief in to keep her daughter from being such a fuck up like herself. God, Sharon was such a fuck up. Such a piece of shit that her own parents had left her all on her own. Aquaria deserved better. They all deserved better than Sharon. Aquaria, Katya, Trixie, fuck, Alaska.

Alaska.

“I love you.”

Alaska’s brows twitched. “What? Sharon, I-,”

“I love you.” Sharon said again. She grabbed Alaska’s hand. The room was quiet. Trixie had stopped crying. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

“Sharon…” Alaska breathed.

“Wait no.” She held up a hand. “No, I haven’t. That’s a lie. No.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I met you.” Sharon said. Her jacket was too hot on her neck. She moved her head irritably. “And you annoyed me, and then I kind of liked you, and then I was your friend. We were friends.”

“Yeah.” Alaska said. Her expression was baffled. “We are friends.”

“Right.” She squeezed her hand. “But I don’t want that, Lask.”

“What?” Alaska stared at her. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say to me, Sharon.”

“I’m scared of the dark.”

Alaska’s expression didn’t change.

“And I love dogs.” Sharon kept going. “And I cry all the fucking time when I’m on my own because I’m terrified I’m failing my daughter.”

“You’re not failing her, you’re-,”

“And you’re a cunt, Alaska.” Sharon laughed. She shook her head and looked over at Trixie. Her cheek was red, and she was curled into Katya’s arms, but the two of them were gawking at Sharon with matching expressions of disbelief. “Alaska is a straight up cunt.” Sharon laughed at them. She turned back to Alaska. “I love you, I love you, I’m in love with you and I need you to know because, fuck, Alaska, Trixie is my alarm clock!”

Alaska blinked. “Are you declaring your love for me, or having some kind of psychotic breakdown?”

Sharon grinned. “Why not both?”

“Why not both?” Alaska chuckled. “It’s never simple, is it?”

“I think things are usually simpler than we make them out to be.”

“Okay.” Alaska said. “You’re in love with me.”

“I am.”

“Good. That’s good.”

…………………………………………….

When Aquaria had asked Trixie why she had a bruise under her eye, Katya had interrupted and told her that Trixie had been hit by a blind pigeon while walking in the park. Aquaria hadn’t believed her, but she had laughed and didn’t ask again for an hour.

When she asked what ‘really happened’, Trixie had hugged her and told her it was an accident, and Aquaria shouldn’t worry about her. Aquaria had held Trixie’s hand under the table of the restaurant as they ate dessert.

The five of them walked back to Sharon’s house together. Aquaria had been quiet, stealing glances at Trixie’s eye where the bruise was a few days old and mostly covered with a thick layer of concealer.

In their living room, Sharon and Alaska sat side by side on the floor, holding hands and drinking wine. Katya and Trixie sat on the couch, laughing, and eating cheese and olives even though dinner at the restaurant had been less than an hour before. Aquaria had set up camp next to the coffee table and coloured patterns on stolen restaurant napkins to make dresses for her Barbies.

“If someone’s bullying you, you’re supposed to tell a grown up.” She said to Trixie. “But who do grown ups tell if they’re being bullied?”

The room went quiet, laugher died down. Sharon and Trixie shared a look and Sharon moved to sit by Aquaria. She took the marker from her and held Aquaria’s hands.

“I did something bad the other day.” Sharon told her. “Something I regret doing, and something I need you to know that I never want you to do.”

Aquaria’s eyes hadn’t changed since that kindergarten photograph. They were huge and trusting and Sharon couldn’t believe that she was allowed to be this kid’s mother. She was allowed to care for, to teach, this fantastic human.

“What did you do, Mom?”

“I slapped Trixie.” Sharon said. “That’s how she got her bruise.”

Aquaria looked at Trixie. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Trixie said. “Not anymore.”

Aquaria frowned. “I feel like you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.” Trixie said. “I promise. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Your eye or your feelings?”

Trixie smiled. “Both.” She nodded to Sharon. “I deserved it.”

“Why?”

“Because I said some nasty things to her.” Trixie said. She moved to kneel by Sharon.

“Mean things?” Aquaria asked. “Or really mean things?”

“Really really mean things.” Trixie said. “I was frustrated, and angry and I should never have said them.” She looked at Sharon. “And your mom got mad at me, and…” She trailed off.

“I hit her, Aquaria, and I’m so sorry.” She kissed her hands. “I’m so sorry, kiddo.”

“Me, too.” Trixie said. “I’m sorry.”

Aquaria smiled, then. A small smile. “I’m not mad at you. Either of you.” She frowned. “But I don’t understand why you’re saying sorry to me and not each other.”

“They’ve said sorry.” Katya interjected from the couch. “At length. There were lots of tears and lots of hugging and then someone may have thrown up.”

“It was Katya.” Trixie said, and looked at her girlfriend. “Katya was the one who threw up.”

“I ate an old taco.”

Aquaria nodded, understandingly. “But you’re okay, now?”

“Yeah.” Katya sighed. “There was some severe toilet usage, but after a day or so-,”

“I meant, my mom and Trixie.” Aquaria said.

Alaska snickered behind them.

“Oh.”

The kid threw herself at Sharon, nearly knocking her over. “You guys aren’t allowed to fight.” She said into Sharon’s neck. “Not for real. Not like that.”

Sharon kissed her ear. “We won’t. I promise you, Baby. We got all of that out.”

“Yeah.” Trixie put a hand on Aquaria’s back. “It’s all resolved. It’s all over.”

“The squad isn’t allowed to fight.” Aquaria said, sitting back. She looked over Sharon’s shoulder at Alaska. “That’s you, too, Alaska.”

“I’m the squad?” Alaska grinned.

“Of course.” Aquaria smiled. “We’re squad goals.”

Sharon groaned. “Don’t say that, kiddo. Who taught you that?”

Katya looked guilty. “Squad goals!” She began doing jazz hands. “Come on. We’re squad goals.”

Aquaria climbed on top of the coffee table, almost falling as she slipped on one of her napkins. Katya reached out to steady her. “Squad goals.” Aquaria shouted.

“No.” Sharon said. She could feel her cheeks quivering as she tried not to smile, and felt Alaska come up behind her and wrap her arms around her middle, resting her head on her shoulder. “No.” She said again with less heart. “We’re not saying ‘squad goals’. We are not a squad.”

“We’re totally a squad.” Trixie said.

“One hundred per cent a squad.” Alaska agreed next to her ear.

Sharon sighed. She kissed Alaska’s cheek. Aquaria squealed as Katya lifted her from the table and spun her around. Trixie joined them, laughing.

“It’s a damn good job I love all of you so much.” Sharon said to herself.

Alaska kissed the corner of her mouth. “You love us?”

“I suppose, I do.” She said.

“Good.” Alaska said quietly. “Because we love you, too.”

“Yeah?”

Alaska kissed her. Aquaria ‘oo-ooh’ed.

“I love you, Shaz.”

“I love you, cunt.” She kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her. “I love that I can do that.”

Alaska smoothed a thumb over her cheek. “Straight up cunt.” She whispered.

Sharon smiled. “Squad goals.”

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“Honey, come on! Jump through the hoop.”

“Pearl she’s not going to do it.”

“You can do it, puppy! Through the hoop. Come on!”

“Pearl, stop. She’s not going to jump through the damn hoop.”

“Be quiet, Violet. She’s almost there.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Through the hoop, Honey. Look, like this.”

“Don’t you dare jump through the hoop, Pearl.”

“She just needs to see how to do it.”

“Don’t, Pearl.”

“Like this, Honey.”

“Pearl, you’re going to fall- Oh my God.”

“Ouch.”

“I’m leaving you.”

“Vi, come back! I’m bleeding. Ouch…. you still won’t jump through the hoop?”

‘Woof.’